So, in the end, this year was not my longest year yet and I made it to yet another Christmas. Not without fault or struggle though. Indeed not without a few smiles and hope either. It concerns me slightly that I am better yet worse all at once. Little did I know when I was the hand that ED sought, as I lost weight I would become fatter and fatter in my own dark subconscious. I've become more social yet have hid so much more. I smile more and eat less, talk more and share less, restrict more and purge less. Perhaps I still have to work on this equilibrium of mine. As I try to live a more normal life, I come back to the insanity that is the mind of the eating disordered. I want to use the words "I can't recover", although I have been told that is untrue. I have a million words floating through my brain and have ceased the purging of them. I recall the overwhelming love I received when I first exposed my blog to many who knew me when I thought all I would get was hate. And now it's hard for me to even read the words that I once wrote months ago, nearly two years ago. Who could give me love after writing such personal in-depth things about myself. But what kind of love would it be if they didn't know. Putting my thoughts on a page is the only way for me to not think what I think. To not be haunted and tainted by what is clearly not real. Exposing myself was the only way I couldn't engage in what I find so comforting, so falsely lovable. So secure. Now as I fall darkly silent I gaze in the mirror crushing on my hipbones, waking up and sliding my hands against my ribcage in hopes that it is more prominent. Leaning against a chair I feel only my shoulder blades touching the cold plastic. I plead with ED for him to coerce my non existent collarbones to make an appearance some day, for my thighs to gravitate farther and farther apart, to make me nothing, to make me disappear entirely.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Not Without Struggle Or Hope
Nearly a year ago I proclaimed this would indeed be my longest year yet, but as luck would have it, as I reflect back on this last year I sit and ponder where it actually went, and how I came full circle to another Christmas so quickly. Christmas is what you could say a bit of a landmark for me. As each one passes I can't help but wonder if I'll be around for the next. I mull over the years events, and tell myself I'll do better next year. But like I said a year ago, time changes me. Just when I think I've been standing still, I get a flash back to where I once was and where I never want to be again. The other day I was told that I need to find a balance in life, "just find the balance" he said. I silently had a good laugh to myself, if this person knew me two years ago, or even just over a year ago, the balance I have restored in my life is something to be proud of I think. Of course, I have a lot of work to do and I'd say that a lot of people have found more balance than I, but I also have a lot more compassion and heart than others do. So how's that for balance.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
T-24hrs 4:02am
My heart is hurting for so many reasons and yet for absolutely no reason at all.
I've been in quite high spirits the last few days so I could simply chalk up this unexpected feeling of sadness to the fact that it is 3:30am and I am utterly exhausted with sleep no where in my near future.
Insomnia is showing it's invisible face for a reason though, because my brain is spinning. It doesn't stop, wont stop, can't stop. Could it be the curse of the creative mind, the madness that breeds inside of me forever, or just the fact that there are cookies down stairs that I foolishly bought that I want but wont eat. No... that can't possibly be it. They'll be in the trash tomorrow, I swear it.
I want to purge so badly right now, but I can't. I actually can't. Somewhere vomiting took a back seat to the importance of my teeth. Progress? Maybe. Too bad it didn't take a back seat to my health sometime ago. So I'm sitting here in extreme angst waiting for the 14 lax to kick in before I can feel empty again. I was so stupid tonight. There wasn't even a binge to justify the purge, the purge that wont even happen till morning. It was simply because I've eaten like a normal person for the last three days, normal person or maybe just more than an anorexic would eat. I don't know what a normal person eats. Regardless... It was too much and I sabotaged it willingly.
I've gained ten pounds today.
While we're here...
I'm planning an extended fast that I don't want to happen...
My feelings are hurt...
I miss someone that lives a million miles away...
I hate October, more so, I hate Halloween...
I don't know when an appropriate time is to tell someone I have an Eating Disorder that I may or may not plan on dating...
I don't want to date anyone, let alone someone who makes food for a living...
Scratch that, the thought of dating anyone or someone who makes food for a living scares the living shit out of me I don't even know how to put it into words...
I hate that I blog and no one comments, ridiculous, I know...
I use to post my blog on Facebook, and then only on Twitter, and now nowhere. I feel so much shame in having an Eating Disorder and I'm wondering why there is so much shame in something like this...
I simply want to know what it's like to be normal, if for only a day...
I want to throw the rest of the lax out with the cookies but I probably wont...
I have to lose ten pounds in two weeks...
My ambitions are high and I fear my talent will never measure up...
I'm too much to handle, I'm sure of it...
I just want to run away and start fresh...
I don't think I believe in monogamy...
I truly believe there is enough love in this world, people just need to stop seeing so much hate...
I need to apologize/thank someone who has made up a total of two hours in my life but has been nothing but kind to me and has shown nothing but concern for me.
This blog post will be deleted within the next 24hrs...
I'm a beyond confused individual.
I could turn any one of these lines into a blog post no problem, the elaborations of each word is what is keeping me from sleep. And maybe the fact that I am trying to name my kitten that I don't yet have, that may not exist yet.
I'm way beyond weird, aren't I?
I've been in quite high spirits the last few days so I could simply chalk up this unexpected feeling of sadness to the fact that it is 3:30am and I am utterly exhausted with sleep no where in my near future.
Insomnia is showing it's invisible face for a reason though, because my brain is spinning. It doesn't stop, wont stop, can't stop. Could it be the curse of the creative mind, the madness that breeds inside of me forever, or just the fact that there are cookies down stairs that I foolishly bought that I want but wont eat. No... that can't possibly be it. They'll be in the trash tomorrow, I swear it.
I want to purge so badly right now, but I can't. I actually can't. Somewhere vomiting took a back seat to the importance of my teeth. Progress? Maybe. Too bad it didn't take a back seat to my health sometime ago. So I'm sitting here in extreme angst waiting for the 14 lax to kick in before I can feel empty again. I was so stupid tonight. There wasn't even a binge to justify the purge, the purge that wont even happen till morning. It was simply because I've eaten like a normal person for the last three days, normal person or maybe just more than an anorexic would eat. I don't know what a normal person eats. Regardless... It was too much and I sabotaged it willingly.
I've gained ten pounds today.
While we're here...
I'm planning an extended fast that I don't want to happen...
My feelings are hurt...
I miss someone that lives a million miles away...
I hate October, more so, I hate Halloween...
I don't know when an appropriate time is to tell someone I have an Eating Disorder that I may or may not plan on dating...
Scratch that, the thought of dating anyone or someone who makes food for a living scares the living shit out of me I don't even know how to put it into words...
I hate that I blog and no one comments, ridiculous, I know...
I use to post my blog on Facebook, and then only on Twitter, and now nowhere. I feel so much shame in having an Eating Disorder and I'm wondering why there is so much shame in something like this...
I simply want to know what it's like to be normal, if for only a day...
I want to throw the rest of the lax out with the cookies but I probably wont...
I have to lose ten pounds in two weeks...
My ambitions are high and I fear my talent will never measure up...
I'm too much to handle, I'm sure of it...
I just want to run away and start fresh...
I don't think I believe in monogamy...
I truly believe there is enough love in this world, people just need to stop seeing so much hate...
I need to apologize/thank someone who has made up a total of two hours in my life but has been nothing but kind to me and has shown nothing but concern for me.
This blog post will be deleted within the next 24hrs...
I'm a beyond confused individual.
I could turn any one of these lines into a blog post no problem, the elaborations of each word is what is keeping me from sleep. And maybe the fact that I am trying to name my kitten that I don't yet have, that may not exist yet.
I'm way beyond weird, aren't I?
Monday, October 22, 2012
It's Okay To Let Go...
There is no getting around the idea that people are going to talk about you. You'll be graced with those around you that will speak highly of you, in the most positive way, and just have a genuine love for you. It's fair to say that even those who love you, may vent in a not so friendly way at times. You can't please even the best of friends all the time, and thats okay. We're bound to annoy, anger, and get on the nerves of people we tend to spend a lot of time with. Embrace it. People are also going to talk pretty effing shitty about you too. Please, embrace that also. Because those who do that, quite obviously have other things going on in their lives, most of the time it isn't even directed towards you, they just need an outlet for their anger in whatever way they see fit. Just simply make sure they aren't actually a direct part of your life in the future. What people say negatively about you behind your back isn't a true reflection of who you are, it's the way you choose to respond to that, with grace and respect, that shows your ultimate character.
I was cleaning up my house the other day and came across a picture of someone I had been friends with for nearly 16 years. Long time for sure. We've had our ups and downs, fake ups, and ultimately our last down. In the picture we must have been maybe 15 years old. I can remember my life at that time slowly starting to fall apart. 15 year olds aren't suppose to have that much pain in their lives, and at the time, we both had things going on that no one should ever go through. But separately and together we smiled and pushed through it a way a 15 year old would. A picture speaks a 1000 words, gives a million memories, and sends out so much emotion you can barely stand. The socks we were wearing touched my heart, the sweaters, the colour of my room, the stuffed animals that casually sprawled out on my bed and the smiles on our faces that may or may not have been real, made me sad and confused and hurt all at the same time. A simple picture. I went to throw it out, instead I carefully removed it from the frame, merely folded it in two, and put it in a box. That time of my life is over but for some reason I couldn't throw it out. It was almost as if I was about to throw out 16 years of my life. Which I theoretically have but I wasn't sure I so tangibly wanted to do it just yet. So I kept it.
For me, it was time to end the friendship. With no ill will towards her, she is a certain person, as am I, and the toxicity between the two of us was awful. Did I feel bad? Certainly. I think I felt the most bad that I didn't do it sooner, that I thought we couldn't make a friendship work because I was too sick. I so often feel that I have to be able to befriend everyone in my life and if I can't then there must be something wrong with me. I can find something great in everyone and the fact that I couldn't find a good reason to keep this person in my life made me feel sick. It's like you're trapped in love where you just want to try and try and try to make it work, knowing very well in the back of your mind, in the depth of your soul... it never will. So I ended it, in a maybe not so conventional way but in the best way I knew how. And for me that's all that mattered. I knew very well what would happen... and it did. Which validated every reason in my books, plus many more I didn't even know existed, about why I had to eliminate this person from my life. I would never dream of saying the things to her she said to me, would never plan her demise as she mine. A girl who once gave me the keys to her place to feed her sweet little cats, now wishes I had nothing but hate in my life. If nothing else, it hurts, and I'm sure she is more than thrilled that I feel hurt from her. Truth is, as I anticipated, a giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that the longest chapter of my life has come to a close. It's not a crime to not want someone in your life, no matter how long they have been a permanent fixture. It's not a sign of weakness to release the negative, to do what's best for you. It's not my Eating Disorder talking, I want to be rid of that as much as I want to be rid of bad friendships, so I knew what I had to do. I just know I possess more respect, more class, and more dignity.
I was cleaning up my house the other day and came across a picture of someone I had been friends with for nearly 16 years. Long time for sure. We've had our ups and downs, fake ups, and ultimately our last down. In the picture we must have been maybe 15 years old. I can remember my life at that time slowly starting to fall apart. 15 year olds aren't suppose to have that much pain in their lives, and at the time, we both had things going on that no one should ever go through. But separately and together we smiled and pushed through it a way a 15 year old would. A picture speaks a 1000 words, gives a million memories, and sends out so much emotion you can barely stand. The socks we were wearing touched my heart, the sweaters, the colour of my room, the stuffed animals that casually sprawled out on my bed and the smiles on our faces that may or may not have been real, made me sad and confused and hurt all at the same time. A simple picture. I went to throw it out, instead I carefully removed it from the frame, merely folded it in two, and put it in a box. That time of my life is over but for some reason I couldn't throw it out. It was almost as if I was about to throw out 16 years of my life. Which I theoretically have but I wasn't sure I so tangibly wanted to do it just yet. So I kept it.
For me, it was time to end the friendship. With no ill will towards her, she is a certain person, as am I, and the toxicity between the two of us was awful. Did I feel bad? Certainly. I think I felt the most bad that I didn't do it sooner, that I thought we couldn't make a friendship work because I was too sick. I so often feel that I have to be able to befriend everyone in my life and if I can't then there must be something wrong with me. I can find something great in everyone and the fact that I couldn't find a good reason to keep this person in my life made me feel sick. It's like you're trapped in love where you just want to try and try and try to make it work, knowing very well in the back of your mind, in the depth of your soul... it never will. So I ended it, in a maybe not so conventional way but in the best way I knew how. And for me that's all that mattered. I knew very well what would happen... and it did. Which validated every reason in my books, plus many more I didn't even know existed, about why I had to eliminate this person from my life. I would never dream of saying the things to her she said to me, would never plan her demise as she mine. A girl who once gave me the keys to her place to feed her sweet little cats, now wishes I had nothing but hate in my life. If nothing else, it hurts, and I'm sure she is more than thrilled that I feel hurt from her. Truth is, as I anticipated, a giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that the longest chapter of my life has come to a close. It's not a crime to not want someone in your life, no matter how long they have been a permanent fixture. It's not a sign of weakness to release the negative, to do what's best for you. It's not my Eating Disorder talking, I want to be rid of that as much as I want to be rid of bad friendships, so I knew what I had to do. I just know I possess more respect, more class, and more dignity.
Monday, October 15, 2012
This Post Took Me Weeks To Write... Ironic I'd Say.
Recovery attempt number 5623.25
or close to.
Certainly feels that high anyway.
The most important thing to do when it comes to recovery, is to do everything that makes you uncomfortable. Anything that makes you fearful. Do everything you don't want to do. Essentially, what you're doing right now... stop... and do the opposite.
When I say do everything you don't want to do... it's more of an illusion of the things you don't want to do that you do in fact really really want to do.
In this case, the things that I want to do.
I think that was incredibly confusing, I hope you followed me there.
1. Go to Yoga. I mean everyone, just go to yoga, not just me. It will enrich your life so much, keep you grounded when you need it most, give you a soft kick when you need a little motivation and most importantly, you'll learn how to breathe. Yoga scares the shit out of me right up until the moment I walk through the doors and lay down my mat. And then suddenly nothing matters during my practice except me and what I'm taking from each class. I psych myself up so bad that I believe I'm the worst person to ever do yoga, that I will never be good at it and I am SURE everyone is watching me and judging me. Only when I start a practice do I realize how ridiculous I am and not a single person is watching me. I kinda love it though, every time I leave a class I feel like it's the first time I'm doing yoga all over again. Whether I have been going four times a week or haven't been in a month, I leave with the same amount of gratitude, love and clarity and that is the best motivation of all.
2. Run. If you are put into inpatient or daytime inpatient treatment in the hospital, running, walking, and yoga are not acceptable. Walking farther than one subway station isn't even allowed. This may work for some people but it is a weighty component of what is keeping me from entering inpatient treatment. I'm aware I exercise too much, but I also know it helps my soul and my mood. I simply need to find a balance between the two and I'm sure it's out there waiting for me at the top of a mountain somewhere. Running for me is so freeing, and such a sense of accomplishment. It takes away anxiety for me and allows me to think with a more level head, and calms me down enough that I can sleep at night. My only problem is that I don't eat enough to go as far as I'd like to, or as far as I use to be able to. It's a challenge that I keep unnecessarily pushing, instead of taking a step back and walkin' er out. Learning curve.
