back home

The past few days have really been a struggle. Somehow, I managed to do it with the help of a couple of movers, my mother who ended up arriving just in the nick of time, and oh right...$500 that was supposed to pay the school but instead went towards moving.

All in all, I do feel better. The gas pains are still dictating my every move but in this very moment I am not moved to tears. Last night was unbearable...it hurt to breathe. No matter what position I was in, with every breath I took, I could feel it in my rib cage. It was awful... I'm just thankful that at some point I managed to fall into a deep enough sleep where it didn't matter that it hurt just to be. I can't even imagine eating in this state but the only thing I'm thinking about is FOOD. Binging. Purging. Obviously I can't. I mean purging involves bending over a toilet and I just can't. But it angers me because in this moment I should be thinking "See what binging and purging does to your body." But no...I"m thinking, "The pain will all go away if you binge."

I had to cancel with Shish on Tuesday because of the back problems and I was stuck at the apartment. And then she called at the butt crack of dawn to cancel with me today because she's sick. I have to remind myself that she is allowed to be sick. She has a life outside of being Erin's therapist. I'm taking it a lot better than I did the last time she had to cancel. I think it's because I certainly am not looking forward to diving into the food subject twice a week for the next month. To think that I was dreading it so much that I had nightmares about it and now the stars have aligned just so to buy me some more time.

I am going to a doctor for my back tomorrow morning. Eating hurts. Drinking hot tea hurts. Nothing I do seems to make it feel better, except when I'm absolutely still in the most perfect position, but even that doesn't last forever.

Oh and I'm back at home with my mother. I couldn't actually rationalize going to BEST'S house in this state and having someone there wait on me hand and foot. Anyways...all this typing is draining me and I need to find a better position. Hopefully the doctor can give me something so that I can make it through the day

body pains

Saturday morning I woke up with some lower back pain. I remembered having the same feeling before...back in December but I could not for the life of me remember what had caused it.

It was around the time I stopped taking my anti-depressants the last time around. So on Monday I went back on them. It wasn't until Monday evening that it occurred to me that I was just suffering from gas pains. Yeah...

Anyways I was trying to remember what it was that I ate that could have done this. The authentic Mexican food once a day. BEST'S mother is a great cook and makes breakfast AND dinner regularly. Maybe that was it. Or it could have been all the fast food I had been consuming and not purging. Or it could have been all the binging and purging...although that's not likely.

Clearly I need to pass this gas! Its torturing me. In fact monday night it was just too painful to pack so I of course did nothing after realizing what the pain was. Today I woke up...still very much in pain. I can tell its getting worse, I could not sleep comfortably and positioning myself differently made he cry out in pain. Still, I got up and said...I have to pack. I have two days.

I had already boxed enough stuff so that I would just need to pack the car and drive down to meet with Shish. I bent over to pick up a stack of four or five books and just crashed. I couldn't make it back up. The pain was excruciating. Somehow I made it to the car to grab my cell, cancel with Shish, and find some pain relievers. So now I've thrown out my back and I still have the gas pain. Not a single box is in the car and my mom...

Well, she said she'd try to make it tomorrow. TOMORROW?!?! I have an appointment for a massage in an hour which means I'd better start moving now. Hopefully...oh God I pray I walk out with the same back I had last week. The movers are coming tomorrow at 8 am and I seriously need to spend all night boxing the rest of my stuff.

On the plus side of things...I wasn't looking forward to discussing all this food stuff with Shish today. But now that I think about it...as painful as that is for me, it would have been a helluva lot better than this!

moving on

In a few hours I'll be on the road to retrieve most of my belongings from my apartment. I'll be heading up there alone because my mother...Well, my mother can't make it. I'm not looking forward to packing up all of my belongings and having no place for them to go. There is no more avoidance. Today's moving day. I have yet to call movers. I have yet to call a storage facility for the bed and dresser and desk. I can't even move any of that stuff by myself and yet I tell myself I have to do this. Today is moving day.

Thankfully I spent the majority of the day looking for and applying to jobs. I can safely say that I applied (online) for at least 25 positions online. I have a few that I really want. I don't want to get too excited about the possibility of even interviewing because I didn't take time off from school to get a fabulous job. I'm taking time off for recovery and a fabulous full time job would not allow me to dedicate three days a week to outpatient. But it might help me breathe easier during the day and sleep sounder at night...just knowing that I can take care of myself. Financially speaking...

It's pretty difficult to find part time work that would pay for rent and therapy and food and car expenses and I would like to save. I'm getting old. I really should be thinking about retirement now...But I realize I'm getting ahead of myself. The thing is, I'd really just like to find a part time job that pays decent enough for me to live comfortably, devote myself as much as I possibly can to recovery, and leave me with enough spirit to think about what I want to really do once I get further along this yellow brick road. The last thing I need is some ridiculously horrible job that doesn't pay well because oh my God...I just could not take that on top of everything else.

