Yesterday, I was a little scared.

Today, I'll probably end up being a little scared again, if I allow myself to think too much.

I'm pretty sure this medication does something to the 'crazy' switches in my brain. Flips 'em all on over into hyperdrive.

Patterns of thought, actions, emotions...all somewhat OCD yesterday. And the day before. But worse yesterday. This could be a fluke. I'm of stable enough mind to know that any medication that fucks with your brain chemistry may need up to a few months to fully balance out (or rather, your brain would need time to adjust)...I'm doing my damnedest not to jump to any dire conclusions just yet. I have a horrid tendency to do that. :/

So 132.4 today with no laxies. I weighed myself before bed last night and it said 136.4. I was not okay with that. But my body fluctuates like crazy throughout the day and night...Doesn't everyone's? I thought so, but sometimes, after reading some of your blogs here, I wonder how it's possible that you weigh in the evening and still somehow manage to retain your morning number? Like...HOW? Do you not drink water? Because you have to!! It's LIFE! lol... ANYway...132.4 with no laxies means that I'm at least 132.0 empty. I want to say lower but I won't. No jinxy, no jinxy.

Oh, so my thoughts and mind are all jumbled. I apologize. Lack of sleep means my medication makes me into a ZOMBIE. I think the combination of Wellbutrin and Topamax is a good one, but when you subtract food and rest from the mix, your body and brain go more than just a little insane on multiple drugs like that. Just a guess, based on how I've been feeling. So why am I scared?

I'll use the words I received in a text from my dear friend DreamsxandxBones to succinctly describe my fear, as she said it so well, and in so few words: "I can more easily see myself in a hospital than I can see myself ever stopping."

That's what I'm afraid of.

We can say, "Oh, no, you've still got like, pssh, 14 pounds to go before you have to worry about even being in the underweight category..."

I know this, but it doesn't matter. I'll lose it. I know I will, and then I'll want to keep going. I don't do well with finding balances, and drawing lines. I don't want 118 (which puts me at like 19 for BMI)...I want 110. I want to be frail. I want to be known for my thinness, and hated for it, and loved for it, and completely ignored and left alone all at the same time.

This is my blog and I reserve the right to be a fucking contradiction and a half.

Whatever. I was more scared over the fact that although I'd eaten very little yesterday, and was feeling exceedingly weak, exhausted, sick, dizzy, tunnel-visiony all that... I couldn't bring myself to eat. It simply did not appear as an option in my mind. Food would enter my head, and then no. No. That's not happening. Because you will eat that and it will show on the scale tomorrow and you will have backtracked and THEN what will you do? Will the resulting depression overcome you? Will you ALLOW the binge to take place of the lovely, wretchedly painful blissful starvation?

I guess...simply put...Before, I felt I had no choice when it came to bingeing. It had control over me. If I restricted, it was because I consciously chose to do so.

Now, my starvation is not a choice. It is happening TO me. And I do not get to choose if I eat, or I don't eat. I just...don't. At least, I haven't been. Things change.

It's just odd. I don't mean for all of this to sound like a complaint, because it's not. I know so many out there would kill for this mindset, and for whatever combination of factors has brought it about.

It's not lovely, and it's not yet unbearable.

...at least I'm losing?