Farewell 2007

Last year this time I was somewhere passed out in a night club in New York City (unaware that I had fallen ill with pneumonia.) It was a horrible way to start the new year and I won't even get into the ordeal that involved getting me back home. It was my second semester of law school and I had thankfully passed all my classes and was looking forward to Con Law and Crim Law in the spring. Those were seriously two of the MAJOR reasons I was interested in law. I had been really negative during the first semester and we all know have heard about the Secret. :) Well actually, by that time, I hadn't but I was determined to be more positive, to be more optimistic.

And guess what happened? Things started falling into place. I got the coveted internship at the Public Defender's office (and two other offers that were equally appealing...and with money!) Chewy and I got our own apartment in a nice part of town (although there were some problems with it. some really furry problems.) Oh right. My mother bought me a car! :) And I absolutely love her...I named her Ella. I got into all the classes I wanted this past semester and really really enjoyed them (we won't get into the problems I'm having NOW with those classes) and most importantly because I genuinely see this as a good thing.

I started recovery. I joined an EDA group, I started outpatient therapy (& although I've been pretty one step forwards, two steps back with it, I'm still IN it), I started a spiritual recovery 12 step group and I've met some fabulous friends from both groups, I attempted to do my first step with a sponsor, and I've met all of you who I must say make each day just a bit better, a bit more manageable. And I told my mother (who already suspected something was wrong because she kept getting bills from a rehab and some behavioral health facility. I won't even get into why she should have REALLY suspected this because she lives with me and she notices when food is missing and sees my weight fluctuate. I won't.)

I'm not making too many plans for 2008. I would just like to see it all unfold and enjoy most of it and bear the rest. I would like to go to bed each night and wake up each morning with knowledge that I'm okay. I would like to keep going to law school next semester. I don't think I'm ready yet to face the world with the reasons (or any reason) why I'd be taking time off. I wish I were, but there's this intense anxiety and fear that resides in me right now because all of that is so uncertain. I won't push myself next semester. I'll take the bare minimum number of credits, which is 9 I think, and I don't mind if that means I won't finish in exactly three years.

I'm looking forward to being willing to DO recovery each and everyday of 2008. And I'm not naive here, clearly! I know there will be some days that I am not willing. Days that I am not willing to eat breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner. I know there will be days that I get furious and I binge and purge or days when the only thing I feel like doing is eating and eating and eating and eating.

I'm not big on resolutions because the last one (get down to size whatever) landed me here. It was 5 years ago and it's been one helluva time. And I also feel like if you want to change something in your life, when you're ready, you'll do it. January 1st is not a prerequisite for change. I'm glad I know that. I'm really glad I started taking baby steps towards accepting the idea of living a life worth living back in September.

I was reading something on msn about how to make any relationship work. I think it was specifically for married folks, but nevertheless it really struck a chord with me. For every negative comment or action, replace it with 10 positive ones. Isn't that HARD. I mean I know how catty sometimes I can get with guys and what not. So like if just some guy I was in a relationship with didn't call when he said he would...I wouldn't do TEN good things to erase that crappy thing he did. Because that's called letting someone take advantage of you. I guess it only works when that person is also willing to do 10 positive things for every bad things you've done to them. But I guess it's called forgiving and forgetting, looking on the bright side, and making a relationship work. Well, we've all heard the greatest relationship we have is the one we have with ourselves. So I'm not sure how long it will last, and no it won't be a New Year's Resolution because this is something I'll need to do forever. But I'd love to incorporate that kind of mentality with myself! I'd love to do 10 things good for myself every time I had a negative thought, or binged, or purged. I'd love to just quickly forgive it and say okay, and now you deserve to smile 10 times, because that's how much I love you.

Happy New Year!

Behind the Smile

There’s a picture of me from my sophomore year in college. I’m not sure of the exact date but I know it’s before January 2003. I’m smiling. It’s real. I look so happy. I can think back to that time and remember that I wasn’t actually all that happy. But life was good. I had body image issues. I had problems with my self-esteem. I had problems with my parents but they were better…about to get worse. I don’t think I’m actually pretending in the picture. I don’t think I thought to myself, “oh dear” I’ve put on this suit and now I’ve gotta play this pretend game and look happy. Maybe it’s the lighting but I’m glowing even. It’s a real smile that’s for sure. Because my fake one is so insanely obvious that it’s ridiculous and looks painful. And I had problems with food because I’ve always had problems with food. But this is right before I made the transition from compulsive overeater and occasional binger to bulimic.

And since that time I’ve studied abroad. I’ve fallen in love. Lived a wonderful life in college that I truly appreciate. I’ve graduated…Had a pretty awesome career doing community development work for the Hurricane Katrina affected regions…and made it through the first half of law school. Celebrated new years eve in NYC for three years in a row, vacationed in the DR, South Beach, Laguna Beach (so lame I know) Just the major milestones and a few fun things I’ve been blessed to experience. And there have been pictures to capture all those moments. There’s something in my eyes…something behind my smile, even when it wasn’t fake, that screams, "Something is wrong. Help me."

In a perfect world, I'd take this picture down because 1. It's a picture of me and 2. This is my room. But there’d surely be a family argument to ensue if I changed anything around in MY room. I want it out because it’s a constant reminder of how even when my life wasn’t perfect and yeah I cared that it wasn’t perfect, that I was still loving life. I’d still seen a LOT of pain when that picture was taken…but no one could ever tell. It hadn't gotten the best of me yet. I can look at that picture now and see how pretty I was. Of how beautiful I was. And I didn’t know it then. Seeing as how I wrote that in the past tense, it’s apparent I still don’t know it. I was so insecure then: overweight, acne, dealing with the lack of boys in my sophomore year when everyone else was hooking up and enjoying school and I was just doing my school work. But the joy I’m radiating in this picture is amazing. I can't believe I hadn’t let all that shit steal my joy.

Now if I smile I feel fake. I hardly ever smile in pictures because I refuse to be that unreal. I’m not happy. Why pretend. It does nothing but anger me at what has happened to me. And yeah, a lot of shit has happened since I took that picture which could explain why I’ve lost that spark. Why now I can’t even fake it. But there’s one thing that instantly comes to mind.

Binging & purging. Or just purging anything. I guess I got to a point where I wanted it all out and it didn’t matter what came out along with it. If I could go back to January 2003 and tell myself that it’s not worth it. That I’ve seen what lies ahead and that dropping 8 sizes and 65 pounds in 7 months will not be enough. It won’t keep that smile on my face. I guess that’s hard to believe even now because I sometimes... scratch that, I always think if I can just get back to that point and SEE it and appreciate it then I can still smile like that.

But bulimia doesn’t work like that. Bulimia doesn’t ever let you see that you’ve lost weight, only that you’ve stayed the same or gained. (Even if the scale and the clothes say otherwise) And so bulimia says you have to keep restricting and binging and purging. It’s the only way to get to happiness. When you start you think you’re only doing this until you get down to size whatever or 100 lbs or until you’re 21 or to whenever. And then you'll stop.

