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.

P.D.

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.

-P.D.

I miss my disorder. (fucked, right?)

Fuck.

How twisted is that? I can't believe I'm saying that.

And yet... It's true.

To be honest, I knew this would happen. I figured out from the very beginning of recovery that I'd have difficulty in feeling like myself without the obsession, without the hate, without the CONTROL.

Everything's out of control now, and it's absolutely... insane.

I don't even know if I could survive my current life (school, my daughter, two jobs, social life, etc.) if I was still constantly preoccupied with killing myself slowly. It did take up so much of my time and energy. But... So much of me wonders if the pieces wouldn't fit more perfectly if I were just... perfect.

Looking at photos of myself from October and November (right before I started gaining again), I can hardly believe how far I've let myself fall. I don't know the number, but it's gotta be bad. Probably close to 145 or 150. I don't know if that's true. It could be just 140. Who the fuck knows?

I feel so... fail.

I'll stop now. I just wish I knew what was to become of me, and my mind.

I hope you ALL are well. I miss you muchly, and think of you often. <3

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

126.8.

Seriously?

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.

Whatever.

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

<3

Can't think of a witty title or anything...

Coffee just below the boiling point. Black. Zero calories. My friend.

Small Ziploc bag of apple slices and strawberries. Natural. Raw. Delicious. Also my friend.

The bagel shop where I purchased my coffee, filled with the aromas of hot, toasted breads and melting cheeses and the laughter of so many individuals who would think me a little crazy if they knew why I came here. For coffee? No one else here walks away with a cup of coffee...and nothing else. No, they are here for bagels covered in cream cheese and oozy butter and cinnamon and ooh, look, they even have pizza bagels, dripping with fatty deliciousness and covered in poor-little-piggie pepperoni. This place is not my friend, but I have conquered it. Score one for P.D.

I am restricting again, in case you haven't noticed. Not that I ever stopped completely; I don't think I could if I wanted to (and I don't want to). 1,000 calories today. I'd say that's reasonable. Healthy-ish. I can't gain this way. I know, I know, I've binged and I've failed to exercise daily, so my two or three pound gain isn't JUST due to eating more "healthily" (it's hard to tell exactly how much I've put on after last night's pasta and *gasp* sausage dinner, as most of it's probably still in me) Uuuuggh...

There's something weird in my perfectionist mentality that doesn't allow me to stop in the middle of a binge day and say, "Hey, stop this, you can prevent further damage by just quitting now. Why must you continue to stuff your face today? Why wait to start "anew" tomorrow?" Meh. It's just the way I work. I don't like it, really, but my attempts to change myself in that regard have hitherto been massive failures. Who knows... People DO change. Sometimes.

So today is good. I plan to get my ass to the gym and work off that nasty (but simultaneously delicious) dinner here in just a few minutes. I'm addicted to your blogs, though; I had to get online and see what everyone was up to before I packed up the ol' laptop and set out trudging through the rain to the gym. Yes, it's raining again. And gray. And gross. But me? I'm AWESOME! :P Awesome sauce. Because restricting feels so good. And you know, I think I'll attempt to make that my new rule for myself... Do what feels good. You know, within reason. Don't eat cheesecake because it feels good. Duh. :P But do what feels natural, day by day, rather than setting myself up with such a strict infrastructure of hardcore internal laws that will (if history is any indication) eventually weaken and crack and fall because it was never perfectly stable to begin with. If it feels right to restrict to 1,000 today, so be it. If, inside, deep down, it feels better to eat that banana at 9 PM, do it. I'm going to try this, and see where it takes me. Working on the mental side of my health a bit more. I'll letcha know how it works out. Ha, as if there was any doubt about that!

I wish I could kill food like Della. :P Girl, teach me that trick and I will be indebted to you FOR LIFE! Today, I was slicing up these apples and of course, my uncle has the godforsaken peanut butter sitting out on the counter in front of the cutting board. WTF? Like I'm supposed to be able to see that shit and pretend it's not there?! With APPLE SLICES in my hand, no less?? I scooped a finger-full out and slathered it on a bit of apple. Stared at it. Foodstalked it. Then ate it. Closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the amazing wonderfulness that is peanut butter on apples. Then closed the jar and walked away. I think that was perhaps a mini-feat all its own, no?

I look forward to my run, but my knee does not. I really ought to have it checked out. My uncle, who's had two knee replacements and multiple foot/leg surgeries thinks it must be my meniscus. I don't know what it is, but it feels like there's no cushion whatsoever inside my knee, like every step is just grinding those bones harder and harder against one another. Ugh. When I run enough, and ignore it, it's possible to pretend the pain doesn't exist. But I know I'm only doing damage there, and that thought isn't pleasant. I can't be laid up. Can't afford to be any more sedentary than I already feel I am.

Off to the gym I go. Perhaps I'll set up an appointment with the doctor to check out my knee. Meh. I hope you ladies are well, and that your week goes as swimmingly as my morning has so far. <3

Jumping in head first...advice?

Sometimes the responsible, logical, healthier side of my mind just isn't powerful enough to overcome this "disorder," not loud enough to drown out the provocative promises of my favorite phantom...Our dearest Ana.

