Sunday, May 23, 2010

Quick update, not much...But I'm alive. Ha.

I've been eating a lot.

Apparently, that's how I'm planning to "find myself?" Fuck that shit.

I've gotta cut it out before I get myself back into the 130s and REALLY regret this bout of unexplained stupidity.

Hell, for all I know, I could already be in the 130s. It sure as fuck feels like I am. Love handles are back in full force, whereas they were all but completely nonexistent just a few short weeks ago.

Yeah, if I had to guess, I'd say 132. God. Damn.

I'm not going to weigh until I start to feel thin again. And I certainly won't feel thin again until I'm back to eating (or not eating, rather) the way I should be. Maybe even working out, shit. What a novel idea, right?

((What an awesomely positive tone I've got goin' here! Hell yeah! I can just see it now! EVERYONE is gonna want to read this shit!)) :D :D :D *sigh...* I... I wish you could all just curl up beside me in my bed, and in a circle all around me in my room and I could whisper to you the truths of me and my goings on behind the closed doors of this place, my real life, instead of HERE, in the middle of CYBEReverything.

It's not safe here, even as safe as it feels.

I've increased my Topamax again, in case anyone's curious about that. 100 in the morning, 50 in the evening. I'm going to keep upping it until it does what it's supposed to do. I should NOT want to binge like this. That's why I'm taking this shit, right?


Love you. Thank you for your continued support, even while I'm away. I hope to be stronger when I return.


Wednesday, May 19, 2010

I'm sorry. I think I need a break. I'm sorry.

I don't know what's up.

I've been so lovingly and generously awarded two...count 'em: TWO...Beautiful Blogger awards and I've yet to go through the process of officially thanking, accepting, and return-bestowing them...I suck. I'm sorry.

I'm disconnected. Dismembered. I'm sure I'll re-member myself soon enough. Remember myself. When I do, I will return to you. I'm almost positive it won't be long.

How could I stay away from you for long? You're my lovelies.

I'm eating and gaining, purging and hating, and all at the same time, not EVEN caring.

It's really rather horrible. And at the same time, really rather normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nope. Nothing extraordinary at all.

So, you see, nothing to worry about. I shall be fine. I have to be, you know?


Sunday, May 16, 2010

I've been gone. I think I'm still gone.

Things have been kind of odd. And off. They still are.

I'm somehow back to 129, and I thought I was doing really well. I was nearly back to 126. I stopped (ab)using the laxies so often and I'm sure that has something to do with it. Probably a LOT to do with it, actually. I feel HUGE.

Enough of that.

Things are not okay. But I don't feel like writing about me. I talked to K last night for the first time in a long time. Yes. You remember him. The man I was sure for so long would probably end up being my husband eventually, just because everything always seemed to point in that direction, at least for the past close-to-two-years, and though there was no rush in getting to that point, we just felt...right. For the most part, of course.

I left him, though, for a number of reasons, and I've still not let myself fully grieve over the loss of our relationship, not really. I can't. I'm not able to experience any deep emotion in its entirety, not while I'm taking my Topamax, not while I'm under this drug-induced cloud of constant apathy. Obviously it's worth it to me, still, because I continue to take it. That's neither here nor there.

It has occurred to me multiple times over the past week or so that I should at least call him or text him to let him know that I've been thinking of him. I don't want him to feel that I've moved on completely and forgotten all about him; I don't want him to feel abandoned. I don't want him to feel alone. I care for him. I am not in love with him any longer, though, and I will not do anything to provide for him any sense of hope for any kind of rekindling in the future. Such a fine line to tread, and broken hearts are fragile.

