...a number.

I can't sleep. My doctor upped my dosage on ProZac so here's to another night of sleeplessness and incapability to staunch the flow of thoughts weaving in and out of a hyperactive mind.

My life revolves around a number. A number, at whatever cost, I have to reach. From the outside, it's rather a pathetic way to live ones life, but the truth is it works.Well...for awhile. It's a way to deal with the fear of feeling. It's a distraction, an excuse to not deal with your shit because the feelings surrounding it are too overwhelming to handle.

It's frustrating because while my friends are having all these great revelations about life, love, and compassion, I'm stuck thinking about a number. I guess the fact I'm thinking about that number testifies that I'm feeling emotions I don't know how to handle.

For instance, I just found out a friend from work has cancer. You'd think I'd feel SOMETHING, but I feel nothing at all. All there is, is a number. A homeless man who stinked like no other camped out at our Starbucks a few days ago. I know I should be feeling something, but I felt nothing but the presence of a number. Tomorrow, or I suppose later today, I'll be having dinner with a person who sexually abused me for years. I know I should be feeling something, but all I can think about is that damn number.

When there's only a number inside my head, I know there's feelings I don't want to deal with because focusing on weight and food are a coping mechanism so I don't HAVE to feel...so I don't have to feel the pain about my friend's cancer, or a homeless man's need, or being expected to have a pleasant meal with someone who has hurt me deeply. Because I know I feel something, somewhere inside me. But the focus on a number is keeping me from EXPERIENCING those feelings.

I think there's a misconception eating disordered people are shallow because everything is focused on appearance, but I would argue eating disordered people have abnormally intense feelings and are unable to cope with them in a healthy manner.

More than anything, I wish I could share with you revelations I've had from experiencing situations that have provoked intense feelings and thus, contemplations of a most complex order.

But for now I'm left with...

Christmas Eve Depression

It doesn't feel like Christmas. The anticipation, excitement, and good cheer usually surrounding the holidays seems to of been replaced by anxiety, fear, and depression. I'm only aware of two things: the food I'm supposed to eat and the fact my brother is dead.

I don't remember missing him this much last year. I don't remember tears threatening to choke me and the pure pain absence of a loved one brings. The summer after Tyler died, I was all too familiar with these feelings, but last Christmas hadn't seemed so bad. I thought I was "over" grieving by that time.

My therapist, dietician, and doctor all believe I relapsed because I haven't grieved properly for Ty. I disagreed, but maybe they're right.

Furthermore, I'm simply feeling alone. Have you ever had the sneaking suspicion you've become unloveable? Your friends no longer want to be friends because you've become too disgustingly problematic.

Maybe it's the higher dosage of prozac causing all these thoughts to run endlessly through my mind. I've been bingeing on food that doesn't even taste good, simply to feel that numbing, relaxing sensation that inevitably follows after a hard purge. I'm unhappy with my body, even though I've dropped to my lowest weight. I dressed up for Christmas Eve in a cream turtle neck, high waisted black skirt, black tights, and five inch heels. I thought it would make me feel thin but I only felt not thin enough. It's important to differentiate these two feelings because they're quite opposite. I could feel the bulges of fat, maybe only visible to myself but nontheless present, no matter how I tried to rationalize them away.

I don't want to feel like this.

Desires

Last night I was lying in bed thinking about how much I've changed since I relapsed. What I discovered about myself surprised me.

It's embarassing to admit it, but I used to daydream about walking into a room and making everyone's jaw drop because I was so gorgeous. The imaginary me would make her entrance in her stiletto heels, wearing a little black dress that showed off her killer body. Every hair on her head was perfectly in place. Her makeup made her eyes look smoky and mysterious. She looked like she could do anything and didn't give a damn what anyone else thought about her.

I used to daydream about romance, about finding the right guy. I used to make up different scenerios on how we met and how our relationship progressed. I used to dream of living in Asia and all the adventures I'd have there. I used to daydream about my children's personalities and how I helped them through life and all it's difficulties. I also used to make up worlds that don't exist, where the laws of nature were quite different from Earths.

Somewhere along the line, these past eight months, the me that lived in a world of possibilities died. I saw part of her die when my brother died. I feel she's almost completely gone from me now. It makes me sad. It scares me.

I used to desire men to look at me and think I'm attractive. I don't even slightly desire men to find me attractive anymore. I don't know why, but it frustrates me I don't care anymore. When I try to think about the future and the things I once desired, they're gone. I feel like I have no future. I don't desire anything.

Does that mean I don't desire to live? I was laying in bed last night and felt overwhelmingly scared by this thought. I've become nothing. I'm so scared and I don't know what to do about it.

You know what's funny though? That girl who I wanted to be- I did become her in some ways. I've become quite stylish, my hair and makeup are always complimented on, guys notice me and pursue me, I weigh practically nothing...and I DON'T give a damn. I could honestly care less. Maybe I'm supposed to give a damn. Maybe I'm not supposed to be completely numb to everything around me. I got what I wanted, and it was empty.