The next thing you know you’re 24, you’re an adult and when you started you were just a kid. And you actually acknowledge that bulimia will not take you to happiness but it’s not something that can easily be stopped. Five years of binging and purging after a lifetime of loneliness and tears and pain and rejection and blame and frustrations have easily cleared the path for you to end up with a forever mentality of having an eating disorder. Because when I was 19 I said that I’d stop because I’d just know when to stop. Because I wasn’t sick then. I was just being stupid. Foolish. And then I said I’d stop when I went to France. And then when I got back from France I was still doing it. Then I said I couldn’t possibly be bulimic at 21. Then I turned 22. And then I thought, I couldn’t be a college graduate and still binging and purging. And then I was purging at my job months after my college graduation. And then my social drinking which was already a tad bit out of control turned into drinking before, during, and after work because I was miserable and drinking made it better. Purging didn’t. So yeah I took a little break. And then I went to law school…and bulimics don’t go to law school. Ha. Well…I am in law school and I am bulimic so I guess I just told myself a bunch of things I thought were true. Bulimia has also turned me into a liar.

I decided to get help because for the first time in 5 years I wasn’t telling myself I’d stop when this happened or that happened or when I turned this age. I mean I’d love to not be bulimic at 25. But I’m not even lying to myself anymore. I’m accepting this reality. And I cannot accept this. It’s unacceptable. I need to at least get back to the point where I’m using my age as a marker for when to stop, or career goals, or something. But waking up and not even thinking about when this madness will end means I’ve more or less resigned myself to the fact that I will always struggle with this. Well I’d like to take that resignation back. There’s still hope and I'm finding that fueling that hope and trying to be recovered is more difficult than law school. And I honestly didn't think anything could be worst than being a 1L. I guess maybe residency. :) It’s more difficult than that semester abroad when I took physiological psychology in French. It’s more difficult than seeing that final grade on my transcript.

It’s more difficult than actually being bulimic. But if I have the opportunity to smile again in pictures. In life and really be ok, it would be worth it. To live with being imperfect and hate it but still enjoy living…then I need to keep the picture up and take a copy of it to hang up in my apartment.

Because right now...I'd really like to binge.

I woke up full from last night’s dinner binge, which I chose not to purge. And I knew I’d wake up that way and feel disgusted and not want to eat. I just wanted to feel empty. But I realized what I was setting myself up for if I didn’t eat something. So I made a sandwich. Trying to follow new rules…which are better than these psycho bulimia rules I live by. And as far as sandwiches go…I did great. It was more leafy than anything. A hummus sandwich. Something that I knew would never satisfy me…but something I could forget about soon after I ate it. Something I wouldn’t feel guilty about. Something I wouldn’t contemplate purging. Something that would be good for my body.

Except it didn’t the spot. And if I’m going to be eating and not purging, not only do I not need the guilt, but I need it to hit that spot. So that it doesn’t turn into a binge because ill turn to whatever it is I want and end up binging. Except, the problem with eating stuff that hits the spot…is that it hits it and then I KEEP EATING and that also spirals into a binge.

It’s so easy to restrict because as much as I enjoy food, it scares the crap out of me. Not being able to stop after I’m full. Wanting something else when I am full because it wasn’t what I wanted and my body will eventually get what my mind tells it to get. I wasn’t sure what I wanted really. I tried to listen. But I guess I knew as I was making my sandwich that this was not something I would want.

I think I just wanted something to feel warm and wonderful inside. Like my absolute favorite foods. Foods that never disappoint…Because I’m trying to stop restricting all day and then binging on crap. I really would like to avoid food altogether for the rest of my life…but I don’t think that would solve the problem. And I can’t restrict forever. I’ve tried. I give in.

And so now that I’m at least open to the idea of eating something before 7 pm…so that it doesn’t turn into a binge, there’s a part of me that wants to do it right. Only healthy stuff so I feel okay. Actually all of me wants that. But I don’t get that warm and loving feeling inside from hummus & cucumbers on a pita. I don’t get that warm feeling from tomato soup. I get that feeling from chips & queso, hot steaming pizza, quesadillas & burritos, cheeseburgers and perfect French fries, spicy chicken & pasta, chocolate cake, cookies, potato chips, apple jacks, cheesecake, lemon meringue pie, candy. There is no moderation with that. I either cannot indulge myself at all because I know where it will lead or I plan to treat myself for being really good at restricting or for getting through the day.

I bought granola cereal at the store at the same time I bought the hummus and other healthy crap. It’s not the same when you binge on that. Maybe some people don’t care at all about what’s around when they’re in the zone. And I can feel them on that too…like if it’s not planned out and I have to make do with what’s around then fine…I’ll eat the entire box of granola, soup, hummus. But for some reason it doesn’t even feel THAT dirty. I guess because those foods aren’t forbidden. So eating all of it isn’t healthy, but it’s not reckless. It’s not disgusting. It’s not something I should be all that ashamed of.

And so tonight I binged. But it was all on healthy food. Ridiculous. I just kept thinking, if only I could eat three of these sandwiches, more hard boiled eggs, more soup, more granola, more fruit. But there wasn’t anymore. And I wanted to purge but at the same time I didn’t. And it wasn’t for recovery purposes that I’m still fighting the urge the purge. I’m not thinking of recovery right now. I’m thinking I didn’t eat enough to purge. Except that’s a lie. I’d freaking purge applesauce in a heartbeat if I felt like it. If I wanted it out badly enough. I’m thinking, this doesn’t feel like a binge because I didn’t enjoy it. Cuz even when its sooo painful feeling all bloated and full and fat…it feels good to eat THAT food. Going past the point is something I don’t generally think of although sometimes I realize I’ve passed the point and I can’t/won’t stop myself because I want it ALL. I know it’ll make me sick. I know I’ll make myself sick but I don’t care because eating chips and queso feels wonderful. And warm. I don’t need anything else but that to make me feel better…except of course purging it afterwards.

Binging on salads and whole wheat bread and cucumbers and ground chickpeas isn’t as enjoyable. It almost makes binging suck. Cuz right now I still want to binge I’m just really not in the mood to drive out to my favorite fast food restaurant and just fall into heaven. Escape all of this craziness going on inside my head and inside this home for as long as I can. And I still want to binge because I just didn’t give in when I felt the urge to hours ago.

If I’d just eaten what I wanted to at 7 pm I wouldn’t be going through this right now. Id have binged and purged and felt great and disappointed and ashamed and disgusted. But it would be past me. I might not necessarily need to do it again tomorrow. Now it’s lurking in the future. Now I’m thinking okay…tomorrow, just do it.

BINGE THE WORLD. PURGE IT. DO YOUR PAPERS. AND ITS OVER. JUST GET IT OVER WITH FOR THE DAY. SO THEN YOU CAN HAVE THE ENTIRE DAY TO BE PRODUCTIVE AND NOT THINK ABOUT WHEN ITS GOING TO HAPPEN.

In Good Company

Tonight I had drinks with an old friend. We’ve known each other since middle school…13 years. More than half my life. Wow. I’m not sure where along the way we became good friends. Great friends. Someone I could confide in. Someone I talk to on a very regular basis and sincerely miss when I don’t know what’s going on in his life.

And tonight he looked at me and instantly knew something was wrong. Well, he also knew that I hadn’t made it home for Christmas because I was still doing (am still doing) research papers. But he said he could hear the despair in my voice when he talked to me last week. I was moved to tears but I told him we couldn’t talk about it. Not then. But that I would talk to him about it all. I just didn’t need to burst into tears at the cheesecake factory. I probably should have skipped that daiquiri...not to be restrictive. But just because alcohol isn't smart for what I'm dealing with right now. But whatever.

it’s somewhat amusing, because I swear a month ago I could have just plainly told him everything and felt absolutely nothing. Gotta love that zoloft. And now…every time I think about what has become of my life I start to tear up. And I’m was not sitting there intending to be depressing…but I haven’t seen this friend in a year. Since last Christmas when we ALL got together for dinner at the same restaurant we went to nearly every weekend in high school. So small townish of us, isn't it? This time, fortunately, it was just us two, which was good. It was nice. I let him do most of the talking because I felt like I had nothing really to talk about. And that's another thing that's not me. Well, not this new recovery-focused me. I'm a talker.

