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?
Thursday, March 8, 2012
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...
Time Didn't Stop
I often feel as though I have been standing in one place with my hands above my head, spinning. As if I haven't gone anywhere for years. I haven't moved forward, nor back. Simply a very controlled, constant, spin. I haven't been spinning though, not really. I have actually more just been pacing side to side. I haven't quite taken a large enough step to say I have moved forward and I haven't hit the back of my head hard enough yet to say I am moving backwards.
Time is such a complex thing. I get lost in it. I go through the motions of life so mindlessly that I feel as though nothing has changed at all. I don't so much adore change or embrace it when it does happen, so when I do in fact come to realize time has changed everything, unbeknownst to me, myself included, I panic. Naturally. When I want something, or someone, to remain the way it once was I try my hardest to make certain that it does stay that way. In a world where nothing is certain, time never stands still and feelings are changing like the fast hand on a clock, my tight grip and need for control, more often than not, tends to ruin everything.
I didn't realize how true this was until I opened my inbox and read conversations between myself and someone else all the way back from a year and a half ago up until a few days ago. We've changed. And maybe if I was a different person we could have changed together but I held on too tight. Maybe we both did. The passion though, that passion has always stuck
around. In times of love and hate, it was always lingering. My heart will never quite be the same because a piece, however small that piece becomes, will forever remain placed in another's palms. I can only hope I made the right decision this time around and foolishly (very silently) hold on to the belief that indeed, timing is everything.
I have no doubt this will be the longest year of my life. I hope so badly that slowly becomes untrue. With one foot in front of the other, ED and I will make it though.
Time is such a complex thing. I get lost in it. I go through the motions of life so mindlessly that I feel as though nothing has changed at all. I don't so much adore change or embrace it when it does happen, so when I do in fact come to realize time has changed everything, unbeknownst to me, myself included, I panic. Naturally. When I want something, or someone, to remain the way it once was I try my hardest to make certain that it does stay that way. In a world where nothing is certain, time never stands still and feelings are changing like the fast hand on a clock, my tight grip and need for control, more often than not, tends to ruin everything.
I didn't realize how true this was until I opened my inbox and read conversations between myself and someone else all the way back from a year and a half ago up until a few days ago. We've changed. And maybe if I was a different person we could have changed together but I held on too tight. Maybe we both did. The passion though, that passion has always stuck
around. In times of love and hate, it was always lingering. My heart will never quite be the same because a piece, however small that piece becomes, will forever remain placed in another's palms. I can only hope I made the right decision this time around and foolishly (very silently) hold on to the belief that indeed, timing is everything.
I have no doubt this will be the longest year of my life. I hope so badly that slowly becomes untrue. With one foot in front of the other, ED and I will make it though.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Tis The Season, Or Something Like That
The holidays have always been somewhat of an interesting thing for me, an awkward dance of sorts. I love and hate them all at the same time. More hate this year though for some reason. Actually, not 'some reason', I know exactly why. I love the holidays because I get to spend time with family, who I love more than any single sentence could ever depict. I get to give gifts, hopefully put a few smiles on some faces, watch some pretty lame Christmas movies and generally just do nothing. This year was the first in, I don't know how long, that I had this amount of time off from work. Five days posed a larger problem than I had anticipated. By day four when I returned home, the anxiety set in that I had SAT most of my time off and all hell broke loose inside of me.
Stick around and I'll get back to how my stupidity surly got the better of me.
To put my hate into perspective, I have to be on guard with what and how much I consume at all times. I am, after all, being watched. And not just by Ed, I have this inkling that my family, or whoever is around, is watching me too. That may be my imagination. I'm the queen of "eat now, make up for it later" when it comes to being with Family. Whether I eat and purge right away, eat and restrict for days to follow or eat and work out at bed time or when I return home. I'm SURE no one is any the wiser. Right? They see me eat, I say things are going great, they're happy, I've lied and now I'm guilty and miserable. Being around that amount of food, with that amount of people, for that long, makes me so so uneasy. That is quite an understatement. I foolishly took another route this year though. One I have been known to take in the past but not for some time now.
I thought I was getting better. Boy, was I mistaken.
I was SO prepared this year! That's a lie, Ed came prepared, I was unknowingly awaiting the repercussions that came and I'm not sure are going away anytime soon.
For four days I chewed diet pills, drank water, pee'd every ten minutes (literally) and silently obsessed, debated and counted every calorie consumed. *that only has 25 calories a slice. okay I'll have one, only one, but I'm not having lunch then* I was the farthest thing from present, I can't recall if anyone enjoyed or even opened my gifts. I kinda had a terrible time, I was a bit of a bitch. And I ruined my own Christmas. I was completely, 100% wrapped up in Ed. I can tell you though, exactly what I ate, how many pills I popped, what food was around, and... How much weight I lost. Fuck. I can also reiterate how I am paying for it today.
I've never been over my healthy "what the Dr's want me at" weight. But I have been spot on and way under. I unfortunately have enough sense to know that when I am even one pound under, my entire self is transformed more so than ever. Ed grabs right hold and keeps on beating. He thinks my every thought and I give up the fight. I am silenced. Not only do I not speak, the devil roars from my mouth and I'm not even close to being me anymore. And the weight, it just keeps coming off. The fight is done. Ed really has won.
When I got home I worked out like a bandit as tears poured from my eyes. I tore my room into pieces, purged my life of all the belongings I think I don't want anymore. And then cleaned it all up. I cried for two and a half days straight. I lost a friend because I can't keep my mouth shut long enough to listen. I argued, pleaded, fought, begged, yelled and cried some more. I said things I so so meant but weren't meant for his ears. I subjected him to words that no person should ever hear from another. But I need help, and I need someone to help me, but I did it in such the wrong way possible. Then I proceeded to do the same thing to my mom. My poor poor mom has probably been wondering at times these past few days if I'm even still alive.