3. Get rid of the negative. Seriously, take it and throw it in the trash, put it back where you found it and just get it out of your life, immediately. No one has ever benefited from having anything toxic or negative in their life. If it's a living situation, change it. If it's your job, fix it or find a new one. Boyfriend/Girlfriend, friend, enemy... if there is really no way to change the situation to make it better and it is only bringing you down, you know what you have to do. Any chaos that results from it don't take it personally, just know that it's their shit they are dealing with and you did what was best for you. Move on and take care of you.
4. Speak your mind. Being silent in recovery is the worst thing you can possibly do. I often find myself restricting my voice on so many levels for so many reasons. Sometimes I'm afraid of hurting someone's feelings, I think what I'm about to say is stupid or incredibly unimportant, I'm afraid I'm wrong or simply that people don't care much. But the more I restrict my voice the more I cocoon myself into my eating disorder. Reality is, what I have to say is important, if not to other people but to me. Bottling things up destroys you from the inside out. Frankly, things we say aren't going to fly with everyone, people will disagree, but also, so many people will embrace your thoughts and feelings. Speaking your mind allows you to form closer relationships and lets people into your mind. Pretty terrifying stuff... I know.
5. Date. Hahaha. I know right? Dating is human nature, to those unattached of course. Or secretly dating for those of you that are attached. Hey, I don't judge. Dating may be, hands down, the most nerve-rackingly, uncomfortable thing I can put myself through. I have to talk, there is no getting away from that. I have to pretend I'm normal, and be witty and entertaining for a few hours. If you know how socially awkward I can be at times, you know how strange this gets for me. I have to hold someone else's attention and share things about myself. It's scary for me to share even what I did the day before with someone, never mind anything remotely personal. There is surely no getting out of that though. And I have to eat sometimes, and smile and laugh while I'm doing it so this foreign person doesn't think I'm completely off balance in life. I'll share with you an experience I had the other day... I went on a date with this really great guy, and pretty late too, so I naturally expected that I wasn't going to have to go out and eat by this point. Boy was I mistaken. I'm trying to be as normal as possible in most social situations, so I reluctantly agreed to head to a place I have very much been avoiding for a very long time. It scares me, and he scares me and the entire scenario just scared me, so I knew I had to do it. And I ate, everything I don't eat, and I laughed and I actually had a really great time. Now I'm just trying to figure out how to break the news to him that I indeed don't eat those things and it was completely a one time thing, I just really didn't want him to think I was weird. I think this point goes back to speaking my mind, but hey, I'm workin on it. The other part about dating that I have severe issues with is that you don't know where it's going to lead at any given moment. I need to, and prefer to, take things slow. It's that awkward end of date where you don't know whether to go in for the hug or to gently pull them in for that sweet kiss. Or that moment they ask to come up and you want to run screaming... I mean, I want to run screaming. It's hard, for me at least, to explain where I'm at and way easier for me to head for the hills. So generally by date two you can expect me to make excuses for why I'm busy, and eventually you'll never hear from me again. I find it's rare to meet a guy who doesn't expect a lot by date three, and I also think I'm a rare case that would much rather get to know someone... well... before anything else happens. I'm guarded, a bit jaded, and am incredibly careful who I let into my home. I've had some not so great things happen to me in the past and I will do everything in my power to be sure that who I'm with respects me and my body. So if you happen to date me... be gentle.
6. Get out of the house. This is a lot of the times the hardest thing for me to do. Sometimes, I just don't feel like it. The hard part isn't necessarily removing myself from my house, but to actually interact with other people outside of my house. I'm more than content to grab a coffee and spend my entire day, alone, perusing the city. It's when I have to be social that gets me. Shocking? Didn't think so. I don't know what to expect, I don't like surprise outings, I'm nervous to meet new people for fear of them thinking I'm strange. Maybe I'll have to go to that restaurant I've been trying to avoid forever, maybe I'll have to consume more calories than I allotted for the day, maybe I just don't want to talk or be seen, maybe I'm fatter today than I was yesterday, my shirt could be white instead of black, fuck, I could virtually find any reason under the sun to not have to go out. And I for the most part do grasp at every reason in the book. This is one aspect that I definitely need to try harder at, and I will, I swear.
So here is me trying to be accountable for my actions for the 5623.25th time. Ugh. Recovery is beyond exhausting. I get negative sometimes (understatement of the century) I know, and 95% of the time I believe recovery is impossibly over rated. Ha. I give you permission to give me a good swift kick in the butt if I need it, but please, in the most polite way. Don't hesitate to bring to my attention that I do, in truth, want this, need this, crave recovery. Sometimes I need someone to tell me to snap out of it and get back on track.
Le Sigh... This road is an infinity... Who knows where it will take us next.
or close to.
Certainly feels that high anyway.
The most important thing to do when it comes to recovery, is to do everything that makes you uncomfortable. Anything that makes you fearful. Do everything you don't want to do. Essentially, what you're doing right now... stop... and do the opposite.
When I say do everything you don't want to do... it's more of an illusion of the things you don't want to do that you do in fact really really want to do.
In this case, the things that I want to do.
I think that was incredibly confusing, I hope you followed me there.
1. Go to Yoga. I mean everyone, just go to yoga, not just me. It will enrich your life so much, keep you grounded when you need it most, give you a soft kick when you need a little motivation and most importantly, you'll learn how to breathe. Yoga scares the shit out of me right up until the moment I walk through the doors and lay down my mat. And then suddenly nothing matters during my practice except me and what I'm taking from each class. I psych myself up so bad that I believe I'm the worst person to ever do yoga, that I will never be good at it and I am SURE everyone is watching me and judging me. Only when I start a practice do I realize how ridiculous I am and not a single person is watching me. I kinda love it though, every time I leave a class I feel like it's the first time I'm doing yoga all over again. Whether I have been going four times a week or haven't been in a month, I leave with the same amount of gratitude, love and clarity and that is the best motivation of all.
2. Run. If you are put into inpatient or daytime inpatient treatment in the hospital, running, walking, and yoga are not acceptable. Walking farther than one subway station isn't even allowed. This may work for some people but it is a weighty component of what is keeping me from entering inpatient treatment. I'm aware I exercise too much, but I also know it helps my soul and my mood. I simply need to find a balance between the two and I'm sure it's out there waiting for me at the top of a mountain somewhere. Running for me is so freeing, and such a sense of accomplishment. It takes away anxiety for me and allows me to think with a more level head, and calms me down enough that I can sleep at night. My only problem is that I don't eat enough to go as far as I'd like to, or as far as I use to be able to. It's a challenge that I keep unnecessarily pushing, instead of taking a step back and walkin' er out. Learning curve.
3. Get rid of the negative. Seriously, take it and throw it in the trash, put it back where you found it and just get it out of your life, immediately. No one has ever benefited from having anything toxic or negative in their life. If it's a living situation, change it. If it's your job, fix it or find a new one. Boyfriend/Girlfriend, friend, enemy... if there is really no way to change the situation to make it better and it is only bringing you down, you know what you have to do. Any chaos that results from it don't take it personally, just know that it's their shit they are dealing with and you did what was best for you. Move on and take care of you.
4. Speak your mind. Being silent in recovery is the worst thing you can possibly do. I often find myself restricting my voice on so many levels for so many reasons. Sometimes I'm afraid of hurting someone's feelings, I think what I'm about to say is stupid or incredibly unimportant, I'm afraid I'm wrong or simply that people don't care much. But the more I restrict my voice the more I cocoon myself into my eating disorder. Reality is, what I have to say is important, if not to other people but to me. Bottling things up destroys you from the inside out. Frankly, things we say aren't going to fly with everyone, people will disagree, but also, so many people will embrace your thoughts and feelings. Speaking your mind allows you to form closer relationships and lets people into your mind. Pretty terrifying stuff... I know.
5. Date. Hahaha. I know right? Dating is human nature, to those unattached of course. Or secretly dating for those of you that are attached. Hey, I don't judge. Dating may be, hands down, the most nerve-rackingly, uncomfortable thing I can put myself through. I have to talk, there is no getting away from that. I have to pretend I'm normal, and be witty and entertaining for a few hours. If you know how socially awkward I can be at times, you know how strange this gets for me. I have to hold someone else's attention and share things about myself. It's scary for me to share even what I did the day before with someone, never mind anything remotely personal. There is surely no getting out of that though. And I have to eat sometimes, and smile and laugh while I'm doing it so this foreign person doesn't think I'm completely off balance in life. I'll share with you an experience I had the other day... I went on a date with this really great guy, and pretty late too, so I naturally expected that I wasn't going to have to go out and eat by this point. Boy was I mistaken. I'm trying to be as normal as possible in most social situations, so I reluctantly agreed to head to a place I have very much been avoiding for a very long time. It scares me, and he scares me and the entire scenario just scared me, so I knew I had to do it. And I ate, everything I don't eat, and I laughed and I actually had a really great time. Now I'm just trying to figure out how to break the news to him that I indeed don't eat those things and it was completely a one time thing, I just really didn't want him to think I was weird. I think this point goes back to speaking my mind, but hey, I'm workin on it. The other part about dating that I have severe issues with is that you don't know where it's going to lead at any given moment. I need to, and prefer to, take things slow. It's that awkward end of date where you don't know whether to go in for the hug or to gently pull them in for that sweet kiss. Or that moment they ask to come up and you want to run screaming... I mean, I want to run screaming. It's hard, for me at least, to explain where I'm at and way easier for me to head for the hills. So generally by date two you can expect me to make excuses for why I'm busy, and eventually you'll never hear from me again. I find it's rare to meet a guy who doesn't expect a lot by date three, and I also think I'm a rare case that would much rather get to know someone... well... before anything else happens. I'm guarded, a bit jaded, and am incredibly careful who I let into my home. I've had some not so great things happen to me in the past and I will do everything in my power to be sure that who I'm with respects me and my body. So if you happen to date me... be gentle.
6. Get out of the house. This is a lot of the times the hardest thing for me to do. Sometimes, I just don't feel like it. The hard part isn't necessarily removing myself from my house, but to actually interact with other people outside of my house. I'm more than content to grab a coffee and spend my entire day, alone, perusing the city. It's when I have to be social that gets me. Shocking? Didn't think so. I don't know what to expect, I don't like surprise outings, I'm nervous to meet new people for fear of them thinking I'm strange. Maybe I'll have to go to that restaurant I've been trying to avoid forever, maybe I'll have to consume more calories than I allotted for the day, maybe I just don't want to talk or be seen, maybe I'm fatter today than I was yesterday, my shirt could be white instead of black, fuck, I could virtually find any reason under the sun to not have to go out. And I for the most part do grasp at every reason in the book. This is one aspect that I definitely need to try harder at, and I will, I swear.
So here is me trying to be accountable for my actions for the 5623.25th time. Ugh. Recovery is beyond exhausting. I get negative sometimes (understatement of the century) I know, and 95% of the time I believe recovery is impossibly over rated. Ha. I give you permission to give me a good swift kick in the butt if I need it, but please, in the most polite way. Don't hesitate to bring to my attention that I do, in truth, want this, need this, crave recovery. Sometimes I need someone to tell me to snap out of it and get back on track.
Le Sigh... This road is an infinity... Who knows where it will take us next.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Gobble Gobble, I'm slow on the uptake...obvs
A few days late, but not a buck short. My intentions are pure.
Thanksgiving rolls around and a bounty of mixed emotions appear within me. An abundance of excitement, a jar full of fear, sprinkled with a handful of anxiety. It makes for a beauty of a plate. This was the first Thanksgiving I wasn't suppose to spend with my family. I unfortunately got scheduled to work, the entire weekend. As the holiday approached, residual sadness just followed me around like a lost puppy dog. Curled up in the warmth of my eating disorder, I hoped so hard that things would change and I could see my family. I knew seeing them would be the only thing that would get me somewhat out of my head. So when Saturday came and I got called off my double, I was entirely convinced I would be called off Sundays as well. And much to my amazement, I was. I think it was all the hoping I was doing in my heart. I hightailed it up so fast to Bradford without a care in the world, knowing whole heartedly, the painful few weeks I was indulging in, would come to an end or at least be put on hold for a couple days.
As tradition would have it, the holiday is a time to be Thankful for what we have, to voice it, to acknowledge it, to own and to love it. Of course we should be doing this everyday, but we don't as much as we should. So maybe it's not so terrible that I'm writing this a few days after the weekend.
Despite my ranting and raving about the effects and lifestyle of having an eating disorder, I don't feel sorry for myself that I live with it. I really just want it gone, it's painful. I'm not blinded by all the things I have in this life though. For all the things I have to be grateful for...
At the top of every list in my books is my Family. Majority of my family are pretty big foodies. Every family get together is revolved around food, wine and love. This is probably every family maybe but under any other circumstances unrelated to the people I adore most in this world, there is zero way you would ever get me there. Here's the thing, they don't judge me. They don't force me if I don't want to eat, and they don't make me feel like I'm a terrible person. This often results in me having the ability to eat like a "normal" person without feeling like the entire world is staring directly back at me instead of their own mashed potatoes. This, of course hasn't always been the case, nor is always the case, but it is getting more and more frequent as the months go on in my life. I still feel anxiety about what I ate but the surrounding of so much love and happiness trumps the want to be symptomatic more and more. Whether I only get a few hours or a couple days, it's a time where I can be who I am without having to worry about impressing people or pleasing anyone in the process. I can eat things I would never dare at home, I can laugh till my cheeks hurt and my eyes start to tear, I simply get to witness the most elation and compassion you'd ever think possible. They are my entire spirit.
I'm surrounded by some pretty fantastic people daily. I don't have many close friends, but the ones I have been blessed with are pretty fucking fantastic. Cousins are very much included in this statement, I know if I'm ever needing a hand to grab, one will forever be there.
I'm thankful for the ability to see even the most simplistic beauty. Hear the sweetest of melodies and to touch the most precious items that a great deal of people don't get the chance to. I get the pleasure of seeing the sun beaming, and through the grace of my lovely insomnia it's not uncommon to watch it set, as well as rise in the early morning. Blessing...right? Ya, that's it.
I have an insanely comfy bed to sleep in, a very central loft to live in, and a job that allows me to support myself. I have life experience that has allowed me not to be ignorant to a lot of things in the world. A wealth of knowledge that gives me the opportunity to be kind to others even when I don't want to be kind to myself, and a heart that allows me to feel an incredible amount of love, sometimes to a fault.
I'm grateful for the dexterity to form words on a page for people to see, for the resilience to stand back up when I fall flat on my ass, for the strength to share my story. I'm fortunate enough to have the durability to fight my battle. Even though some days I feel like I am doing anything but, I am still here and that has to say something. I'm grateful for every single positive in my life, and more so, every negative as well because those just make me that much stronger and learn a little more. I'm beyond appreciative of those who tune into my blog, who comment and share and support and motivate. For those who secretly think I'm crazy or who silently cheer me on, I'm thankful for you too.
My list could go on and on, for this is not all I'm grateful for in this world.
Above all else, I'm thankful for love. Love in every shape it takes, in all the unexpected places it shows up, in every way it presents it self to me when I need it the most. I just love, love, it's one thing surely no one will ever be able to take from me.
