It's official. I'm officially fat again.

The scale isn't to be trusted. This is true in most of my experience, and yet I still stand on the thing daily, allowing it to determine my mood for the day, the week...

It said 137 this morning.

I...

I don't know...

HOW?!

Fuck.

Less than four months ago I was at 126. The lowest I'd ever gotten. And now?

I am so utterly disgusted with myself. I managed to restrict properly for about two and a half days. No bingeing. This morning, my car wouldn't start. I realized I'd lost my debit card and had to cancel the thing. I've got no money and no vehicle and I've run out of one of my meds. I'm missing class because I can't drive to school and I really, truly can NOT afford to miss class.

So what do I do?

Eat, of course. Why? It's a distraction, it's pleasantly painful, and it helps me feed the self-destructive side of P.D. in the worst way possible.

I see what I see in the mirror and despise every curve, every jiggling bit of fat everywhere...and I try so earnestly to remember how it felt to be thin. To be GETTING thin. How did it feel to have that control, that ability to look at food and shun it entirely? Wasn't that better than this? Or was it worse, perhaps? Maybe that's the reason I've reverted to eating constantly; my mind is so tired of trying so hard at all of this.

I'm not ready to give up the fight, and yet I know that it would be the best thing for me, to seek out recovery while I'm feeling this way... My "fear" of food has vanished entirely, and here I am TRYING to find that again. I want my obsession back. I want to be thin.

Too bad there's something in there, somewhere, that would rather hurt me by piling on the pounds...Too bad there's something in my mind that knows how unhealthy and unsustainable this lifestyle is... Fucking practical responsibility bullshit.

Healthy? Good. Sure.

Thin? Beautiful? In control?

Please. Please. Please.

I need it more than anything now.

In addition...Something else I just don't understand...

If I know it makes me so damn miserable...


Why can't I stop

putting

food

into my mouth?


Why?

I make myself sick. Yes, in more ways than one.

I've been purging every day now for who knows how long, and it has to stop.

Not only is it fucking horrible for me, for all of the reasons I don't have to list because we ALL KNOW them, but because it's ALSO helping to make me fat.

How fat, you ask?

Remember Christmas?

Yes. Christmas with all of its fatty, sugary, salty, carbalicious, sauce-laden-and-gravy-covered-and-heaped-with-five-different-kinds-of-cheeses shit? Cookies and cakes and brownies and fuck me, I'm triggering even to mySELF, I apologize...and I digress. Fuck.

I haven't seen this number since Christmas break.

And now it's here. In SEPTEMBER, ya'll.

Yep.

Pullin' out the ol' Texan vernacular on ya.

136.4.

Holy mother of Jesus in a deflated old tire swing, what the hell am I DOING?! Essentially...Eating enough to feed a small family and only purging about half of it. Maybe only a quarter of it.

Shameful, all of it. The bingeing, the foods I choose to eat in the first place (I'm gluten and lactose intolerant, mind you, so of COURSE, the first thing I go for when I lose control [which is more often than not, nowadays] is the type of food I'm not normally allowed to have anyway...namely bread items and cheeses and yogurts and cookies and shit like that).

Anyway. I have to make this shortish. I have things to do here at home before I get to go to G's house for the rest of me weekend. Yes. I've finally decided that, since I'm private and there are only 21 of you following me now...ha...down from 183 or so?...I can be much more openish about certain aspects of my personal relationship, as iffy as that may be in my actual, real, daily-waking-walking-hasrealrepercussions-life. ;)

My ex-Children's Lit. professor. You 'member him. Of course you do. If not, you can go back and find a few of the posts in which I very carefully mentioned him... He's Australian and he's 42 and he's wonderful...He's mine. He wasn't mine for a while. He couldn't be mine while I was his student, of course. That's against University policy, and that would have been far too risky. I'm not out to get him fired or anything like that...He loves his profession, and he's damn good at it. So we waited...and when that semester was over, he left to Australia for two entire months. GOD, that took forever. I missed him incessantly. We kept in contact via email and text messaging but JESUS, that's hard. Anyway, he's been back since the end of July and things are pretty much lovely...there are some kinks here and there, but they're not between US, per se. I'll have to explain that at some point in the near future. Suffice to say...I'm happier with him than I have ever been with anyone, and he feels the same. We honestly don't know how we could have ever said "love" before and meant it, not having met one another. It's amazing.

Aaaaannnd....that's enough of the sap. ;)

So anyway. Back to 136.fucking4. I don't...I mean...I was in total shock when I saw the number, of course, because I...I was 133 just a few days ago. 131 the day before that. So I know that a lot of it has to be food that's not laxied out. Naturally. But...still...A lot of it is actual gain. I won't pretend that it's not. I have to make a change.

My main point here? My problem?