But what could I say? I’m depressed. I’m bulimic. I’m a loser. I hate my life. Some days I wake up and I just don’t care about anything at all and that’s when I’m taking my meds. And then, oh God…lately. It’s been even worse.

But he saw me. I didn't need to say any of that. Well, I said the depressed part. But he just let me know that he saw me...saw that I was in trouble and wanted me to know that even with his busy busy schedule, he'd be willing to pencil me in for any breakdowns as long as I could give him two days notice.

And for that I truly love him more than I realized. Because I walk around this house where my family lives and they look at me everyday and they never see me. I walk around this house falling apart. Holding it together? Not at all. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to look at me and think she’s got it together. And they don’t say a word. A daughter doesn’t come home for the holidays, the daughter who’s always obsessed with trying to make it the perfect holiday for everyone, and no one asks any real questions. No one tells me it’s okay for me to have a meltdown in their arms. And that hurts. It aches. It’s the same feeling I get when I drink hot tea and I still feel cold inside. This chilling pain around my heart, that I feel flowing through my veins, when it’s not cold but I’m freezing inside. When I’m sitting in a hot steaming bath to warm up my insides but I still feel it.

I can’t make it alone through recovery. I know that. And I know I have my therapist. And I know I have my sponsor. And I know I have you guys. And I know I have my friends. Not that I’ll have too many of those after the holidays have passed and I'm back at school. But I need my family. For this one thing and they can’t be there for me. The one thing I want is to be better, for our entire family to be better. But I can’t have that.

And so it’s hard to try to depend on other people when you’ve been let down so much by people who are supposed to love you the most in the world. It’s hard to try to let those walls down and tell them what’s really going through your head. Because I think my parents have known for a while that I’m in trouble. I think they’ve known and ignored it. Ignored me. I don’t believe my mother when she says she had no idea. She was worried six months after the bulimia started. She was making comments to my father back then...who assured her that I was NOT anorexic. That at a size 6, he wished I WERE anorexic. Because that's better than being over weight. Because food has been missing for YEARS. Because they've seen the cookie packages, candy wrappers, dental bills for YEARS and have said nothing but, "You're fat. Lose weight. No one will marry you. Lose weight. You'd be pretty if you lost weight. I could never get THAT big. You're not my daughter. My daughter wouldn't have thighs like that."

People are just like me. Imperfect. They’ll let you down. And it’ll hurt like hell. And if they know you…if they love you…if you’ve let them in, then they can get under your skin and make the pain unbelievable. And not just by the things they do, but by the things they don’t do.

My friend really wanted to understand what had happened this year that had made me this way. School? Work? And I had to tell him that honestly, this was a great academic year. I loved my classes and professors. Sure, I had trouble getting out of bed to get to class which should have been a sign in the beginning that I was headed into this valley. That the work wasn’t too hard. I was actually enjoying it. That the second year of law school is unbelievably so much better than the first that it actually seems possible to do this and enjoy it. I had to look my friend in the eye and then look away because the problem is me.

And he was so concerned and he didn’t know what to say, especially since we were in public. And it was awkward for him I know because he really wanted to understand. To help. But I told him I was getting help. I told him, no friend. I’m not okay. But I’m getting help. And I will be okay. I just wasn’t so sure that I meant it. I just knew he really needed to hear it. But I need to hear it sometimes too. I need to believe it.

I ate a lot today. Binged at dinner. Came home after drinks with the friend feeling like I'd left so much unsaid. Unsure about whether to call Shish. Feeling empty. Insecure. Guilty because life isn't SO bad and I'm so negative and I dont make it any easier. I headed for the frig and closed it. I'm still full from the dinner binge. It was never painful I just knew based on the quantity that I ate way too much. But I didn't purge anything...and I didn't. I thought about it, but then I busied myself with stuff to do so the urge would pass.

And so today, I'm thankful that I didn't purge. That I'll wake up tomorrow without feeling the shame of binging and purging. Of binging perhaps...but of not making an even graver decision and purging. I'm thankful of old friends who maybe have it easier of seeing the pain in someone's eyes when they only see them once a year. Maybe it makes you take a harder look. They always see that people fail to see what's right in their face. There must be some truth in that. I'm thankful that I still want to be recovered...that although I sometimes think its hopeless and feel like I'll always be like this, that my heart really wants to believe and so I should give it a try until my heart gives out. And I'm thankful for this community...that I can come here at 2 am and write and know that someone's there. That you see me...and unlike my friend...you really do understand.

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.

heads or tails

I feel like flipping a coin to decide some very major life decisions right now. guess that shows the kind of person I am...letting my fate be decided by some random act because I lack the balls to do what I want. to know what I want.

drop out or stay. recover or stop fighting it.
breakdown or keep pretending.

fake it to u make it.

and I think just living with the consequences of either side of the coin would be fine...just so long as it isn't me making the decision. cuz then if I'm doing the wrong thing...then its clearly me thats the fuckup. not life or fate or destiny. the coin decided...it was out of my hands. I had no choice. except I do...and that's the problem. I can't live with knowing I had the choice to do the right thing or the best thing and knowing that I single handedly screwed up. I almost rather thered be no control...or everything was in ur control. does that make sense? either there's a blueprint and I follow it because I have to...or theres a white canvass and I get to decide it all and I know what's best...

I met this really great guy tonight. handsome, funny, an engineer, very liberal but with some old fashioned views about gender roles and...he was very intriguing. I wanted to know him better OR hook up with him. not both. never both. okay that didn't make sense. I wanted both but I knew I could only do one. I couldn't get personal or have this crazy physical attraction. and although he's not my typical guy lookswise...I couldn't take my eyes off him. I thought we clicked...and its been a while since I got THAT feeling. it felt great too. I really enjoyed myself.

but I had to sit there and know...that's another me. maybe in another lifetime where I'm not so distant, so closed off...so ready to run screaming the second something gets too real. I can't go there...but I would love to. a relationship? a real one...ha. I don't show affection. I push guys away if they try to get to know me. ill do anything to break it off so y even take it there in my mind. we could only ever be friends or the other type of friend. cuz I'm so afraid of them seeing what I see...or of a guy only wanting to use me...or of it getting so bad and me not wanting to walk away...I'm so afraid they won't be who I need them to be...and vice versa. theres a lot of fear which I let dictate soooooo much of my life


if I could imagine life the way I'd love it...well I won't go there now. I feel myself getting choked up...and its too late for that. but to think I have a choice in that...that I can someone who can let someone in...who can be happy, who can be in control and make the right choices even when it hurts or its too hard...I want to believe that...but y am I like this then, if its really up to me? if we're not all stuck in these shitty lives...y do people stay when they're unhappy. y don't they run the other way...maybe they don't know where they'd end up...but itd have to be better, right? the unknown...

I'm certain I've stopped making sense. I think my zoloft has started to wear off...I've been really emotional lately. or maybe its all that tequila I had after dinner.

Happy and Merry

does anyone ever feel like they want two entirely different things...but like at the same time

take Christmas for example. I'm lying when I say I wanted to be alone. but I also knew that I couldn't stomach any family drama on another holiday. I knew I wouldn't get that much work done either so I can't leave the papers as an excuse.

