seriouly starting over.

I'm going back on my meds tonight.

I think if I'm being honest I'll acknowledge that I was -- am -- playing with fire. I know I need them. I know things have been difficult, unnecessarily difficult for the past month and a half. I know, too, that maybe I've been "looking" for a reason to go home. And that, well, if I'm that unhappy with work -- I don't have to be depressed to pick up my things and go home. I don't have to let things get bad, or force them to get bad, in order to take action.

So I'm going back to work tomorrow after taking a few mental health days and although I'm not looking forward to it, I'll just remind myself that I'm never stuck.

And I'd also just like to throw out there that I'm really glad things didn't get bad without the medication. I appreciate that. I just thought maybe...if I did fall into the black hole I'd get to go home. And I really really really dislike my supervisor and my boss still intimidates me and I miss my nephew and I hate the snow. And I just wanted to be able to say, "I'm going home because I'm depressed."

But I'm not. I mean -- I'm not happy that's for sure. But I'm okay. And I wanna stay that way.

So...after the holidays I'm going to start saving every penny I can save and looking for a new job. Not one back at home because I made the best decision in moving here, I just got a raw deal when it came to picking a good work environment.

I probably won't post before Christmas -- so Merry Christmas y'all.

Take care of yourselves.

getting back on the horse

breakfast...check!

preoccupying myself for the next hour or so...(i'll check back in)

And as uncomfortable as it feels right now, I know, I really do know that it's the best thing for me. So I'm really proud of myself. I want to keep it up. I'm going for three meals today!

"How hungry am I and, more to the point, for what?"

For what?

I've started reading Appetites (Caroline Knapp) again for the second time and when I came across this question I knew I had to write. I knew it because sometimes this really is about food but most times it's not. Mostly, my eating disorder is not about food. It's just how I express myself and I need to remember that.

It was really hard coming home after an extended vacation during the Thanksgiving holiday. Hard for many reasons but mostly because I miss my family. I love them. And though our relationships are beyond complicated they are much simpler to my heart. They are my family. It's only natural for me to feel that pull towards them when I'm so far far away.

I think because I have yet to process things (my thoughts and feelings about returning to Maine) and ...well, food has since been hard since I returned. Food was actually already difficult before my trip and during my stint in North Carolina but I can feel myself losing a bit of the control I had over my eating habits before the holiday and it scares me.

And rightfully so. I definitely need to do what is necessary to stay on top of this eating disorder and anxiety and depression.

So somethings are better. I'm certainly not as depressed as I was six months ago or four months ago or even two months ago. I'm feeling good and I say this cautiously. But I really do.

Except here's the problem with feeling good: my eating is out of control.

Maybe it's my body's way of saying feed me. Feed me for breakfast and feed me for lunch and feed me for dinner and feed me for snacks. Maybe it's my body's way of saying, good job Erin for feeding your soul and your mind and your passion but you still have to feed your body.

And then I have that eating disordered thought that feels so very much like MY own that says..."If only you weren't fat -- you COULD feed your body. But it doesn't need to be fed. That's the one thing in your life that's been fed enough."

I was talking to a good friend yesterday and she said, "You know what your problem is? You know what you want in life but you're too impatient to wait for it. It's supposed to come in its own time, not when you realize it's something you want."

And I thought...(and a part of me wishes I had said), "You have no idea what it's like to want something and never have it. You have no idea what it's like to want to be someone that you know you can never be. You have no idea what it's like to knowingly hurt your body and crush your spirit for something for YEARS and simply wait. If there's one thing I wish people with eating disorders had less of, it's patience. We know how to wait. Some of us even kill ourselves being so patient as to wait for that long desired goal of being thin."

And it's not something to be proud of, I know. It's just...don't tell me that I want what I want when I want it because that's not the way eating disorders work. Don't incenuate that restricting and purging and binging and purging and hating yourself is what impatient people do. It's a mental illness, first and foremost and it manifests itself through food.

But to answer my original question. I think I'm hungry for love. And since we all know it starts with ourselves...I'm going to try a little harder to love myself enough to make sure I start eating three meals a day again.

It struck me when I was home. I wanted to know that my mother loved me the way I want to be loved. But she can't do that. Only I can. And I want to know someone could love me. I think I want to know that I can love me.

Something's missing

So I'm home in NC and it's been a whirlwind. To be honest, I really am not in touch with my feeling at all which could be the reason why I've been purging so much.

Being home seems to have that effect on me.

And I don't want to make it seem like it's been all bad. Really, I'm going to miss it. I'll miss the lazy mornings and afternoons. Picking my nephews up from school. Spending afternoons with them. Chewy. Ah. I love that dog.

