So there's this girl, Mia... :/

...and she's been hanging around quite a bit more than I'd prefer as of late.

I can't put my finger on it quite yet, but over the past few weeks I've experienced what I'm beginning to term, in my mind, an enormous shift of purpose. I can't tell yet in what direction i'ts taking me, but if the past few days are any indication, it's nowhere good. :(

Restriction has always been my forte. Sure, I have binge days. That's relatively normal, up until a point. There was a short, glorious period of time during which I wanted nothing to do with food and all of its horrific calories...I was just fine with subsisting on the bare essentials, and it was lovely. Didn't last long, of course. That'd be too good to be true.

No, lately, things have been changing. I've been eating a ton more (or what feels like a ton more) and exercising less and somewhere along the way, my drive to keep going, my will to starve, is fading. I'm not comfortable with this. I know it would be more than prudent of me to roll with this, take it as a chance to seek out recovery, wherever it may be hiding, but I just...can't. I'm not ready.

The c&s shit has gotten out of hand, and fast. I am able to admit this, and I'm not at all proud of it (who would be?)...but even as I recognize it as a problem, I am not yet taking mental steps to stop myself from getting worse. I used to use it whenever I felt like bingeing but was conscious enough to spit before swallowing, and it saved me quite a few calories on numerous occasions. Now...Well, now I do it so much that it's interfering with my thoughts at home and at school: I think about what I can c&s next, at home, or at school, hiding in the bathroom and waiting for everyone to leave so I have some privacy... I'm actually spending extra money on binge food only to spit, and this is happening multiple times throughout the day and night. Not...good...at all. What's worse? I'm progressing to the point of saying fuck the spitting part...Eating feels so goddamned good...I want to swallow this stuff. Of course I can't let it get me fat. Next logical step? Purge that shit. Right? Wrong.

I know I'm walking a fine line here. I know this is more dangerous than I can even comprehend. I've made a promise to myself and to K that I will not let bulimia take a hold of me...and yet here I stand, at the precipice of something so enticing and so harmful...even deadly...I read all of your wonderful blogs and I see the pain that so many of you endure daily, the misery bulimia has brought you. How is this not enough to push me far, far away from even considering this? I HAVE to talk myself out of this...and I need to figure out a way back to hard restriction, reduce the c&s cycle til it's gone completely. My mouth has even begun to feel a little tender when I eat due to the constant, rapid chewing and pushing out of food..mostly sugary, baked items. Shit I'm not allowed to have.

Fuck, I'm sorry I'm so messed up. I really am. I can just picture some random stranger finding my blog, reading this with absolutely no understanding of the mental and emotional anguish behind the disorder itself...Thinking to themselves in disdain and condescension of my weakness, my stupidity, my obvious innate desire to hurt myself. No shit, sherlock. That's what it all comes down to; I believe, in my heart of hearts, that I deserve to be punished, to feel pain, and I long for it, because at least this pain serves to mask all of the unending suffering I won't ever escape, the internal, eternal torment of my past and present...

God, P.D., breathe.

I sit here at school, after class, with two large, saran-wrapped slices of store-bought cake (one chocolate and one carrot) sitting in my backpack, neatly wrapped up in the plastic bag in which they came. I stare down at them. I need them. I want that food in my mouth, in my throat, in my stomach, and then I will hate myself. The hate for the fat that they would add to my thighs will propel me into the nearest bathroom, or even my bedroom, wherever I can be alone and not overheard...And I will fail to get all of it up because I suck at purging, and my mascara will run a little bit and I'll pull my hat down further over my forehead to hide the bloodshot glaze of my eyes...I have the power to stop this binge from occurring. In reality, I know that I have the power to stop Mia from entering my life...I just...have to find it. I have to find this strength. It's not okay for me to break, not here, not with this.

Thank you for reading, lovelies... <3


EDIT: Add-on...8:46 PM: So...I binged, right? But...as fail as that is...I promised Della (and myself) I wouldn't purge. I'm so sorry, Della...and everyone else. I purged half my dinner. Half. Before I came to my senses and pulled myself back from the edge, yet again. And here I sit, feeling so fat and ugly and foolish and HUGE...Yeah, cuz I binged again. F-u-c-k. You can't see how much it hurts from the outside...it's stretching my insides to their limits. Ugh. End edit.

