Oh boy.

I'm back. Pre anti-depressants Erin. The one who binged and purged like there was no tomorrow. Because just in case any of this food happens to escape during the night, I must rapidly consume and then purge.

Restriction's so much easer. After a while, you really aren't even thinking about it. And then I lose my steam... my body takes over and I can't just ignore the calling. This binge/purge shit...it's all day long. I woke up and I ate the ENTIRE day. And purged the ENTIRE day. Couldn't get enough. It was sick. I kept eating to get to that point of DISGUST where I'm so bloated its painful. And then when it didn't happen, I just purged because I was like well, I need to get this out. No point in waiting any longer.

And of course, I couldn't get it all out. I didn't have that empty feeling. I just had that GO BACK AND EAT MORE and try to get to that place you feel safe. Sick. Sick. Sick Sick.

I've been crying a lot too lately. Lately meaning the last two days. And not working on my papers at all. Which is really just about the dumbest thing in the world anyone in my situation could do. I was afraid once I slipped up it would be over. I pray that doesn't happen. I have to get this work done. Just let me end the semester...that's all I need.

Life is not good at the moment. But as one of my law school friends said to me the other day, "it could be worse."

No. It couldn't in my opinion. Things couldn't possibly get ANY worse. I always think that. I always think I'm at the END of the rope. There's no where to go but up from here. But it always can get worse when u think that it can't. Always

I think I'll be okay. I've given myself a deadline of tuesday to get all this shit done. January 1st....i'm officially at the half way point of law school. I just have to make it one more week. I get to talk to Shish, she had better not be sick! I need her. I mean I really would love to page her and just talk right now because I'm a wreck. I'm at such a low point right now...not thinking good healthy thoughts at all. Thinking recovery is a crock of shit. Thinking that this is just who I am. Just apart of who I am. That I'm someone who isn't going to get any better.

Someone who just has always lived with these walls, with this sarcasm, of keeping the pain inside, of not letting them see me cry, of putting on a smile and bearing it, of always trying to make them proud, of swallowing their shit because they fed it to me and I had no choice. This isn't baggage I just picked up when I was 16...but shit I've felt like I've carried around since elementary school. And kids shouldn't have to carry their parents shit...they shouldnt bear their parents guilt and frustrations. But it happens. And I don't think me not being bulimic would make my world that much of a better place. And that scares the shit out of me...to admit that. To admit that Id still be the same girl with or without it...so why all the focus on recovery? when life will still be THIS life. i wont love myself anymore, or appreciate myself anymore, or accept myself anymore if im not binging and purging. i just won't be acting out on that hate...on that disappointment...on that pain. Im thinking it will all still be there. And feeding myself this false hope that life CAN be better, well right now it feels like snake oil. I feel like id be setting myself up for a major let down if I just say, OKAY. FINE. LIFE SUCKS. I BINGE AND PURGE TO GET THROUGH IT SOMETIMES. SOMETIMES ITS OUT OF CONTROL BUT THATS BECAUSE MY LIFE GETS OUT OF CONTROL. AND ITS OKAY.

sometimes i feel like recovery is making things worse. and now i realize, i need to get back on the zoloft. if this is what id been wanting to feel this past month...i think i can do without it.