Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Tuesday night...part II...

So I promised to come back and finish my thought, so to speak, after I put the little one to bed. As usual, I fell asleep with her as we sang our good night songs, but when I woke up and realized it was nearly 11 I knew I had to get up; the kitchen wasn't clean yet, all the lights in the front room were still on, the door unlocked, and of course, my blog unfinished. My back...ugh...the person who built this chair needs to seriously consider a change in his/her choice of career.

I felt like writing earlier. Now...not so much. I know I can probably get myself back into that mode, that mood, if I try hard enough...or if I write for long enough...the material in the interim, though, may end up being a bunch of nonsense, though, so...consider yourself forewarned. Man. The ellipsis. I use it FAR too often. ...

Hm. How do I start this? I don't feel like being logical in my thought, so here goes: another wild ride down the slippery slopes of my stream-of-consciousness ramblings.

I'm hungry. My stomach is physically hungry. Despite what may seem to be true, in light of my eating disorder(s), I am not often physically hungry. No, not lately, at least. When I wake in the morning, I am starving. This pretty normal for most folks, I suppose, but when you don't allow yourself a single bite of anything past 7, you're probably quite a bit more hungry than, say, someone who stayed up til 2 at a bar munching on pizza or hot wings or whatever, right? Either way, I would venture to say that most people are hungry in the morning.
I am also hungry very late at night. Why? Please refer to previous explanation concerning the 7 PM rule. It's now 11 and I'm not eating anything. This hunger, this emptiness, it fills me. It reminds me that I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. It makes me feel strong and weak simultaneously, and I crave it. When I have failed Her and failed myself and I have binged on whatever...doesn't matter if it was a binge that consisted entirely of romaine lettuce and carrot sticks, it's still a failure (loss of control)...I am full, and at that point, in that moment of uncomfortable, often painful, fullness, I crave the hunger. I want my emptiness back. I want it all to be undone, I want the binge to be erased, I want to go back in time and take a walk instead of eating, or write or paint or draw instead of eating, anything... but no. That's ridiculous, right? Impossible. Your only other recourse is, of course, to get rid of it. Throw it up. But no, we've been through this. I won't. I won't. I've made a promise that I won't. So instead...I wait for the fullness to pass and, as soon as it does, I go running. I exercise. I get up and get to the gym and work my ASS off and burn at LEAST the number of calories I consumed, plus about 100, if not more. Monday morning...yes, I suppose that *was* yesterday (seems like longer)...I binged early in the day and ate about 750 calories before 9 AM. None of it was crap food, but it was 750 all the same. I went to the gym and nearly killed myself getting rid of it. 866 calories burned...and I came home. I felt pretty good about that. That morning, I completed my last final of my third semester. I felt liberated, free, relieved, for about half a second. And then I remembered that I'm never really fully free...She doesn't let me forget my role; I'm her slave...she's definitely the master here. I serve her willingly. When I disappoint her, I fail her, I fail myself, I hate myself. And school... The simple joys like the awesome feeling of accomplishment at the end of a successful semester are much harder to realize, to *feel*, when your mind is otherwise overtaken by something so all-encompassing, consuming. Nothing else matters...just getting rid of this hateful body, finding the beautiful bones you KNOW must lie underneath...

That brings us to the real reason I guess I'm here. (I'm still not feeling my writing mojo working for me, by the way, so I apologize if my language is not up to my usual standards...may come across as a bit bland this evening)... Just a short time ago (less than a week), I was REALLY hitting it hard, really on track, like I haven't been in ages. I don't know where that inspiration, that drive, was coming from, but I was loving it. Every single thing I did, I did in Her name, and it showed. Every time I refused to allow food to pass my lips was *worth* it, and every time I succeeded in resisting was another small victory, and it fed me. And then...something happened. I slipped, just a little, one time... and I can't even rightly recall what it was or when it happened, but it was something big enough to make me feel like I had failed miserably. That "all or nothing thinking" for which we are often known came back in full force, lying to me, telling me that everything I'd done was undone now, and that there was no use in trying anymore because I'd already fucked it all up. Once again, I know, even as I type this, that a good number of people that read this may think I'm crazy or irrational or unreasonable or ...whatever else... I know that my thoughts certainly do not spring from a fount of complete sanity, but whose do? Hmm? Yours? Prove it. :P

ANYway, so this slip...this something...set me off and down a path of weakened will power, dissolved resolve, if you will. Each subsequent day, I fell a little further, allowing food to tempt me, wanting it to tempt me, and then fighting, but just a little, because that's what She's trained me to do. Then I would give in, like a fucking fat cow, and eat, or c&s, no matter the time of day or night. Foods that would NEVER be allowed before (listed in a previous post) were now *less evil* for some godforsaken reason. Even today...I start off with such PURE intentions, real, strong, willful goals. Then I fail. I LET MYSELF FAIL. NO one is forcing food into my mouth. No one. My own hands are doing this. Random, stupid justifications flood my brain just in the moment when I need control of my thoughts the most. "You can work it off, you're fine..." or "You burned so many calories at the gym this morning, so it's okay, let yourself have that chocolate..." WTF? THAT is not okay. None of it is okay. And yet...when faced with temptation that strong, my head likes to fight wars with itself and, unfortunately for my fat ass, the side that really wants to eat usually wins. Lately, at least. NOT anymore. Fuck. I can't. I won't. I know I said that before...ugh, I sound pathetic. Who am I trying to convince? Only myself. I need a new game plan. I need to find...re-find...that will, that strength, I had so very recently. I want it back. I will have it back.

On a slightly different note... well...hm. I should probably save that for another entry. This one is already unbearably long, and it's late. Gym time comes early in the morning. I can hardly wait.

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