So many questions as always. Not a single answer. But at least I'm still pondering the questions and that is definitely a good thing. My little cousin called tonight and spoke some very powerful words to me just in the knick of time. I hope I remember them forever and recall them when I'm having awful days. She said something basically to the effect that I should not let anyone, not my mom or my dad or my sister or my friends or anyone ever make me feel guilty about living my own life. Seriously...very powerful words?!?!? And it was something I already knew...of course. But a reminder that I should not let any one's doubt creep in so that it becomes my own. Of course that's already happened, and I already own my own doubt which she understands. I love her support. I love that she loves that I'm taking time off for me. I love that she does not need any other explanation from me besides "I wanted a break." I love that she reminds me every time I talk to her that this is my life. I love that she says I should turn a deaf ear to anyone who asks me "What ARE you doing?" or "Why are you doing this?" I love how confident she is in me. I love that she says she is not worried at all that I'll be in a better place a few months down the road. I love how real and honest she is that it will be tough finding a home and a career and battling this depression (she knows nothing of the eating disorder.) I love how she is so excited for my future because she knows what wonderful things I will do with my life. And in that moment, I did not feel an obligation to live up to her expectations of me. All I felt was loved and supported and encouraged and understood and I wondered how she managed to make me feel that way when my immediate family cannot. I have plenty of fears of being inadequate or of wasting my life or of never amounting to anything...

And just by recalling the conversation I had with my father this afternoon I realized that he lives with that fear for me as well. He was not thinking of all the possibilities... He was thinking of what I was throwing away. He wants a good life for me but he only understands a few ways to that good life. He responds with fear. And my cousin responded with love. I have to tell her how much that means to me. How desperately I needed to hear those words tonight and feel her love and acceptance tonight. Now, I'm not so much saddened that I could not get that response from my parents.

Finally I feel...I feel sincerely happy that someone who knows me can step in and be exactly what I need. Yes, it still matters and hurts that I didn't hear this from my parents but I'm accepting the love from elsewhere. So often I shun it, I feel worse when I feel the love from all of you on the culdy, it bothers me when I sense Shish cares about me because everyday before tonight I would trade it all and then some just for these moments to happen with my family. But not tonight. Tonight I realize I can still accept love and acceptance even if I never get it at home. That I actually deserve to accept it and I don't have to fight it anymore. I'm really glad I'm writing about this now so that I can come back to it later on and remind myself when you all write such supportive and loving comments and I feel my walls growing taller. I'm really glad this happened now because I think it will help me open up a bit more with Shish and allow me to accept what she can do for me.

late nights

I used to be the kind of girl who partied every night of the weekend and a couple of times during the week. I'm not that person anymore and I really am ok with it. It certainly bothered me while I was still in law school that I never went out and got drunk and had really fantastic stories to tell others about my random hook ups with drunk guys at regular nightspots. But I am getting older, right?

BEST still parties a lot. And so it's been kind of easy to get sucked into this habit of going out and spending a shit load of money that I don't really have on alcohol and dinner and shots and movies and the list could go on and on. It is fun though to belong to a group once again. But I'm realizing that this isn't the group for me anymore. It could be the depression. It could be the eating disorder. Either way, that's still me right now. Dancing until three am two nights in a row is not something I want to do. And BEST and her friends mean well. I suppose as delicately as possible she's indicated that I'm not in the best of spirits but...

There's a difference between being in a negative mood and suffering from depression. You can't just put on a happy face when every part of your body is yearning to stay in bed. I agree. I can physically do things to make myself feel better and I can actively try to think positive thoughts. But going to a dance club and taking shots will not make me feel better. Watching a romantic comedy in this state makes me feel like a cynic. And I really hate cynics.

BEST said today that I could just "snap out of it." Life gets hard for everyone. Agreed. I make the situation worse by only focusing on all the crappy things going on in my life. Agreed. But when people are insensitive about things like depression (which I honestly never understood either) it reinforces the idea that I cannot openly talk about my eating disorder. They will not understand. I felt guilty for not wanting to go out tonight and ended up going out with them.

I talked to my friend earlier who found my blog and she made no indication that she knew anything about my eating disorder even though this blog is quite clear about that fact. And that's fine. I also like to pretend. We instead talked about how "unhappy" I've been feeling for the past few months. She wanted to know what had happened...It's not like it's just a bad day. And I understand all too well that comparatively speaking, I do have a wonderful life. There are far worse problems that people are coping with around the world. The problem is...I don't cope. And of course that creates other problems. It's not like I just had a bad day. Or I'm depressed because some asshole broke up with me. Or because it's unbelievable cold and dark outside and I love warm sunny weather. It really is something inside and some days are so good that I can't believe I ever have such bad days. But when those bad days come without warning...or with plenty of red flags...I don't care. About anything. About my own life.

