Break Time

I'm going to take a break from this because I really feel like I need to be alone for awhile or I'm going to lose my mind. If I could be completely alone I would.

Someone please hold me and tell me it will all be OK....

Fears

I have gained a lot of weight very quickly over the last week (I'm guessing my body isn't hyper-metabolic anymore) and I'm terrified. Two of my biggest fears are that once I start eating I won't be able to stop, and if I stop showing my pain outwardly, people will forget that the pain is there at all.

The first fear seems kind of silly, but it's already proving true. Breakfast is my "safe meal," so I usually eat in the morning. The problem lately is that I don't feel full in the mornings, so I will eat bowl, after bowl, after bowl of cereal. My dietitian said I could only have two bowls a day, but I don't feel full after only two bowls so my stomach will hurt. Occasionally I will eat until I get sick, I don't purge, I just literally fill myself up until my stomach can't hold anymore. I'm terrified of becoming a binge eater.

The second fear seems to be a pretty popular one with people who have ED's. People tend to assume that if you've gained weight and look healthy, you must be OK. That is so far from the truth. Yes, right now I look healthier, but I'm still malnourished and I am angry and in pain (mentally) ALL THE TIME. The pain doesn't go away just because the pain can't be seen physically; looks can be deceiving.

I have other fears too, that the voice will never go away, that I'll be in and out of treatment all the time, that my distorted thinking will never get better, that I'll be "recovered" for a long period of time and then relapse, and that I'll never be able to live up to people's expectations. The fear leads to shame, which leads to anger, which leads to guilt, which leads to sadness, it never seems to end.

Enough

I don't think I'll ever be enough of anything, for anyone.

I Don't Know How to Do This

In therapy and at the treatment center we talked about how I've never really developed a sense of self, I have no clue who I am. I feel very detached from myself, like I'm constantly walking through a thick fog; it's a horrible feeling. People keep telling me how lucky I am to be able to start from scratch, be whoever I want to be. I don't consider that luck. To me, my sense of self is just one more thing that I lost to my eating disorder.

How do you know who you are supposed to be? I'm thirty years old, I'm too young to be "starting over." How do you learn to just sit with yourself and be OK with it? How do you learn to be happy? Where do I begin? Part of the problem is that part of me is still that fourteen year old girl, she never developed so she never went away. She's still there seeking peoples approval, wanting to feel loved, wanting to feel like she's good enough, wanting to be seen and heard even as she tries so hard to disappear. That's all I've ever known.

I never thought that the recovery process would be more painful than the disease.

Yet Another Difficult Habit I Need to Try to Break

One of the problems with this illness (for me anyway) is that I'm not always aware of what I'm doing. Last night I went grocery shopping and came home to find three of my four roommates sitting at the kitchen table. We said hello to each other, then they just watched me. Since I moved in here I have refused to eat in front of anyone, when I do eat I will prepare the food when no one is in the kitchen and then take it to my bedroom to eat it. So my roommates have never actually seen me eat, they just see all the food I buy lined up neatly in the pantry and in the fridge and then watch as I throw it away when it goes bad.

As they stared at me I followed my routine of separating the groceries into three different piles- refrigerated, pantry, and hide. Their eyes followed me as I took the items from my hide pile, re-bagged them, and took them into my room.

Last night after I hid the various items around my room it hit me, I am a food hoarder and I've been doing it since high school. I looked around me and was stunned, how could I not know I was doing this? I am surrounded by food, fruit on my desk, nuts/cookies/sweets in the night stand, granola bars/almonds in the closet, donuts/applesauce/peanut M&M's/Goldfish crackers on my bookshelf, and of course my constant supply of Diet Coke and cherry Poptarts under my desk. I thought about why I might do this (my therapist will be thrilled to hear I did that come Monday) and realized I'm testing myself with temptation; I judge myself based on the level of willpower I show when I do or don't eat the food.

This started in high school when I would buy small things, like sweets or little bags of chips, and try sneaking them home and hide them away in my room. A few days later I'd put the food in my book bag and throw them away when I got to school. Then I'd go buy things to replace the things I threw away, and the cycle has been repeating itself ever since. I sort of feel like a chipmunk.

(The following paragraph could be triggering)

On a positive note I've been trying to eat over the past three days. As a result I've gained back 2 1/2lbs of the 8lbs I lost the four days before that. I hate it and it's causing a lot of anxiety. Today in an article I read, the author complained that she gained 10lbs during the past few months; it made me feel terrible about myself because in a month and a half (from when I entered treatment April 4th to my first check up in mid-May) I gained almost 20lbs. I'm trying very hard not to let it get to me but, UGGGHHHH!

So Much Self Hate

My therapist wants to send me to Remuda Ranch in Arizona. I told her only if she pays for it. We've agreed that it wouldn't be worth it to send me back to the treatment center I was in (I'm still refusing to go anyway) but it's all my insurance will cover. I'm in full-blown relapse. I think I deserve it. I'm pathetic.

Added later:
I was just reading something claiming that eating disorders are a lifestyle choice. I've heard this quite a bit actually. Let me make this perfectly clear- eating disorders are not a choice or a lifestyle (unless you're one of those pro-ana idiots). I would never choose to live this way willingly and I would never wish it upon anyone. An eating disorder is an evil disease, even if you don't die from it it robs you of your life. I'm not pretty, happy, outgoing, I have very few friends and I recently lost my boyfriend; all because of my eating disorder.