So here I am trying to pick up the pieces I scattered all over the place. Knowing very well that it's not me but it's my voice. Knowing I should be better, I should know how to control what I say and the thoughts that I think. I should be a better person, I should never let myself slip like I have. But for some reason I can't. It's Ed speaking, not me. It's the eating disorder roaring it's nasty head and the damage I've caused is done before I know it and eventually I come crawling with my tail between my legs begging to be able to take it back. I can't take it back. I can hardly recall what I've done, it's a hazy hazy state. I'm sick, I need saving and don't know if I really want to be saved anymore. Is it even possible?
Stick around and I'll get back to how my stupidity surly got the better of me.
To put my hate into perspective, I have to be on guard with what and how much I consume at all times. I am, after all, being watched. And not just by Ed, I have this inkling that my family, or whoever is around, is watching me too. That may be my imagination. I'm the queen of "eat now, make up for it later" when it comes to being with Family. Whether I eat and purge right away, eat and restrict for days to follow or eat and work out at bed time or when I return home. I'm SURE no one is any the wiser. Right? They see me eat, I say things are going great, they're happy, I've lied and now I'm guilty and miserable. Being around that amount of food, with that amount of people, for that long, makes me so so uneasy. That is quite an understatement. I foolishly took another route this year though. One I have been known to take in the past but not for some time now.
I thought I was getting better. Boy, was I mistaken.
I was SO prepared this year! That's a lie, Ed came prepared, I was unknowingly awaiting the repercussions that came and I'm not sure are going away anytime soon.
For four days I chewed diet pills, drank water, pee'd every ten minutes (literally) and silently obsessed, debated and counted every calorie consumed. *that only has 25 calories a slice. okay I'll have one, only one, but I'm not having lunch then* I was the farthest thing from present, I can't recall if anyone enjoyed or even opened my gifts. I kinda had a terrible time, I was a bit of a bitch. And I ruined my own Christmas. I was completely, 100% wrapped up in Ed. I can tell you though, exactly what I ate, how many pills I popped, what food was around, and... How much weight I lost. Fuck. I can also reiterate how I am paying for it today.
I've never been over my healthy "what the Dr's want me at" weight. But I have been spot on and way under. I unfortunately have enough sense to know that when I am even one pound under, my entire self is transformed more so than ever. Ed grabs right hold and keeps on beating. He thinks my every thought and I give up the fight. I am silenced. Not only do I not speak, the devil roars from my mouth and I'm not even close to being me anymore. And the weight, it just keeps coming off. The fight is done. Ed really has won.
When I got home I worked out like a bandit as tears poured from my eyes. I tore my room into pieces, purged my life of all the belongings I think I don't want anymore. And then cleaned it all up. I cried for two and a half days straight. I lost a friend because I can't keep my mouth shut long enough to listen. I argued, pleaded, fought, begged, yelled and cried some more. I said things I so so meant but weren't meant for his ears. I subjected him to words that no person should ever hear from another. But I need help, and I need someone to help me, but I did it in such the wrong way possible. Then I proceeded to do the same thing to my mom. My poor poor mom has probably been wondering at times these past few days if I'm even still alive.
So here I am trying to pick up the pieces I scattered all over the place. Knowing very well that it's not me but it's my voice. Knowing I should be better, I should know how to control what I say and the thoughts that I think. I should be a better person, I should never let myself slip like I have. But for some reason I can't. It's Ed speaking, not me. It's the eating disorder roaring it's nasty head and the damage I've caused is done before I know it and eventually I come crawling with my tail between my legs begging to be able to take it back. I can't take it back. I can hardly recall what I've done, it's a hazy hazy state. I'm sick, I need saving and don't know if I really want to be saved anymore. Is it even possible?
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Tell Me...
Here's a (maybe not so) funny fact I have come to learn in the last few weeks. *I need to stop reading so much* The stats are in and it appears the likelihood of me recovering are not quite in my favour. The chances that I will die before I ever get better has a higher probability. Only one third of people who suffer from an eating disorder will ever fully recover. I'm sorry, did I choose to scan past that minor detail when I was spewing out statistics back in May? Well, I never saw it. Discouraging? Slightly... I'm going to say priority goes to those who have people watching them 24/7. I should re think my game plan? So really, what's the point? My life, my life is a fight every day inside my head. An argument only I can hear, only I can see. I'm kicked to the ground and appear to be standing. I'm smiling but crying behind the laughs. I'm living but slowly dying inside. Arguing against Ed's voice takes up all of my energy. Trying to reason with Him that I do, in fact, deserve to live as much as the next person. He's inside my head whenever I eat. Belittling me and snickering behind His devious smile that I was so weak to have sunk so low by putting something as silly as that in my mouth. Purge. I'm constantly trying to tune Him out but His voice is louder than my own. I see Him standing side by side with me as I look at my own reflection, with a disgusted look upon His face, cursing how morbidly fat I have become. Restrict. He lays next to me in bed at night, and comes to work with me during the day. We have coffee dates, we read together and walk together. He's even leaning over my shoulder as I write these words, as so to make certain that I don't give him
a bad wrap. *Sorry, Ed, you blew your rep long time ago. It's you, not me* So you see, it's a fight from when I wake up in the morning, till I lay my head down on my soft pillow at night. It's a fight that doesn't end. That no one sees nor understands. One that can't ever go away. So really, what's the point anymore?
a bad wrap. *Sorry, Ed, you blew your rep long time ago. It's you, not me* So you see, it's a fight from when I wake up in the morning, till I lay my head down on my soft pillow at night. It's a fight that doesn't end. That no one sees nor understands. One that can't ever go away. So really, what's the point anymore?
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