And that scares me. It makes me feel shaky. I don't feel safe. I don't feel like I can trust myself and not just in terms of making healthy food decisions or relationships decisions or school decisions...but with my life. It's not something you can just will away because no one would ever want to feel like this.

So I wonder...where can I go with this? Tonight I'm fine. I'm not looking forward to heading back to VA tomorrow to move out of my apartment because it means I need to have a place to move my stuff to in NC. I can't answer that question. I know I don't need to be alone but I understand that I could still end up alone even if I lived with roommates. I don't have the answer to these questions and its creating some inner conflict. I really just want my mom to take care of me...just for a little while. I want so very much for her to be able to do something to make it just a little better. To just hold me for a while and let me cry and feel safe and loved and not at all alone. I want to be some place where it's ok if I'm depressed or angry or sad or whatever I'm starting to feel because there is no expectation that I will be anything other than what I am. It would be lovely to not have to fake it and socialize and dance and drink and gossip because as lovely as all of those things are and I really do love it. Right now I can't handle it.

It makes me seek out a place where I can go to just sit quietly for a moment to binge and purge. Not good. Not good at all.

We Need to Talk

My thoughts on BEST have not been organized in my head and so I really am not sure what to feel at the moment. What matters most right now is that I am here and I have a place to stay and there has not been a discussion on when I need to leave. In a time of crisis, my BEST came through for me.

So why am I looking this gift horse in the mouth?

BEST has always liked to sweep our issues under the rug. I like to talk about every little thing. That's one of our major differences. I'm such the girl in this relationship and she is such the guy. It has always been like this. I am the better friend most of the time but she has her moments when she can pull me out of the darkness and that is the very reason why I refuse to just call it quits.

But she called it quits. And I called it quits too but I was deeply hurt over it. It was so visible that I was hurting with my three emails and random phone calls and facebook messages and her nothing. It hurt me that it was so easy for her to say we are not friends and we will not be friends again. It still hurts.

So we shared a bottle of wine the other night and talked for hours about what went wrong and who takes the blame and where we go from here. At the end of the night it did no good to blame her or get her to see that it was her fault. Pointing fingers does nothing for the present or future. It only works when you're still angry and hurt and not wanting to move forward. So now I contemplate whether or not I wish to move forward in our friendship or with the relationship with my parents and sister. I may not be ready. I have yet to release the anger and frustrations of being wronged and feeling victimized and being the righteous one. So that even while I feel guilty for not having let all of this shit go, it's still mine. I still possess it and I still want to hold on to it.

I struggle with forgiveness.

I need to ask myself some very important questions. Are these relationships worth it to me? Do the benefits of having a BEST outweigh everything that comes along with it? It was so easy for us to pick up right back from where we left off but there is still that block inside because we have not resolved anything. Apologies mean nothing to me. They simply don't. When people love you, you know they never want to hurt you, so there is no need to say "I'm sorry." The only thing you can do is wait for them to show you they understood their mistake and choose not to do it again. People say things they do not mean all the time. People also say things they do mean all the time. Some people make the same mistakes over and over again in their dealings with loved ones and it's because they make the same mistakes with themselves. I understand her so well. I do not understand my parents but I suppose that is because I do not know them the way I do BEST.

I cried about fifteen times during our talk. She never cried. She offered no explanation for two hours and finally came out with the truth. She was tired of me telling the truth about herself. No one likes to hear it, especially from someone they love, especially when it's someone who actually knows the truth.

We know each other like sisters. Better than sisters. So in the end, that was our downfall. I know the real BEST and she's not doing too well right now in life and hasn't been for a while. No one else knows that and so she couldn't pretend with me because I cannot pretend with her. So she withdrew...she didn't like being reminded that someone out there knew what was going on and expected more from her. She didn't like hearing it and so I stopped talking about it. And then she didn't like the silence because she knew very well what I was thinking. There were never any judgments...and I suppose I would get tired of hearing the truth but she rarely calls me out on the shit I do. Rarely=never.

She's like my mother. I'm not sure which of them is worse. BEST is aware of her wrongdoings and does nothing to fix the situation. My mother just has her head stuck in the sand and doesn't wish to hear the truth about herself because she does not want to be responsible.

Truthfully, I'm more like BEST. I'm aware and I'm stuck. I avoid. I blame. I never forgive. I never forget. She can move forward without fixing anything but I can't move forward without fixing everything and then I find that I can't fix everything and so yet again I remain stuck. I know why I fear telling Shish the truth about me...because I don't want her to leave me. I don't want her to see ME because maybe then I'll do what BEST did to me and I'll withdraw from her before she gets a chance to help me. Keeping her at a distance, removing every possible topic of discussion from the table means I still have these walls up. I'm still bulimic. I get to hold on to that...It means I can push everyone else away and never have to open up and let them see the real me. If they walk away I have my excuse. If I push them away, I still have my excuse. I'm completely fucked up. But what if one day I'm not completely fucked up and they still walk away?