Thanksgiving rolls around and a bounty of mixed emotions appear within me. An abundance of excitement, a jar full of fear, sprinkled with a handful of anxiety. It makes for a beauty of a plate. This was the first Thanksgiving I wasn't suppose to spend with my family. I unfortunately got scheduled to work, the entire weekend. As the holiday approached, residual sadness just followed me around like a lost puppy dog. Curled up in the warmth of my eating disorder, I hoped so hard that things would change and I could see my family. I knew seeing them would be the only thing that would get me somewhat out of my head. So when Saturday came and I got called off my double, I was entirely convinced I would be called off Sundays as well. And much to my amazement, I was. I think it was all the hoping I was doing in my heart. I hightailed it up so fast to Bradford without a care in the world, knowing whole heartedly, the painful few weeks I was indulging in, would come to an end or at least be put on hold for a couple days.
As tradition would have it, the holiday is a time to be Thankful for what we have, to voice it, to acknowledge it, to own and to love it. Of course we should be doing this everyday, but we don't as much as we should. So maybe it's not so terrible that I'm writing this a few days after the weekend.
Despite my ranting and raving about the effects and lifestyle of having an eating disorder, I don't feel sorry for myself that I live with it. I really just want it gone, it's painful. I'm not blinded by all the things I have in this life though. For all the things I have to be grateful for...
At the top of every list in my books is my Family. Majority of my family are pretty big foodies. Every family get together is revolved around food, wine and love. This is probably every family maybe but under any other circumstances unrelated to the people I adore most in this world, there is zero way you would ever get me there. Here's the thing, they don't judge me. They don't force me if I don't want to eat, and they don't make me feel like I'm a terrible person. This often results in me having the ability to eat like a "normal" person without feeling like the entire world is staring directly back at me instead of their own mashed potatoes. This, of course hasn't always been the case, nor is always the case, but it is getting more and more frequent as the months go on in my life. I still feel anxiety about what I ate but the surrounding of so much love and happiness trumps the want to be symptomatic more and more. Whether I only get a few hours or a couple days, it's a time where I can be who I am without having to worry about impressing people or pleasing anyone in the process. I can eat things I would never dare at home, I can laugh till my cheeks hurt and my eyes start to tear, I simply get to witness the most elation and compassion you'd ever think possible. They are my entire spirit.
I'm surrounded by some pretty fantastic people daily. I don't have many close friends, but the ones I have been blessed with are pretty fucking fantastic. Cousins are very much included in this statement, I know if I'm ever needing a hand to grab, one will forever be there.
I'm thankful for the ability to see even the most simplistic beauty. Hear the sweetest of melodies and to touch the most precious items that a great deal of people don't get the chance to. I get the pleasure of seeing the sun beaming, and through the grace of my lovely insomnia it's not uncommon to watch it set, as well as rise in the early morning. Blessing...right? Ya, that's it.
I have an insanely comfy bed to sleep in, a very central loft to live in, and a job that allows me to support myself. I have life experience that has allowed me not to be ignorant to a lot of things in the world. A wealth of knowledge that gives me the opportunity to be kind to others even when I don't want to be kind to myself, and a heart that allows me to feel an incredible amount of love, sometimes to a fault.
I'm grateful for the dexterity to form words on a page for people to see, for the resilience to stand back up when I fall flat on my ass, for the strength to share my story. I'm fortunate enough to have the durability to fight my battle. Even though some days I feel like I am doing anything but, I am still here and that has to say something. I'm grateful for every single positive in my life, and more so, every negative as well because those just make me that much stronger and learn a little more. I'm beyond appreciative of those who tune into my blog, who comment and share and support and motivate. For those who secretly think I'm crazy or who silently cheer me on, I'm thankful for you too.
My list could go on and on, for this is not all I'm grateful for in this world.
Above all else, I'm thankful for love. Love in every shape it takes, in all the unexpected places it shows up, in every way it presents it self to me when I need it the most. I just love, love, it's one thing surely no one will ever be able to take from me.
Share with me what you're Thankful for...
Saturday, October 6, 2012
It's Cozy Here.
For the last two weeks I have quite literally just been sitting in my loft with my Eating Disorder. Maybe longer than two weeks. Uh well... yea... undoubtably longer than two weeks. Indulging in it, entertaining it, loving it. Playing with it, listening to it and letting it drag me down as far as it likes. I've just realized this today. When you fall right back in, it takes a while to actually see it. I've felt the pull, I've known for a while that the struggle seems to be getting more difficult, but I couldn't figure out why. Until tonight, just now, as I was sitting on my bedroom floor on the internet doing everything I shouldn't be doing in relation to my Eating Disorder. I've been invited out by several people, but I'd rather sit on my floor. I haven't any desire to go to work because it's too hard. I've pushed some people away... just because I can. Because I'm not worthy of their affection. No one significant in my life, but people who quite possibly could be very significant at some point. Dating is just not an option, people like that, could never love someone like me, once they get to know what I do on the daily. I'm at a toss up between fighting for life or giving up altogether. I begged and pleaded for help the other night, amongst a thousand tears, a million words, and ten billion different ways to say I'm broken, I got a simple "I love you, but I don't know what to do for you". I don't know what to do anymore either. I don't, I literally don't. It's this point now, this second, I've gotta make a choice. The choice to change or I'm going to go down hard. It's really only in my hands alone, isn't it?
Help me.
Help me fight.
Help me live and help me love.
Help me.
Help me fight.
Help me live and help me love.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Treatment Aint Cheap.
I am, very shamelessly admittedly, having a pity party today. And I'm sorry, but I'm not going to feel bad about it either.
I promise my party of pity will cease tomorrow.
I don't feel loved one bit. I know in retrospect that I am loved, so it's quite ridiculous for me to not feel loved. Through no fault of any one that is a part of my life, it has nothing to do with them. It's totally and in every way, my own shit. I don't love me in any form, therefore I believe it quite impossible for anyone to love me. It's hopeless to feel loved by others, if I can't feel love for myself. I'm confused on how I experience love for so many others though. That... that's the part I'm having a hard time with. Why can I love everyone but me.
I don't believe in hospital treatment. It may work for some, and I'm sure it has, but it's just not something I am crazy about. I felt like I was stuck in jail and I had done something wrong when I went (for one day) to inpatient day hospital treatment. Bathroom doors were locked except for 15 minutes before meal time. That's the only time you are even allowed to use them. You had an alloted amount of time to finish each snack and meal. Immediately after eating I wasn't allowed to stand up for 30 minutes, not even to throw my garbage out a foot away. I cried and cried and cried as a nurse sat beside me trying to console me from not wanting to eat, and the doctor was in my other ear playing bad cop on how I had to finish my meal. Inevitably, I didn't and I had to force down a liquid meal substitute for what I didn't eat. Some girls were much thinner than I was, and some girls very much weren't. It felt like a competition in so many ways. I'm sure this doesn't sound horrible to you, but to me it was the most traumatizing thing ever. I didn't eat a thing for a week after and all I did was cry in my bed. Along with participating in inpatient, you must commit to not exercising at all. Walking farther than one subway stop is considered too much. No yoga, no running, no unnecessary walking and for me... no working. I whole heartedly believe that healthy exercise is vital in the treatment of an eating disorder. Yoga helps heal your soul, and your body. I know so many girls recovering who have found love in yoga. A good long walk can help clear your head, just as much, running can as well. Don't get me wrong, people with Eating Disorders often have a terrible time with letting go of the addiction to exercise, but there is certainly a balance to be found and that should all be a part of treatment. You wouldn't tell someone with binge eating disorder that they have to stop eating, so there is certainly no reason to tell someone to stop exercising when recovering from the hardest thing of their lives.
Even if I wanted to participate in inpatient treatment again, I'm fairly sure I couldn't. It has crossed my mind many times in the last few weeks to seek it out again, and in the last several years I have had three opportunities to actually go. I can't afford it. The actual treatment itself is covered by OHIP, but it interferes with any paying job. 9 a.m.-6:30 p.m. for 3-4 months, leaves zero time to work. Which means I couldn't pay rent or anything else life related. On top of the fact that they seriously frown upon me serving because I'm constantly running around all day. They also have quite the wait times as well. A month wait just to assessed after a doctor refers you, and then another 4 month wait at least until you start the program.
There are a few more options...
1. 45 day inpatient treatment in Guelph. 45 days seems a lot better than 3 months, and it's not just day hospital. I'd actually take all my shit and stay there the full 45 days. I've heard some great things about the place... bad news... I've been wait-listed for this treatment program for 19 months already and it doesn't sound like my turn is coming up any time soon. They have a certain amount of ward beds that OHIP covers and that wait is years. Yes... years. I often wonder how many people die waiting for their turn. To get a private bed it costs about $250-$300/day and that wait is still about 6 months. Providing 45 days is sufficient, I'm looking at, at least, $12,000. Awesome.
2. The US has some great facilities that treat eating disorders with high recovery rates. They integrate yoga and healthy exercise into recovery, along with vegetarian/vegan options for food, a focus on if being a vegetarian is the Eating Disorder or a real choice (which I'm having a super hard time with right now) and don't force you to eat everything all at once. They work with you to find recovery in a way that works for you as long as you are moving forward. That's what I've gathered anyhow. OHIP will cover a certain amount of days providing you can prove Canada can't help you. Otherwise... minimum $50,000 for the stay. Double Awesome.
3. Holistic Recovery Centre- $300 for the assessment alone. $175.00/hr for individual therapy, $50.00 for group therapy. $175.00/hr for aftercare. Suggested*2-4 hours of individual treatment daily for up to three weeks. Which I can tell you, 3 weeks wont have someone like me recovered.
As you can tell so far, in order to get into a treatment centre, you've gotta be rich.
Helpless dreaming, but I'd like to think one of the centers in the US would help, unfortunately, that is not possible so instead of wishful thinking, I have to find my own (cheaper) means of doing this.
So here is the list of things that I need... somehow.
Group therapy twice a week, a naturopathic doctor, a therapist, a dietician, yoga, a family doctor and a dentist. I can tell you even group therapy costs $20 a visit, and therapy is $150.00 an hour. On top of everything else I need, you can only imagine how much it all adds up to. The only good thing about this last option is... I can still work.
Can you see where my pity party came into play today?
I can't live like this anymore, I very literally can't, but I can't make it go away. Despite my best efforts (taking supplements) my iron just keeps getting lower and lower. The most strength I can muster up is to get to work, even then I just want to cry because I don't want to be there. I can't shower without bawling because my hair is falling out in handfuls. Without makeup I look like a run down beast with pale skin and giant bags under my eyes. For as long as I can remember I've been trying to be perfect, beautiful on the outside so you can't witness me dying on the inside and soon I'm just going to look like a monster. Oh the irony. I have no clue on how to grocery shop, never mind the inevitable panic attacks that ensue when I enter a grocery store, and every time I eat a "normal" sized meal I'm in an insane amount of pain. I know I have to eat but the fact that I am my own motivation and support system, makes it difficult to force it. I know someone else can't make me better, no one can wave a magic wand and make this all go away. Loving me wont fix me. I need an army, and if I can't find that with the people in my life (and by no means do I expect it from 99% of the people that I do have in my life) then I need to attain it else where.
I've just gotta win the lottery now.
I have this ideal situation where I quit my job and go into treatment and everything is fantastic finally, but sadly it's never going to happen. I very much know that group therapy alone isn't going to make this go away. Most days I feel I would be better off locked up in a treatment centre, preferably not one in a hospital like Toronto General. Mostly money is stopping me, partly fear. Partly believing it's never going to get better. That even if it gets a little better, I'll forever be living with an eating disorder is some aspect or another.
Since I started this blog I've danced around the subject of treatment and always say I'll get to explaining it another day. It just upsets me so much even thinking about how much money it costs to get better. The most deadliest mental illness and you have to be rich to afford the treatment. It doesn't make sense in my brain one bit. I think it's sick, and unfair and stupid. So there you have it finally. A small insight into the costs, the wait times and the duration.
Anyone have $50,000 I could borrow?
Didn't think so.
I promise my party of pity will cease tomorrow.
I don't feel loved one bit. I know in retrospect that I am loved, so it's quite ridiculous for me to not feel loved. Through no fault of any one that is a part of my life, it has nothing to do with them. It's totally and in every way, my own shit. I don't love me in any form, therefore I believe it quite impossible for anyone to love me. It's hopeless to feel loved by others, if I can't feel love for myself. I'm confused on how I experience love for so many others though. That... that's the part I'm having a hard time with. Why can I love everyone but me.
I don't believe in hospital treatment. It may work for some, and I'm sure it has, but it's just not something I am crazy about. I felt like I was stuck in jail and I had done something wrong when I went (for one day) to inpatient day hospital treatment. Bathroom doors were locked except for 15 minutes before meal time. That's the only time you are even allowed to use them. You had an alloted amount of time to finish each snack and meal. Immediately after eating I wasn't allowed to stand up for 30 minutes, not even to throw my garbage out a foot away. I cried and cried and cried as a nurse sat beside me trying to console me from not wanting to eat, and the doctor was in my other ear playing bad cop on how I had to finish my meal. Inevitably, I didn't and I had to force down a liquid meal substitute for what I didn't eat. Some girls were much thinner than I was, and some girls very much weren't. It felt like a competition in so many ways. I'm sure this doesn't sound horrible to you, but to me it was the most traumatizing thing ever. I didn't eat a thing for a week after and all I did was cry in my bed. Along with participating in inpatient, you must commit to not exercising at all. Walking farther than one subway stop is considered too much. No yoga, no running, no unnecessary walking and for me... no working. I whole heartedly believe that healthy exercise is vital in the treatment of an eating disorder. Yoga helps heal your soul, and your body. I know so many girls recovering who have found love in yoga. A good long walk can help clear your head, just as much, running can as well. Don't get me wrong, people with Eating Disorders often have a terrible time with letting go of the addiction to exercise, but there is certainly a balance to be found and that should all be a part of treatment. You wouldn't tell someone with binge eating disorder that they have to stop eating, so there is certainly no reason to tell someone to stop exercising when recovering from the hardest thing of their lives.
Even if I wanted to participate in inpatient treatment again, I'm fairly sure I couldn't. It has crossed my mind many times in the last few weeks to seek it out again, and in the last several years I have had three opportunities to actually go. I can't afford it. The actual treatment itself is covered by OHIP, but it interferes with any paying job. 9 a.m.-6:30 p.m. for 3-4 months, leaves zero time to work. Which means I couldn't pay rent or anything else life related. On top of the fact that they seriously frown upon me serving because I'm constantly running around all day. They also have quite the wait times as well. A month wait just to assessed after a doctor refers you, and then another 4 month wait at least until you start the program.
There are a few more options...
1. 45 day inpatient treatment in Guelph. 45 days seems a lot better than 3 months, and it's not just day hospital. I'd actually take all my shit and stay there the full 45 days. I've heard some great things about the place... bad news... I've been wait-listed for this treatment program for 19 months already and it doesn't sound like my turn is coming up any time soon. They have a certain amount of ward beds that OHIP covers and that wait is years. Yes... years. I often wonder how many people die waiting for their turn. To get a private bed it costs about $250-$300/day and that wait is still about 6 months. Providing 45 days is sufficient, I'm looking at, at least, $12,000. Awesome.
2. The US has some great facilities that treat eating disorders with high recovery rates. They integrate yoga and healthy exercise into recovery, along with vegetarian/vegan options for food, a focus on if being a vegetarian is the Eating Disorder or a real choice (which I'm having a super hard time with right now) and don't force you to eat everything all at once. They work with you to find recovery in a way that works for you as long as you are moving forward. That's what I've gathered anyhow. OHIP will cover a certain amount of days providing you can prove Canada can't help you. Otherwise... minimum $50,000 for the stay. Double Awesome.