He texted me last night. As I attempted a reply, carefully choosing my words, backspacing, contemplating, retyping, rethinking, he called. He's been horrible. He's been worse than ever before. About a week ago he found himself falling into such a deep depression that he wasn't able to do anything, or talk to anyone; he was all alone in his house, having panic attacks, and he didn't want to call me to worry me or stress me out, he told me. I felt absolutely...fucking terrible. He's been a wreck. And I? I've been...over here, my life in my own selfish bubble, just trying to keep my own shit straight, keeping my head above water, keeping my own tears from drowning me. I've been ignoring pain and drinking and going out with friends and kissing boys and singing karaoke and tanning and purging and smoking cigarettes and taking pills and failing classes and Facebooking and reading convoluted novels that help me escape the world that fucking sucks...I'm living, and he's been dying. I know I can't necessarily fault myself for his depression, but fuck...Had I just taken the time to call him, to let him know he was on my mind, even THAT may have made a difference to him... Shit. Well. Whatever. Whatifs are not anyone's friends.

He went to his doctor. They put him on Lexapro, even though he requested Wellbutrin first. I don't know if it would have made any difference. He just knows that I've taken the latter for three years now and it's the only one that's worked for me. Everyone's chemistry is different, and it's such an inexact science. The Lexapro resulted in his having nearly every horrid side effect imaginable. Deepening depression, extreme irritability, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts... His very close friend, to whom I am completely and eternally grateful, flew him back home to MN to stay with him for a bit until he gets his emotional self all sorted. I just... We were so close for so long. He has been my best friend for nearly two years, and he's falling apart. It's incredibly difficult for me to separate myself from the guilt that's trying to pull me down into feeling like it's my fault, you know?

I know that remaining in a relationship in which I was not happy in order to spare his feelings would have been ridiculous. Still. This hurts. I just want him to be okay. He said it helped a lot just to hear from me, and to know that I want him to feel better. I told him that we need to make a point of talking more often. He agreed.

I upped my Topamax a few days ago to 100 mg in the morning and 50 at night. I've been alternating between bingeing for a few days to proper starving for a few, which essentially amounts to maintaining my sustainable loss. My dreaded appointment with the shrink at school is on Wednesday. I'm so inclined just to eat like a normal person would until then so that I can weigh in at like 132 or something...Just not to raise any eyebrows, you know? An 8 lb loss will be a lot easier to explain than a 15 lb one. :P

I just feel so out of it. Emotionally, mentally, physically. I guess that's the norm around here, huh?

Thank you all for your continual support. It does mean so much. The only girls who understand fully are scattered all over the world, and yet so very close to me, too.

I am so fortunate to have you.

Stay lovely.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Today...I fit a size 2. What...?

That can't be right.

This will be a relatively short post. But I couldn't NOT blog about this. It's kind of a momentous thing, you know?

I was out with a really good friend of mine (she had to do some returning of things, shopping, etc.) and though I didn't have any plans to buy anything, I figured it couldn't hurt to try on some swanky expensive clothing while we were out...cuz that's always fun, right?

This dress I picked up was $158. I would never spend that on a dress. I could probably find something very similar to it at Ross or T.J. Maxx or something for like $20 anyway...but that's not the point. We're at Ann Taylor. This place is pretty fancy (not REALLY fancy) and all of the clothing is GORGEOUS. I pick up a size 2. Why? Because I'm crazy and I want to see how far I have to go before I can fit into it. How many more inches must I lose? So I take into the dressing room. Prepare for disappointment. Slide. Shimmy. Zip. Wtf?

Size...effing...2. (This is at 5'6.5" and 128 lbs. as of this morning, btw...)

My day was made, obviously.


I mean, other shit is going on in my life that is not so awesome. Naturally. Really...not...awesome. :( Heartbreaky stuff that makes my soul ache. know? This kind of little afternoon pick-me-up can't hurt.

I put it back and told myself that it'll be on sale in a few months...or the discount rack at T.J. Maxx next week. ;)

Love ya, ladies. Sottile, thank you for the Beautiful Blogger award. YOU, milady, are beautiful. I'll have to do the proper give'embackouts when my daughter's not bein' all rambunctious and needing bedtime stories. ;)


Stay lovely.

Monday, May 10, 2010

I don't know what I'm expecting to happen, exactly...