"Tell the Truth. Tell the Truth. Tell the Truth."

It feels wonderful to write that I'm doing ok. I'm not doing well but I'm not burdened. I'm not depressed today. I did not wake up with the sinking feeling in my chest that I could not make it through the day. I have not felt that lonely space in my heart in a couple of days. My body doesn't physically ache from the emotional distress I've been feeling for the past two months. I owe this to Eat Pray Love which I started reading a couple of weeks ago. Everyday since I opened the front cover I have known exactly what I needed to do.

Tell the truth.

I told my father how completely unhappy I was in law school and that I was only doing it because I felt like I could not quit. So no, I didn't tell the complete truth, but it was a good start. His reaction was surprising and I'll most certainly take it. He said quitting is not wrong if I realize it is something that just is not in me. Wow. Double wow. I almost thought I had the wrong father there for a second. Shish seems to think he's had a change of heart because of his medical condition. That's not true. I don't know what it is. I can't explain it. And honestly, right now I don't care. I'm just relieved that I finally told him. It felt wonderful.

He has left the house though. He's no longer living with my mother. I feel guilty for obvious reasons which I don't dare go into right now because I'm about to go dancing with friends and I need to be in a somewhat pleasant mood. But right now I need to push any negative thoughts and feelings out. Harder to actually do...but it doesn't help me deal with what's on my plate right now. And I have a very full plate.

I told my mother again that I couldn't bear the thought of living with her right now because I really need to focus on recovery. Again she cried. Again she made comments about how I look "so great" because I'm losing weight and doing better. Again she has no idea what not to say and that bothers me.

Sometimes I forget why I withdrew from school. Sometimes I get frustrated with what next and then I remember, oh that's right. I have an eating disorder. I am depressed. That's what's next. It's ok that I'm stalling a bit on making more effective decisions about working and living situations because at least I'm seeing that it's possible for me to make those moves without the world immediately ending.

Shish and I are tackling the food next week. Food journals...Binge discussions...Purge discussions. I feel a sense of dread, similar to the dread I felt with telling the school and my dad about withdrawing. I had a nightmare about it last night. The only thing I could remember this morning is that I was seriously bawling. A nasty bawl. Like the crazy shaking crying with snot just dripping from my nose...and to be honest it shouldn't be that bad but boy am I the most melodramatic person ever.

I cannot bear to think about (and perhaps this was the reason for the nightmare) bringing something to eat or drink in for every session with Shish. I just can't. And I told her I wouldn't. And then I felt horrible about that as well, because what kind of person in recovery withdraws from school and then tells her therapist, "No. I'm NOT going to do that." I just felt like "Come on, Erin! It's just a drink. Or something small to eat." But really, bringing juice in next week will lead to a salad a month from now or something bigger in a couple of months. I know we're just building up to a date when we actually eat meals together and that's what I want to avoid at all costs.

She's tired of hearing no though. I say no talking about family and no talking about binges and purges and food. I say no lunch sessions. I brought something in a couple of weeks ago but didn't drink it. Oh and I also say no talking about feelings. The thing is...I'm not ready to say to ANY of that yes. I feel like I've said yes to so much already.

Yes to therapy. Yes to antidepressants. Yes to twice a week sessions with her. Yes to following "a plan" when I get the urge to binge. Yes to eating something everyday and not purging it. And I'm not getting sufficient credit here for all the steps I have taken. But in a month if I'm still saying no and being difficult and not talking about food or feelings or behaviors or parents then it's inpatient. A good strategy on her behalf to plant that seed now so that I become more willing to do what she's asking me to do now rather than have to do these things in inpatient.

AND one last thing. I stopped taking my anti-depressants. Yeah, I know. It wasn't intentional though. I've just forgotten for the past four days because I don't have a routine here at this new place. And then when I realized it yesterday I thought, oh but I'm feeling so much better...

How to get out of the fog?

Exhale.

I'm in NC. I can totally say where I am now since I'm private, huh? I called the school this afternoon and withdrew. It was fairly simple. I thought it would be this huge ordeal but the Dean was very sincere in wanting me to be ok which helped. A lot.

I'm staying with BEST. If you've been reading from the beginning you already know she is my best friend since high school and we're like sisters. We stopped talking this past summer and things got pretty bad between us but when I arrived in town with nowhere to go I knew I would want her to come to me even if we hadn't been friends for the past six months. So I drove to her house and just sat outside thinking and praying and avoiding what I would say. Finally her brother came outside and said, "Erin! Get in the house!" That was already a good sign because he's usually really mean to me!

Anyways she came outside to the car and it was cold and raining and I said, "I need your help. I dropped out of law school. I need a place to stay." And she said, "Of course!" And then I said, "WE need a place to stay." And anyone who has ever met Chewy would know he is insane but she said he could come too. No apologies. I need an explanation at some point for what she did but for now I'll just take a warm place to stay. I'm not even amazed that we picked up right where we left off. I know she missed me. I certainly missed her. I mean we didn't waste anytime being our usual silly selves which really helped ease me into the conversation about why I'm taking time off from school.