3. Holistic Recovery Centre- $300 for the assessment alone. $175.00/hr for individual therapy, $50.00 for group therapy. $175.00/hr for aftercare. Suggested*2-4 hours of individual treatment daily for up to three weeks. Which I can tell you, 3 weeks wont have someone like me recovered.
As you can tell so far, in order to get into a treatment centre, you've gotta be rich.
Helpless dreaming, but I'd like to think one of the centers in the US would help, unfortunately, that is not possible so instead of wishful thinking, I have to find my own (cheaper) means of doing this.
So here is the list of things that I need... somehow.
Group therapy twice a week, a naturopathic doctor, a therapist, a dietician, yoga, a family doctor and a dentist. I can tell you even group therapy costs $20 a visit, and therapy is $150.00 an hour. On top of everything else I need, you can only imagine how much it all adds up to. The only good thing about this last option is... I can still work.
Can you see where my pity party came into play today?
I can't live like this anymore, I very literally can't, but I can't make it go away. Despite my best efforts (taking supplements) my iron just keeps getting lower and lower. The most strength I can muster up is to get to work, even then I just want to cry because I don't want to be there. I can't shower without bawling because my hair is falling out in handfuls. Without makeup I look like a run down beast with pale skin and giant bags under my eyes. For as long as I can remember I've been trying to be perfect, beautiful on the outside so you can't witness me dying on the inside and soon I'm just going to look like a monster. Oh the irony. I have no clue on how to grocery shop, never mind the inevitable panic attacks that ensue when I enter a grocery store, and every time I eat a "normal" sized meal I'm in an insane amount of pain. I know I have to eat but the fact that I am my own motivation and support system, makes it difficult to force it. I know someone else can't make me better, no one can wave a magic wand and make this all go away. Loving me wont fix me. I need an army, and if I can't find that with the people in my life (and by no means do I expect it from 99% of the people that I do have in my life) then I need to attain it else where.
I've just gotta win the lottery now.
I have this ideal situation where I quit my job and go into treatment and everything is fantastic finally, but sadly it's never going to happen. I very much know that group therapy alone isn't going to make this go away. Most days I feel I would be better off locked up in a treatment centre, preferably not one in a hospital like Toronto General. Mostly money is stopping me, partly fear. Partly believing it's never going to get better. That even if it gets a little better, I'll forever be living with an eating disorder is some aspect or another.
Since I started this blog I've danced around the subject of treatment and always say I'll get to explaining it another day. It just upsets me so much even thinking about how much money it costs to get better. The most deadliest mental illness and you have to be rich to afford the treatment. It doesn't make sense in my brain one bit. I think it's sick, and unfair and stupid. So there you have it finally. A small insight into the costs, the wait times and the duration.
Anyone have $50,000 I could borrow?
Didn't think so.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Where Am I?
One day I made the choice not to eat. I don't know when or how but somewhere along the way I made that choice. And now I sit and look around at everyone indulging in delicious food and enjoying themselves wondering when that will be me. How will that ever be me?
I sit alone in my apartment and make the choice not to eat. I don't eat for as long as I can possibly hold out for. Because I can't. I can't see the number on the scale rise. I can't feel that food inside me, expanding in my body, nourishing me. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to feel good. I get angry for wanting food. Why can't I just live without it. I shouldn't be craving food of any sort.
And then I take a little bite of something and that's it.
But that voice in my head chimes in, "you can throw that up you know". And for a moment, bulimia weasels it's way back into my life. And I don't have just one bite, I eat it all. I eat it all because unlike you, I don't know when I'll taste that again. I wont allow myself to go back to it later, or tomorrow, or next week. So I indulge until I'm sick, I fill my hollow being, my empty emotions with food so I don't have to feel for that minute. And then I release it. Because it's bad, because I don't like the feeling. Because I was so stupid to have ever thought what I just did was okay. Eating is not okay.
But now, I don't feel satisfaction after. I feel hate. Hate towards myself. Even more hate towards my eating disorder. And the ultimate confusion for why I couldn't just stay away.
I embrace anorexia like a long lost love. I watch as the number on the scale declines. Feel angst when it's at a stand still. Welcome the sleepless nights because I am empty again. Anxiety is home.
And I wonder how I got back here. How I let what indeed effected me, effect me. Knowing if I just eliminate it from my life... Maybe I will be okay then. I will probably be okay then. But having it is destructive, "it" treats me like I should be treated. Like I am nothing, like I don't matter, like I can just be walked all over. I don't need them... like I don't need my eating disorder. But it's so much easier to not speak up.
I have to speak up.
I sit alone in my apartment and make the choice not to eat. I don't eat for as long as I can possibly hold out for. Because I can't. I can't see the number on the scale rise. I can't feel that food inside me, expanding in my body, nourishing me. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to feel good. I get angry for wanting food. Why can't I just live without it. I shouldn't be craving food of any sort.
And then I take a little bite of something and that's it.
But that voice in my head chimes in, "you can throw that up you know". And for a moment, bulimia weasels it's way back into my life. And I don't have just one bite, I eat it all. I eat it all because unlike you, I don't know when I'll taste that again. I wont allow myself to go back to it later, or tomorrow, or next week. So I indulge until I'm sick, I fill my hollow being, my empty emotions with food so I don't have to feel for that minute. And then I release it. Because it's bad, because I don't like the feeling. Because I was so stupid to have ever thought what I just did was okay. Eating is not okay.
But now, I don't feel satisfaction after. I feel hate. Hate towards myself. Even more hate towards my eating disorder. And the ultimate confusion for why I couldn't just stay away.
I embrace anorexia like a long lost love. I watch as the number on the scale declines. Feel angst when it's at a stand still. Welcome the sleepless nights because I am empty again. Anxiety is home.
And I wonder how I got back here. How I let what indeed effected me, effect me. Knowing if I just eliminate it from my life... Maybe I will be okay then. I will probably be okay then. But having it is destructive, "it" treats me like I should be treated. Like I am nothing, like I don't matter, like I can just be walked all over. I don't need them... like I don't need my eating disorder. But it's so much easier to not speak up.
I have to speak up.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Importance
What's important to you? I mean really really important.
For so long all that was important to me was to be skinny. I would have died for it. I wanted to die for it.
Three years ago a doctor told me that if I didn't change my ways, I would be dead within the year. I didn't care, I wanted to fade away so quickly, all I could wonder was how fast that year would be up. I'm still here... Thankfully.
The importance wasn't truly to be skinny, as much as it was to be good enough. To be loved. To not fail. I wanted to make people proud. I wanted my Uncles, and Aunts and Cousins to be happy to call me a part of their family. I wanted my Mom to come home, to be healthy, to love me. I wanted someone to hold me and never let me go. Anyone. I wanted friends. I wanted to feel a part of life, a significant part of life. I never wanted to be seen as just another useless person. I've never wanted to be known as the girl with the eating disorder. I wanted to accomplish something great, something people would remember. Something that if I were to die today, I wouldn't have just been a waste. I wanted to touch lives, change maybe one, love everyone I came into contact with. I wanted to be thought of as a good person, with a good heart and a good soul. The importance to me was to be happy doing all of this. What it essentially came down to was that I hated myself so much, that I could never be any of this. I've never thought I could be anything great, that anyone could truly love me, but I could be skinny. So I would kill myself to get there.
Four years ago I admitted to being effected by an eating disorder. Four years ago I started recovery. I've fallen and stood back up and then fallen fifteen or sixteen more times. I've never stopped standing back up though. It's been a long long four years, and a ton has happened. This last year though, this last year has been quite possibly the most significant. I spun in some serious circles for the first three years of attempting to "fix" myself. I was in and out of treatment and dealing with a lot of things that were completely out of my control. Eventually in the midst of my recovery, I was at my worst. The only thing at the time I could control was my eating disorder, or so I thought. When I think back on this last year, okay well maybe year and a half ish... I did the one thing I thought I could never do. I chose to live. I've said it before, but I'll say it again... I'll never forget the night... I was either ending it all in that very moment, or I was choosing life. After 11 years of wanting to die, I chose then that I wanted to live. That's what I've been trying to do ever since. Live.
It's quite ironic to me now that I'm terrified this may actually kill me. After fifteen years of starving myself, bingeing, purging, over exercising, abusing laxatives, diuretics and diet pills; the human body isn't so forgiving. It's almost impossible to make doctors listen to you when you tell them you have an Eating Disorder. I can't tell you how many times I've gone to a walk-in clinic or the ER and doctors hand me an antacid and send me on my way. I went into the ER with chest pains and throwing up blood, with an IV in my arm I was told not to come back unless I was throwing up buckets of blood, that this is an emergency room and was handed another heart burn medication. Another time I was given an antacid, an adavan and a percocet and sent on my way to walk home. (I was alone, high, sedated and dizzy... stupid thing to do to a 90lbs girl and not ask if she was with anyone or how she was getting home) My family doctor takes months to send out referrals for me that take months to hear back from. She's been told I need my heart checked once a month and tells me its a waste of my time and I can do it every six months. I think she thinks eating disorders aren't a real issue... I think she's not my doctor anymore. My problem now is that I'm so passive with doctors because I've been conditioned to believe they wont take me seriously. So now when I go in, I smile and nod and walk away. But shit's wrong with me. And I'm scared. My iron is the lowest it's ever been, I feel like an 80 yr old woman, I think I have the bones of one anyway. I'm in the most pain when I eat, my kidneys hurt and it's just no good. So I don't eat. Which means I'm starving myself, which brings disordered thoughts into my head, which means my eating disorder is full blown and I don't know what to do. It's not important to me anymore. My eating disorder hasn't served me well in quite sometime, I don't want it back like this. But it's here and I fear that it is killing me. Again, the irony is uncanny. I want to live but feel like I'm fading. I want to be healthy but can't stop losing. I want to toss my scale but find myself standing on it every morning. I want to learn how to eat like a normal person but have come back to full blown panic attacks in the grocery store. I want to sleep but it's 4am. I want to break up with ED but I can't do that on 500cals a day. I want to love, I want to laugh, I want to see beauty and reason everywhere I look. I want to LIVE.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
My Last Post...
I wanted to create a view of me that wasn't related to my eating disorder, so that's what I published below. I've decided to take a hiatus from blog writing and focus on everything positive in my life. If you met me tomorrow you would have no idea that I am effected by Ed. You can't hear Him, you certainly can't see Him and I never ever talk about him. My last few posts have just become more negative and that is only going to turn me into the self that I was almost two years ago. I'm not aiming for sadness, I'm striving for greatness. I need to move forward in life and excel. My eating disorder is a part of me, yes, but it's not the entire part. I believe with my whole heart that I can accomplish many great things in this life with or without Ed. Maybe I'm being naive to think that I can move forward without dealing with this first. Maybe I'm being ignorant in thinking that it's not always going to be a problem and it effects me in so many ways. I know it effects me straight to the bottom of my soul, but it's just one thing. One thing that I don't want. If I continue to focus on what I don't want though, that's all I'm going to get. If I keep writing about the negative impacts my eating disorder has on my life, that's surly all I'm going to get out of life. Negative breeds negative. Whether I find greatness and achieve all I want to achieve and Ed simply disappears because he no longer has a purpose in my life anymore, or he will always be that voice deep within my mind telling me that I need to be thinner, I need to believe that this isn't all there is.
Lately I sit down to write, and I draw a complete blank. I focus so much on what I should be writing about where it hits a point that all I am now thinking in the moment is Ed. Whenever I try to recover, Ed consumes me. Ed gets Louder, and Louder, and Louder. I then fall into some deep dark hole that is often too difficult for me to get out of. My intent now is to better myself, better my life and focus on tangible goals that I do want. Not the one thing I need to get rid of. My hope is that I will create this fantastic life for myself that I can't help but want to be a part of.
I made a change to my blog recently, for a couple of reasons... It just looks happier now. Also, I couldn't in good conscience anymore write under the heading "Breaking Up With Ed" when I have been doing anything but. Maybe I just need some time away from looking at my blog. Away from thinking about Ed. Maybe in a month, or six months, I can come back and write again. Or MAYBE I can develop an entirely different blog. After all, writing lives inside of me. With or without Ed, words will forever be a part of me. I have too much to live for to allow something that doesn't define me, break me.
So with a re vamped blog look that will be warmly neglected for the next little while and a lot of love in my heart, I shall be off. Please send nothing but good vibes my way. I leave with nothing but warm wishes and love your way.
*Where there is love, there is life*
A Different Side
My eating disorder doesn't define who I am, but it most definitely defines who I am, to you.
I haven't allowed my true self to extend from my fingers to the page, I have only allowed a small glimpse into my life that is needless to say, slightly less than positive.
There is so much more to me than this though, whether you know me or not...
*I have an insane amount of love and respect for yoga, I learn a new life lesson and do my best to apply it to my life every time I go. Starting yoga could quite possibly be the best thing I ever did for myself.
*In a matter of eight days I will officially be a Certified Image Consultant. This will be the first thing in my adult life that I have completed all the way through, and that I am so so sure of, I couldn't be more thrilled.
*I believe Hate and Anger are the two most useless human emotions one could attain. At the end of the day they hurt you and you only.
*I do my best not to judge anyone in a negative way. People tend to surprise me at every corner turned.
*I have one great love and soul mate and
*I want a career in fashion and a way to effect those around me in the most positive way possible. To empower everyone to be their most authentic best self they can be. I really believe the two can coincide in some way.
*I have the biggest fear of public speaking and I tend to think of myself as socially awkward. My job is to actually talk to people all day long, go figure.
*I can plan some pretty fantastic events. I held a fundraiser for Sick Kids Hospital a few years back with only a few weeks to plan and raised $2,500.00 along with gathering donated bags and bags full of kids toys for Christmas. It's been the second thing I'm most proud of. The first...? Two weeks after the earthquake in Haiti, I put together a Charity Event and Silent Auction with the help of one of my managers at work. My ex boyfriend has extremely close ties to Haiti and I felt it was the least I could do. The amount of people that came together in that moment still makes me cry. By the end of the night tons of prizes were won, a lot of beer was drank and we raised just shy of $10,000.00. It was pretty incredible.
*I can't stand gossip, placing labels on people or talking about people negatively just for the sake of it. I can't change what other people do or talk about but I walk away when I can, say something positive about the person or just smile and nod.
*I have an addiction to social media. I love to *Tweet* and probably annoy my Facebook friends with useless updates.
*I'd rather spend a night in Barrie or Bradford with my aunts, uncles and cousins than spend it painting the town red in Toronto with friends.
*I have an ex boyfriend. Yes, we all have that ex I'm sure, and I bet I'm not that ex for him. I've indirectly spoken about him through here this last year and a half but I haven't always given him the credit he deserves. He is undoubtedly one of the most fantastic people in my life and he doesn't even live in the Country. While I believed my life would never be the same with him not in it the way I once wanted it, that this year would be the hardest of my life... six months in I haven't even realized how much time has gone by. He's still in my life every day, my life has only gotten better, and that only began when I started to change me and stopped trying to change him. He will continue to be one of the most important people to me and if nothing else, the greatest friend for life.
*I've made a year plan for myself that involves nothing but positive changes. Disconnecting myself from negative people where I see fit, taking care of myself before taking care of others so that I CAN take care of and give to others. Going to yoga at least twice a week, and making a goal to run the half marathon in Toronto later next year. I'm not going to drink to get drunk or consume a drink if I've had the slightest bit of a bad day. I'm going to find something good out of every possible day and save as much money as I can. I'm going to continue on a new program for school and start looking for an internship in fashion. At the end of the year I'm either going to attempt the move to NYC or if I can find enough love within Toronto, I'm going to travel for a significant time before I plant my feet on the ground here in this beautiful city once again.