Poetry and Binge-monster... Beauty and the Beast...

Sooooooo......

Today was a bingey day. Yeah. Lame. But you know what? I think I prevented most of the damage my severely shitty will-power would/could have caused by c&s'ing the majority of it. Not that this is a good thing. I know c&s is NOT a good thing. I realize this. I DO think, however, that it's better than swallowing it all and hating myself that much more for the following three days as I starve and exercise trying to lose it...

This was a humdinger, yessiree. This was not your amateur binge, ladies. Oh NO. This was professionalism put to work, lemme tell you. Premeditated; I actually moved things around in my daily schedule in order to make this thing go down. Gave myself the time to go to the store (on the way home from class, but still), walk up and down the aisles for a good while, deciding what was acceptable and what was not (not that ANY of it is acceptable, but you get what I mean), and then grabbing a package of FOUR cherry & cheese danishes and a box of TWELVE chocolate Swiss cake roll things... And a tiny single serving of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream. It was all I could do to walk away from the rows and rows of stacks of boxed Valentine's chocolates... I nearly bought the whole damned store out, but kept telling myself, "You've got enough, just go!" Got home and c&s'd half of each box...ATE the ice cream (220 calories...not the END of the mutha-effin' world, but SO CLOSE!) and now here I sit, instead of going to the gym to work off the 100 or so calories I probably actually ingested. I really wanted to swallow the lot of it and then go purge...I don't know what's wrong with me! I DON'T PURGE! I won't! I've done it maybe ten, fifteen times in my entire life, and I KNOW myself well enough to foresee a major problem with it if I allow it to get a hold on me. Won't do it.

Wow, I really don't know why else I came here other than to completely spill my guts to you guys...Hope you don't mind serving as my own personal confessional. :P I'm not religious in the slightest, but I *do* have the need to get this stuff off my chest, so to speak, rather often. Hence, my presence here now. I should be typing up this poem for class (yes, I'm actually in a poetry class... doesn't that just kick the most ass ever?)... Hey, since it's ana related, maybe I'll type it up and share it with you guys. Is that okay? Hmm...Yes. I think I will. If you don't care to read it, then meh... No hard feelings. It's not that good...It's just me writing in hopes of somehow getting what I actually feel and think out on paper. Not like I don't do that EVERY day here, huh?

Oh, and this is random, but today in art class our professor set up the skeleton model for us to draw...HA! I couldn't stop fawning over the shoulderblades like the sicko that I am. I'll show you my drawing. :D






I hope you're all well...Thank you so much for your comments, your continual support, and yes, I'll get my knee checked out! I have an appointment on Tuesday. Heh, you're all so adorable and concerned for me. I love it. I totally eat it up. Ha. Like everything else edible, it would seem. ;)

Stay lovely! <3

PS - Here's that poem: (I think I'll just go with something I wrote a while back)

Quiet outside, even this close to parted lips...
Where is she,
screaming?
You can't hear, but it's so loud in my eyes
that it hurts in your chest.
Incessant internal cataclysmic cacophony
behind closed eyes, closed in around Self.

My surroundings undisturbed by uproarious soundings
of alarms, systematically disarmed...
Walls leveled by cannons of my own machination
are rebuilt with intent to destroy again.
It's constant: the repair, dismantling...
rescue, exile...
forgiveness, condemnation...
Splinters of a mind full of memories
(mindful memoirs)
reminding that all is not yet lost,
unless, of course, you crave that loss...
Do you? Wouldn't you care for a little more destruction?
Distraction? You know it's a release,
like a drug hardening in your veins.
It's readily available, easily enough attained,
freshly boiled in a clean, cold spoon
and cooked to perfection for your flesh, your tomb...
Yes! You DESERVE it; beg, child, no longer,
I'll give it freely
Because I want you in return.

...No. My past has broken me, ripped stitch from seam
in slow, deliberate, meticulous care.
It's all so planned, the rise and the fall;
Pretended surprise, feigned strength to fight.
A cycle I crave, I undoubtedly need...
My psychosanity requires it.
This
is who I am.
Peace and quiet have their place
and I know, and have known, love.
But they do not live within me here
without fighting for their home.