BEST never really felt comfortable talking about my eating disorder. She herself struggled with anorexia and although we used to talk about it on a very superficial level and ask her if she needed help we never did anything. I don't think she was willing to see that I actually have a problem. I'm not sure why. Honestly, I care more about mending this relationship than I do certain others because she knows me more than anyone else...

Yesterday with Shish was not one of my best days. I was difficult. She became frustrated. I'm so good at writing about it here and even in that email I was so good at letting her know how bad things can get for me. But in person I completely shut down. I refuse to talk about the binges. I refuse to talk about the purges. I refuse to talk about how I'm feeling. I just sit there and she asks her questions and if it's not something I'm willing to talk about then I will not talk about it.
Food: No. Family: No. It doesn't leave much open for discussion and I admit I'd be frustrated with ME too. I am frustrated with me because it's not about her judging me (although on some level it is.) I just hate that she knows me like this. I'm not always like this. And she kind of hit on that yesterday as well. That she knows there is more to me than this depression and this bulimia but this is also why I come to see her.

Sigh...Maybe tomorrow I'll do better. I've already not binged or purged today because I know she'll ask about it. I hate telling people I've done that when they don't know what it's like or they don't understand why I do it. And I know she's my therapist but I still feel like there's a big difference in writing it here for you all to read because you've been there and admitting it to her. I'm ashamed that I do it in the first place. But I'm doubly ashamed to talk about it in front of someone who's never been in my shoes.

My assignment was to make some really effective decisions until I get out of the fog. I just feel like I've already done so much. I can't do anymore. I really can't. But I did withdraw so I'm in a better spot today than I was yesterday. But I haven't applied for a job or looked for an apartment. I'm still waiting for something miraculous to just happen. And it seems that's very unlikely. Very unlikely.

It's hard though to keep making these decisions when I certainly feel like everyday I made the wrong decision. And I know I made the right one in withdrawing but now I feel like I've made a terrible mistake and to prevent myself from doing more damage, I do nothing.

I told my dad. More on that later...

And a college friend found my blog. :( She had no idea. We aren't close but we have very good mutual friends and I'm not ready for the entire world to know so that's why I went private. I also am not sure what to say to this friend because she has called me and wants to talk. I just want to tell her to keep her mouth shut but I'm afraid she's probably already spilled the beans.

going private

Email me

NIRETOD@YAHOO.COM

Happy Birthday MLK

Boy am I dreadfully tired of writing about this (and of feeling this way.)

I have new options to consider which I'll discuss with Shish tomorrow. And I'll lay them out here for some feedback...I just wish I knew what to do.

1. Stay here and live with my sponsor. She has offered a more long term arrangement and truthfully I would love to stay here with her and Chewy on this farm because I feel safe and loved and even when I'm not feeling my best there is someone I can connect with. I appreciate having that especially since its been a while since I've lived with loved ones. I could continue school this way...although I know I shouldn't. But I have the option. I would most definitely work part time and then have time to write or take a class or two. Maybe just one. :) I would either have to find a new therapist here...along with a psychiatrist and nutritionist and medical dooctor, or I would have to commute. She lives a bit further away from my apartment so I'm looking at a 3 hour drive. Doesn't seem likely that this can work for that very reason. It's too far now that I'm going twice a week for outpatient. And I don't want to find another new set of doctors...I'm not even sure my insurance would cover a nutritionist and psychiatrist out of the state. So realistically my support would be my sponsor, my EDA group, and some new therapist. And it took me 3 months to open up to Shish, and I liked her from day one.

2. Move away completely. I've received offers to go to three different states and live with friends who are my dearest. The only problem is that only one of them KNOWS I'm bulimic. Yeah...not that they would rescind their offers but I would have this nagging sensation to tell the truth if I moved in with them. I would only seriously consider going to live with one of them. I could take Chewy. She is on of the ones who doesn't know but...she is in a better situation for me to even consider this and she has repeatedly told me to come so I know she is sincere. And, its close enough where I could drive. The other places are not.

3. The original plan of moving back to my hometown but not living at home. I know being there is not an option but I cannot shake the feeling that what I want most in the world is to be comforted and nurtured and held and loved by my FAMILY. Everyone is being lovely and understanding and supportive and encouraging...I love it. But it hurts that my family can't do it. They can't. So what is the point in going home if it is one of the major sources of my emotional pain and unhappiness? Hope. I still hope that something will give by Tuesday, but my sponsor and friends keep telling me that even if my mother can convince me back she will let me down. That may be true. I'm not in a position to hurt like that right now.

