Brunch

Finally I'm home! I had a lovely time with Rissa today, with maybe one downer. We had brunch (aka breakfast/lunch/dinner) at the Davenport before we checked out. It's pretty expensive but you can go around and pick out all sorts of delicious things, plus you get bottomless mimosas and champaign! Can't beat that ;) However, I did NOT know it was buffet style (eat all you can). I don't know if I was really ready for that...

At first I was fine. I picked out the things I wanted to eat- these sweet potato tartlets, eggs benedict, a berry crepe, and fruit. But I was incredibly hungry since we didn't have brunch till 12:15pm. I kept trying other things because it all looked so good- a danish and pumpkin cheesecake...I suppose that's all I had the first go around and I should have been fine with it. I mean, yes it was a lot of food, but for breakfast/lunch, it wasn't a full out binge- the amount I ate was socially acceptable...

...but there was this middle-aged man watching us eat. I would feel someone's eyes on me, turn around and he'd be smiling at me. It kept happening throughout the meal- Rissa and I got the feeling he's a divorced man and was interested in us in a slightly creepy way. When he got up with his (son?) to leave, he stopped at our table and said, "I couldn't help but notice you girls are eating A LOT of food. I can't believe how much your eating." Rissa and I didn't know how to react so we just laughed and he left. We seriously hadn't eaten as much as other people around us, though we had been getting up a lot to go grab something else to try instead of making one big trip. Rissa is petite and maybe he considered me smallish too...maybe he didn't expect girls our size to eat so well? 

I HAVE NO IDEA but it bugged me. I mean, rich girls who frequent expensive hotels like the one we were at probably nibble on this and that. Rissa and I definitely WERE NOT NIBBLING. ANYWAYS, I ended up feeling so guilty, I excused myself to use the bathroom (purge). I came back and was going to try to stick to eating safe foods but then I was like, fuck it, I don't care anymore. So I ate A BUNCH- more sweet potato, eggs benedict, and four muffins. If I stuck to one or two muffins I think I could have kept it all, but the third and fourth were definitely in "binge-mode" for me.

I felt horrible for not keeping my food. I mean, I should be stronger than this, right? Why can't I be NORMAL. Rissa ate as much as I did, if not more, and kept all of it. Why couldn't I do that? Even if I ate too much, it's okay every now and then right? 

When I'm doing better in recovery, I would LOVE to go back and have their sunday brunch again and KEEP it. Another goal! I came home afterwards and ate food AND KEPT IT. I wanted to go on a walk because it's BEAUTIFUL and sunny outside today, but my feet hurt so bad from dancing all night in high heels. So I ended up watching Chopped on the food network and just chilling on the couch. Here's some pics from today! I hope you guys aren't too disappointed in me.

                     Rissa putting on her make-up :)                The view outside our window- my city!

                          I love my owl earrings!                         Not too bad of an outfit?

                     pretty flowers and pretty Rissy!                         

                 Keeping a brave face :/

                                                  The Lobby in The Davenport Hotel

Depression

I can hardly believe it's been almost a month since my last post. It's not like nothing has been happening. I'm 99% sure my pro zac isn't working. I've constantly been having really low lows. That ED voice is overwhelming. Sometimes I just curl up and try to block it out. Sounds so pathetic, doesn't it?

I woke up a bit ago at 3am with a stuffed nose, sore throat, and itchy eyes. I'm still a bit surprised how quickly this cold or whatever it is hit me. I usually have a day or two of forewarning, where I can tell I'm getting a bug. I suppose my immune system isn't in tip top shape when I'm so malnutritioned and such.

I'm not really losing weight right now, but I'm looking more emanciated.

I just started a new therapy group tonight. I think it'll be good though I'm slightly triggered by the fact there's other girls my age, around my size or much smaller. My competitive side wants to "play the game" with them and I have to stop my thoughts from going there.

I'm sorry...so many random thoughts. I can't think straight enough to make a good blog. I really don't feel like I'm altogether here at present. I just figured I should at least write something, though poorly written, since it's been far too long. I'll try to make a more comprehensive blog when I'm not feeling so out of it.

Hope you're all doing well.

Fear and Hope

Last week was just a mess. I needed some light, a little hope that food won't always control every aspect of me. Wish granted! I've had two consecutive days of no bingeing or purging. Tomorrow is day three and I feel good about it :)

I've found a meal plan that works for me. I eat every two hours or so, and a protein every four hours. It's working but it's scaring me too because I've gained some weight as a result. Ok, so one pound but it might as well be ten. And YES, it's only been two days. Nonetheless, the idea of gaining weight scares me, like any other eating disordered person.