*I'm a closet extrovert. I'm quiet and introverted when you first meet me but give me time and I'm a pretty big nut. I'm an observer and listener before a doer.
*I think with my heart before my head always. I forgive too quickly. And am the hardest person to get to know.
*If I were to win the lottery tomorrow, there are three homeless men in Toronto that I would give a decent amount of money to. Simply because they never ask for money and every time I walk by one of them it pulls on my heart strings and I wish I could do something to make their life different.
*I live in a stellar loft in a great area. I have a crush on Gordon Ramsey and have a secret love for Degrassi High... The Next Generation. I don't understand Politics or Religion all that much but I want to. I can't do math to save my life but I can write an essay that will knock your socks off. I don't think there are stupid people just because they can't do something maybe we can do. Everyone excels in something and there is nothing stupid about that. I want a Great Dane and some other kind of tiny fluffy dog and I want them to be friends. If I could do something that wasn't in fashion, I think I would be a dog walker. I have too many lulu lemon clothes, in fact, just too many clothes and never anything to wear. I'm emotional, strong willed, determined and ambitious. But I'm also stubborn, guarded, unsure and sometimes irrational. I look at the world in a way that everyone is fighting some sort of battle and if we're kind to everyone you'd be amaze at what can happen. I'm more open to change now than I ever have been before. I'm me, and that's more than good enough.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Truth
The point is...
I'm not really on anyone's radar anymore.
The secret is...
Anyone who knows about my eating disorder thinks I'm getting better... or that I AM better.
The reality is...
I'm a great faker.
Truth about it all...
I'm going to keep smiling because there are more important things going on in this world other than me.
I'm not really on anyone's radar anymore.
The secret is...
Anyone who knows about my eating disorder thinks I'm getting better... or that I AM better.
The reality is...
I'm a great faker.
Truth about it all...
I'm going to keep smiling because there are more important things going on in this world other than me.
Can't Relapse If I Never Got Better
Does anyone who actually knows me even read this? Please enlighten me.
I read my entire blog the other day. I wanted to curl up into nothing and cry, so instead I went for a run. I didn't recognize a single word of it that would have come from me. None of the earlier posts that is.
She sounded hopeful... excited about the future. That girl could breathe... I've forgotten completely how to do that. She wanted recovery so bad, she was on the right track. She sounded... almost... well, happy even. I can pinpoint the exact post, without even giving it a second thought or checking dates, that I stopped going to treatment. My writings went from hopeful to destructive in 2.5 seconds in bloggers time. Lets face it, recovery hasn't really been on my radar for quite some time. I'd love to think that it has but I would be lying to myself, and you. I feel slightly blindsided by my own doing, and now for the last few days between workouts and working, I've been contemplating how I let myself down so horribly. I'm well aware that eating disorders are not about the body but I can't help but want to disappear more and more every day. To fade into nothing, to see and feel my bones. The difference between then and now is that I was going to group every week. I had people to relate to, who knew what I was going through. While once a week is nothing substantial, it was certainly better than nothing and got me thinking about recovery every day. I was waitlisted for months for inpatient treatment and when it came down to it, three separate times, I refused it and they had no choice but to close my file. I didn't, and still don't want to live in a hospital, that much I know. I also know though, that there are other treatment options out there for me that I am blatantly ignoring. It's not about fattening me up and feeding me. It's about teaching me how to deal with everything that has happened in my life in a healthy and positive way.
I'm too stubborn for my own good in believing I can make all this go away myself. Its stupidity really. I had myself convinced I dealt with everything I needed to, so why am I still doing this. The more I don't want to think about life the deeper I fall into it. The eating disorder occupies my mind into thinking about food, and being skinny all day long that I quite literally have zero brain space to think of anything else remotely constructive. I want to cry so bad but refuse to show any kind of weakness within myself even in the privacy of my own home. I'm trying to get down to a number low enough that I will allow myself to go back to group. I've made up my mind that I'm not skinny enough yet to have a big enough problem, that no one will take me seriously because no one did when I weighed less than I do now. Up until a couple weeks ago I was sure I was on somewhat of a better path than I have been. Then I bailed out on one of the very few friends I have because I had to go work out. I realized at that moment I'm in it. I can't get out of it. I have no idea how. It's not easy, recovery isn't easy. Its so fucking hard you wouldn't believe. I'd bet money it's harder than getting your Masters, a PhD or passing the bar. Seriously, I'm not kidding, its really really fucking mind numbingly hard. So once again, I know what I should do, but am I going to make that choice or prove once again my weakness against my very own self.
Fuck.
I read my entire blog the other day. I wanted to curl up into nothing and cry, so instead I went for a run. I didn't recognize a single word of it that would have come from me. None of the earlier posts that is.
She sounded hopeful... excited about the future. That girl could breathe... I've forgotten completely how to do that. She wanted recovery so bad, she was on the right track. She sounded... almost... well, happy even. I can pinpoint the exact post, without even giving it a second thought or checking dates, that I stopped going to treatment. My writings went from hopeful to destructive in 2.5 seconds in bloggers time. Lets face it, recovery hasn't really been on my radar for quite some time. I'd love to think that it has but I would be lying to myself, and you. I feel slightly blindsided by my own doing, and now for the last few days between workouts and working, I've been contemplating how I let myself down so horribly. I'm well aware that eating disorders are not about the body but I can't help but want to disappear more and more every day. To fade into nothing, to see and feel my bones. The difference between then and now is that I was going to group every week. I had people to relate to, who knew what I was going through. While once a week is nothing substantial, it was certainly better than nothing and got me thinking about recovery every day. I was waitlisted for months for inpatient treatment and when it came down to it, three separate times, I refused it and they had no choice but to close my file. I didn't, and still don't want to live in a hospital, that much I know. I also know though, that there are other treatment options out there for me that I am blatantly ignoring. It's not about fattening me up and feeding me. It's about teaching me how to deal with everything that has happened in my life in a healthy and positive way.
I'm too stubborn for my own good in believing I can make all this go away myself. Its stupidity really. I had myself convinced I dealt with everything I needed to, so why am I still doing this. The more I don't want to think about life the deeper I fall into it. The eating disorder occupies my mind into thinking about food, and being skinny all day long that I quite literally have zero brain space to think of anything else remotely constructive. I want to cry so bad but refuse to show any kind of weakness within myself even in the privacy of my own home. I'm trying to get down to a number low enough that I will allow myself to go back to group. I've made up my mind that I'm not skinny enough yet to have a big enough problem, that no one will take me seriously because no one did when I weighed less than I do now. Up until a couple weeks ago I was sure I was on somewhat of a better path than I have been. Then I bailed out on one of the very few friends I have because I had to go work out. I realized at that moment I'm in it. I can't get out of it. I have no idea how. It's not easy, recovery isn't easy. Its so fucking hard you wouldn't believe. I'd bet money it's harder than getting your Masters, a PhD or passing the bar. Seriously, I'm not kidding, its really really fucking mind numbingly hard. So once again, I know what I should do, but am I going to make that choice or prove once again my weakness against my very own self.
Fuck.
It's Not Just About Being Pretty
Perhaps I was unclear when I mentioned time and time again that an eating disorder is not about vanity, it's not about the food, it's not about the body. My body is simply the mechanism that is getting the short end of the stick in this deal. It's an outlet for my emotions, my struggles. I can not simply look into the mirror and tell myself I am beautiful and be done with it. I just can't, I'm sorry. Nor can I just tell my eating disorder to depart, to get out of my life and stop tormenting me. If it was that easy, geez, there would be no blog to write. I can't just eat and feel okay about it. I can't put on my size zero pants and love the way they look. I can't have a conversation with someone and think they give a shit about what I'm talking about. I can't think that life is magically going to work out for me without fighting really really hard to make it work. I am not vain. I'm affected by an eating disorder. So please... please, stop telling me I'm getting better, because I'm not. Please stop telling me I'm stronger than this, because it's been proven otherwise. I don't want to hear anymore that I just need to tell Ed to get lost, because I can't do it on my own. I'll figure it out one day.... today, today just isn't that day. Neither was yesterday, or last week.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Just Some Words Onna Page
Tell me in which ways you see brilliance and I'll tell you in all the ways you are wrong. Explain to me where you see excellence and intelligence and I will enlighten you on how you must have gotten it confused with failure and stupidity. All I see are words on a page strewn out in some half assed blog; emotions displayed in some other kind of disorganized chaos that don't even seem to make sense anymore. What I read is maybe not what you see. What I read are merely words that are escaping my fingertips to form a proper sentence. They are just words on a page, you see. You feel what the words tell you to feel, but do you feel how I feel? I bare my soul for you to see, can you see it? There is no brilliance about it, for I have only one way to express myself. My one and only true love.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Thats That
Recovery isn't in the cards for me, it's just not.
I'm starting to be okay with that.
I know Ed doesn't define me.
I'm starting to be okay with that.
I know Ed doesn't define me.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
That Girl
I was leafing through one of my many books tonight and came across this. I wrote it last year and for reasons wasn't ready to share it. But I think I am now, simply because I haven't engaged in some of this behaviors for quite some time now.
I'm the girl who will bring you home a gift, just because; even if you may not deserve it. I'm the girl who will give you the shirt off my back if you need it. Tell you the truth no matter what and will give you love when it's called for. I'm that girl who will do everything and ask for nothing. I'm the girl who forgives always, forgets never, and gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. I'm the girl who will hug you when you're crying, laugh with you when something is funny and be straight with you when you ask.
*I'm the girl no one sees this in*
I'm the quiet girl in the corner slowly dying.
I'm the pained girl on the bathroom floor with mascara running down my face and a knife in my hand.
I'm the broken girl who can only find relief when blood is dripping from my leg.
I'm the girl who needs to hurt physically because I can't stand the hurt in my soul.
I'm the girl smiling because I don't want you to see me breaking.
I'm the liar that says "I'm getting better" "everything's great" "I'm fine, thanks", because I don't want to burden anyone with having to help me.
I'm the girl with so many ambitions that won't see the light of day because I'm too sick.
*I'm the girl no one sees this in*
*I'm the girl no one knows*
*I'm the girl who needs saving but doesn't want to be saved*
I'm that girl that you say... "Oh, ya, I remember her... I think..."
I'm the girl who will bring you home a gift, just because; even if you may not deserve it. I'm the girl who will give you the shirt off my back if you need it. Tell you the truth no matter what and will give you love when it's called for. I'm that girl who will do everything and ask for nothing. I'm the girl who forgives always, forgets never, and gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. I'm the girl who will hug you when you're crying, laugh with you when something is funny and be straight with you when you ask.
*I'm the girl no one sees this in*
I'm the quiet girl in the corner slowly dying.
I'm the pained girl on the bathroom floor with mascara running down my face and a knife in my hand.
I'm the broken girl who can only find relief when blood is dripping from my leg.
I'm the girl who needs to hurt physically because I can't stand the hurt in my soul.
I'm the girl smiling because I don't want you to see me breaking.
I'm the liar that says "I'm getting better" "everything's great" "I'm fine, thanks", because I don't want to burden anyone with having to help me.
I'm the girl with so many ambitions that won't see the light of day because I'm too sick.
*I'm the girl no one sees this in*
*I'm the girl no one knows*
*I'm the girl who needs saving but doesn't want to be saved*
I'm that girl that you say... "Oh, ya, I remember her... I think..."
Believe It
Last year I met an incredible girl in group. Every time she spoke, my heart broke. For her stories, for her struggles and simply because of the pain she exuded. Possibly, why I felt so broken when she spoke was because I resonated with her life so much, I could relate to so much and yet, I could never speak as freely as she could.
I have this compulsion with wanting people to know they are important, to try to put a smile on their face and let them know it'll all be okay. I came to group one day with this framed, that I wrote for her, to look at everyday...
Tell yourself everyday how beautiful you are. How worthy and good you are. How much you deserve this for you.
Find your passion and run with it.
You can do this.
The journey will be long, it will be hard, messy and chaotic.
But...
It will be beautiful, and at the end of the struggle there will be
Greatness.
I Believe In You!
When you can't believe in you, know that someone out there is believing in you, for you.
Trust in your strength and courage and ability.
Open your eyes to a world of living WITHOUT Ed!
Open your heart to love.
Open your mind to possibility!
*We must face tomorrow, whatever may come, with determination, joy and bravery*
*Your life is an occasion... rise to it*
Like I said the other day, I'm good at preaching and helping others. I wonder how long it's going to take for me to grasp onto my own advice. To look at this for myself and believe I deserve it too.
I still worry about her...
And to anyone out there struggling, I invite you to read this everyday and know that you too, are worth the world.
I have this compulsion with wanting people to know they are important, to try to put a smile on their face and let them know it'll all be okay. I came to group one day with this framed, that I wrote for her, to look at everyday...
Tell yourself everyday how beautiful you are. How worthy and good you are. How much you deserve this for you.
Find your passion and run with it.
You can do this.
The journey will be long, it will be hard, messy and chaotic.
But...
It will be beautiful, and at the end of the struggle there will be
Greatness.
I Believe In You!
When you can't believe in you, know that someone out there is believing in you, for you.
Trust in your strength and courage and ability.
Open your eyes to a world of living WITHOUT Ed!
Open your heart to love.
Open your mind to possibility!
*We must face tomorrow, whatever may come, with determination, joy and bravery*
*Your life is an occasion... rise to it*
Like I said the other day, I'm good at preaching and helping others. I wonder how long it's going to take for me to grasp onto my own advice. To look at this for myself and believe I deserve it too.
I still worry about her...
And to anyone out there struggling, I invite you to read this everyday and know that you too, are worth the world.
Wouldn't That Be Nice?
I wish I could take a magic pill and forget everything that has happened in the last four years.
Heal.
And then remember it all over again, be strong enough to feel it, deal with it and own it.
Heal.
And then remember it all over again, be strong enough to feel it, deal with it and own it.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
You Think You Know, Eh?
My hope through beginning a blog was essentially to change the way people view eating disorders, first and foremost. My second hope was to maybe find a certain level of healing and comfort by finding the courage to make an extremely private story, so incredibly public.
I have reason to believe I have yet to accomplish either goal, with the exception of blatantly exposing my ridiculous life. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
Unless you have personally lived through something, you can not feel it with every single fibre inside your soul. It is virtually impossible. To change an individuals outlook on a certain topic generally proves to be quite difficult. To make people passionate about changing the way, say eating disorders are looked at, is an entirely different story altogether.