For now...I'm not sure what to do. I haven't withdrawn. I haven't packed. I'm stuck. I'm literally trying to avoid making any more decisions because things are not getting any better. I'm trying to hold it together so my mother will come save me. I don't want to give up on her because then it will be the end. Maybe I could forgive her although I truly cannot imagine that, but we would never be a family again. Except there's a part of me that already feels that way, that no matter what she did at this point, we could never be that family I long for. I think I need to think about that some more and internalize it. Maybe the feeling in my chest might go away.

***I ate dinner last night and lunch today without purging. Painful, but certainly not as bad as it has been. And I had an extraordinary urge to b&p and I talked myself out of it...for FOUR hours.***

snow day

I emailed Shish a very open and telling account of how life looks through my eyes during these not so bright and shiny days. Inspired by you all out there who email your therapists and come out with the truth. It escapes me in our sessions and although I'm so much better about talking now, I'm afraid up until yesterday she had no idea just how much I need her help.

Basically, I just informed her that I've gotten to a point where I always think about "a way out" and although I'm not thinking about how to do that, its something that I see as an option...because...

I will still be me once I stop binging and purging. I will still be this young woman who is lost and scared...frightened. One who has long ago stopped speaking up for herself and doesn't forgive herself or others for any wrongdoings. One who doesn't see the power in forgiveness. One who hates, truly hates, the person she has become. A daughter so much like her mother and father that it pains her to look in the mirror because she sees all their character flaws in herself. One who does not know what she wants but simply wants to please others so that they will love her. So that hopefully, if they love her enough, she can relax and maybe love herself too.

And so its not just about being thin so everyone will like me, its about needing to be accepted. And not even by the world...but by my father most...and then other men...my family and friends and people who "know" me. Taking away that binging and purging...makes me fake. Because it's those moments in the day that I'm demonstrating that I'm not ok, life is not perfect, and here's proof. I live with this fucking pain...but when it's temporarily taking a nap, I'll do shit to bring it back. Like purge. Or binge. Or restrict. Maybe I'm just using it to punish myself now...or as a reminder...or as a way to control something...or as a way to just lose it.

I don't think eating regularly I going to take this pain and empty feeling away. In fact, I know it won't. And so now I'm really in THE mood but I can't purge at my sponsor's house. I'm aching I'm my heart right now and I know it would make that feeling go away...at least for a little while.

It's snowing here. :) I do so hate cold weather but I only tolerate it being below 50 if there's snow. Otherwise I see no use of it ever being this cold.

Because I need to remember this feeling

Saturday night I had a bit too mucb to drink. I called one of my college roommates and raved about how happy I was to be taking a break from school and focusing on school. She told me to write down exactly how I felt so I could draw back on that feeling during hard times.

I didn't heed her advice but she called today in the knick of time. Apparently I said, "I'm so happy. This is the best day of my life."

Yeah. I really did. And how quickly I've forgotten the best day of my life. :) Although I'm quite sure that was the petron.

So I'm writing about it now because I need to remember that acceptance I lived with last weekend. I need to remember WHY I'm taking this break...to live a life worth living....and that involves no more binging and purging, but there's a lot more to it than that.

My sponsor. I love her. I'll miss her. Our talks. Not being afraid to say what's on my heart.

She's amazing at breaking through to me (moreso than Shish, but that may be because I don't shut my sponsor out as much.)

I'm angry at my mother for not having left my father sooner, for never standing up for herself and us kids, and for allowing him back into her life. Fine. But my father is a bully to me as well. And boy oh boy...I would NEVER let anyone, any man hit me or talk to me the way my mother has been treated. But I make exceptions for him...or excuses for him because he's my father. Tough to swallow. I frown upon people who let others mistreat them (because its sooooo much better to hurt oneself, right.) I can see him for what he is but I keep on hoping hell change just like those women who end up at battered women shelters. I'm angry at her and myself. I have to stop running back to him. Its possible to love someone and still accept that they aren't good for you.

I'll learn how to be different from my mother. I'll stop being angry with myself, for mistakes I've made, for not doing this sooner, for not being perfeect, for not being whatever I'm not and whatever I am. For blaming her and siding with him. For not being strong enough or courageous enough.

I'm angry and sad and lonely and cold and exhausted. But I will not feel all of these things forever. I will not punish myself with restriction and binging and purging. One day I'll forgive myself and love myself and when I get sad or lonely or angry or anxious I won't try to binge and purge those feelings away. And its going to take a LOT of work but...

I believe my sponsor. I believe everything she's said and she's recovered. So when she says that she knows I can do it, without my family, then I know its the truth. I can't see the big picture right now, for all the minor details. I have no idea how this will happen. But you guys are so freaking right. This is my life. I can do it. I deserve to do it. I'm worth it. And I'll really stop caring that my parents are like this. I'm ending this shit with me...no more being the victim or abuser.

I love you guys. I can feel the support and love and its making a difference. And of course I'm thinking of you all as well.

P.S. my college roommate is sending me money. :) things are looking up! and oh yeah, I see Shish on Tuesday.

an update of sorts

There is so much on my plate that I am just sort o avoiding everything right now in hopes that it will all be better "tomorrow."