Empty. Blank. Unfulfilling. I've learned a lesson, but what do I do now?

Going Too Fast

As I've mentioned in the previous post, I'm really making progress. I've been eating and keeping down 700-800 calories and only purging one, sometimes three, times a day. Today I worked a long shift, constantly moving and never really stopping, so I planned to eat 900-1000. Ok, so I know it's not that much of an increase but it freaked me out! I felt so horrible about eating those extra 100-200 calories. I was feeling so good about eating more again, but just adding that little bit was too much apparently.

Sometimes I feel like a normal person who eats normally, and it scares me. I like actually having energy to do things and I'm so much happier when I've been eating well. But I'm not sure I'm ready to give up my coping mechanism. I'm honestly trying but once that scale starts inching up, I don't know what I'll do.
So goes life.

Shout out to Leech, who might be the only one who reads this blog :) You're wonderful and it's great to know you've been through recovery and made it out alright. Thanks for your encouragement. You put a smile on my face!

Progress

For the past two days, I've been really trying to follow the meal plan my dietician Viv and I made. Both days I purged once, but I feel happy with how well I did. After eating a meal, I'm so proud of myself. Now if I could just stop the purging part...

Even though I'm only eating 700-800 calories a day, I'm still tempted to restrict. Sometimes I look at all the food I'm supposed to eat and I think it's way too much. I have to keep reminding myself it's not THAT much food.

I'm trying, and I think that's what counts. Yes, I still want to lose weight and I don't know how I'm going to react when I actually begin gaining. But for now, I'm just happy I'm making some progress.

Wish me luck!

Opening Closed Doors

My actions over the past 24 hours have left me feeling ashamed and dirty. I thought about not mentioning it here but I need to be honest somewhere.

A lot of things causing stress have happened this past weekend. Maybe I'll go into greater detail in a video, but one thing added to another and so on to create this build up of emotions I wasn't ready or maybe am incapable of dealing with in a healthy manner.

The point is, I couldn't cry or express what I was feeling. I haven't cut in a 1 1/2 years. Yet, I found myself using a razor to self-harm myself last night. It felt good. It helped. But it's not something I want to get back into. I was desperate. I needed something. I just wish I hadn't opened a door I thought was closed for good.

I wish I could say I'm doing great but I'm not. I bought a really good scale today, secretly of course, and I'm WAY too happy about it. I'm ecstatic. I feel like the scale will give me a little more control. That's probably my ED talking. I hate the fact you can be rational about irrational thinking, yet still think irrationally.

I'm not making sense. Sleep it is.

An Abnormal Relationship with Food

There are many words I could use to describe my relationship with food. "Normal" isn't one of them. Of course, there's those people (whom I'm not particulary fond of) who would say there's no such thing as a normal relationship with food, but I beg to differ.

A normal relationship with food implies you eat when you're hungry and stop when you're full. You don't restrict or eat insanely large amounts of food at one time, and you don't make yourself sick (especially not multiple times a day). Most of all, you aren't afraid of food.

Sometimes I'll think to myself "JUST EAT." I'm sure my family and friends have had those thoughts for me many times. I desperately wish it was that simple, and all I had to do was "just eat" and no longer will I be eating disordered.

Some days, I'll plan to eat like a normal person. No bingeing, no purging, no restricting. But I can't ever attain normalcy and trying only makes me increasingly frustrated. I hate I can't be normal. I hate feeling out of control. I especially hate seeing silent disappointment and sadness in my mom's eyes when she looks at me.

I have an urge to scream and shout and cry and stomp my feet, directed at no one in particular. I just want someone, anyone, to know how frustrated and angry I feel because I can't seem to function at such a basic level as eating food for survival.

Sick

I woke up this morning with a horrible sore throat, throbbing headache and a fever. Great. I hate being ill, especially on my day off. I'm too embarassed to mention there might be some considerable damage done to my throat from yesterday's binge/purge episode. I didn't even purge half the stuff I ate because I was too freaked out by the blood on my hands. Maybe this is too much information, but it's the reality of an eating disorder so I figure you'll get over my vivid descriptions of what I like to call hell.

The cupcake lady did me in last night. In fact, I sort of gave up. When I got home I thought, screw it I'm going to eat what I want and not care. My mom wouldn't even let me have what I wanted, which are these delectable potato rolls that are incredibly delicious. I wasn't even going to purge, since the blood thing freaked me out. However, she said I couldn't have them because it's not one of my "safe" foods. She then proceeded to "hide" them in the garage, as if I might take one anyway. REALLY?! I was just trying to be normal and eat like a NORMAL PERSON and she won't let me? It was ridiculous. I was so angry, so I decided I would never eat bread again, even if she begged me. I know this is ridiculous, but it's how I feel.