I didn't want to enjoy the holiday...with this impending doom over my head. I didn't want to have to help cook dinner and have those leftovers in the frig. as alone and pathetic and overwhelmed as I am here...theres no food. no fighting. no tears. theres nothing.

except that's not what I wanted either. I wanted ..I want...one day that's real but at the same time not crazy either. I want everyone up at the buttcrack opening presents. everyone thankful and sincere. dinner...one I could enjoy and not get sick over...both mentally and physically.

and I guess I've been telling myself that it didn't matter where I spent christmas...but it does. I WANTED to be home...I almost cried and believe u me I've been TRYING to bawl but I just can't.

but I also wanted to keep my foot down. that I told my mother I wouldn't come home and I didn't. not that it matters...bc in reality I stayed simply bc I knew itd make ME miserable, not her. oh sure she cried and I pretended to be soooo nonchalant, but I care more than I'd like to admit about so many things.

I think I just want the kind of family that ill never have...one where even when everyones pretending, we still fall short. I still fall short. its that black and white thinking...if we can't have a perfect holiday then I don't want a holiday at all. ha. even if they were perfect I'd still be me though, right?

last night I purged. I felt so sick I thought it was what my body needed. it didn't even feel good. there was no sense of relief...just this overwhelming disgust. what a fucking screw up? exactly...I couldn't say merry christmas like that. I can't keep living like this. avoiding people...on holidays...and for what reason?!?!?!?

I did eat dinner today...wanted it out soooooooo fast it wasn't funny...but I wasn't at home so I couldn't purge.

I just want it to all be over. the pain. the sadness. the disappointments. the pretending. and its not so much that working through all of it is so difficult, although it is, its that I'm starting to doubt that there can be a life like that for me. I'm thinking this s what life is forever...so I can either live with it and try to do the best I can with this ish. or make life a daily battle. and I'm so tired of fighting. I really am.

no, I'm still not done. but I'm going home tomorrow...I think. now that I've started back purging I need to be home where its harder to do that.

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Except actually I won't be. I'll still be here. In this city that I hate. Doing work I once loved but that has now turned me into someone I no longer recognize. Although I won't be totally alone. My sponsor and EDA buddy have extended invitations for me to join their families so I wouldn't be lonely.

Yeah. Exactly. I had hoped both would sense the irony of what they were saying. Come to our house where there's tons of love and affection and food and alcohol when the exact reason youve stayed here to do work was to avoid all of that at home. Except home I'd be avoiding people pretending and being fake that one two days out of the year (Thanksgiving was the other) that we actually get along and love each other and aren't a dysfunctional lot of a family. I've always spent the holidays at my friend's families homes so it's nothing new honestly. I mean I have an actual seat at the Christmas table at one of my best friend's family and was expected for Thanksgiving even when she didn't make it home. But I think this year...I'd really really rather avoid it all.

I just want to crawl into bed with a flask of rum & coke, more rum than coke. Okay, with a flask of rum, a couple cigars, and like some really depressing movies & cds and just sob until I pass out. I don't actually own a flask and so I doubt very seriously I'll spend Christmas night doing that, although I might end up with a bottle of rum. Right now, it's the only present I want, and it's a lot better (for me) than spending the night binging and purging. And cheaper too. :)

I'm experiencing these really nasty body aches and pains, in my neck, my upper back, my shoulders, and of course my head. I really want to attribute it to my stress levels and the fact that I'm not getting the best sleep or eating right...but I can't deny that I actually feel like shit mostly because I know I've come down with something. My throat is so unbelievably sore, I have the most persistent cough, and let's not forget how I started out the day yesterday. By throwing up hot tea.

Yeah. So just in case I was thinking I have no energy because I'm malnourished and I can't concentrate because I'm a lazy ass...now I have another contributing factor. I got pneumonia last year and it was the worst amount of pain I've ever experienced in life, even worse than Traveler's Diarrhea, and I have reason to be concerned. My mother called last night to say it might not be such a bad idea if I didn't come home...my dad has pneumonia. Not that I'd pick it up from him, but I certainly wouldn't want to get worse, or make his situation more unbearable by bringing my germs into the house.

Fortunately I have an appointment with my family doctor on the 26th but I might not make it home...although I was really just hoping she'd say I have the flu or bronchitis as the very most and prescribe something to put me under for the next two weeks so I can emerge feeling healthy and well rested.

I can be proud of myself for one very valid reason. It has been a VERY long time since I binged and purged. I mean, I stopped keeping track of it. I'm pretty sure I haven't done it at all this month (although I might need to check my journal to be sure). In all of this insanity, I just couldn't go there. It's kind of like my first year of law school. I was literally PULLING MY HAIR OUT and drinking insane amounts of rum & coke, & wine every single day. But I wouldn't do this. I knew I wouldn't make it. I just had this fear that it wouldn't even be an emotional not making it...but I was literally afraid I would die if I did it. And contrary to whatever I feel like in my worst days, I know I'm not ready to die. Sticking my head in the toilet after consuming copious amounts of junk food would be a clear indication that I've given up. That I can't finish because once I start doing that...it's soo very hard to focus on anything else. And I've wanted to. I've really really wanted to. But I want to finish more than I want to binge and purge. And I'm so thankful for that.

Happy Holidays everyone! I appreciate you all and love you dearly for your support and honesty and here's me wishing you one day where you can simply enjoy the holiday without a single eating disordered thought, feeling, or behavior. It'd be the greatest gift we could give to ourselves!

exhausted

oh yeah. thats me. i mean so exhausted that it actually physically hurts. last night i went home and crawled into my bed. i hadn't done that since...tuesday night. yeah. seriously. whatever sleep I'd gotten had been in the library or someone else's house. sadly, i hadnt even showered since then which needless to say was not the best feeling. and i wanted to shower...but i couldnt imagine standing up for that long.

last night i could not sleep. i was starving. that unhealthy type of starving that would have led me to binge and binge and binge especially being in the vulnerable state that im in. i head a headache and my mind was racing and wouldn't let me relax. luckily, since there's no food in the house i couldnt binge and i sure as hell wasnt about to go out and buy binge food. thatd take way too much energy.

so this morning i woke up, feeling drained and fatigued and drank some hot tea. immediately threw it up. itd been a while since id thrown up unintentionally and hot tea is never something that should come back up. i decided then and there, id walk and feed my dog (who was also starving for food and attention by this point), take a long hot bath, and go eat.

half a sandwich, cup of soup, apple. and im like not exaggerating when i say this...but just eating that has made me tired and i need a nap. like two bites into the apple i thought, "wow...who gets tired from eating an apple."

so maybe today since i at least started out by doing the right things, finishing ONE paper will prove to be easier. i feel so empty...(not the stomach emptiness I crave) but like the...ive used all the resources i have empty and i still have things that need to be done but i have no idea where those resources will come from or how i will finish empty. this emptiness makes me feel really cold inside, even though i just ate hot soup and drank hot tea. even when i was soaking in the bath, i just felt like my insides were freezing from being soo cold. ive never felt this way before.

makes me think of those relationships wherein people say they've given everything they've got and they've ran out of love or whatever it is they need to sustain the relationship. and i always thought, how can you run out. there's always something left in you...always something left to give.

not true. that's definitely not true.

update

Just in case anyone is wondering and I feel so secure in knowing that there are people out there reading this who care and hope I'm doing okay...I'm still not done.

Friday came and went and I did not submit a single paper. Because I'm still writing. Needless to say it was gut wrenching and I'm still anxious and scared and ashamed and feeling like a failure. I was feeling so down on myself and thinking about some really unpleasant things that I called Shish. Again.