Except that better tomorrow has not yet come and its not coming. Its snowing here and thankfully so because I would like to avoid a session with Shish for a while. Not too long though...I just need her to piece things back together for me but I guess we're not at that point. I'm not willin to talk anymore about my family and the abuse and the pain I feel inside that seems to be growing everyday. How can anyone make that better? It aches and its empty and its lonely and cold...although recently its been this burning sensation that just takes over my chest and back and heart. And it takes everything I've got to not just breakdown and sob, but that's kind of how my body feels on the inside...like I'm bawling and I can't do anything to comfort myself (because I'm actively trying not to binge and purge because I'm at my sponsor's house.)

Which means I'm restricting. It's always one or the other. Sometimes I'm not pleased with getting help because its bringing up so much shit that I just cannot deal with, unless I'm binging and purging. And I'm really too tired to do that right now.

I'm trying to relax and do things to take my mind off the fact that I'm withdrawing from school and yet I'm too afraid to go TELL the school. Or that supposedly my father is leaving on sunday and my mother is coming to help me back but I have no place to move. Because I can't trust her or him or depend on them to be there for me and not hurt me anymore and I know I'm an adult but I still want them to do this for me. And I know the never will. And so I'm mourning now...that's really how it feels. If I have to do this on my own, I will never forgive my mother for that. I'm willing to give her a clean slate...well, not completely clean...but she can redeem herself here but I'm afraid she will not.

I'm devastated knowing the look in my father's eyes when he finds out the truth. And I don't want to live like that. I hate him so much, but I love him even more. And there's nothing I can do to save my life and keep my family, as dysfunctional as we are, they are mine. If I stay in school I know I'll never make it out alive. And so I will leave and break everyone else in the process and I'll want to die. I already feel this way, that I want a nice safe way out and I'm not a disappointment or a failure. I guess the only thing I can do is have hope that along the way of me choosing my happiness over my family that Shish can help rid me of that guilt and get me to accept that I'm not a failure or a disappointment entirely. Maybe I will always be that to my father, but maybe I'll stop caring and be glad that I'm choosing to live my life and stop avoiding it.

I was so ready to do this. I accepted that this needed to be done. But now I'm here and my heart is beating out of my chest. And I'm so nervous that I can't even keep water down. And what do I tell people? I'm a law school drop out. What if I never go back? And now when I meet people, like at the party saturday night, and everyone's all I'm getting my Ph.D in this or my master's in that...I'm the silent one. I do nothing. I couldn't cut it. I can't even say I WAS a 2L...somehow that makes it worse. And my cousin called to see how I was holding up, if I had told my father. He's already soo disappointed in me (her words, but I already knew that) so how could telling him make things worse.

Right now, I swear the only reason I haven't gone to talk to the Dean is because he will hate me. He won't accept it. He'll never understand. I'm a disappointment but at least I'm still in school. It hurts to know you can cause people who love you so much pain. And I hate him for that, because he's always made it clear I'm the favorite, so that when I fuck up it hurts him on another level.

I'm feeling so overwhelmed inside by now that I can't even articulate it. I just want to bawl because I don't want to be here but I don't want to be home and deal with those looks. He will frown and scowl and make me feel like shit and she will not say a wored in my defense. He will say I'm worthless. These are not fears...he will not be able to look at me. Two things he hates most of all: quitters and liars. Now I am both.

I can't bear to be treated like my sister...or my mother. I can't do it. For six years my sister was a whore and no good and trifling and sorry and she only redeemed herself with givin them grandchildren. He has no expectations of her. How can I do this? How can I give up being the good daughter?

You can come here

Sometimes I forget how many wonderful people love me. Sometimes I feel so alone and lonely and I don't allow myself to reach out because I don't want to trouble my friends. And it's so silly because they don't want me to cut them out. They want to know I'm ok or better than ok. They want to know what they can do to help and then they want to do it.

Two of the friends who said this: You can come here. They don't know about my eating disorder. One was my college roommate and I couldn't bear to tell her exactly who I am, not because she would love me any less, but because I am so ashamed. She told me I could move to Knoxville and relax and not work. :) I love her. She loves me.

She wants me to finish school, and as ambitious and career driven as she is I respect it. But she wants me to get to a place where everyday isn't a struggle...and stay there.
I know my mom wants that for me, but even she isn't offering her home without strings attached.

I'm afraid. I'm already feeling like a loser. A quitter. A failure. I'm already feeling this cloud of gloom and I KNOW this decision is good for me right now. But oh shit, what about the past three semester that I'm throwing away. How do I make sense of this?

Uh Oh!

I've been riding high for the past two days. Extremely satisfied with my decision. Almost content. Smiling. Laughing. Partying. Dancing. Drinking (too much. way too much.) Things are coming together in my mind and in a tangible way.