I wanted to make a video today, but I feel horrible. Not only because I'm sick, but because I just feel so disappointed in myself for eating so much and I feel extremely fat. Yes, I know fat is supposedly not a feeling but I beg to differ.

Premonitions

I literally have five minutes before I need to leave for work. I don't know why I'm often inspired to make a video or write a blog right before work. Maybe because I feel stressed out before I have to work and this partially relieves that stress.

Food has become a permanant thread of thought in my mind and it stresses me out much more than anything else. Lately I feel like I can't get a handle on my food consumption. People offer me food I didn't plan to eat and because I find it incredibly difficult to say no to food offered to me, I eat it. Unplanned food consumption is increasingly stressful, especially lately.

So wish me luck at work today because it's an eight hour shift, surrounded by holiday goodies, and the cupcake lady is coming to visit and bring us treats of her own. Oh God, please help me because I already feel out of control and I'm not even there yet.

A Down Day

I make plans to restrict practically everyday and everyday, I am SURE I'll make it through the entire day without bingeing and purging. Almost without fail, I always end up bingeing and purging. Today I ended up just bingeing...I couldn't throw up and that's the worst feeling in the world. It's like someone stole my eraser and now I can only smudge my mistake around in a futile attempt to undue what has already been done.

My throat hurts incredibly. It's never been this bad before. When I try to purge, it burns. I've had other physical symptoms and my dietician and therapist are worried, so I'm getting my blood drawn next week to see if there's anything majorally wrong.

I'm trying to fight the urge to do a fast for the next couple of days. Fasting after eating loads is like a reset button to get me back on track. I know it's not right though. I'm fighting to have a pro-recovery mindset but it's so difficult. I remember hearing my eating disordered friends describe how hard it is to recover, but I don't think I really understood. I've gone through "recovery" when I was fourteen, but I never actually recovered. I just played the part to get my parents off my back and for a time, my ED behaviours were fairly under control. Now that I'm actually looking towards recovery, I can't believe how insurmountable it seems.

Making YouTube videos has helped. It's almost like a therapy for me...and it makes me happy to think I might be helping other people with their EDs too or even just helping people understand how EDs work.

So here I sit, feeling incredibly down, horribly large, and desperate for control. If I could cry, I would, but tears aren't something that naturally come to me. I really wish I could cry right now actually, because I'm actually feeling tempted to cut and that's definitely not something I want to do again.

Intro to an Eating Disorder Blog

I wasn't going to make a blog about my eating disorder. I mean, I already have a video blog on YouTube so a regular blog might be overkill, right? Though, there are times when I don't really feel like making a video, like right now, but I feel like writing. I'll be upfront- I'm going to be terribly honest in this blog, more so than in my videos. If you have an eating disorder and are easily triggered, I'd encourage you not to read my blog. You probably will anyway, but at least I warned you.

It's beautiful outside right now. The winternight sky is a light purple glow, reflecting the white landscape, while thousands of pine trees are heavily clothed in snow. It makes quite a melancholy atmosphere, or maybe that's just my own feelings being projected on the environment.

I wonder if I can get better. If I can really beat this ED. Sometimes I feel despair because I can't see a way out. The sad truth is I don't want to get better until I reach my goal weight, which isn't that far out of reach. I'm almost there, it kind of kills me to give up on something when I'm so close to accomplishment.

But I'm feeling weaker and weaker. I wake up in the nights feeling disoriented, dizzy, and breathing too slow. The malnutrition is becoming more obvious because a few crackers isn't fixing things like it used to. There was blood in my vomit. My stomach hurts, there's pain in my chest, and yes my hair is still falling out. Maybe a sane person would wonder why this isn't enough to stop my self destruction. I wonder too. I'm not in control anymore. I can't just stop. My ED has become my lifestyle, identity, way of thinking, crutch, coping mechanism. It's colored every area of my life. It's not just stopping a behaviour. The eating disorder behaviour is simply a symptom.

I'm filled with fear. Fear about death. I feel myself dying and I'm filled with a foreboding feeling death is right around the corner. I'm more aware of it's presence in the world. I now know this is what my brother felt all the time, especially at the end of his life. He felt his body giving up and he felt the fear too, fear death was just around corner. And it was for him, which isn't exactly heartening for me.

This morning I had my coffee with eggnog creamer and it was glorious. I made homemade applesauce for my mom and I, and ate that too. It freaked me out though, because that means I had a total of 280 calories this morning and that's more than half of my daily allowance, all before 6am. Eating more than 100 calories at once is challenging for me. It feels unsafe. It feels like I need to purge. But I'm trying to not purge, because I feel it destroying my body. I'd much rather restrict a bit than purge.

I hate that feeling in your gut, that full feeling. It fills me with wild panic. I'm sure I can feel the applesauce forming pools of fat and filling the hollowed spaces between my bones. Even though I know how irrational I'm being, I can't ignore it.

Recovery seems far away today.