Friday, March 30, 2012

I'm not sure that I'm writing to anyone anymore...But hey, why not? I'm relapsing, whether I like it or not.

I remember the good ol' days. I had over 220 followers and I followed them all, and more. And now... Well, I was forced to make my blog private. Though now, I'm thinking I might just change that.

I miss the camaraderie and the support (a bit redundant, but hey, I'm buzzed). I miss knowing what was going on in my girls' lives. It helped so much.

A is waking up (I use her initial because I soon plan to make this public again). I realize that I may have mentioned her full name before, but I don't care at this point. I just ... I miss my girls.

What does it mean that I miss you? The lifestyle, the friendships that span across oceans and continents and age? We all share and have shared so much. I don't know where I'm going. I stray from the path of recovery and feel guilty, horrid, lost and... liberated.

I have been gone for so long. I recall fondly the days in which I woke up and checked my blog first thing in the morning. At lunch. When I got home from school. During the day, when I had a spare moment. Every night. I had such a supportive and loving circle of friends I'd never met. And yet you meant so much to me.

This seems, in rereading, a post about nothing. How am I to regain my friends when all I do is type out my current thoughts, rather than getting down to business?

All right.

Here it is.

I am a 25-year-old mother and I am STILL eating disordered.

I have been through a partial recovery and still, to this day, cannot forsake everything that I lived for so long.

I am damaging myself and my family by descending into this once again. I realize that. ... Shouldn't that be enough for me to stop and seek help?

I just...

I want and NEED to be thin again. I suffered so deeply and for so long, just to get to that point. I've lost it now, and I want it back. All of that time and effort cannot be wasted.

Help me. All of you. Any of you. Please.

Stay lovely.


Sunday, March 25, 2012

Drunk Driving is Illegal... But What About Drunk Blogging?

I had about 400 calories today before I started drinking. Wine and vodka can be taken into consideration, of course, but I feel that I am probably still ahead. I shouldn't be allowed near any device sporting an internet connection.

Thank the gods for the squiggly red lines. You probably wouldn't be able to read this otherwise.

The upkeep of an entire house, the care of a four-month-old baby and the constant entertainment and education of a five-year-old all SHOULD make me so tired that I fall asleep as soon as possible (I just typed "poosible" and it made me smile internally... thought you should know...). But NOOoooOOoooOOOOOoooooo...

P.D. wants to get drunk every night. Lots of unnecessary calories? Check. Impaired judgement? Check. Forgetting about all of my problems? YES. Please. PLEASE.

Thank you.

My screen is spinning. I pride myself on the ability to function somewhat normally while in this state. I am so tempted to eat.

I can't. I must. I can't stand this recovery shit.

I love and miss you all.


Saturday, March 3, 2012

Ana is calling me back... WTF, stupid brain...

I know it's been quite a while since my last post. Now, as I reread the last few posts that I made, I realize that I've been on more of a roller coaster than I have let anyone know.

Thing is... YOU guys... You wonderful, beautiful beings with whom I share so much... YOU were some of the best friends I have ever had. And we've never even met.

I am now four months postpartum. My newest daughter is the perfected image of myself and my fiancee. She makes me smile more than I ever have in my entire life.

And yet... I'm bothered. My disorder has been creeping in, and not slowly.

I gained about 60 pounds with this pregnancy. That put me, on delivery day, at 198 pounds. Granted, I was lower than what I should have been when I became pregnant, but that is of no consequence at the moment. I am simply devastated with the way I let myself eat throughout those nine months. I gave in. I decided to consume everything that the life inside of me needed... and more.

And now? Four months after giving birth, I am still only 30 pounds lighter. Over the past three weeks, I have given in to my disorder full-force. I have let it take me over once again. I have reach a point at which I no longer wish to eat, even when hunger is cramping my insides. I just don't want it. A fridge full of food and I don't want a single thing.

I grow dizzy and remember that I am a stay at home mom, breastfeeding an infant and supporting the constantly growing imagination of a 5-year-old. I must be PRESENT for them.

The wake-up call came earlier this week, when I realized that, as I attempted to nurse my 4-month-old, my milk supply was drastically reduced. Why? I'm sure you can guess. That's right. When you don't eat, your body stops doing things it would normally do on a normal diet. Fuck.

In light of this discovery,I've worked on re-normalizing my diet... AGAIN. I try to drink more water and eat even when I'm not hungry. I get drunk nearly every night now (for a number of reasons) and this allows me to eat dinner without gut-wrenching guilt and dismay.

My fiancee took away my scale. He said he's only helping, and I know this to be true. I will henceforth try my hardest to judge my success based on the way my clothes do or do not fit. This will be difficult, but after a year of no scale (as ordered by my ED therapist), I think I can do it without going too crazy.

I miss you all, my beauties, and I hope your lives are treating you as well as can be expected.

Stay lovely...