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
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
Well, then. This is recovery, huh?
I'm doing it.
Yeah.
And I'm feeling horribly fail and fat so often that I frequently question this move. As in... hourly. Minute-ly. Yes.
I've no scale at the moment (as prescribed by my lovely ED therapist), so I don't actually know how much I've gained. It feels like fifty pounds, but I know better. Realistically speaking, it's probably closer to eleven.
The freedom I feel, though, on the whole... It's unimaginable. Indescribable. I'm not happy yet, no... But damn... I think I must be on my way.
Having lived through all of this, I feel... so many things. Lost, without my disordered habits. Out of control, without the calorie-counting and constant weighing. FAT and unattractive, without my beautiful bones pushing through my skin everywhere.
I love that body. I miss it so much.
Looking in the mirror is literally like looking at a stranger's body. A stranger's... healthy, supple, feminine... body. My ass is back in full force, and I've gained two cup sizes since I stopped purging and restricting. My belly jiggles a little, and my thighs touch.
And yet...
The letting go of all of my self-loathing (a work in constant progress) is something so very ... priceless. Invaluable.
I am learning... (can't believe I'm actually saying this...) ...to love my SELF.
It's really quite insane, I know.
I still contemplate purging every single time I overeat. This is often.
I still look in the mirror and struggle to fight back the thoughts of relapse. That temptation is so sweet, and yet, somehow, I know that I will beat it.
This disorder will forever be a part of me. It has changed my life eternally. I will always be a part of this disorder, as well. My mind doesn't know how to think without it, and so it will continue to plague/help/torture/bless me as I continue my life.
One day at a time.
... Miss you, lovies.
<3
Yeah.
And I'm feeling horribly fail and fat so often that I frequently question this move. As in... hourly. Minute-ly. Yes.
I've no scale at the moment (as prescribed by my lovely ED therapist), so I don't actually know how much I've gained. It feels like fifty pounds, but I know better. Realistically speaking, it's probably closer to eleven.
The freedom I feel, though, on the whole... It's unimaginable. Indescribable. I'm not happy yet, no... But damn... I think I must be on my way.
Having lived through all of this, I feel... so many things. Lost, without my disordered habits. Out of control, without the calorie-counting and constant weighing. FAT and unattractive, without my beautiful bones pushing through my skin everywhere.
I love that body. I miss it so much.
Looking in the mirror is literally like looking at a stranger's body. A stranger's... healthy, supple, feminine... body. My ass is back in full force, and I've gained two cup sizes since I stopped purging and restricting. My belly jiggles a little, and my thighs touch.
And yet...
The letting go of all of my self-loathing (a work in constant progress) is something so very ... priceless. Invaluable.
I am learning... (can't believe I'm actually saying this...) ...to love my SELF.
It's really quite insane, I know.
I still contemplate purging every single time I overeat. This is often.
I still look in the mirror and struggle to fight back the thoughts of relapse. That temptation is so sweet, and yet, somehow, I know that I will beat it.
This disorder will forever be a part of me. It has changed my life eternally. I will always be a part of this disorder, as well. My mind doesn't know how to think without it, and so it will continue to plague/help/torture/bless me as I continue my life.
One day at a time.
... Miss you, lovies.
<3
Sunday, October 24, 2010
It's been a while. I've much to share, but...here's something different.
Washing dishes, making dinner, doing my homework, helping her with her homework, doing laundry, getting the bath ready, cleaning the kitchen, feeding the dogs... When do we have time to take a second and press a pause button somewhere? Has anyone invented that yet? Someone's dropped the ball on that one...
And then...the high-pitched little voice that brings anyone back to Earth, because...well, you can't effectively clean up spilled macaroni and cheese from all the way up there in La La Land...
"It's very important, Mommy...
'Kittethn'... How do you spell 'kittethn'?"
The tiny lisp (that isn't quite a lisp) is uniquely Britton's; it lilts lyrically throughout her sentences as if it almost doesn't exist, and yet its presence has always somewhat concerned me, a mother with a keen ear for linguistic accuracy and appreciation for all things grammatical, syntactical, etc... I always was an English geek, and proud of it. My daughter, only three years of age, already uses her adverbs in their proper tense, correcting the boys at school when they're being too "loud"... Oh no, they're definitely "speaking too loudly." I love it. Never too early. If she learns it this way the first time around and manages to retain these principles throughout her years of public education without picking up too many bad habits, we'll be all set.
About that lisp? It only makes its appearance, so to speak, in a few "s" words here and there, and sometimes in the nasal "n" beginnings and endings when that sound is soft; it's like she's trying harder than is necessary to force out the air needed to make that sound. So what does a Mommy do? Well, off we go to the pediatrician, of course. No, no, not right away, of course. Growing kids will go through these things, and it's normal. (Not that I'm not prone to overreacting a tad; I *was* the first to toss everything in the car and rush off to the ER the first time she rolled off the bed as an infant, only to be told by a very sweet and serene nurse that ALL babies roll off the bed at some point...it's kind of what they do.) However, now that this nose issue has obviously affected her speech to a noticeable degree, it seemed the appropriate time to investigate further.