PPS - I don't know if I like what's going on with my therapy sessions. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my therapist. She's wonderful. She's so far from being all hung up on changing me...it's great. She's more focused on getting me to listen to the real me, behind the ED, behind my depression and anxiety, and instead finding out what I really want from myself without all of the other shit in the way. We have deep sessions, and I usually feel really good after them. BUT... Somehow... I feel more and more inclined to consider recovery as time goes on...It's CRAZY! Not that recovering is a bad thing AT ALL... In fact, I know I'll probably have to more seriously look into it as my daughter gets older... I just...I'm not ready yet. I'm not ready to relinquish this, my only control. It allows me to bend all of this chaos to my will, at least to some small degree, and makes everything a little more bearable when the world feels like its shitting on my life... Ugh, sorry for the rant. I just don't know...you know? :P

All I *do* know is that talking with her makes eating seem like a good idea, and makes starving (what I love most!! agh!) seem like a bad idea. Where the hell *ARE* we, Backwards Opposite InsaneLand??!

Okay, leaving now. LOVE yas! :D

And...she binged.

I don't know what happened.

I don't know what's wrong with me.

My drive, my motivation, my strength, my presence of mind and purpose. Where has it all gone?

I would say that I'm "not proud" of what follows, but that doesn't even begin to describe how I feel. I hate this. I love this place. I need this place so that I can let out all of my hateful feelings about what I've done and how I am... and maybe, if I'm lucky, find someone else who doesn't think I'm half as crazy as I feel during all of it.

It started out with Starbucks. Walked in there with full intentions of purchasing one coffee and one pastry item to sneak away with and c/s. Not even positive as to why I needed this, but I did...The urge, the desire, the NEED to c/s that pumpkin bread was ridiculously profound...almost as strong as the need I had to starve myself so very recently...Where the fuck did THAT go?

Got two baked items from Starbucks. Took them to the bathroom. Felt very mia. Very. Sitting in secret, in hiding, trying to stay quiet when I heard footsteps on the tile. Waiting. Waiting for silence to denote that I was finally alone. Shoving handfuls of bread and blueberry crisp bar into my mouth, chewing ferociously, fervently, like an animal...Disgusting. Rolling the precious fattening crumbles of sugar and fruit around in my mouth and over my tongue, careful not to aggravate my piercing (which is still tender, naturally)... Spit. The second cup of coffee wasn't necessary, but I planned ahead...I would need a cup to spit in, right?

I swallowed about 1/4 of that food. Fail.

I left the bathroom feeling ashamed but still not fulfilled. What more do you fucking want? I wanted to ask myself aloud... I would get no answer anyway, but the frustration welling up inside me over this sudden and unexplained lapse in control demanded an outlet.

More food. Right.

I headed straight over to the very overpriced little convenience store and purchased, with much internal shame, a large bag of chocolate covered pretzels, a HUGE Reese's peanut butter cup, and a big travel sized cup of Ritz Cheese crackers. Couldn't even get home before I busted out the crackers, right there in the parking garage, and went to town. Greedily, piggishly, like a fucking glutton, just eating c/s'ing, swallowing about every third bite. Started the car. Got on the highway. Kept eating and spitting. Got home. Came inside. Continued. Dipped the fucking chocolate covered pretzels in PEANUT BUTTER and chewed them. Spit them. Disposed of all evidence. Ate a cup of sugar free jello and a handful of Craisins. My total today is probably about 1,500 calories consumed. None burned by cardio...Probably only about 200 by walking around campus.

I have to get to the gym. I have to NOT hate myself. I have to tell myself that tomorrow will be okay. Today, for that matter, will be okay. The more I get down on myself, the worse it gets. This is a stumble, not a fall. I will be all right.

I just have to figure out where my drive went. That push, the loathing for the fat that covers my perfect bones...THAT is what motivates me to go on. The girls I see at school every day are so thin and perfect and I am so far from them, and that is usually enough to remind me to starve. But it's not working that way anymore. This has always been about me...the comparisons only help, just like even the best thinspo. Thinspiration doesn't MAKE me do this, I have to make MYSELF do this.

Fuck. I'm sorry. And for some reason, I'm sorry for apologizing. I am completely aware of how stupid I probably sound right now. Thank you in advance for not pointing that out to me later.

I love you all.
<3