It's not a diet gone astray, it's a death sentence being lived out. We're not picky eaters, we're petrified of what you just placed in front of us. We're not anti social, we're trapped behind bars inside a very tiny jail cell. Just eat, you say... Just dive into that concrete pavement from 5000ft above, we say back. We don't know how yet. And you won't. We're not "stupid girls" or vain, get to know us and we probably possess more intelligence then you ever thought possible. You know, once you can look past the whole ED thing. I've met countless people effected by an eating disorder who are some of the smartest, most kind hearted caring people I have ever met in my life. Should we know better? Yes. Do we? Sometimes. It's not entirely about being convinced "that voice" that perpetually taunts us day after day, is lying to us. It's about learning to believe that what we are being bullied into hearing All. Day. Long. Isn't actually true. To somehow look deeper into the mirror, deeper into ourselves, directly from the borrowed eyes of another and see what they so clearly see for a change. That maybe... Possibly... We are good enough in every way possible by just being us. It's about wanting to be good. Needing to feel loved unconditionally. Thriving on human contact that we tend to run from whenever it presents itself anyway. I can preach, man can I preach. And I can give advice to another. But I can't believe it for myself. I say I know. I know I should know, but I don't know anything. I just so desperately want to believe that the thoughts I'm being ambushed with aren't real, aren't true, or that some day they will indeed be silenced without my having to try so hard to shut them up. I feel crazy sometimes. When I despise who is glaring back at me, it's impossible to believe anything remotely good at all. I crave to be a good person. Pure and loved. But when things go askew, I believe anything but and the only thing that I can make sense of is turning to what I know, my eating disorder. Somedays I really do feel alright, somewhat normal. In times of stress, uncertainty, or hardship though, I haven't a clue how to deal but to try as hard as possible to fade away as quick as I can. To become smaller, unseen, invisible.
Light as a feather, I'll be.
It's incredibly easy when the eating disorder has always been here in times of need. To numb me out when I refuse to feel. To have Ed, so consistently, so utterly punctual, so goddamn reliable. It's so easy when I find myself distraught, sitting in my apartment seemingly alone, and I turn to look and He's the only thing sitting next to me. He's so conveniently accessible in moments of hurt. Ed, I believe he's actually saved my life at times when I believed I couldn't get though what was happening to me. He must care, right? How do you learn to separate from something so controlled?
Now tell me again it's just another fad diet gone a bit too far...
I have reason to believe I have yet to accomplish either goal, with the exception of blatantly exposing my ridiculous life. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
Unless you have personally lived through something, you can not feel it with every single fibre inside your soul. It is virtually impossible. To change an individuals outlook on a certain topic generally proves to be quite difficult. To make people passionate about changing the way, say eating disorders are looked at, is an entirely different story altogether.
It's not a diet gone astray, it's a death sentence being lived out. We're not picky eaters, we're petrified of what you just placed in front of us. We're not anti social, we're trapped behind bars inside a very tiny jail cell. Just eat, you say... Just dive into that concrete pavement from 5000ft above, we say back. We don't know how yet. And you won't. We're not "stupid girls" or vain, get to know us and we probably possess more intelligence then you ever thought possible. You know, once you can look past the whole ED thing. I've met countless people effected by an eating disorder who are some of the smartest, most kind hearted caring people I have ever met in my life. Should we know better? Yes. Do we? Sometimes. It's not entirely about being convinced "that voice" that perpetually taunts us day after day, is lying to us. It's about learning to believe that what we are being bullied into hearing All. Day. Long. Isn't actually true. To somehow look deeper into the mirror, deeper into ourselves, directly from the borrowed eyes of another and see what they so clearly see for a change. That maybe... Possibly... We are good enough in every way possible by just being us. It's about wanting to be good. Needing to feel loved unconditionally. Thriving on human contact that we tend to run from whenever it presents itself anyway. I can preach, man can I preach. And I can give advice to another. But I can't believe it for myself. I say I know. I know I should know, but I don't know anything. I just so desperately want to believe that the thoughts I'm being ambushed with aren't real, aren't true, or that some day they will indeed be silenced without my having to try so hard to shut them up. I feel crazy sometimes. When I despise who is glaring back at me, it's impossible to believe anything remotely good at all. I crave to be a good person. Pure and loved. But when things go askew, I believe anything but and the only thing that I can make sense of is turning to what I know, my eating disorder. Somedays I really do feel alright, somewhat normal. In times of stress, uncertainty, or hardship though, I haven't a clue how to deal but to try as hard as possible to fade away as quick as I can. To become smaller, unseen, invisible.
Light as a feather, I'll be.
It's incredibly easy when the eating disorder has always been here in times of need. To numb me out when I refuse to feel. To have Ed, so consistently, so utterly punctual, so goddamn reliable. It's so easy when I find myself distraught, sitting in my apartment seemingly alone, and I turn to look and He's the only thing sitting next to me. He's so conveniently accessible in moments of hurt. Ed, I believe he's actually saved my life at times when I believed I couldn't get though what was happening to me. He must care, right? How do you learn to separate from something so controlled?
Now tell me again it's just another fad diet gone a bit too far...
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Made Sense In My Head
I keep finding new reasons not to eat.
Because I should be smart enough to have already dealt with my old reasons not to eat.
No reason to dwell on the past now, right?
Because I should be smart enough to have already dealt with my old reasons not to eat.
No reason to dwell on the past now, right?
Monday, May 21, 2012
Silent Killer
It's like all you're doing is fighting against yourself and you know, there is a chance that you will never win.
I've been doing so well.
That's such a lie.
If I silently sit back and reflect, it would appear I'm just swapping old symptoms for new ones, or for really old ones. Due to legitimately not being able to engage in symptoms I'm so fond of out of pain/fear, I've come up with more "healthy" things to keep myself occupied with.
I get tricked so easily!
Laying in bed at 1:23am and I can't bare the silence. I can't bare my own thoughts, my own feelings. The sound of my own breath makes me cringe, I need to hear something other than me so I try to focus on the cars passing by in the streets. It doesn't work. Playing music on VEVO keeps my anxiety at bay momentarily before I realize my cellphone bill is going to be through the roof.
A difficult time with sheer silence is an understatement. My anxiety levels go on a rampage when I realize it's just me and my brain. Maybe hence why I'm always keeping busy. Work, social media, exercising, reading, walking, texting, music, dancing. Anything at all. But what happens when there is no choice but to sit in it. Sit in the silence. What I really want to do is scream at the top of my lungs, punch something, throw a temper tantrum or cry like a two year old. When none of these are a likely option... Then what? I write. I'm writing because what I really want to do right now is go for a run. I've been sitting here counting the hours until I can get outside again and move. What am I running from? Myself, my reality. My legs try to go faster, to separate from myself, but my body knows it will never escape itself. I need to except where I am and be okay with it and move forward. I feel almost as if I've hit a blockade where, on my own, I can't move forward. Maybe it's time to go back to group therapy. Where I'm heard, where I'm understood and where I learn. I convinced myself a long time ago that I'm not sick enough to go back to group, I'm not thin enough to need help anymore. Someone tell me where the logic in that is please?
I'm not where I started. I'm not where I was a year ago when I began this blog even. I'm somewhere different. Better? Maybe. Worse? No. Simply different. The goal is still the same though, the ideal number hasn't gone away. My perfectionistic ways have yet to cease and the obsession is still there. The eating disorder morphs itself into something new, something that has me believing I'm happier. Happier until its quiet. Rules changed because I was catching on, I didn't want to play anymore. I refuse to believe I'm falling deeper into it instead of coming more out of it. I'd also be a fool to not know how easily I can fall back into it.
I've been doing so well.
That's such a lie.
If I silently sit back and reflect, it would appear I'm just swapping old symptoms for new ones, or for really old ones. Due to legitimately not being able to engage in symptoms I'm so fond of out of pain/fear, I've come up with more "healthy" things to keep myself occupied with.
I get tricked so easily!
Laying in bed at 1:23am and I can't bare the silence. I can't bare my own thoughts, my own feelings. The sound of my own breath makes me cringe, I need to hear something other than me so I try to focus on the cars passing by in the streets. It doesn't work. Playing music on VEVO keeps my anxiety at bay momentarily before I realize my cellphone bill is going to be through the roof.
A difficult time with sheer silence is an understatement. My anxiety levels go on a rampage when I realize it's just me and my brain. Maybe hence why I'm always keeping busy. Work, social media, exercising, reading, walking, texting, music, dancing. Anything at all. But what happens when there is no choice but to sit in it. Sit in the silence. What I really want to do is scream at the top of my lungs, punch something, throw a temper tantrum or cry like a two year old. When none of these are a likely option... Then what? I write. I'm writing because what I really want to do right now is go for a run. I've been sitting here counting the hours until I can get outside again and move. What am I running from? Myself, my reality. My legs try to go faster, to separate from myself, but my body knows it will never escape itself. I need to except where I am and be okay with it and move forward. I feel almost as if I've hit a blockade where, on my own, I can't move forward. Maybe it's time to go back to group therapy. Where I'm heard, where I'm understood and where I learn. I convinced myself a long time ago that I'm not sick enough to go back to group, I'm not thin enough to need help anymore. Someone tell me where the logic in that is please?
I'm not where I started. I'm not where I was a year ago when I began this blog even. I'm somewhere different. Better? Maybe. Worse? No. Simply different. The goal is still the same though, the ideal number hasn't gone away. My perfectionistic ways have yet to cease and the obsession is still there. The eating disorder morphs itself into something new, something that has me believing I'm happier. Happier until its quiet. Rules changed because I was catching on, I didn't want to play anymore. I refuse to believe I'm falling deeper into it instead of coming more out of it. I'd also be a fool to not know how easily I can fall back into it.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Ya, This Happens
*~*a classic common dialogue between Ed & I*~*
Yesterday I worked a busy shift, running around sweating my balls off, (if I had any) in the mild heat we did have. Until the end of my shift at 1130pm, I really had barely consumed anything all day. So I ordered food... To go. Ed disapproved.
Ed- you better not eat that. You've done so well all day.
Me- I'm hungry Ed, I'll eat half of it at home. I'm going to die if you don't let me eat.
Ed- you'll get fat, don't eat that.
*i ate it. half of it at work actually.*
When I got home...
Ed- you better not eat the rest of that. You foolishly made plans to go for breakfast tomorrow morning. You probably shouldn't go anymore.
*so i ate the other half*
Ed- okay, now you definitely can't go for breakfast tomorrow. Look at you, I can see the meal on your hips already. Do you feel better?
Me- no actually, I feel like I'm going to be sick.
Ed- you're not going tomorrow.
Me- I have to Ed, I made plans. I actually single handedly made these plans myself. I have to go. I'll just have coffee.
Ed- fine.
*when I woke up this morning I still felt full from the meal last night. I wasn't going to go, but really, I did make the plans. I had to go, I wasn't letting Ed win this morning. So I went, and I ate.*
Ed- you don't get it do you. You're too fat, you shouldn't be eating that. You're going to regret this, because I'm going to make you.
And by fat I mean...
~I'm really frustrated that I'm not better yet~
Me- I'm going to yoga later, I had to eat or I wouldn't make it through the class.
Ed- you better go work out before yoga or you'll look disgusting in those clothes.
And by disgusting I really mean...
~I keep attracting and allowing shitty relationships into my life. I need to be better so I can do better~
*so I did. I went home and jumped roped for 30 minutes. And then I danced for an hour and a half.*
Me- I shouldn't have done that. I'm going to eat something small and take the subway up.
Ed- no you're not.
Me- i'll walk home Ed, it's hot yoga, I gotta make it through the class.
Ed- you can take the subway home, promise. But you have so much time before class, you have to walk.
*so two hours before my class I walked there... The long way. An hour and a half later, I arrived, sweating and hungry and anxious*
Me- I shouldn't go in. You're in my head too much today. And I'm hungry, I'm really not going to make it through this class I don't think.
Ed- you'll make it through, I promise. And hey, I think maybe you kinda sorta look skinnier then you did earlier. You should work out some more. ***snickers behind devious smile***
Me- k, but stay outside. I need peace from you for an hour and a half.
Ed- only if you go in now
Me- my class doesn't start for another 30 min. It's too hot. I'm not making it through this class.
*so I went and laid in the heat for 30min prior to my class. I didn't bring Him in with me, so many people were in and out, He must have snuck in. I couldn't concentrate on a single thing, I couldn't hear the instructor. It was Him, His voice, Loud in my hear, taunting me.
...I didn't make it through the class*
Me- see, I told you...
Ed- that's your own fault, you were doing so great, I thought for sure you could do it. Don't blame me for your incompetence.
While kneeling on the bathroom floor trying not to puke or pass out...
Me- shut up Ed.
*foolishly thinking I could take the subway home, I was so disappointed in myself for not completing the class, I walked another hour and a half home. Sweaty, ugly and fat.
And by fat I mean...
~I think I'm really worried about my mom~
The entire, long, gross walk home he was walking beside me.
Ed- you should run home.
Me- I have a yoga mat, a purse with TWO towels in it among other things, and a water bottle. How about YOU run home, I'll meet ya there.
Ed- no really, I think you should run, it'll make up for lost yoga time. I promise you'll feel better.
Me- Ed, I still feel like I'm going to puke
Ed- well, if you had of stuck out the class, you could have taken the subway home. You did this to yourself.
Me- ya right you would have let me. How about I walk really quickly and you shut the hell up for 20 minutes.
*i walked a pace so fast I was trying to escape from someone. If I didn't have all my stuff I would have ran. I was trying to escape Him but man can that guy keep up. Every 30 seconds he assured me that I'm so fat I'll never get the things I want in life.*
And by fat I really mean...
~I'm scared my hard work in school and life right now isn't going to get me where I want to be. I'm terrified I'll never be good enough.~
*i eventually made it home and hopped in the shower. I blasted Adele to drown out the obnoxious sounds of Him and belted out lyrics that all too closely relate to my relationship with Him.*
Ed- what's the text say?
Me- don't worry about it...
*i was suppose to go out tonight, with a guy I'm really into. My response to an inquiry of if I'm coming was, "not likely"*
And by not likely I mean...
~I'm too fat.~
And by I'm too fat I REALLY mean...
~...I'd love to but you're no good for me, and I've had enough of no good for me for today.~
Ed- I think you should go...
Me- I think maybe you should go fuck yourself.
*so I put on the cutest pair of PJ's I could find to make myself feel a little better, made a coffee... And wrote...*
Yesterday I worked a busy shift, running around sweating my balls off, (if I had any) in the mild heat we did have. Until the end of my shift at 1130pm, I really had barely consumed anything all day. So I ordered food... To go. Ed disapproved.
Ed- you better not eat that. You've done so well all day.
Me- I'm hungry Ed, I'll eat half of it at home. I'm going to die if you don't let me eat.
Ed- you'll get fat, don't eat that.
*i ate it. half of it at work actually.*
When I got home...
Ed- you better not eat the rest of that. You foolishly made plans to go for breakfast tomorrow morning. You probably shouldn't go anymore.
*so i ate the other half*
Ed- okay, now you definitely can't go for breakfast tomorrow. Look at you, I can see the meal on your hips already. Do you feel better?
Me- no actually, I feel like I'm going to be sick.
Ed- you're not going tomorrow.
Me- I have to Ed, I made plans. I actually single handedly made these plans myself. I have to go. I'll just have coffee.
Ed- fine.
*when I woke up this morning I still felt full from the meal last night. I wasn't going to go, but really, I did make the plans. I had to go, I wasn't letting Ed win this morning. So I went, and I ate.*
Ed- you don't get it do you. You're too fat, you shouldn't be eating that. You're going to regret this, because I'm going to make you.
And by fat I mean...
~I'm really frustrated that I'm not better yet~
Me- I'm going to yoga later, I had to eat or I wouldn't make it through the class.
Ed- you better go work out before yoga or you'll look disgusting in those clothes.
And by disgusting I really mean...
~I keep attracting and allowing shitty relationships into my life. I need to be better so I can do better~
*so I did. I went home and jumped roped for 30 minutes. And then I danced for an hour and a half.*
Me- I shouldn't have done that. I'm going to eat something small and take the subway up.