Fortunately she answered her page and even though all my emotions are knotted tightly around each other at the moment, we came up with a game plan on having me finish the papers on Monday.

Today: Wrongful Conviction
Sunday: International Human Rights
Monday: Federal Indian Law

One page at a time and it's really taking me a LONG time to get just that much. I can't concentrate and its because of all the anxiety surrounding seeing THREE F's on my transcript which equates with Erin being kicked out of law school to do absolutely nothing with her life...I also know it's because I haven't been eating. Two meals in five days is not sufficient for anyone to get anything accomplished, much less three research papers. Every thirty minutes I feel the need to take a break, because I can't think, because it's too hard, because I'm overwhelmed, because I'm afraid that my paper sucks and I'm afraid that not only with them being late, they will also suck like shit.

Except my goal isn't an A here, it's just to finish. Finish so that I can actually go home for Christmas and not still be here discussing the Black Cherokees, Iran's human rights violations, and the problems with the criminal justice system. I really like my paper topics too which is what makes me even sadder...that I can't even get stuff done when I enjoy it. And that's not like me.

I'm supposed to call Shish back in less than two hours with an update on my progress. Three hours ago I had 14 pages. I now have 17. :( I'm ashamed to admit that to her, although the guilt I'm placing on myself feels far worse than anything I know she'll say. She's been very supportive and encouraging and is working on sending a letter to the school and my professors about why I've been such a loser this semester. And that helps. Knowing that she can understand how this has happened...why this happened, makes me feel like, okay...maybe I can trust her. She's definitely on my side.

I wish I could say I'm off to eat something so I can have energy and focus on this paper...but the thought of food is making me nauseas and that's not the eating disorder, rather my nerves. Except that's probably not entirely true, even with knowing I need to eat to get this done, I can only consider eating if I know I'll get rid of it. I feel like with every passing day I see more and more of a reason to get better because I see just how sick I am...and with every passing day I feel the fight in me wanting to recover want to surrender and just "live" with it.

I'm looking forward to the day I'm done with the last paper. I'm going to reward myself with some very destructive behaviors for surviving. I cannot wait to get black-out drunk, binge and binge and binge and binge, and then get rid of E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. A wonderful way to start the holiday season and end the year I know, but hopefully I'll be ready and willing to do this recovery thing.

The truth is that many people set rules to keep from making decisions.

I won't take credit for the subject of this post (particularly because deep down inside this community already understands just how true it is, so it's not that profound) It's Google's "Quote of the Day" and being that I am a Tarheel through and through & I bleed Carolina blue, this might possibly be the first and only time I ever quote Coach K.

Yuck. Just typing his name made me feel nauseas.

But on a more serious note (now that I've calmed down a bit from the last post by avoiding my Wrongful Conviction paper) As soon as I read it, I knew I wanted to come here to write. And I love that now. That I don't just come here to vent but I come here because it makes me really happy to write, especially when I'm in a positive mood, and the environment is so supportive. :)

Back to the quotation. This statement is certainly MY truth and I live it every single day. Want to know a few of my food rules?

1. One meal. At night. Only at night.
2. Must be a salad or soup or else it must be purged.
3. Sleep past noon whenever possible so that it's more likely to follow rule 1 and 4.
4. Restrict all day
5. Fast food: purge
6. Junk food: purge
7. Feel full: purge
8. Sad: Binge & purge
9. Angry: Binge & purge...repeatedly
10. Lonely: Binge & purge
11. Upset with myself: Binge & purge repeatedly
12. Alcohol: purge
13. Fight with the parents: Well, I don't even think I have to list it do I?

The point I'm trying to make is that I have these rules (which obviously come hand in hand with consequences) so that I don't have to make decisions about what to do in life. I don't ever have to make the decision to eat breakfast (or what to eat for breakfast) because I'm not allowed to eat breakfast. I don't ever have to decide to eat lunch (or WHEN to eat lunch) because the rule is, if you eat a meal, it must be dinner and it must be a salad or soup or if you've been restricting for days, it's okay to have a sandwich. My rules aren't that crazy when I think about them. Heck, I'm quite proud that I'm allowed a sandwich after days of restricting because I'm at least acknowledging that I need protein & carbs & fat and I'm allowed it. I've restricted for more than a day.

It's really quite freeing in that sense. Not having to think about it. And I am all for acknowledging that my problem this semester was that I had to make too many decisions (and not just life decisions, but day to day decisions that would either progress or hinder my recovery) which has led me to this point. And it's a rough point to be at.

I don't have to cry when I get mad (although it's okay if I do and sometimes I wish I did more of that) but I get to avoid whatever situation has made me upset or lonely or sad or anxious or tired by binging and purging. I don't have to think about anything.

There's a rule. I follow it.
If I don't follow it, I most definitely suffer the consequences.

Today I made a decision, a smart one, to not go home after my 24 exam because I really wanted to binge and purge after having a 24 exam. And that would have been okay because I'm allowed to do that according to the Federal Rules of Bulimia. (Only funny to me because that exam was an Evidence (Federal Rules of Evidence exam. But it's not okay because I'm focusing on recovery and trying to relax a bit on the rules. So I came to a friend's house instead of going home to binge and purge.

Why? Because I have another rule. Never purge at someone else's house. It's just something I don't do. I would feel awkward and disrespectful and guilty and vulnerable and I like to be alone. But mostly, I really like to be alone. And even when I am alone in someone else's house the rule still applies because it also serves as a safe haven for me. I'm about to make a bad impulsive decision, or follow one of the rules of FRB then I need to do something different and stay there as long as it's necessary for that urge to pass.

I guess I could have just decided to eat lunch and not purge. But no. I couldn't have. Because I'm not there yet. And I won't beat myself up about that, because at least I followed an acceptable rule and didn't make things worse. (And I'm pretty sure I can't handle things getting any worse) And if we look at the silver lining, I broke some of FRB today by not restricting ALL day (although yes I know, it had been a few days of restriction beforehand) and by eating lunch and by not purging it and by eating something that I actually enjoy and not just something "healthy."

I think recognizing and admitting that I do have these not so sane rules which are almost always followed religiously, also allows me to recognize that I need some new rules. FRR? (Federal Rules of Recovery) FRE? (Federal Rules of Erin) I'll sleep on it. Rules that promote recovery and not bulimia. It'd be lovely to just make the right decisions all the time and not have to set rules, but I'd rather set positive rules. So I'll start. RIGHT NOW.

1. Eat breakfast. A must. I cannot leave the house until I eat something. Technically, I am punishing myself a bit here or attaching a consequence. But eating breakfast means I'm more likely to eat lunch & dinner which would prevent hunger binges. The positives of this rule far outweigh the negatives and although I'm quite resistant to three meals a day, I've got to start somewhere if I'm serious about recovery. Breakfast makes the most logical sense.

2. Hungry?...Eat. That's a little harder than the first and I won't attach any consequences. If I've already eaten breakfast, assuming I've left for school, work, or out to have fun and I get hungry it leads me into panic mode because I fear too many calories, I'm more likely to purge, and then I'm more likely to binge and purge. It's a rule, but right now I don't really have any checks on how to enact it.

3. Positive affirmations. Again. Sounds easier said than done because I tend to be negative and pessimistic. But this is more important to me than #2. I must say something and write something that I like or appreciate about myself (and not just regarding my looks) everyday. My self-esteem needs some serious improvement and it won't increase unless I do things about it and believe it. No consequences, except of course the obvious. I won't be working towards increasing my self-esteem which is something that will help every facet of my life. It's something I need to do. Period.