...eating a slice of pumpkin pie for breakfast (even if it WAS made with Splenda and Smart Balance butter substitute and egg whites and whatever...) and then two sugar-free chocolate pudding cups just now and a handful of gluten-free pretzels and some gluten-free pretzels and a Soyjoy bar and wtf? I mean, honestly. Has my sense of responsibility just gone out the window, here?

My head hurts.

I need to see 126 again tomorrow. I'm not doing anything at all conducive to that end at the moment.


Sunday, May 9, 2010

Happy Mother's Day, ladies. Oh yes. It matters.

She's my savior. She's the reason I'm alive.

She is the tiny, beautiful reason this bittersweet and wretched disease has not, and WILL not, take me over completely, changing my body from warm, vibrant life to foreverfrigid death.

Today is the fourth Mother's Day I've enjoyed as a mother. Today, as she celebrates me (with her construction paper cards and the flowers my uncle helped her pick out at the grocery store)...I shall celebrate her.

My darling B, you have given me the most precious gift I shall ever receive. I realize how blessed and fortunate and lucky I am each and every time my reflection is captured in those incredible blue-green mirror-marble eyes.

Thank you for being the precious sweet smile in my every day. <3
Every moment I spend breathing is spent existing for you.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Belly dancing seems like a good idea.

I tried getting into it, way back when.

I was heavier. I got discouraged. I was probably at about 145 or so. I had more abs then, because I hadn't starved all my muscle away, but there was more fat covering them, too.

Now my abs have nearly gone, but so has the fat. So has the jiggly hip stuff that shimmies when you belly dance. But I've seen some skinny belly dancers shake their shit and it still looks damn sexy. I'm thinkin' if I were to really get back into it, the muscles would come. And then I would be awesome.

I pulled out my old belly dancing coin scarf and tried it on. Queued up some good tabla drum beats and realized that yes, I could definitely find this groove again. Perhaps getting back into this will help me find my center a bit in something other than this, my ever-present obsession.

I took a picture. Here it is.

I love ya'll. ;)

A new low...Again, it's not seeming real.



I was 128 yesterday. Then again, I fasted for most of yesterday...on accident...kind of.

Yes, that wonderful and never-before-seen number is brought to you by our lovely and reliable sponsors, chocolate senna tea and everyone's favorite blue pills. BUT...the fact still remains that MY body, whatever is left after all waste has been removed from it, THIS body still weighs 126.8 pounds. 57.64 kilograms? I've never measured myself that way before. It sounds nicer, being a lower number. ;) A lower-than-ever BMI of 20.2. I...can't lose this. I mean, I can't let this get away from me. I just ate a relatively large breakfast, considering the pretty meager amount of food I've consumed over the past 48 hours. 1/2 banana, 7 blackberries, 1/4 clementine orange, 1 dried apricot, 1/4 cup of mixed nuts, AND 1/4 cup of gluten-free rice chex. With a sip of almond milk. Wow. Yeah. Jeez. That's the way I tend to do things, though, I suppose. Load up on breakfast so that I can take my huge handfuls of pills and supplements comfortably, and then just take it really easy on the eating for the rest of the day. Yes. That's the idea, anyway. It's the follow-through that'll getcha.

I did want to thank you all SO very much for you well-wishing and good lucks and whatnot on my final. :) I actually didn't get to read them until AFTER I'd taken it, but I know that your combined positive energy was exactly what got me through it. I wrote ALL the way up until the very last minute. 1:30 PM. The clock told me time was up, and I resigned myself to the fact that I'd done all that I could. My mind had been scrambled from the get-go, and I didn't feel I had written a very good essay, much less two of them. In fact, I was pretty embarrassed to turn it in, to be honest, as this IS Dr. Aussie McDreamyLoveProfessor Guy we're talking about, after all, and I value his opinion of my writing quite highly. I knew I could have written more skillfully. My head just wasn't in it. My stomach was growling incessantly the entire time, too. I thought it was funny. Meh.

126.8. I'm kind of not wanting to eat for the rest of the day now, just for fear of seeing anything higher on the scale tomorrow. Isn't that just the story of this life...shit.