I miss the familiarity of it. I miss -- home, I guess. The fact that it's home with all the bad stuff that it brings up, it's still my home. So it makes me sad that on my 26th birthday -- something doesn't feel right.

I'm feeling down. And not because I'm getting old but because this still isn't the place I wish it was. They're still not the people I want them to be. And here I am growing and changing and living my life in Maine and...

So I want to stay because I can't bear to leave them again and I hadn't realized how hard this would be. This knot in my throat feeling again.

I had an hour with Dixie and it was -- you know those brief moments in life when everything is seriously okay and you just want it to last forever because it's so nice? I love her but even that felt like something wonderful that I was hanging on to from the past, but something that's not a part of my current life.

It seems like the two worlds are so separate. I love my life in Maine. I really do. But I miss all the things about North Carolina that I love and there's no way to bring that there. It makes me sad.

good news

I feel alive.

Life isn't perfect. Far from it. I'm struggling more these days with the eating disorder voice telling me to restrict or purge. But I'm fighting it. I'm tell it, "Fuck you." I'm eating anyway. I'm not purging.

Yes, I skip meals. I've drank more coffee in the past two months than I ever have in my life. I'm pulling out my hair. But I'm not depressed. I wake up in the mornings and I can get out of bed. It hasn't been so long ago that there were days and weeks and months at a time when I could not even do that.

I was telling my boss today that I go home after work and I'm usually asleep by 7 pm. She asked if I'm depressed and you know what...

I'M NOT!

I go to bed because I'm tired. Because I hate being lethargic at work and I honestly need about 10 - 11 hours of sleep. That's a lot of sleep, I know. But right now -- I can't stay up past 10 or 11 pm without binging and purging. That's playing with fire. So I go to bed. Recovery for me is about doing what's best for me in each moment and that means turning the lights out before Primetime begins. And I can live with that because I'm alive.

I'm alive!

And I'm really really appreciating my life.

I could use a friend right now.

So I didn't take my meds today because I was moving from one apartment to another. And that of course threw off my "eating schedule." I use the quotations because honestly, there is no schedule on days when I'm not working. Anyway -- breakfast occurred after I'd moved from the third floor to the second floor (with no elevator) and all was well. And then I started "snacking" which just sort of ended up as a really extended binge. And I'm feeling gross. And I'm contemplating jumping back on the horse (for dinner) because it IS dinner time but my body is just freaking out right now.

And I'm really anxious about work and getting this work done from home and it's reminiscent of things past and that worries me. And of course I'm afraid that I'm backsliding. And then that makes me think that I'm blowing things out of proportion.

But here's the truth:

I didn't get my work done on Friday. I took it home to do over the weekend but I didn't feel like doing it. Although I did do other things (none of them eating disordered). So today, I played hooky from work (and moved which was really important because I needed to move). But now I've got all these reports to start and complete and it's already 6:30 and I wish my boss were an easier person to deal with. I wish I hadn't been so tired and unproductive last week.

I wish I had taken my meds this morning because they anxiety is escalating. And I'm doing this now to keep myself from doing anything stupid (not to be judgmental).

I could use a friend right now.

short post

Remember when I couldn't get of bed because I was so depressed?
Remember when Jay used to tell me to go to the mall -- just to get out of the house?
Remember when all I could do -- day in and day out was to just exist in my eating disorder and depression?

I'm not saying that's all in the past. I'm saying -- I'm just different now. I woke up this morning and got dressed and walked to church (30 minutes late of course but only because of a logistical error on my behalf). No -- I don't really have the $15 for a movie and dinner -- but I've been in the apartment since 1 pm. And that's not good for me. So yeah, I'm gonna get dressed in less than ideal weather and walk the 5 blocks or so to the movie theater and see a movie that I probably won't enjoy because it's taking care of myself. And there's no price at which I'm willing to say "that's too much" or "that's not worth it."

Because I do remember those days. And they were sad and all encompassing and I hated my life. Absolutely hated it. And I spent so many nights contemplating just ending it all. And now, I'm in a better place.

Now I wake up every morning between 7 and 8. I work 8 hours a day. I talk to my family in very limited doses. I've maintained my boundaries by not communicating with my father (even though he's reached out to me twice since I've been in Maine). Now, I take of care of myself more often than I don't. Now when I don't take care of myself, I pick myself right back up again and keep trucking along.

It's not really in remembrance of who I used to be -- it's more like realizing this is it. This is my life. And I can spend it in the house doing sudoku puzzles 16 hours a day on the weekends (obviously I don't think there's anything wrong with that) or I live my life a different way. One that brings me a little bit more pleasure.

So that maybe when the chips are down, I'll be in a better place to handle it.

Wasn't so short, huh?