Nearly a year ago, when I first discovered all that the pro-ana community had to offer me, I decided that the only way to achieve my goals was to starve myself...in *true* ana fashion. No more getting at least 1,200 calories a day in order to prevent the onset of the dreaded "starvation mode," no more eating a certain amount of whole grains, protein, fruits, vegetables, etc. in order to maintain a healthy balance of the food groups...No, I was going to get thin and stay thin, regardless of the price I had to pay or the toll it would take on my body and mind. Yes, it was selfish, but I didn't see that. In my mind, I had found the answer, and I was going to do this RIGHT.

That lasted for all of a few weeks. My uncle, friends at school, and even my K noticed pretty early on. Refusing invitations to lunch, eating so little even while at home...I guess I was entirely too obvious.

Got into some therapy, did some reading of anorexic horror stories, and managed to scare myself away from that ledge...left the precipice just in time to save what I still retain of my sanity, but not before getting that taste...That glimpse of a life of total control, dropping half a pound a day, feeling so light and airy and starving through the pain for something that was worth so much more than my words could even say...

Since then, I've incorporated exercise into my plan, burning more calories at the gym in the morning than I'd ever eat at breakfast; this way, I figured, I was starting my day at a deficit with only roughly half the day left over in which to eat anything. It worked pretty well, I suppose. We all know that lean muscle mass added to the body will show up as a slightly higher number on the scale. That same muscle, however, will continue to more effectively burn fat calories for you even as you rest, doing double duty for you as long as you provide it with sufficient lean protein to repair itself. My BMR is higher than someone who does not exercise daily, which means, technically, that I could afford to eat more if I wanted. While I comprehend and appreciate all of this theory...since that's really what it boils down to...I can't help but think of how much weight I *could* lose if I chose to finally give in...and let Ana take control.

I have to force myself, most times, toward the end of each afternoon, to eat a bit more of this or of that in order to bring myself up to that calorie threshold: at least 1,000 to "prevent starvation mode" from beginning...RIGHT. Like my body has an internal ticker that keeps meticulous track of every single calorie burned and consumed, and if I fail to meet that magical number of 1,200, my metabolism instantly freaks out and begins storing fat from every source possible, eating away at muscle instead in attempts to survive this OBVIOUS famine I'm suffering. Fuck that shit.

While I'm sure that there's more than a grain of truth to all of this, I'm still convinced of a single fact, and I know THIS to be true: Starving works.

Yeah.

It does. This is more than obvious to all of us. Millions of images swim before us daily of our beloved thinspiration, whether they be celebrities or models or each other...and they starve. Beautifully. They don't sit there and drive themselves crazy with thoughts like, "Well, I don't want to starve myself now because I very well could be doing permanent damage to my metabolism and it may make me fat or sick or both later in life...I had better eat enough to get me up to that recommended minimum of 1,200...nom nom nom..."

No. They don't. They eat to live. Period. And they are thin. Strong. Beautiful. The perfection we all seek. So why must I berate myself for wanting to follow their example?

Back to the responsible, healthy, non-disordered side of my brain. Saying that my life is pretty chaotic as it is now, constantly obsessing over food and calories and measurements and numbers...Why exacerbate the situation even FURTHER by cutting those calories in half and spending even MORE time hurting in hunger? *sigh...* Because...the "healthy ana" lifestyle simply isn't working for me anymore. I can't STAND restricting all damn day, feeling so proud of myself for my determination and discipline, and then realizing that having only 600 calories a day isn't "healthy"...going to the fridge and pulling out some green beans and broccoli and EATING...when I'm not even fucking HUNGRY...that's like blaspheming right there... feels like a binge. Just so that I can stave off the possibility of slowing my ever-lovin' metabolism... I'm tired of it. I won't force feed myself anymore, not for my doctor, not for my therapist...I'd rather lie to them than to myself.

Ugh...Sorry this is so long. This stuff has been on my mind for a while. I kind of wanted to get some feedback from you lovelies on the matter, if you feel so inclined to comment. I'm so ready just to say fuck it all, Ana, take me. Take me under your featherlight wings and make me beautiful. I'm tired of defying you, tired of doing this the "healthy" way just to please some otherworldly phantom of a theory of a mode of starvation...Whatever.

*sigh...* I'm off. It's nearly 2 PM and I'm up to 280. No cardio yet, but it will come. And then I'll be back to zero. I'm just ready to be rid of this disgusting, leeching fat-covered body... She wants to see me succeed, she wants to give me the gift of what I've been chasing forever...The ability to see my beautiful, perfect bones...Why can't I just accept her and follow her? Why does this guilt, this apprehension, have to cloud my judgement?

Ah well. Thank you, ladies, as always, for reading and for your comments.

Stay lovely! <3

Update: ...how is that I'm still at less than 500 for the day...nearly ALL broccoli and cauliflower and asparagus...and I still feel fail?

Feeling fail is NOT allowed! :P

Also...I'm bored.

I need to go work out. Yes. That will make me feel AWESOME. <3