After a quick glance up her tiny nostrils and down her little throat, we're given a prescription for an inhaled steroid (Veramyst) and a liquid allergy medicine to clear up her congestion (which very well could be the reason she overcompensates with the "n" sounds). We've yet to see what the long-term use of these will do for her, but I'm optimistic, and Britton is just happy that the allergy medicine tastes of cherries. We'll see how we go. In the meantime, life goes on as chaotically and as normally and as beautifully as ever. As she approached me in the dining room the other night with a sheet of notebook paper in her hands, pride beaming in her face like sunshine was made for her, I had to smile again at what she had called so very important: scrawled in her favorite purple crayon were the carefully crafted letters K-I-T-T-E-N, perfectly printed across the top.
That's my girl.
And then...the high-pitched little voice that brings anyone back to Earth, because...well, you can't effectively clean up spilled macaroni and cheese from all the way up there in La La Land...
"It's very important, Mommy...
'Kittethn'... How do you spell 'kittethn'?"
The tiny lisp (that isn't quite a lisp) is uniquely Britton's; it lilts lyrically throughout her sentences as if it almost doesn't exist, and yet its presence has always somewhat concerned me, a mother with a keen ear for linguistic accuracy and appreciation for all things grammatical, syntactical, etc... I always was an English geek, and proud of it. My daughter, only three years of age, already uses her adverbs in their proper tense, correcting the boys at school when they're being too "loud"... Oh no, they're definitely "speaking too loudly." I love it. Never too early. If she learns it this way the first time around and manages to retain these principles throughout her years of public education without picking up too many bad habits, we'll be all set.
About that lisp? It only makes its appearance, so to speak, in a few "s" words here and there, and sometimes in the nasal "n" beginnings and endings when that sound is soft; it's like she's trying harder than is necessary to force out the air needed to make that sound. So what does a Mommy do? Well, off we go to the pediatrician, of course. No, no, not right away, of course. Growing kids will go through these things, and it's normal. (Not that I'm not prone to overreacting a tad; I *was* the first to toss everything in the car and rush off to the ER the first time she rolled off the bed as an infant, only to be told by a very sweet and serene nurse that ALL babies roll off the bed at some point...it's kind of what they do.) However, now that this nose issue has obviously affected her speech to a noticeable degree, it seemed the appropriate time to investigate further.
After a quick glance up her tiny nostrils and down her little throat, we're given a prescription for an inhaled steroid (Veramyst) and a liquid allergy medicine to clear up her congestion (which very well could be the reason she overcompensates with the "n" sounds). We've yet to see what the long-term use of these will do for her, but I'm optimistic, and Britton is just happy that the allergy medicine tastes of cherries. We'll see how we go. In the meantime, life goes on as chaotically and as normally and as beautifully as ever. As she approached me in the dining room the other night with a sheet of notebook paper in her hands, pride beaming in her face like sunshine was made for her, I had to smile again at what she had called so very important: scrawled in her favorite purple crayon were the carefully crafted letters K-I-T-T-E-N, perfectly printed across the top.
That's my girl.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Silly stomach...doth ye protest?
Today, we liquid fast.
(WE being myself, naturally, and my lovely besty DreamsxandxBones)...
This woman saves me in so many ways. You know it, don't ya, love? ;)
I know that no matter how trying this day becomes as it wears on, no matter what personal painful stressful bullshit finds its way into my headspace, she will not allow me to fall.
<3
Anyone else feel like being 100% guaranteed to be tinier tomorrow with us? ;)
Please, feel free to join in. I cannot wait to feel this emptiness overtake me...
(when I am thin again...when I am back to my lovely 120s, and beyond, I shall post again some pictures of myself. NOT until then.)
Better get there fast, huh?
If this were possible for ordinary people, everyone would be doing it. But our determination and sense of higher purpose in ourselves exceeds the ordinary in so many ways. Our beautiful sacrifice and perseverance will be written like the most delicate cursive script across the smooth, clean planes of our lovely bones: We are pure.
As the inside of my arm insists...
Stay Lovely.
(WE being myself, naturally, and my lovely besty DreamsxandxBones)...
This woman saves me in so many ways. You know it, don't ya, love? ;)
I know that no matter how trying this day becomes as it wears on, no matter what personal painful stressful bullshit finds its way into my headspace, she will not allow me to fall.
<3
Anyone else feel like being 100% guaranteed to be tinier tomorrow with us? ;)
Please, feel free to join in. I cannot wait to feel this emptiness overtake me...
(when I am thin again...when I am back to my lovely 120s, and beyond, I shall post again some pictures of myself. NOT until then.)
Better get there fast, huh?
If this were possible for ordinary people, everyone would be doing it. But our determination and sense of higher purpose in ourselves exceeds the ordinary in so many ways. Our beautiful sacrifice and perseverance will be written like the most delicate cursive script across the smooth, clean planes of our lovely bones: We are pure.
As the inside of my arm insists...
Stay Lovely.
Monday, September 27, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
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?
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.
:(
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.
:(
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