Ladies...I've lost ...IT. I've lost my motivation. And I don't mean temporarily. It feels as if I've lost my obsession entirely. It feels as if... The disordered part of me is somehow...in partial remission. Like ... Recovery is trying to creep its way in and tell me that it's time to let go of all of this, time to take a healthier approach to my life, my body, my eating habits... Problem is, the UNHEALTHY side of my mind, the part of me that is still NOT okay with how I feel and look (BIG PART OF ME) is rebelling with ALL she's got. She's not ready to go down, and so she's tearing back with all her strength, tooth and nail and kicking feet, screaming and bingeing and purging and laxing and taking prescription drugs (Topa, mainly, but diet pills, too) even though the side effects are horrible... My fucking hair is falling out!!!

I don't know what to do. I'm getting fat. I'm so tired of TRYING so hard NOT to be fat. It's all I do with myself. It's such an exhausting life. Trying so hard, 24-fucking-7...You all know this. You live the same life. But how...how do I find my resolve again? Or...what a radical notion...what if I'm SUPPOSED to take this and run with it? Try to get..."better?" I don't know. I just know that I can't stand the way I look now. I can't stand the bingeing and purging.

I have to go.

:(

What have I become, exactly?

I have put on so much weight... At least seven pounds in the past month. I can't believe what I see in the mirror... I am absolutely hideous...

I haven't been this depressed in years. Nothing feels okay...

I don't know what to do...but I can't be ... This.

How can I be numb AND so very sad simultaneously?


I just want to sleep forever.

A supposedtabe quick update...

To all of you who have provided for me your email addresses: thank you. :) I'd like to leave this public for a few more days so as to allow anyone who may have missed my last post to give me their addresses... I don't want to leave anyone out who wants to continue following me. Then again, I assume that anyone who really holds that interest in earnest will find a way to contact me via the rest of you, should they find themselves unable to view my blog after I privatize it...

Anyway. Yeah. Shoot me an email ... or something... <3


I look forward to writing more once I'm legitimately private. In the meantime... umm...

I've been bingeing nearly daily. Today, I managed to stay under 2,000 and THAT felt like a feat. Sad, yes. I vaguely recall the under 500 days, the lovely dizziness of it all, the CONTROL... of myself, of my body... I need it back. I've stopped taking my Topamax (as per my psychiatrist, not of my own volition, necessarily) because the side effects FINALLY began to outweigh the benefits a few months ago. Hair loss? Really? Extensive hair loss. I'm 24. I can't go bald... even for a nearly guaranteed safety against binge attacks... It's not worth it.

But GOD, I miss it. The Topa was WORKING. And now I'm no longer on it. I still have some. I'm tempted daily to take it again. My thinning hair (yes, actively thinning, STILL) reminds me of the reason I should NOT pop those pills. It's ridiculous. I wear a hat most days, just because the way my hair parts and reveals my scalp in random places just kills me. Vanity, much? Maybe. But even a perfectly modest person, free from this vanity, would find themselves uncomfortable with a sudden change such as this, especially a young woman. I don't think I'm that unreasonable for being incredibly self-conscious about it...embarrassed, even. Ugh...Crossed fingers that it stops falling out and grows back, now that I've stopped the drug. Still... uncontrolled bingeing is ruling my life. There must be something else I can do, right?

I've gotta find my switch. The little switch in my mind that gets flipped, oh so rarely, and sends me into a lovely little spiral of weight loss, food aversion, and endless self-control. It's been far too long since I've felt that way, compelled to STARVE myself down to perfection. Helplessness and the propensity to give in, binge, purge, binge, purge... It's taken me over. I can't have this anymore. I've gained back up to 133 or so (that's a guesstimate, as I've avoided the scale as if it had measles or something for the past week). UNACCEPTABLE.

I must...refind...myself. My inspiration. My will. My strength.

*sigh...*

This is all very... not so happy. I can't wait to tell you happy news.

It will come.

<3

Stay gorgeous, my lovelies.



:*

Please read...if you wanna be able to read me further. :) Thanks.

All right, lovelies...


It's going private. I don't know if there's an easier way to go about this, but from what I can tell, I'll have to invite everyone individually to view this.

(Is there an easier way and I'm just not seeing it?) Quite possible...

Anyway...so. I guess what I need in order to offer you continued viewership (if you'd like it... I love the fact that I have so many followers, but I don't know how many of you actually want an invite. I'll let you decide that part for yourself. I'd absolutely adore it if I managed to keep every single one of you...) is email addresses? That's what it seems like.

This may end up being a huge hassle, but I know it'll be worth the time and any trouble in the end. I'll be able to write more freely and maintain a bit more of my peace of mind as well.

So that you're not forced to post your email addresses here in a public forum, I'll include my email here. Feel free to send me your addy (along with your blogger ID) so that I can send you an invite in return. I hope this goes well...


All my hopin'-for-skinny love and good vibes to you, darlinghearts.
Stay lovely.

P.D.
phantasmagoricaldelusion@gmail.com

Don't do it...

I'm under 700 for the day.


Don't do it.

Don't eat anymore.

Don't binge.
Don't binge.
Don't binge.
Don't fail.



Just a reminder.


Don't.


I have to regain myself.

It's all I *can* do right now. It's the only part of this insanely rapidspinning crazyland I can grab and hold and keep still.

I just...

Have to.


Don't...

Fuck this up.