4. Gut level honesty. These rules are going to be a LOT harder to start following, but hopefully with time it'll become habitual. And then, these rules that I live by will affect the decisions I'll make. Good decisions I'll make. This rule is the one I fear the most and so I'll stop this new rule list with four rules I can attempt to incorporate with my other list while phasing those eating disordered rules out.

I need to be honest with myself. Maybe I still won't make good decisions, but at least I won't be lying to myself or others. This could have prevented the serious meltdown which is still occurring with finals and law school. And sometimes I don't always know the truth, so it makes decision making tough. But not having an answer or knowing the answer doesn't make it okay to stop looking for one. (What Should I Do With My Life?)

I need to be honest with Shish and the Doctor and Cruella & my sponsor (who I'll name at some point so I can stop writing "my sponsor.") Treatment is hard enough and I often leave without having gotten things off my chest or even having told them the actual truth, which is that more of me wants to continue being bulimic and is stronger than the part of me that wants to be recovered. That's the truth. And I battle it everyday. It's hard to tell your doctors that though (although I'm sure they already know.) But being honest with them would make me feel better about myself which goes hand in hand with New Rule #3.

I need to be honest with my sponsor everyday. I need to everyday tell her what progress I've made and the areas I've slipped up in. I wanted a sponsor so that I could be more accountable but I ran away from that idea almost immediately because of the shame. Big deal. I'm ashamed. It's okay. I won't always feel this way. I'm in therapy. I have a great relationship with my sponsor and I know she would never judge me. The only thing she would ever do is support me and love me and knowing that means I should always tell her the truth because there are no consequences with that rule.

And one more thing about this honesty rule. Knowing that I am telling the truth regardless of whether or not I want to or feel like it, means I'll know that people will start believing me when I say I'm doing okay with food, or that I'm dealing with my emotions and life instead of avoiding them. Because right now, my sponsor & Shish have said they have a hard time knowing when I'm being honest or when I'm being evasive.

Hmm...Maybe I should say in law school after all.

Most importantly, it means I'll be able to trust myself to not have to live by rules. I'll be able to make decisions, to make the right decisions, and to be okay when I make the wrong decisions, and to be able to handle whatever happens the day after tomorrow. I'll be able to have trust in myself to live life and not by a set of crazy rules.

Pretty Negative (Free Free to Pass)

Since Tuesday I've eaten once. I've slept a total of 12 hours. I've contemplated binging and purging on numerous occasions and had to call on God to direct my attention to me TWENTY FOUR HOUR evidence exam. I had only planned on spending 10 on it because as we all know, I have other things to do in life, more importantly, pass the other three classes that I'm currently failing. So I spent 10 hours on it but those ten hours were a fucking eternity from hell and I can't ever go back to period of life like this week. Or this semester.

I can't go back. I won't go back. I'm not ever going back.

At some point around 3 am last night after I'd spent six hours on half the exam and realized that I would never ever finish, I wanted to breakdown because the professor said it should only TAKE four hours to complete, but that he would ALLOW us 24. He's a liar. Everyone I knew took at least 12. AT LEAST. I know people who spent the ENTIRE time on the exam and still didn't finish. But I finished...or at least "I decided I was finished." Gotta love that Kanye.

I did the exam at my sponsor's farmhouse which was the most beautiful thing i'd ever seen. Really. I have never in my life ever considered living anywhere EXCEPT a major city, especially after living in Southern cities (which can't really be considered a city unless you're talking about Miami) but...It was peaceful. And comforting. And after one night I was completely sold. Funny how dreams can change, just like that.

Shish called today (waking me from my 2 hour nap that hadn't been scheduled but I felt like I was falling apart...and not just mentally) She wants me to talk to the Dean about getting this semester "erased" and she'd be glad to write a note for the crazy girl who can't seem to get it together and do her work like all the other overachieving assholes in law school. But I'm afraid to do that. I guess I'm just afraid to admit that that's what it's come to. That I failed this semester. I can't face that just yet, which means instead of re-doing the semester because I've withdrawn for medical reasons on the absolute LAST day of classes...it means that I'll really just fail.

My sponsor said that life would go on tomorrow and i would see that regardless of whether the work gets done that it's not the end of the world.

It's the end of the world. It's the end of my world. It's the end of pretending. It's the end of law school. There's no sugar-coating what's really going on here. I'm not good enough and I've let RECOVERY not even my bulimia stand as my excuse for being a screw up. I blame recovery, the prozac, the zoloft, the klonopin, my depression, my bulimia a little bit, the fact that my life had to be wrapped up on trying to get BETTER for the fact that I didn't get a single thing done this semester after the first week in November. I gave up.

Don't be too hard on yourself, Erin? I'm sure someone's thinking that. But I quit law school, or doing law school, two months ago, and I just couldn't bring myself to really do it. And so I have to be hard on myself. I'm ashamed and disgusted and really in disbelief although I guess I shouldn't be.

I had so much to say to Shish today but I'm so freaking "whatever" about everything in life that I can't even CRY. I WANT TO BREAKDOWN RIGHT NOW and I can't. I want to sob and scream and shake and lie in bed and not move until the day after Christmas. I'm just too tired to even force myself to express what I feel.

Guess those meds are still working.

no tears to cry

It's 10:30 pm and I guess presumable I have 50 hours more or less to start and complete three research papers, study for an Evidence exam, take an 8 hour evidence exam and still manage to make it out of the situation alive.

Impossible? I hope not. I prayed. I called my sponsor. I called my therapist. I called my doctor. None of them could talk and perhaps that's a good thing. That I really don't have the time for a breakdown. I can breakdown Friday night at 11:59 when everything has to be submitted.

I repeated to myself, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." I said it so many times so that I could truly honestly believe that I could do all of THESE things. And so since nothing is impossible. Since my recovery partner told me I could do it, since my sponsor said it is possible I'll trust them that God will give me everything I need.

Today actually started off as a good day. A neighbor gave me some roses. "For the pretty lady." It lifted my spirits.

No binging. No purging. Just complete restriction, well besides Red Bull (which has 10 calories a can) so at least I'm getting some nutrition.

Friday...I just have to make it through Friday.

And there's one thing I'm afraid of if I don't get it all done. What I'll do after that. So I guess I had better get to work.

How Quickly the Day Turns BAD

I had lunch with my mother as scheduled and it went fairly well until the Doctor phoned to say she wanted to see me. I felt as if I was being called into the principle's office! Going off the meds...completely against all recommendations. She never even says things like, "It's your choice." My response was, "I don't know what to do." And she said, "I strongly urge you to continue with the zoloft and klonopin."

I'm worried. I'm stresed. I'm tired. I'm angry. I can feel all of these things now but its making me feel miserable. She also refused to do the medical note for withdrawing until after the semester starts which is already stressing me out. I really really wanted to talk to Shish, so I paged her and she didn't return my phone call. I accept that she's sick...but I feel hopeless and helpless and I really want her input on everything.

Thing at home took a turn for the worse by the time I returned after lunch and I found myself involved again...which makes me seriously debate on where to go next semester if I don't stay at school and can't go home.

