Tuesday, February 2, 2010

I have the most amazing support, the very best of friends, RIGHT here...I can't tell you where I'd be without your words. Every single one of your replies has been so genuine, sincere, and I love you. I'm not ashamed to admit here that reading your comments over and over again was the only thing that managed to help me fight back a third wave of tears last night; I thank you, from the bottom of my heart (which will not FAIL until I am 70, thank you VERY much!!) :)

I'm still feeling torn today, but not torn apart. This is a step in the right direction. Today is the second session with my new therapist and I will tell her about yesterday's breakdown in full honesty. I will ask her not to disclose any of this information with the campus psychiatrist, however, because I believe, at this time, I'd only be putting myself under even more stress. Don't need that.

I just had some oatmeal. It tasted good but it hurt my throat (fairly sure it's NOT allergies, as the first doctor believed, but rather strep or something very much like it). I very well could go to the doctor again today to have it looked at, but they'll weigh me...and my efforts to make myself heavier last time fell a bit short of what I had expected and hoped (scale said 138 and I needed to be at least at 142). Fortunately, both are still considered incredibly healthy weights; it's just the drop itself that would raise my shrink's suspicion. She's watchin' me.

All the same, I can't let a hacking, persistent cough that leaves me gasping for breath in the middle of the night and painfully sore the next morning go on for very much longer. Perhaps I'll make that appointment today.

Yesterday, I ate. I ate because I was upset. This would usually be considered a fail in my book (it still feels like one). One does not eat based on one's emotional state at any time, no matter what. Regardless of the situation, this usually turns out bad.

I started eating because I was confused and angry and frustrated and so, so very... sad. However, I stopped myself, contemplated my reasons behind it all, and continued to eat until I reached 1,500 for the day, fully expecting the scale to reflect this overindulgence this morning.

Lo and behold, a new low: 131.4.

*sigh...* Seeing that number should have filled me with ecstasy, relief, pride, etc.

I saw it, was genuinely glad it had not increased from yesterday's 132.8, and moved on. Thought to myself, "I think I want ice cream for breakfast."

YEAH. She's gone off the deep end.

So I had my oatmeal. Skinny Cow ice cream in the freezer is only 150 calories. I don't know why I want it. I only half-want it. I feel like it's not one of those intense cravings that will simply do me in if I don't fulfill the need for it. It feels like one of those fleeting food desires we all get WHEN we see it, on television, in an ad, at a restaurant or at the store. But you hold your breath, avert your gaze, and continue on the higher road. Disaster avoided.

I feel like I can easily enough resist it. After all, oatmeal is 130 calories, right? Had a 45 calorie Fig Newton. Should be good for breakfast...right?

I'm sorry that I'm posting every single word that enters and leaves me boggled little mind. When I get like this, it gets like yesterday...I begin writing for myself. Just to get it out. Just to see if it's real. Just to feel it.

That ice cream would feel good on my throat.

131.4. Anything to do with the couple laxies I allowed myself yesterday afternoon? Probably. Either way, I weighed four times this morning, and the number never changed (sometimes it does).

Before I go, I'll say this, and I'm sure if you've made it this far into this rambler of a post then you'll appreciate this...especially if you read yesterday's.

I've decided that I'm going to try to make myself consume at least 1,300 calories a day. Fuck. It almost *hurts* to read that, and to see that my very own fingers have committed such treason. I'm still aiming for that goal...I highly doubt I'll stop before I reach it. Why? Because I don't want to. And it's very difficult to "recover" (not that I'd call this anything close to an attempt at recovery) if your heart isn't in it. BUT...I'm going to do my damnedest NOT to starve myself one the way there. If I can't reach that goal by eating enough to sustain my body in a relatively healthful manner, then...Well. We'll cross that bridge when it's built, yeah?

I love you all. More than I can even come close to saying. Off to school with me, then. Well, you know, first wake up the little one, take HER to school, get myself to the gym and THEN to art class... Hooray, art! :P


  1. Just wanted to say that I think it's a wise decision you're making. And I'll always suppport you in whatever you decide is best for you to acheive.

    Good luck with the new therapist, and text me if you need anything at all!

  2. You know that we are with you every step of the way! You have to do what is best for your daughter and you. You have to be good to yourself.

    You're the loveliest! :)

  3. I'm glad you are going to see the new therapist, I'm sure you will find it helpful, though not always easy. Take special care of you, you really deserve it *hugs*

  4. It makes me happy that today did not seem as bleak to you as yesterday, and that you're working hard to make tomorrow even better.

    You're a fantastic, strong person for your family. <3

    (Annnd... That picture was adorable. Fyi.)

  5. You're certainly sharing the love from your supportive comments. Funny, I have never been compared to Scarlett Johannson... but I am definitely flattered ;)

    I'm glad you like my blog. Sometimes I get in writing funks and I feel like everything I write sounds like shit (because writing is so audible) so I'm happy to see it doesn't.

    The fact that you realize the consequences of your actions and are at least attempting to relate them to your disordered tendencies is proof that you are self-aware enough to not be completely consumed by this.

    I know that feeling of wanting to burst into tears in the middle of a public place. I have cried so much this week I'm surprised I'm not all dried up. I too am on my way to see a therapist/counselor, and I'm glad for it. I've never seen one, nor did I ever expect to need to see one, but I'm damn miserable for no reason, and I feel like there's nowhere else to turn.

    We're on our way to get better together :)

    Good luck