And you know what sucks the most? I ended therapy with my wonderful therapist this past week (she works at the university and I have to switch every semester...blows...) and as I left on Tuesday I REALLY really...for a good few moments...really wanted to try to get fully better for her, right now. I mean, for myself too, naturally. But it's just that she believes in me, or it seems that she does, and she's worked so hard and put so much of herself into this, and she wants me to continue in therapy, wants me to pursue something with a specialist, etc... I know I'll have to face these demons, face recovery at some point. I will. If I don't, I will end up killing myself. And I love life too much. There is enough reason and rational thinking in this crazed mind yet to see that. But I am not ready. Not yet. And if there's anything I know about myself at all, it's that I can't be forced to do anything unless I'm absolutely fully internally prepared to do so. So.

I have a doctor's appointment on the 19th. I'm thinking of investing in those ankle weights I've been putting off buying. The last time they weighed me was a little over a month ago, I guess...and I'd made sure to drink a lot of water first and wear some extra clothes and belts. I weighed in at like 140 or something.

By the 19th, I'll certainly be past 125, I'd hope. They're not going to like that. Nah... I could pull the ol' "I'm 5'6" thing...Instead of the truth, which is "I'm closer to 5'7"...

I'll just be sure NOT to mention anything about the fact that I'm delighted over the fact that I'm approximately 9.78 pounds away from clinically underweight, yeah? ;) ha...yeah. Good call, I'm thinkin'... Maybe they won't notice.


I've got mucho house cleaning to do. Thanks for reading, my angels. I wish you love and light, but lightness above all.


Friday, May 7, 2010

I've been missing, even from myself. Don't worry, though.

It's normal, for finals week. I've gotta try and be present for school, ya know?

Studying is especially difficult, I find, as of late. I'm starving my mind, in more ways than one, even aside from diet-related issues. It's also apparent that my Topamax makes it hard for me to concentrate on reading (or rather, staying focused while reading long passages)... This is no bueno.

Today is my last final. Children's Literature. It will be my most challenging exam yet. Wish me luck.

128.6 today, by the way. After a few bad days of bingeing like it didn't even matter (when we all know it really, REALLY does) and getting all the way back up to 132, seeing this number really does wonders for my sense of regained self-control. Yes.

I needed that.

Know what else I need?

More ink. Gah. Can I look like her, please? In every way possible?

<3 you, loves.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Newly inspired...Excuse the randomness.

So they had some pretty sun dresses there at Wal-Mart, they did. Hanging there on the rack, they looked so nice, flowy, airy. Light. Like I want to be. I picked up the 4, and then thought I should go ahead and grab a 6 as well. Better to have both so that when the disappointment of seeing that the 4 was too small SLAPPED me in the face I wouldn't have to get all the way dressed again to come back out and get the 6...You know how that goes.

Tried the 4 first. Why not? May as well. Standing beneath those horrid fluorescent dressing room lights we all know SO well, I pondered the girl in the mirror we all hate so passionately. I cocked my head to the side and studied her, contemplating the angles and the curves, the reflective surfaces and the way light trickled down from one sloping edge to another, as if her shoulderblades were mountaintops in some sort of majestic landscapey photograph. Leaning my head to the other side, I considered the hair, falling haphazardly around the collarbones that jutted out all the way to the ends of the shoulders now, never stopping. Your hair is a mess. I nearly said it aloud. This body...This frail body? It's...It's what I wanted. It's what I want. It's too small for a size 4 dress.

The hollow places where flesh should be excite me. The sternum and ribs that show proudly through skin boast of strength and perseverance, and laugh wryly at the label of the bra that lies on the floor of the dressing room...34 A, huh? Remember when you had just had your child? 40 D. Ha! Never again. That's quite all right with me. I never want it again. I could hardly contain my shock when a 36 B was too large. And now? This dress, this dress that swallows me, this cute little dress that I was willing to spend $12 on...ha... I almost bought it without even trying it on. It's the smallest fucking size they offer. And it looks horrible on me. It billows around me like a pillowcase.