And then...I did the worst possible thing I could do. I weighed myself. In two months I managed to lose 20 lbs without noticing. Really, I couldn't tell you at all where those pounds came from. But today I learned that I had regained it all back...within a two week period. I was an emotional wreck inside but I had NO ONE to talk to. I so desperately wanted to talk with my sponsor but we didn't have the opportunity. I'm avoiding her at the moment because she's my sponsor and she's all about recovery and I'm all about being recovered as long as it means being thin and not having to deal with the recovery work. I'm isolating myself from everyone except Chewy and I often times find myself neglecting him. Depressed on meds. Depressed off med. And my Doctor prescribed three meals and two snacks a day. I felt like I had been kicked. I feel like she is completely frustrated with me and I'm completely frustrated with both of us.

The only thing I want to do right now is wake up and be thin but even then I know I'll still have to deal with these underlying issues and that being thin won't make me feel any better. And knowing that I've been fluctuating like crazy with my weight with less binging and purging makes me feel...well what in the hell am I doing all this "recovery" work for! Just kick back, go back to life as I once lived it...where it was dreadful and pitiful and miserable, but at least I was doing something that gave me moments of relief.

Today.

Well what can I possibly say about today since it's not even noon. Already there has been family drama but I walked away from the situation and I'm not allowing myself to even be bothered by it. I'm planning to do lunch with my mother who I think needs this more than I do, to know that I'll eat at least once before I begin to breakdown over finals and papers.

I wanted to comfort her by saying that I'm sure I'll binge and purge quite frequently throughout the week and so I'll still get enough calories to keep going...but I know that's not a wise thing to do.

I had an EARLY appointment with Shish (my therapist) this morning. 9 am. And seeing as how I've been struggling getting out of bed before 3 pm I was amazed at how well I handled getting up, taking a shower, getting dressed and arriving exactly on time. And I even realized how much I need to talk things out with her on a consistent basis. It never seems like I enjoy our hour together and I know she gets the feeling that I hate her. And I never leave wanting to go back, I always leave feeling like I left things unsaid or that she didn't really understand my position (or care about my position on my eating habits.) I was particularly ready for therapy today because I actually had questions for Shish, such as:

1. Why do we only talk about food?
2. Why don't we ever provide me with tools on how to cope with my anger, loneliness, anxiety, sadness so that I don't end up binging and purging?
3. Why is everything always about making sure I eat three meals a day before we move on?
4. Since eating disorders aren't really about food, why can't we talk about what this might be about?
5. And once we resolve the underlying issues, won't I change my behaviors by thinking about things differently by not trying to control this and then getting out of control?

None of those questions were answered today though because I didn't even get to ask them! Shish is sick and I'll try to be a little less like my usual selfish self and try to be understanding. But I waited at her office for FORTY minutes before her receptionist realized that she'd forgotten to call me last night (or this morning) and made a major boo boo. Ordinarily I would be FURIOUS. Crying. Really really upset, especially since soooo much has happened this week and I wanted to talk to her. Needed to talk to her. I think we're finally getting to a point where I can start to open up and now this happens and she's unavailable and of course it lets me down. And knowing me, I'm quite sure I'll take it out on her next week (because I tend to be passive aggressive) by not talking at all.

I had also hoped to discuss having her write me a letter so I could withdraw from law school for a semester or two. I need that letter by Friday. I'm leaving for school this afternoon...thus, I won't have it. ARGH!!!!!!! I'm even not crying about that. One thing is for sure, the zoloft really makes me not breakdown over small things anymore. Only trouble with that is...I stopped taking it this week (and I had planned to tell her about that too.)

I know people aren't supposed to stop taking their meds without getting it cleared by their doctor first, but I honestly feel so much better off the zoloft than I did when I was taking it. And maybe that's me not really wanting to have been on it in the first place. Maybe it's totally mental. But I feel relaxed and not as tense...not so sad...not so overwhelmed (even though I really really should be.)

I've still eaten at least once without purging everyday for almost two weeks now. I guess the drugs were working in the sense that I didn't want to binge, didn't have the desire or energy, but it left me without the energy to do ANYthing and that wasn't really any better than the alternative. Since getting off the zoloft I've been sleeping better and I actually kind of stopped taking the klonopin too. That wasn't really intentional, but oh well. I feel a sense of relief now that I'm off the meds. I also didn't have the desire to eat when I was on the meds which I'm sure wasn't supposed to be the effect. I wasn't even intentionally restricting, but after last night I realized that I still need to eat earlier in the day to stave off late night binges (which is exactly what happened last night.)

Luckily, I didn't purge. I didn't even think about it. I was still in BINGE mode wanting more and more and more food but there wasn't anything left to eat. I didn't feel overly stuffed and I knew purging wouldn't make me feel any better, especially since when I purge and I'm not full, I always binge again. Recovery? I think not. Ha. But at least recognizing these things and sometimes doing things about them gives me hope that one day I might not be so opposed to giving up all my crazy ideas about food.

Today, I'm thankful for this feeling of being content. My mom bought me some really nice pants that fit great and don't make me feel fat. I still can't actually look at myself without seeing "overweight, fat, disgusting" but today I walked into the library feeling okay and it's been a long time since I've not constantly obsessed about what other people are seeing when they look at me. It also helps that someone who I met at a Christmas party walked up to me near the end and said, "I just had to let you know. I think you're beautiful." It immediately made me feel awful. I couldn't enjoy the compliment because I don't feel that I am beautiful. I don't tell myself that, I certainly don't hear it from loved ones. I also hear the opposite, if you lost some weight you'd be pretty. You'd get a boyfriend. If you dressed better you'd look better. If you did something to your hair, you'd be a pretty girl. I guess I just wish people who knew me would say those things...but really it's not up to them to tell me that. Today I'm thankful for realizing that I need to tell myself that I'm beautiful even when I haven't straightened my hair. Today I'm thankful that I can reflect on that stranger's compliment and truly accept it and appreciate it. Today I'm thankful for realizing that although I would love my parents or sister or cousins or friends to say you don't have to lose weight, or straighten your hair, or wear make up, or get dressed up everyday to be beautiful...that wouldn't make me beautiful. Those compliments. And doing those things wouldn't make me beautiful. Accepting myself even though overweight, curly hair, not made up, constantly covering my body up with too big clothes is okay to do. Accepting myself entirely will inevitably not only make me feel beautiful, but know that I'm beautiful. And it won't matter who says that I am or that I would be if I did this or that because I'd already know the truth.

And one more thing I'm thankful for. This brief moment of being positive. There are days ahead when I feel defeated and pessimistic and I get so down on myself for not being who I should be and for not being who people want me to be. I'm glad I'm recording these moments of recovery (the good & the bad) to lift my spirits when I'm having an awful day and to remind myself that I am slowly but surely making progress.

a hug

Two years ago I got pretty messed up and I thought I was going to die. I was at BEST's apartment and my heart was coming out of my chest cavity...or so it seemed. I was shaking and sobbing and I was soooo afraid of dying alone. That's all I could think about...how I'd always been alone. BEST got me into a cold shower to calm me down from my hysterics but I was hanging on to her for dear life. I wasn't ready yet...And holding on to someone you love, who you know also loves you...makes whatever is wrong feel just a bit better. I felt like she was taking all my fears away with that hug...that she was saving me, pulling me away from the darkness (or the light.) And she was scared shitless...had no idea what was going on, nor had she any idea just what her presence was doing for my state of mind. But she was there...and I asked her to sit with me until I fell asleep, so that just in case I did die...that I wouldn't be alone. That was certainly a crazy night!

We never really talked about it either. She once commented that I had really frightened her and I felt the same...that I'd really scared myself this time too.

