Poetry and Binge-monster... Beauty and the Beast...

Sooooooo......

Today was a bingey day. Yeah. Lame. But you know what? I think I prevented most of the damage my severely shitty will-power would/could have caused by c&s'ing the majority of it. Not that this is a good thing. I know c&s is NOT a good thing. I realize this. I DO think, however, that it's better than swallowing it all and hating myself that much more for the following three days as I starve and exercise trying to lose it...

This was a humdinger, yessiree. This was not your amateur binge, ladies. Oh NO. This was professionalism put to work, lemme tell you. Premeditated; I actually moved things around in my daily schedule in order to make this thing go down. Gave myself the time to go to the store (on the way home from class, but still), walk up and down the aisles for a good while, deciding what was acceptable and what was not (not that ANY of it is acceptable, but you get what I mean), and then grabbing a package of FOUR cherry & cheese danishes and a box of TWELVE chocolate Swiss cake roll things... And a tiny single serving of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream. It was all I could do to walk away from the rows and rows of stacks of boxed Valentine's chocolates... I nearly bought the whole damned store out, but kept telling myself, "You've got enough, just go!" Got home and c&s'd half of each box...ATE the ice cream (220 calories...not the END of the mutha-effin' world, but SO CLOSE!) and now here I sit, instead of going to the gym to work off the 100 or so calories I probably actually ingested. I really wanted to swallow the lot of it and then go purge...I don't know what's wrong with me! I DON'T PURGE! I won't! I've done it maybe ten, fifteen times in my entire life, and I KNOW myself well enough to foresee a major problem with it if I allow it to get a hold on me. Won't do it.

Wow, I really don't know why else I came here other than to completely spill my guts to you guys...Hope you don't mind serving as my own personal confessional. :P I'm not religious in the slightest, but I *do* have the need to get this stuff off my chest, so to speak, rather often. Hence, my presence here now. I should be typing up this poem for class (yes, I'm actually in a poetry class... doesn't that just kick the most ass ever?)... Hey, since it's ana related, maybe I'll type it up and share it with you guys. Is that okay? Hmm...Yes. I think I will. If you don't care to read it, then meh... No hard feelings. It's not that good...It's just me writing in hopes of somehow getting what I actually feel and think out on paper. Not like I don't do that EVERY day here, huh?

Oh, and this is random, but today in art class our professor set up the skeleton model for us to draw...HA! I couldn't stop fawning over the shoulderblades like the sicko that I am. I'll show you my drawing. :D






I hope you're all well...Thank you so much for your comments, your continual support, and yes, I'll get my knee checked out! I have an appointment on Tuesday. Heh, you're all so adorable and concerned for me. I love it. I totally eat it up. Ha. Like everything else edible, it would seem. ;)

Stay lovely! <3

PS - Here's that poem: (I think I'll just go with something I wrote a while back)

Quiet outside, even this close to parted lips...
Where is she,
screaming?
You can't hear, but it's so loud in my eyes
that it hurts in your chest.
Incessant internal cataclysmic cacophony
behind closed eyes, closed in around Self.

My surroundings undisturbed by uproarious soundings
of alarms, systematically disarmed...
Walls leveled by cannons of my own machination
are rebuilt with intent to destroy again.
It's constant: the repair, dismantling...
rescue, exile...
forgiveness, condemnation...
Splinters of a mind full of memories
(mindful memoirs)
reminding that all is not yet lost,
unless, of course, you crave that loss...
Do you? Wouldn't you care for a little more destruction?
Distraction? You know it's a release,
like a drug hardening in your veins.
It's readily available, easily enough attained,
freshly boiled in a clean, cold spoon
and cooked to perfection for your flesh, your tomb...
Yes! You DESERVE it; beg, child, no longer,
I'll give it freely
Because I want you in return.

...No. My past has broken me, ripped stitch from seam
in slow, deliberate, meticulous care.
It's all so planned, the rise and the fall;
Pretended surprise, feigned strength to fight.
A cycle I crave, I undoubtedly need...
My psychosanity requires it.
This
is who I am.
Peace and quiet have their place
and I know, and have known, love.
But they do not live within me here
without fighting for their home.

PPS - I don't know if I like what's going on with my therapy sessions. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my therapist. She's wonderful. She's so far from being all hung up on changing me...it's great. She's more focused on getting me to listen to the real me, behind the ED, behind my depression and anxiety, and instead finding out what I really want from myself without all of the other shit in the way. We have deep sessions, and I usually feel really good after them. BUT... Somehow... I feel more and more inclined to consider recovery as time goes on...It's CRAZY! Not that recovering is a bad thing AT ALL... In fact, I know I'll probably have to more seriously look into it as my daughter gets older... I just...I'm not ready yet. I'm not ready to relinquish this, my only control. It allows me to bend all of this chaos to my will, at least to some small degree, and makes everything a little more bearable when the world feels like its shitting on my life... Ugh, sorry for the rant. I just don't know...you know? :P

All I *do* know is that talking with her makes eating seem like a good idea, and makes starving (what I love most!! agh!) seem like a bad idea. Where the hell *ARE* we, Backwards Opposite InsaneLand??!

Okay, leaving now. LOVE yas! :D