Ed- no you're not.
Me- i'll walk home Ed, it's hot yoga, I gotta make it through the class.
Ed- you can take the subway home, promise. But you have so much time before class, you have to walk.
*so two hours before my class I walked there... The long way. An hour and a half later, I arrived, sweating and hungry and anxious*
Me- I shouldn't go in. You're in my head too much today. And I'm hungry, I'm really not going to make it through this class I don't think.
Ed- you'll make it through, I promise. And hey, I think maybe you kinda sorta look skinnier then you did earlier. You should work out some more. ***snickers behind devious smile***
Me- k, but stay outside. I need peace from you for an hour and a half.
Ed- only if you go in now
Me- my class doesn't start for another 30 min. It's too hot. I'm not making it through this class.
*so I went and laid in the heat for 30min prior to my class. I didn't bring Him in with me, so many people were in and out, He must have snuck in. I couldn't concentrate on a single thing, I couldn't hear the instructor. It was Him, His voice, Loud in my hear, taunting me.
...I didn't make it through the class*
Me- see, I told you...
Ed- that's your own fault, you were doing so great, I thought for sure you could do it. Don't blame me for your incompetence.
While kneeling on the bathroom floor trying not to puke or pass out...
Me- shut up Ed.
*foolishly thinking I could take the subway home, I was so disappointed in myself for not completing the class, I walked another hour and a half home. Sweaty, ugly and fat.
And by fat I mean...
~I think I'm really worried about my mom~
The entire, long, gross walk home he was walking beside me.
Ed- you should run home.
Me- I have a yoga mat, a purse with TWO towels in it among other things, and a water bottle. How about YOU run home, I'll meet ya there.
Ed- no really, I think you should run, it'll make up for lost yoga time. I promise you'll feel better.
Me- Ed, I still feel like I'm going to puke
Ed- well, if you had of stuck out the class, you could have taken the subway home. You did this to yourself.
Me- ya right you would have let me. How about I walk really quickly and you shut the hell up for 20 minutes.
*i walked a pace so fast I was trying to escape from someone. If I didn't have all my stuff I would have ran. I was trying to escape Him but man can that guy keep up. Every 30 seconds he assured me that I'm so fat I'll never get the things I want in life.*
And by fat I really mean...
~I'm scared my hard work in school and life right now isn't going to get me where I want to be. I'm terrified I'll never be good enough.~
*i eventually made it home and hopped in the shower. I blasted Adele to drown out the obnoxious sounds of Him and belted out lyrics that all too closely relate to my relationship with Him.*
Ed- what's the text say?
Me- don't worry about it...
*i was suppose to go out tonight, with a guy I'm really into. My response to an inquiry of if I'm coming was, "not likely"*
And by not likely I mean...
~I'm too fat.~
And by I'm too fat I REALLY mean...
~...I'd love to but you're no good for me, and I've had enough of no good for me for today.~
Ed- I think you should go...
Me- I think maybe you should go fuck yourself.
*so I put on the cutest pair of PJ's I could find to make myself feel a little better, made a coffee... And wrote...*
Sunday, April 15, 2012
My Own Path
Recovery... What does that word even mean?! I can tell you this; the words easy, fun, reliable, joyous and The. Best. Ever! Will not be descriptors of Recovery, I'm sorry, they just won't be. Messy, chaotic, emotional and frustrating are more likely to fit the mold. It's the most uncomfortable, confusing thing ever. The process in itself sucks in my opinion. Just when you think you're doing kinda okay... You're suddenly, without warning or excuse, kinda REALLY not okay. There is no Recovery for Dummies manual to read and adhere to. There are no rules, no shoulds, shouldas or shouldnts. People will tell you to just eat, just don't throw up, just don't exercise, just love life, just be okay and just get better already. Some will tell you they know best, that you are too far in it to make a good decision and you should listen to them. Some will leave you alone and let you make your own decisions. Either one may or may not work for you. What I'm trying to say is... You're path won't look like mine and mine won't look like yours. What works for someone may not work for someone else. The most important thing...? Follow our own individual path, find what works for us, above all else, find the drive within our heart to do better for our own lives. To give ourselves the love we deserve even though most of the time we don't believe we deserve anything remotely great at all.
I've chosen a path that is maybe a little less conventional. Writing is my release. I have more paper notebooks than any single person should own with sporadic writings in all of them. Oddly, not a single notebook is completed. I hit a point where writing for only myself was getting me nowhere and decided to lay my heart and soul on the line for the world to see. It has been my saving grace I think. I don't so much talk freely in person about all this, my blog has allowed me to talk without having to speak.
I can't explain why it helps so much, I'm not sure I even understand it, all I know is that I'm not laying on my bathroom floor curled up in the fetal position everyday crying, afraid to leave my house except to go to work. With that being said, it's still hard to leave every day. I've had a small glimpse into life enjoyment this last year and that is what is keeping me afloat for now.
Afloat... Maybe we can use that word loosely.
My chosen route through this has been a struggle for others in my life. It's hard to make people understand my not wanting to do some things and wanting to do others when it comes to treatment. Treatment is an intensely scary thing, something I'll touch on another day, and that I'm not ready for. It's been a slow process for some to handle and at times for me as well. What matters to me though is that I want recovery sometimes, and sometimes is better than never. The somewhat small successes I have had don't get the praise they deserve because contradictory, they are serious failures in my eyes in the moment. I know though that that's Ed's voice knocking me down and my selfish reasons for not wanting to give up my eating disorder for good. It's only when I can look back on weeks, months and sadly, years, that I see I'm not in the same low place I once was. I get really angry everyday that I'm not better, but it's the simple reminder to myself that after 15 years of being effected by Ed, I can't expect to be better today. I'm learning to find the fine line between needing to stay inside away from the world and needing to go out and walk for hours. I'm learning who's voice is speaking, mine or Ed's, and which one to listen to. I'm learning that today I'm good but tomorrow I may be back crying on the bathroom floor. That my next post may be how horribly horrible all this is and how I'll never get better and that I downed a box of diet pills and spent my entire day exercising, and the post after that will be how motivated I am to recover. I'm learning that recovery is a contradiction in itself. That recovery can't be defined at all. I'm learning... And for now... That's what matters.
I'd also like to mention sharing, in any form, is therapy. When you can't be kind to yourself, getting your secret out results in kind words from others. It just so happens I was pleasantly surprised when I read a comment on a previous post today. I don't know them but that's what the best thing about it is. I needed to read that comment at that moment. Reading the kind words from an anonymous stranger makes me realize there are some pretty fantastic people out there. So to whoever you are, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for caring and believing. And seeing what I can't yet.
I've chosen a path that is maybe a little less conventional. Writing is my release. I have more paper notebooks than any single person should own with sporadic writings in all of them. Oddly, not a single notebook is completed. I hit a point where writing for only myself was getting me nowhere and decided to lay my heart and soul on the line for the world to see. It has been my saving grace I think. I don't so much talk freely in person about all this, my blog has allowed me to talk without having to speak.
I can't explain why it helps so much, I'm not sure I even understand it, all I know is that I'm not laying on my bathroom floor curled up in the fetal position everyday crying, afraid to leave my house except to go to work. With that being said, it's still hard to leave every day. I've had a small glimpse into life enjoyment this last year and that is what is keeping me afloat for now.
Afloat... Maybe we can use that word loosely.
My chosen route through this has been a struggle for others in my life. It's hard to make people understand my not wanting to do some things and wanting to do others when it comes to treatment. Treatment is an intensely scary thing, something I'll touch on another day, and that I'm not ready for. It's been a slow process for some to handle and at times for me as well. What matters to me though is that I want recovery sometimes, and sometimes is better than never. The somewhat small successes I have had don't get the praise they deserve because contradictory, they are serious failures in my eyes in the moment. I know though that that's Ed's voice knocking me down and my selfish reasons for not wanting to give up my eating disorder for good. It's only when I can look back on weeks, months and sadly, years, that I see I'm not in the same low place I once was. I get really angry everyday that I'm not better, but it's the simple reminder to myself that after 15 years of being effected by Ed, I can't expect to be better today. I'm learning to find the fine line between needing to stay inside away from the world and needing to go out and walk for hours. I'm learning who's voice is speaking, mine or Ed's, and which one to listen to. I'm learning that today I'm good but tomorrow I may be back crying on the bathroom floor. That my next post may be how horribly horrible all this is and how I'll never get better and that I downed a box of diet pills and spent my entire day exercising, and the post after that will be how motivated I am to recover. I'm learning that recovery is a contradiction in itself. That recovery can't be defined at all. I'm learning... And for now... That's what matters.
I'd also like to mention sharing, in any form, is therapy. When you can't be kind to yourself, getting your secret out results in kind words from others. It just so happens I was pleasantly surprised when I read a comment on a previous post today. I don't know them but that's what the best thing about it is. I needed to read that comment at that moment. Reading the kind words from an anonymous stranger makes me realize there are some pretty fantastic people out there. So to whoever you are, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for caring and believing. And seeing what I can't yet.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Media Hurts
I don't know whether I should tell you that I haven't made myself throw up once in about a month, or that today all that ended in a very premeditated, violent, angry way. Maybe all that truly matters is the "why" it all came to a halt.
I feel if for a few minutes it was possible to silence the world around us, our insecurities would still be what was screaming in our ears without the outside noise validating our every negative thought. We are, after all, essentially our own worst critics, so once you add in all that we witness or hear we tend to doubt ourselves more often in a day then we praise ourselves. Now fill in all that silence with Magazines, Print Ads, Billboards, Retail Stores, Radio, TV, Co-workers, Relatives, Parents, Spouses, School, Work, Friends, Enemies and Strangers... In a simple, single day, all of these make us take a look back at ourselves and question... Am I good enough...? As if women (yes men too) aren't exposed and knocked down ten notches on the daily, the message we are sending to our youth is unbearably disgusting.
I've had a pretty difficult few days so this afternoon when I decided to walk into La Senza with a girlfriend, I should have listened to that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and turned right around. Unfortunately I'm no good at listening to myself and, well, I needed new underwear. Scanning through the store I noticed a common theme. The most widely accessible sizes on the walls, racks, and tables, were the smallest size with a bigger bust. "Normal" "Average" or "Bigger" were all stuck in drawers. Being use to things like this, I was trying my hardest to look past this detail. Then I noticed that 50% of the sizes that were out were a 30A. A size that I'm fairly certain did not even exist six months ago. I typically steer clear of underwear shopping so my timeline COULD be slightly incorrect. But I doubt it. Regardless, such a size would NATURALLY only fit a small undeveloped child of about ten, or... A person with an eating disorder. The question immediately on my mind to La Senza was; are they promoting child sexism or anorexia. Call me crazy but neither target market is proper. No 12 year old in my opinion needs a sexy lace push up bra. Encouraging such is encouraging children to be sexy women, not children. Since when are children suppose to be sexy? We need to teach these girls to be strong with their minds, education, drive, and ambition. That sex isn't the most important thing. More importantly, it teaches young boys to treat women as sex objects, and gives them a view of women that is so far from what it should be.
Secondly, if the target isn't young children (really, that may be giving La Senza too much credit) then we are telling women they need to be this thin. Any woman who walks into that store who is healthy will question if that is how small she should be. A girl walking into that store in recovery from an eating disorder or still suffering, an unhealthy size like this is going to keep them sick or revert them back to old tendencies. Maybe I'm speaking too boldly, that not every woman in the world is so easily influenced, but so so many of us are.
Further into the store I came across a highly suggestive picture of a model who couldn't have been older than 14 on a bed in pigtails and lingerie with a popsicle in her mouth and another sucking icing off her finger. Sorry, La Senza, but my giving you the benefit of the doubt that young girls aren't being sexually exploited in your store, came to a quick end right there.
So I have to ask, with all the pressure from the media that women need to be skinny to be beautiful, sexy to be adored, over the top to be seen; where are the warnings? People buy cigarettes with graphic warnings on the label about the effects of smoking. On the label of diet pills and ads are they going to let girls know the consequence of trying to be "perfect"?
WARNING: taking such diet pill, dieting, and forcing yourself to be "perfect" will cause depression, anxiety, obsession, addiction, severe self harm, and an abundance of hate for yourself. Participating in anorexic and bulimic behaviours will leave you with no friends, no life. You will become consumed and think of nothing but being pretty, skinny and perfect. You will become so deprived on everything you need it will be all you think about. In the end you will die because you killed yourself or your eating disorder did. Please take with caution. And remember... Smile so no one knows how sad you are.
It's all been so glamourized that no one thinks about or mentions the disturbing consequences. I speak so passionately about this because I don't think anyone should go through what I do every day. It's not worth it... It's just not. I have young female cousins that are subjected to this all the time and I can't bare the thought of them turning out like me. I'll fight tooth and nail for things to change for them.
Upon leaving the store and going to work... A co worker called me fat. Because people think that's funny to do. I walked home, and with every other step I took I told myself to purge. And with the other steps, I told myself no. After forcing the food I didn't want to see again down, I fought myself not to. But I had to. I had to feel better, to rid myself of the pain I felt today. Of the anger I have for society. Upon finishing dinner I read this...
Lady Gaga, a former sufferer of bulimia, with a huge following, tweets "just killed back to back spin classes. Eating a salad, dreaming of a cheeseburger. #popstarsdonteat #iwasbornthisway"
...and I knew that second my faith in society was gone for the day. The battle in my head was over and so was my month of "hard work".
...it felt like the first time I had ever purged again. It felt glorious and horrible. It felt so so right and so wrong. It felt like Ed in my soul.
It felt like love.
True love.
I feel if for a few minutes it was possible to silence the world around us, our insecurities would still be what was screaming in our ears without the outside noise validating our every negative thought. We are, after all, essentially our own worst critics, so once you add in all that we witness or hear we tend to doubt ourselves more often in a day then we praise ourselves. Now fill in all that silence with Magazines, Print Ads, Billboards, Retail Stores, Radio, TV, Co-workers, Relatives, Parents, Spouses, School, Work, Friends, Enemies and Strangers... In a simple, single day, all of these make us take a look back at ourselves and question... Am I good enough...? As if women (yes men too) aren't exposed and knocked down ten notches on the daily, the message we are sending to our youth is unbearably disgusting.
I've had a pretty difficult few days so this afternoon when I decided to walk into La Senza with a girlfriend, I should have listened to that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and turned right around. Unfortunately I'm no good at listening to myself and, well, I needed new underwear. Scanning through the store I noticed a common theme. The most widely accessible sizes on the walls, racks, and tables, were the smallest size with a bigger bust. "Normal" "Average" or "Bigger" were all stuck in drawers. Being use to things like this, I was trying my hardest to look past this detail. Then I noticed that 50% of the sizes that were out were a 30A. A size that I'm fairly certain did not even exist six months ago. I typically steer clear of underwear shopping so my timeline COULD be slightly incorrect. But I doubt it. Regardless, such a size would NATURALLY only fit a small undeveloped child of about ten, or... A person with an eating disorder. The question immediately on my mind to La Senza was; are they promoting child sexism or anorexia. Call me crazy but neither target market is proper. No 12 year old in my opinion needs a sexy lace push up bra. Encouraging such is encouraging children to be sexy women, not children. Since when are children suppose to be sexy? We need to teach these girls to be strong with their minds, education, drive, and ambition. That sex isn't the most important thing. More importantly, it teaches young boys to treat women as sex objects, and gives them a view of women that is so far from what it should be.