Being normal size scares me. Because it's not good enough.

The only way I'm sticking to this meal plan is keeping my eyes focused on being healthy, and not the reality of gaining weight. I should just throw my scale out the window. I'd probably do so much better without those numbers in my head.

I think people in recovery have a choice to either focus on their fear of letting go of their unhealthy addiction, or on the hope of what recovery brings- freedom. It's a choice we've got to make every day, hour, minute, and second.

Recovery IS worth it. Recovery doesn't mean you're going to lose control, it means you're going to get control back. Because eating disorders don't give you control, they take it away and leave you with the illusion of control.

You, eating disorder, do not control me anymore. I choose to be free.

Crossroads

There's been so many things I've been running from because they scare me. They're what I fear the most and what hurts the most. It's human nature to avoid pain, so you'd think it's only natural for me to run away from it. But just because it's human nature doesn't mean it's right, and maybe you run too far and end up in more pain than the pain you were originally avoiding.

Ok, enough of the philosophical ramblings. I mentioned in my last blog that I had a really good day of not purging, TWO days of no purging. And yeah, that was great and I'm proud of myself and all, but the two days following my miniature victory were a vomiting nightmare. Quite literally (though I highly doubt I needed to add that statement. You all aren't stupid).

I don't want to purge. I feel closer to death when I purge, which is one of those things I've been trying to avoid thinking about. Not trying to get all mystical on you guys, but I feel death every time I purge. Even when I don't purge, sometimes reality becomes both distant and distinct and I feel death reaching for me.

I don't feel ready to die. I still have things to do, my life to live. But if I've learned one life lesson, I've learned most people don't die when they're ready to die. Death hasn't always been a scary thought, but the thought of dying like this scares the shit out of me. Quite literally (yet again, I didn't need to add that. Blame it on my twisted and perverse humor).

I'm finishing a Vampire Academy book and I had FIVE PAGES to go, when my dad walks in to have a serious talk. Bad timing on his part, but I can't blame him for not knowing my heart was just shattered into a million pieces because Dimitri was turned into a Strigoi, an evil soul-less vampire, and now his true love has to kill him because he's better dead than a Strigoi.

He pretty much told me that he's freaking out because he can literally see me wasting away with every day that passes. He said he can't handle another one of his kids dying. He started to tear up which inevitably meant I began balling. My parents want to meet with my whole treatment team (three people- I feel like I made it sound like a dozen people were treating me or something) to find out what the deal is and where we go from here.

He said I have no margins left. I'm at a pivotal point and he can't just stand by because it affects my whole family.

Great. And I thought the day couldn't get any worse. Maybe all this sarcasm and dry humor is surfacing because I can't handle dealing with it seriously. The weight of it all is too much. I feel like the happiness of so many people rests on my shoulders and I can't bear it by myself. I think my Dad doesn't think I'm trying hard enough to get better, which makes me feel even worse because this IS me trying my hardest.

He's right. I AM dying. They say eating disorders are slow suicide. I, like probably everyone else, thought I was the one and only exception. I thought I could control it. Apparently not.

So here I am sitting in bed, salty tears dried on my face, and a very heavy heart filling my chest. I can't run from the pain anymore because it's cornered me. It's either death or facing the pain I'm not even sure what to name, and I don't want to die yet.

Please, someone tell me dealing with the pain will be worth it. Someone tell me everything will be okay. Because I'm not okay. Not at all.

A Little Sunshine

FINALLY I have something cheerful to write about. I didn't binge or purge at all yesterday. First day being b/p free in at least a month! It was incredibly difficult and I came close to bingeing a few times, but somehow I made it through. I think it helped to have friends who were trying not to b/p and were successful as well. We kind of kept each other accountable, and this time it really worked.

I have yet to b/p today. But to be honest, I'm incredibly tempted. Partially because chocolate chip pancakes are sounding pretty delicious right now, and also because I'm home alone which makes it that much easier since there's no here to question my odd behaviour.

Hence, this blog. I'm doing anything to distract myself.