I think about food and weight all day long. Today I had to go to the mall and I walked by a sweets shop and made myself go in just to torture myself and because in my head the voice was telling me "You can't have these. Look but don't you dare touch." I walked around this very small store staring at all my favorites and the guy behind the counter just watched me in disbelief. Right this very minute all I want is a giant pizza with mushrooms, spinach and gobs of goat cheese and I want a cheese dog with mustard and relish. I have a drawer in my room filled with sweets, but I don't eat them, I just stare at them while the voice in my head hurls insults at me. I am convinced that every bite I take will turn into fat instantaneously and I'm addicted to Diet Coke. Neither of my roommates have seen me take a single bite of food and I've lived here for almost two months. I hate the holidays because they consist of all the foods I love and I eat because I feel the pressure of my family watching me, but then when I get home I cry for hours and my eating disorder screams at me for days afterwards.

I am sad, withdrawn, quiet, secretive, and when I do smile it's almost always a lie. I don't think I'm thin, I look at myself in the mirror and I don't see what everyone else does. I'm constantly doing body checks because I panic if I can't feel my bones (especially my hands, wrists and collarbones). I'm miserable and I hate myself, I've been this way for so long I don't know how else to be. But I DID NOT choose this, it's the result of many factors.

Right now I'm refusing to go to the treatment center because I like how I feel, small, compact, the dizzy spells, racing heart, physical and mental pain, constant nausea, all of it. I don't want to be supervised 24 hours a day, told I can't have a hood or pockets in the dining room, have to fill out a mood monitor and check in with staff after every meal, and I certainly don't want bathroom observation. The sickest part is that at this point I know how sick I am, but I can't stop. The eating disorder is the only things that makes me feel "good".

I know I might die, most days I want it.

How can you accuse someone of choosing to live a constant nightmare?

Perfect Girls

 

On Monday my therapist and I talked about my idea of perfection. This is it exactly, a ballerina. They are the most beautiful, graceful, elegant women in the world. I love their will power, dedication and even as some would put it, their obsession. I was never a dancer but I'd kill to be one. Even as a little girl I'd stare at pictures of ballerinas in secret.

I am extremely jealous of dancers but I love them. Every thing about them is so regimented, exact.....Just perfect. Their bodies are so small and delicate but strong at the same time. No matter how much the world changes, they remain classic beauties.

I'm continuing to relapse. My therapist told me from now on when some one asks me how I'm doing to be completely honest with them. I've been doing that and it feels so GOOD! Do you want to know how I'm doing? I feel disgusting, ugly, worthless and pathetic. The smaller I get the happier I become so I don't eat and it feels wonderful. There, the truth, finally.

HAPPY MONDAY!

So here's how my morning went:
Me- I bought a scale, I haven't eaten since Wednesday, I've lost 4 pounds since you last saw me and I can guarantee I'll lose more before you see me this Wednesday.
Therapist- Maybe it's time to go back to the treatment center?
Me- No I'm not going and you can't make me.
Therapist- That's true it is voluntary but I can tell this isn't going to be pretty.
Me- I don't care.
Ends with us both staring at each other.

She's actually an amazing therapist and she does know where my new attitude is coming from, but she also knows I'm right, my insurance will only cover one program and it's voluntary. Let's wait and see how Wednesday's session goes.

I Should Scream Just to See What Happens.....

My team tells be to be honest and stop hiding how I think and feel. So what do I say when someone asks me how I'm doing? "Well, I am ripping myself apart emotionally and all I want to do is curl up into the smallest ball possible and hide in the corner. Thanks for asking!" I wish I could say that. Really I lie and tell them I'm ok or fine; isn't that what they want to hear? Maybe the problem is that I never feel that I'm heard when I do answer honestly. I have the feeling I could scream at the top of my lungs "I AM NOT OK!" and no one would hear me. If you're not going to hear what I say and everyone wants me to say I'm fine, don't come to me when it all falls apart and say "But you seemed to be doing so well, you said you were fine. What happened?"

The Increasing Weight Upon My Shoulders (No Pun Intended)

Grocery shopping is always torture. Today was worse than usual though. I wanted a case of Snapple Mango-something-or-other iced tea. I didn't buy it, not because I felt guilty, but because I'm to weak to carry it up the stairs to my apartment (keep in mind I'm at the highest weight I've ever been).

Wow.

I'm really struggling right now, mainly because I feel so alone. Unlike in the treatment center I don't have people around me who understand what I'm going through to talk to on a daily basis. Body checking is getting out of control and has definitely taken the place of obsessively weighing myself. They took away my scale to stop that obsession, what can they take away to stop the checking?

I changed my profile picture on Facebook (I HATE Facebook, I'm not sure why I keep it, it just leads to more guilt, pain and envy) and have gotten many compliments on it. I've been told that I look gorgeous, happy, beautiful, hot, etc. The picture was taken maybe a month before I went into the treatment center. What no one sees is the sadness and pain behind that smile, no one ever does. I keep staring at that picture thinking how much I hate that girl, how I don't want to be her anymore, but also thinking she's the prettiest she's ever been. She's a delicate porcelain doll, with perfect hair, perfect make-up, perfect, wide, blue eyes....Sad.

I bought a new journal today because I hate how pathetic my old one was. It was so full of anger, fear and frustration. I'm hoping this one will be different.

Something needs to be different damn it!