Secondly, if the target isn't young children (really, that may be giving La Senza too much credit) then we are telling women they need to be this thin. Any woman who walks into that store who is healthy will question if that is how small she should be. A girl walking into that store in recovery from an eating disorder or still suffering, an unhealthy size like this is going to keep them sick or revert them back to old tendencies. Maybe I'm speaking too boldly, that not every woman in the world is so easily influenced, but so so many of us are.
Further into the store I came across a highly suggestive picture of a model who couldn't have been older than 14 on a bed in pigtails and lingerie with a popsicle in her mouth and another sucking icing off her finger. Sorry, La Senza, but my giving you the benefit of the doubt that young girls aren't being sexually exploited in your store, came to a quick end right there.
So I have to ask, with all the pressure from the media that women need to be skinny to be beautiful, sexy to be adored, over the top to be seen; where are the warnings? People buy cigarettes with graphic warnings on the label about the effects of smoking. On the label of diet pills and ads are they going to let girls know the consequence of trying to be "perfect"?
WARNING: taking such diet pill, dieting, and forcing yourself to be "perfect" will cause depression, anxiety, obsession, addiction, severe self harm, and an abundance of hate for yourself. Participating in anorexic and bulimic behaviours will leave you with no friends, no life. You will become consumed and think of nothing but being pretty, skinny and perfect. You will become so deprived on everything you need it will be all you think about. In the end you will die because you killed yourself or your eating disorder did. Please take with caution. And remember... Smile so no one knows how sad you are.
It's all been so glamourized that no one thinks about or mentions the disturbing consequences. I speak so passionately about this because I don't think anyone should go through what I do every day. It's not worth it... It's just not. I have young female cousins that are subjected to this all the time and I can't bare the thought of them turning out like me. I'll fight tooth and nail for things to change for them.
Upon leaving the store and going to work... A co worker called me fat. Because people think that's funny to do. I walked home, and with every other step I took I told myself to purge. And with the other steps, I told myself no. After forcing the food I didn't want to see again down, I fought myself not to. But I had to. I had to feel better, to rid myself of the pain I felt today. Of the anger I have for society. Upon finishing dinner I read this...
Lady Gaga, a former sufferer of bulimia, with a huge following, tweets "just killed back to back spin classes. Eating a salad, dreaming of a cheeseburger. #popstarsdonteat #iwasbornthisway"
...and I knew that second my faith in society was gone for the day. The battle in my head was over and so was my month of "hard work".
...it felt like the first time I had ever purged again. It felt glorious and horrible. It felt so so right and so wrong. It felt like Ed in my soul.
It felt like love.
True love.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Wait... What?
I think I had a small glimpse into recovery.
I didn't like it. It was unfamiliar, unsafe and uncomfortable, and anything else "un" related.
So I unconsciously and then slowly knowingly and then very much aware, self sabotaged myself.
Really...? Is this how this goes?
I didn't like it. It was unfamiliar, unsafe and uncomfortable, and anything else "un" related.
So I unconsciously and then slowly knowingly and then very much aware, self sabotaged myself.
Really...? Is this how this goes?
Monday, February 13, 2012
I Don't Think It Was A Compliment?
The other day someone told me I'm losing too much weight.
I wasn't sure whether I was suppose to say Thank You or, I'm Sorry.
So I blankly stared back and said...
"I wasn't aware I lost at all"
I'm sorry sir, what I really meant to say was,
"Thank You"
I wasn't sure whether I was suppose to say Thank You or, I'm Sorry.
So I blankly stared back and said...
"I wasn't aware I lost at all"
I'm sorry sir, what I really meant to say was,
"Thank You"
Sunday, February 5, 2012
You
It's a rarity to sleep through the night in my world. Or to simply enough have the courage to close my eyes and surrender my thoughts and body to the night sky and my very own dark sub conscious mind.
You wake up and through a foggy mind and sleepy eyes, strain your brain to come to a logical conclusion of what could have possibly made you feel this shitty with only the few hours that you missed in the night. Without any kind of surprise you realize once again that your life IS your reality and the creature who has left you lethargic and feeling as though you just boxed ten rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson is someone no one else can see. At least your ear is still in tact. The only thing pulling you out from underneath your warm cozy duvet is that voice in your head assuring you that if you don't get a move on, you will continue to get even more fat and repulsive. So you mutter a "fuck you" and drag your ass to the bathroom to start your routine. Look in the mirror, do you see that? You look like shit. The pigment from your skin is so drained you look sick and dehydrated as if you've just come home from a 5 day bender of binge drinking. You don't drink though, not really. Your eyes have a blood shot hue and the presence of insomnia lives deep within them from the slight sunken-ness and deep dark circles that surround them as decorative accents on your stupid face. As you peel away the layers you slept in, in the hopes that you would sweat calories away in the night, you've revealed a body that you'll spend the next 15 minutes examining as the shower grows hotter. You can see your ribs but are severely unsatisfied by your protruding stomach. You like that you can see your shoulder blades but not enough of your collar bone. Your hip bones are making a more definite appearance but your thighs seemed to have grown three inches over night. The only way you know you've lost anything is from the number you see on the scale but you know somehow you are getting visibly bigger and need to work harder. The bathroom is beginning to cloud over so you finally step into the scalding water and make the promise to yourself, like every other day,"I won't eat today". Dead skin is added weight so you're sure to exfoliate every part of your body to make up for anything possible. As you step out of the shower, your compulsion takes over and you spend another ten minutes criticizing yourself and are surely convinced that... The water in my pores has made me gained weight.
You wince hard from the well deserved pain of white bristles cleaning your teeth and watch has mouthfuls of crimson blood mixed with foaming pro-enamel wash down the drain. You hope that the teeth people see as you pretend to smile their way, stay inside your mouth for another day and you silently think to yourself "if I had a boyfriend, he could never watch me brush my teeth. What would he think with all that blood?". Depending on the day and if you have to work or not, you either consumer six laxatives or two diet pills and carefully choose an outfit that is acceptable for the day. The voice is getting louder the longer you take to remove yourself from the house. You are wasting precious walking time. The house is dangerous with food inside it. What you wouldn't give to spend a day on the couch watching movies. *sigh*.
Even if it's the last thing on earth you want to do, and it generally is for the most part, you start walking. You walk everywhere. Layered in clothes and boots you know you're burning tons of calories. You'd give almost anything to be able to sit down, take the subway or ride an escalator. But as your friend stands on those mobile stairs you veer a slight left and make the move to walk the stairs next to her. Feeling half embarrassed and a little envious. All you can focus on anymore is calories. It consumes you like no other. You don't remember specific details of things you said, saw or did. Exact conversations you had with others are a bit of a blur because your mind is filled with disordered thoughts and there is no more room for specifics. Just generalizations. If you can walk quick enough though you can burn 6 calories a minute. Who cares about details in life when you could be losing weight? You enjoy your job the most because there are stairs involved. At the end of your shift you congratulate yourself for working harder than the others and take your free meal home with you in a take out container. Everyone there thinks your a little strange anyway, you don't need to eat in front of them. You don't trust them enough.
By 10pm you've usually only had water, a couple coffees and a diet coke. Maybe something small to eat if you're lucky. So you eat a little bit. Sometimes a little more and then a little more and then a litt... Fuck. On these days you swear to yourself you won't purge. You've reverted back to more restriction because at this rate all your teeth are bound to fall out soon and you'll look even more like a fool. You won't do it. But as you habitually chug that litre of water in preparation to rid yourself of everything... Just in case, you find you have no choice. You can't even stand the feeling of a substantial amount of food inside of you anymore. Just sitting there, taunting you, unable to digest in a way you can not seem to bare for another five minutes. You glance in the mirror, deep into those broken eyes with toothbrush in hand and just know it has to happen right now. If it doesn't, those sunken in, chiseled cheekbones, you've put so much work into, that a co worker just commented on 4 days ago, will be covered with fat by tomorrow morning. You can't have that happen so you lift the toilet seat up, shove that bright pink toothbrush so far down your throat you might accidentally swallow it and wait for your shame and stupidity to empty from you.
You sit on the floor as your hard work goes down the toilet and wonder when this is all going to end. When are you going to die already, because you fear that is the only way this could end and that may be better than continuing on like this for another 15 years. You can feel the scars in your soul that even you can't see. You can feel the pain in your heart and wonder if you've already caused heart damage or if you're just really that broken. And then you cover up the visible scares with pants everyday that no one really knows about because they've never seen them. You know deep down this isn't right. But you don't want help. You can't change until you ask for it but you know why you can't change. Because that voice that has stood beside you for as long as you can remember has convinced you that this is the lifestyle that you deserve. That you are so worthless that you cant do better than Him. You know this won't make you happy living this way. You're smarter than that to believe it... Right??? Right??? Against your better judgement though, because the voice is louder than your own, you believe and are hanging on to that small thread of hope that the more you fade away, the happier you will get. The more He can see those shoulder blades, the more He will assure you that this is all you deserve.
Am I happy yet...?
You wake up and through a foggy mind and sleepy eyes, strain your brain to come to a logical conclusion of what could have possibly made you feel this shitty with only the few hours that you missed in the night. Without any kind of surprise you realize once again that your life IS your reality and the creature who has left you lethargic and feeling as though you just boxed ten rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson is someone no one else can see. At least your ear is still in tact. The only thing pulling you out from underneath your warm cozy duvet is that voice in your head assuring you that if you don't get a move on, you will continue to get even more fat and repulsive. So you mutter a "fuck you" and drag your ass to the bathroom to start your routine. Look in the mirror, do you see that? You look like shit. The pigment from your skin is so drained you look sick and dehydrated as if you've just come home from a 5 day bender of binge drinking. You don't drink though, not really. Your eyes have a blood shot hue and the presence of insomnia lives deep within them from the slight sunken-ness and deep dark circles that surround them as decorative accents on your stupid face. As you peel away the layers you slept in, in the hopes that you would sweat calories away in the night, you've revealed a body that you'll spend the next 15 minutes examining as the shower grows hotter. You can see your ribs but are severely unsatisfied by your protruding stomach. You like that you can see your shoulder blades but not enough of your collar bone. Your hip bones are making a more definite appearance but your thighs seemed to have grown three inches over night. The only way you know you've lost anything is from the number you see on the scale but you know somehow you are getting visibly bigger and need to work harder. The bathroom is beginning to cloud over so you finally step into the scalding water and make the promise to yourself, like every other day,"I won't eat today". Dead skin is added weight so you're sure to exfoliate every part of your body to make up for anything possible. As you step out of the shower, your compulsion takes over and you spend another ten minutes criticizing yourself and are surely convinced that... The water in my pores has made me gained weight.
You wince hard from the well deserved pain of white bristles cleaning your teeth and watch has mouthfuls of crimson blood mixed with foaming pro-enamel wash down the drain. You hope that the teeth people see as you pretend to smile their way, stay inside your mouth for another day and you silently think to yourself "if I had a boyfriend, he could never watch me brush my teeth. What would he think with all that blood?". Depending on the day and if you have to work or not, you either consumer six laxatives or two diet pills and carefully choose an outfit that is acceptable for the day. The voice is getting louder the longer you take to remove yourself from the house. You are wasting precious walking time. The house is dangerous with food inside it. What you wouldn't give to spend a day on the couch watching movies. *sigh*.
Even if it's the last thing on earth you want to do, and it generally is for the most part, you start walking. You walk everywhere. Layered in clothes and boots you know you're burning tons of calories. You'd give almost anything to be able to sit down, take the subway or ride an escalator. But as your friend stands on those mobile stairs you veer a slight left and make the move to walk the stairs next to her. Feeling half embarrassed and a little envious. All you can focus on anymore is calories. It consumes you like no other. You don't remember specific details of things you said, saw or did. Exact conversations you had with others are a bit of a blur because your mind is filled with disordered thoughts and there is no more room for specifics. Just generalizations. If you can walk quick enough though you can burn 6 calories a minute. Who cares about details in life when you could be losing weight? You enjoy your job the most because there are stairs involved. At the end of your shift you congratulate yourself for working harder than the others and take your free meal home with you in a take out container. Everyone there thinks your a little strange anyway, you don't need to eat in front of them. You don't trust them enough.
By 10pm you've usually only had water, a couple coffees and a diet coke. Maybe something small to eat if you're lucky. So you eat a little bit. Sometimes a little more and then a little more and then a litt... Fuck. On these days you swear to yourself you won't purge. You've reverted back to more restriction because at this rate all your teeth are bound to fall out soon and you'll look even more like a fool. You won't do it. But as you habitually chug that litre of water in preparation to rid yourself of everything... Just in case, you find you have no choice. You can't even stand the feeling of a substantial amount of food inside of you anymore. Just sitting there, taunting you, unable to digest in a way you can not seem to bare for another five minutes. You glance in the mirror, deep into those broken eyes with toothbrush in hand and just know it has to happen right now. If it doesn't, those sunken in, chiseled cheekbones, you've put so much work into, that a co worker just commented on 4 days ago, will be covered with fat by tomorrow morning. You can't have that happen so you lift the toilet seat up, shove that bright pink toothbrush so far down your throat you might accidentally swallow it and wait for your shame and stupidity to empty from you.
You sit on the floor as your hard work goes down the toilet and wonder when this is all going to end. When are you going to die already, because you fear that is the only way this could end and that may be better than continuing on like this for another 15 years. You can feel the scars in your soul that even you can't see. You can feel the pain in your heart and wonder if you've already caused heart damage or if you're just really that broken. And then you cover up the visible scares with pants everyday that no one really knows about because they've never seen them. You know deep down this isn't right. But you don't want help. You can't change until you ask for it but you know why you can't change. Because that voice that has stood beside you for as long as you can remember has convinced you that this is the lifestyle that you deserve. That you are so worthless that you cant do better than Him. You know this won't make you happy living this way. You're smarter than that to believe it... Right??? Right??? Against your better judgement though, because the voice is louder than your own, you believe and are hanging on to that small thread of hope that the more you fade away, the happier you will get. The more He can see those shoulder blades, the more He will assure you that this is all you deserve.
Am I happy yet...?
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Its...
It's, it's so easy. It's so easy when no one sees.
It's so easy when no one cares.
It's so easy when they can turn a blind eye because that's what's easier for them.
Don't say you'll be there if you won't.
Don't say "no matter what" just to make yourself feel better because then, then you'll make someone else feel worse.
You're not obligated to help.
It's not noble to lie.
A simple "how are you" will suffice.
It's, it's so easy. It's so easy when I'm so good at hiding.
It's so easy when I'm trying not to... Trying not to.. To... Care?
It's, it's so much easier when I say "I'm fine, thanks".
This, this isn't easy to do by myself.
It's, it's so much harder to walk in the dark alone...
It's so easy when no one cares.
It's so easy when they can turn a blind eye because that's what's easier for them.
Don't say you'll be there if you won't.
Don't say "no matter what" just to make yourself feel better because then, then you'll make someone else feel worse.
You're not obligated to help.
It's not noble to lie.
A simple "how are you" will suffice.
It's, it's so easy. It's so easy when I'm so good at hiding.
It's so easy when I'm trying not to... Trying not to.. To... Care?
It's, it's so much easier when I say "I'm fine, thanks".
This, this isn't easy to do by myself.
It's, it's so much harder to walk in the dark alone...
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