Mixed thoughts. Feelings. Doesn't it suck? Not being able to fit into this thing? Didn't you want to wear it, to feel pretty in it, to feel light and airy and cutesy and NO...NO! Fuck that shit! No. I wanted THIS body. And I want more. MORE. I want my fat fucking disgusting thighs to match my emaciated back and chest and ribcage. I want my legs to be bone thin and beautiful. Thin. Oh, thin. You are waiting for me. I can feel it. I have but only to allow you in. This day...This day is a turning point.

It's in the air. in the air.

My lovelies...Let us be true to what our hearts desire. It is all the freedom we truly have in this world, the ability to follow our hearts.

Let us be air.


I am disappearing, it feels, but somehow there's more of me.

I haven't blogged in what seems like too long and I'm bothered by the guilt I've built up in myself over not having been here.

Yes, that's not okay. Like any of us really needs anything else with which to fortify the massive guiltcastles in which we imprison ourselves eternally. Friggin' Rapunzel of Self-Loathing over here...'cept my hair is too short, so I guess all hope is SURELY lost, eh?

Ah, man. So much has gone on and yet I feel like...not writing about it. I feel scared to write about it. I feel like if I say it out loud, it will become...more true, more real. And, naturally, more public. In this particular case (for now, at least) I must keep certain parts of me nonpublic. Yes. I will promise this much, though, my pretties: I will provide a complete update of all goings-on just as soon as possible, when all pieces have fallen and fit together as they should and as they will... All will be revealed and all that. :) Hold on for me, k? It'll be worth it, I ASSURE you. In the meantime, try to forget I just blogteased the FUCK out of your imaginations, and let's move on, shall we? ;)

I binged yesterday. Hardcore. For the first time in a long while, I purged after. I hardly got anything up, maybe a lucky fifth of it. MAYBE a fourth. Shit. I don't know. It sucked. I suck at throwing up. I really do. My toothbrush failed me, so fingers were next, and they're not long enough. I mean, I have long fucking fingers, too. Maybe my throat's too long. I felt my stomach, I swear, with my fingertips. I just...I was standing in the steaming shower, holding a plastic bag, trying to be quiet, trying to be secretive, trying to be not so disgusting. Obviously I'm not trying so hard at that now, because this is sounding pretty nastay, as I reread it. Good thing there's no effing judgement here, right? AM I RIGHT? Ha. Yes. Yes, indeed.

So yesterday's failure brings me up to 131.4 today. I KNOW. All the way up from a low of 128.4? JESUSFUCKINGMOTHEROFGANJA. I cannot let this happen to me. I can feel the fat just creeping in, from every direction, but mostly from the direction of my ass and wraps its creepy crawly fatfingeryblubberyhands from around the back and reaches through the middle of my legs and finds the front of me and shit!! Now it's visible from EVERYWHERE!! GAWD!!! It jiggles. I...had lost...the FUCKING jiggle. For all of three days.

I'm so tempted to increase my Topamax. I really really really am. Tweaking my dosage this way has, so far, proven pretty effective. As long as I'm mindful and watchful and careful, paying attention to how I feel and think and act on different dosages and at different times, I'm all good. I've been really okay, mentally speaking, on 50 in the morning, 50 at night. I haven't been freaking out, or going full-on crazy-not-eating-anything, so that's been good. I just want...that...balance. But you, a good restrictive-still-losing-weight balance. :P

So close to goal weight, it only makes sense that I'd be struggling. We all do, this close. Normal. Ha. Normal.

Classes are over for the semester and finals start in a few days. A couple days. Damn.

Little one is done making her mess of peanut butter and jelly all over the place, so I suppose it's time to take her to daycare. And yes, in case you were wondering? I ate some of it.


Umm...My bed's messy...all the time. Real thinspo girls don't have messy bedrooms.

I love you guys. I'm sorry I haven't been around. I really am. Not even so much for my own blog as for yours. Stay lovely, stay true.