I had a doctor's appointment today and I suppose it went alright. Though my weight is at my lowest, my bloodwork was okay so that was a relief. He had me do an EKG. I had to put on one of those hospital gowns backwards and I felt irrationally promiscuous with it gaping open, revealing my pierced navel. What was even more embarrassing was the fact I had cuts all over the right side of my stomach and ribs. It was the outcome of feeling horrible after an insane b/p and was slightly ambien-induced. Note to self: Take ambien and go to bed IMMEDIATELY. Otherwise, hallucination will occur.

Anyways, the women doing my EKG was really professional and didn't ask any questions of the cuts or stare at them. I felt awkward enough being so naked in front of another person.

Well, I really can't get my mind off of those chocolate chip pancakes so I'm going to go read at Borders for a bit. I can't believe there's people out there who thinks this recovering thing is easy. It's not, and it pisses me off when people say, "Just eat." They say ignorance is bliss. I say it's just plain stupidity.

Thoughts on Therapy at 4am

It's 4am and I've been wide awake for an hour or so now. I've finally caught up on video comments and messages, and to be honest I feel so blessed. Most people, including many of my friends, don't understand eating disorders which leads them to a) ignore it completely or b) say really stupid things. Both responses are quite frustrating and leave me feeling even more alone. I've found the YouTube community so supportive and I've made great friends that actually get it.

Even though I don't feel like I'm making any progress in recovery, I've actually learned so much from therapy. When I went into therapy for my ED at age 14, I had a great therapist who I loved and we still stay in contact. However, at the time I wasn't willing to open up to her. Whenever we would be getting past the walls I had built around myself, I would shut down. Thus, we never digged into the root of my ED.

This time around in therapy, I've been much more receptive and open to talking about things. I'm okay with crying now and talking about things I've never voiced. And you know what? I am AMAZED at what I've found out about myself. For me, my ED orginated in abuse, feeling misunderstood, and growing up with death always being a topic because of my sick brother.

Everyone is different and that's what's interesting about therapy. I think it would be fascinating to help people dig and learn about themselves, how they tick and why they tick the way they do. I now understand why so many recovered eating disordered people go into therapy or become nutritionists themselves. Once you've been helped, you want to help other people too.

Well, I have much more to say about this week, but I'll leave that for my next video I'll hopefully make tomorrow. I suppose attempt #3 at sleep might be beneficial. I hope you all are doing well. You're support means the world to me!

Confused

The message I've gotten from people over and over in my life is that I shouldn't be feeling what I'm feeling. When I tried to tell people about being sexually abused at 14, the message I recieved was it wasn't a big deal, I'm silly for feeling used and dirty. People wouldn't of said those things if I wasn't so embarrassed by what happened, that I didn't explain it well and left out pretty much all the details.

It was the inability to communicate hindering me, but I wasn't aware of that at the time. I thought I explained it well enough and I was stupid for feeling hurt. I'd like to think my communication skills have at least improved slightly. But yet again, I'm getting the same message: You're feelings aren't justified, you're wrong for feeling hurt.

What am I supposed to do with my feelings then? When I was 14, I used my eating disorder and cutting and pills to deal with feelings I thought weren't supposed to be expressed. In fact, those are the first coping mechanisms I usually run to when I need to deal with negative feelings.

I thought the right answer was to express my feelings in a gentle, upfront way. Apparently I went wrong somewhere. Yet again, the message I got was I shouldn't be feeling hurt and it's not okay to express it because what I'm feeling is WRONG.

I don't know what to do. I've tried doing it the "healthy" way, but it seemed to make things worse. The only thing I have left is eating disordered behaviour, cutting and pills. Primarily my ED, since it's what I'm struggling with the most lately.

I'm wrong. I'm stupid. It's my fault. Something is wrong with me. I'm unloveable. I'm defective. I'm not acceptable. I'm alone. People's friendship with me is charity. All I can trust is ED. He'll never let me down.

And the voices refuse to be silent.

In the Land of Limbo

I am tired. Recovering from an eating disorder is constantly fighting the voices in your head. I feel like I've been fighting for recovery and delving deep into the root issues of my ED for so long, and now I've come to the point where I'm tired of fighting it. It's too hard to fight. It's easier to give in.

I still have that number in my head, but I don't really feel the need or drive to reach it. It's not about weight anymore, though gaining weight is still quite frightening. I just...don't really care if I lose anymore. I just don't want to eat. If I eat, I purge.

I feel numb. I feel kind of lost and unsure of everything.

All I really know, is this isn't a fun place to be.

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?