It's weird that I'm writing about this now. We NEVER hugged as friends. Best friends for nearly a decade and I can only think of two other times. We just didn't need to do that I suppose...because I always think of hugs as saying goodbye, or clinging to someone to make sure they're still there, or holding on to someone because you don't know when you'll see them again.

It goes without saying now that I need that same hug from her two years ago right now. One where I can release all of this built up shit to my best friend and she'll know what to do with it. Or even if she doesn't, she's willing to sit and wait and just be there.

I don't have the feeling as if I'm about to die, nor do I want to. I just feel that I'm falling apart and I need someone to sit with me until the feeling subsides so that I know I'm not alone.

Except I know that I am.

Not sure how to get through this week

Right now I feel like shit. And I am consciously making an effort to not beat myself up and that's the best I can do. I have no desire, no motivation, no drive to open my Evidence book and read. I have a 45 page paper due on WEDNESDAY and I have yet to research a topic. I have a 30 page paper due on Friday and a 20 page paper due on Friday, one of which is outlined, the other I have researched but no thesis. Oh yes, and I have an Evidence exam on Thursday.

It's almost 10 pm on Saturday night. I think the only reason why I'm not sobbing is because of the medication. I feel sedated. I know I should feel overwhelmed and anxious and scared and pressured. I feel like I am on the verge of tears but there's something preventing them from flowing down and relieving me of whatever so that I can begin to climb this never ending mountain of work. I took the next two weeks of work off (so that I wouldn't have to work & pretend to write papers or study) and relax for the holidays but that also means I'll be in trouble come January. Sigh...

And I wish there was something someone could say to me so that I would FIND A FREAKING TOPIC and just make one step towards making things better. My sister said I look like I'm about to breakdown and cry at any moment. That's how I feel. Like I'm just waiting until I can't take whatever it is anymore. I'm unhappy. I can't focus. I'm emotionally and physically exhausted. I'm not even consciously restricting food anymore, I'm simply not hungry. I guess that's the change in my binging and purging...I don't even care about that anymore. But I know once it comes back...things are going even worse.

And I've felt unhappy for a long time...back when I graduated from college in 2005 but it has become unliveable in the past couple of months...once I started recovery. And I can honestly say that I'd rather go back to those days, when I was unhappy and I cried and I drank and I binged and I purged and I restricted and I hated myself, but I put on a happy face and went to work and school and hung out with my friends and studied and did what I needed to do to get through the days thinking that things would get better. And I started recovery because things weren't getting better and I realized that the problem wasn't with losing weight or gaining weight or being in law school instead of trying to write. I finally realized the problem was simply me and that I could blame all my unhappiness on my bulimia and my weight and the fact that I had been pushed into law school or the fact that my one and only "relationship" had failed miserably and I just couldn't take all of that and what that meant about me.

Feeling Better

Tomorrow is a new day. Thank God for that! I'm staying with my sister while I attempt to study for finals & having her around & the baby really makes me focus on not engaging in behaviors. I did slip up and binge but I recognize that I set myself up for that by not eating an appropriate breakfast or lunch and I have been dealing with a lot. Not that it's an excuse...but more than anything in the world I wanted to binge & purge and have more than a few rum & cokes. And I didn't! I had the place to myself for a while which enabled the binge but I couldn't bring myself to purge. I certainly wanted to get rid of everything but I also wanted to force myself to deal with what I'd just done by losing control and binging. And of course, not purging was also like a punishment. But ah well...

It's hard being home...but not being at home especially since my sister and I have never been close and it's awkward being here when we both know we're bound to have a fight that'll leave us hurt by the time I leave on Tuesday afternoon. Usually I'd go to BEST's house if I'm feuding with my parents but I couldn't even tell her what's going on in my life and that's another thing in itself. My mother came over to my sister's after "finding out" when I was in town (except she knows I have treatment every Thursday and just avoided the confrontation with me yesterday.) But whatever. I'll let that one slide.

I'm still really upset and I still feel betrayed. I told my mother that I hadn't given up on her yet but I almost feel like that was a lie. I'm afraid to trust her. Crazy, but I trust that my dad will always be insensitive and cruel, abusive and controlling. He will never change. I have completely given up on any chance of that happening. But as a young woman, I yearn for my mother to do this for herself (not because I cannot thrive in that type of environment and not because holidays are awkward with half the family missing.) I don't think she's there yet...willing to be present for me and walk away from my dad and another broken promise...well I would say that it would send me over the edge but that's where I already am.

I was pretty emotional tonight which upset my mother because she hates to see anyone cry but its an emotional subject and tears are to be expected. But I decided tonight that whatever my mom does about the situation with my father is up to her, just as whatever I decide to do with my bulimia is up to me. I know in the EDA group, in the first step we are supposed to admit that our lives have become unmanageable and we are powerless and out of control. I'm struggling with that aspect because I want to believe that I can control this. I can choose to eat three meals a day which will stave off the binging and purging. It will take a L-O-N-G time and it promises to be the hardest thing I've ever had to do (and I thought law school was the hardest thing I'd ever done.) And maybe I am out of control, bulimia has taken over my life, I've tried to stop and I can't. But powerless????

I look at my mother and I see that I might have this same problem with my bulimia in 15 years and it breaks my heart. But I have to stop looking at her in order to recover because like it or not, she's not yet ready to admit that she is in an unhealthy relationship. I'm trying to push her to make steps towards freeing herself so that I can make steps because I so desperately do not want to do this alone. I want her help! But it's not fair to me and it's not fair to her, to ask her to let go of this "thing" that's controlled her life for longer than I've even been around.

I'm ready for this semester to end so I can start anew. I'm ready for tomorrow morning so that I can eat breakfast. I know I had originally planned to coping (meaning binging and purging) to get through exams and the holidays but that's not the smartest move I can make. I'm strong enough (at least I hope) to attempt to make the right choices and get through finals. I realize more than ever how much I need this. And not just to prove that I'm not like my mother but because I honestly truly want to break free. I imagine the person I want to be and bulimia is not in that definition.

My doctor asked me what was more important, passing my exams (which clearly means having the energy and concentration to do so because I'm eating and not "messing up") or being healthy. And I couldn't answer aloud because my bulimia told me that losing weight was more important than either of those two things. My bulimia said that once I get back down to size whatever I'll be a better student and I could concentrate on being healthy...once I "looked" healthy. My bulimia said that binging and purging isn't so bad, it's just exacerbated by the family drama and the stresses of school. And I'm writing that it was my bulimia doing that thinking, but it's getting harder and harder to differentiate that voice from my own. My voice needs to start speaking up and needs to be louder and clearer and this process sucks but I cannot wait for the day when I'm so completely stressed out and angry and sad and I don't take it out on myself by restricting, binging and purging. I just need to always keep that day in mind.

***And a special thanks to everyone who reads & comments on my blog. Writing for myself helps to sort things out in my disordered mind and life, but the feedback I receive from everyone, especially DG who always comments, has always always always made me feel better. It's like a virtual hug and I really appreciate the support. When I go home at night, away from my OT, away from my EDA group, I know I still have support and I'm not doing this alone. ***

Willing...to throw in the towel

I feel a lot right now. More than likely because I have been fighting the urge to binge and purge which is always the solution to avoiding whatever I don't want to feel. I'm not even sure where to start. I haven't made any progress on my three research papers because I cannot concentrate. I lack the motivation intrinsically and nothing anyone says or does helps either. Time is ticking and although I'm anxious, I'm more afraid of the fact that I'm not having a nervous breakdown because I have less than a week to pull it together. I don't care. I need to care but I honestly do n