But...what does it say about me that I choose not to tell my father? Everyone who knows me and my relationship with my parents is supportive of both taking a break and not moving home and not telling my father. My college roommate said, "He can't be in on fatherly decisions when he doesn't act like a father." That certainly made me feel better. But there's a twinge of guilt and fear and disappointment in myself and our relationship. In this moment I know this is wise and well-thought out, so why don't I just tell him and get it over with now? There is nothing he can say to change my mind but there's so much he can say to make me feel like shit. That's the problem.

What if I looked at my other two grades from this past semester and I received A's. Would that change anything? I overextended myself this semester. I didn't need to take 5 classes. It didn't seem like too much in the beginning, but I also wasn't planning on even facing my bulimia. What if I only took 4 classes? Or received special permission to go part time and take 3?

But anything I put before recovery is something I'll end up losing...

I need to repeat that to myself every single moment that I start to backtrack.

I cannot tell him because he will never understand. But I'm lying. That makes it even worse. I will lie to him on a daily basis. I will have to lie to my grandmother because we talk every Saturday afternoon and she always asks about school. How can I lie to my grandmother? Is that worth it? Being someone who would deceive my family because I'm not willing to face my decisions or my father.

I have not felt that aching sensation in my body, where it's freezing on the inside no matter how warm it is, and where my flesh is burning...I have not felt that in two days. Even when talking with my mother, as emotional as that was, as pissed as I felt when she said she didn't realize I was talking about taking off THIS SEMESTER...yes, she actually said that...I was sobbing and I realized what Shish was talking about. It felt better to get it out, to say it and not stuff it down and I'm not sure I can go back in the past and say everything I've ever needed to say in life to my parents or sisters or friends or Jack...but in that moment I didn't have that feeling.

It's back. And I guess that's okay. I am moving back to my hometown, not in my mother's house, which should make me feel a certain kind of way. Uncared for...unwelcome. I told her I had as much anger and resentment towards her as I did my father but I was willing to try to work on our relationship and she said she wasn't sure she wanted me to live with her and have those feelings.

The truth. Seems once you start other people find themselves being just as honest. I can't wrap my mind around that though. I can't understand how she wants me to swallow my anger and all my other feelings towards her when she has never expressed that to him. How could she even say that? Maybe she's tired of being abused? Doubtful. Maybe if I just went apeshit on her the way he does then she couldn't pretend that we are okay.

Apparently my father is moving out next weekend. Should I trust her? Can I depend on her? My intuition says no. Everything I know to be true says, "Erin, find a place with roommates your age and get back towards enjoying life and work on your relationship with your mom after you're stronger in recovery." It would certainly be easier, I wouldn't have to work that much because I wouldn't have to pay rent...or anything really, if I just went home. But she's not that type of mother. I won't be cared for for nurtured or understood. She can't be what I need her to be and I am an adult so it's time for me to be for myself who I need her to be.

Tomorrow I'm going to the Dean's office. I'm withdrawing from school. I'm packing my apartment. I'm continuing to look for an apartment and job. I'm going to keep making good decisions even when I don't feel like it, or I'm scared, or it hurts.

I just don't know if my decision to not tell my dad is a good decision or a bad one.

Dear Pookie,

Thank you. I read your comment over and over again and as helpful as everyone else in this community has been, as supportive and encouraging and understanding, I couldn't help but think what other people would think. What would a fellow law student say about this? I've spent the last day or so wondering why that matters to me. Why I need to be approved by someone like you, by my family, by my therapist before I can approve this decision myself. Possibly because I seek validation from everyone else because I don't value what I think because I don't know what to think because I've so often just done it to make others happy without voicing my opinion on the matter. The one time I said no to law school for very valid reasons, I ended up there a year later because I felt guilty, like a failure, like a horrible daughter. All they wanted me to do was go to law school, it's just three years, I can give them that. But I didn't want it. I've never wanted it for myself, I've always wanted it because they wanted it, because I felt like I owed them at least that much. And there's a great part of me that wants to want it later in life, so I won't be a quitter, so I won't be a disappointment, so they won't cast me on the same plane as my sister, so I can be forgiven by myself and my parents. But I've walked around feeling less burdened the past two days. I love it. I love it.

I fear mediocrity. Of not doing something absolutely amazing in life. Of not making them proud. I also fear that I'll end up never doing what I want. Always playing it safe. Doing what they want and denying myself. Which means if I keep stuffing down what I want in life, letting this fear consume me, it means I'll never break free of this bulimia. I'll always be miserable if I'm not authentic with myself. So, although I'm not the biggest fan of talking about feelings and what's happened in the past because I don't see how that helps me with the present or future, I'm totally supportive of actually DOING things so that I can be happier about my life. Dropping out of law school. Therapy. Writing. Finding a job I really enjoy (but I'll take one that just pays the bills for now.)

A few people from home have said that I should stay in school (for many of the reasons I had) because I was half way done, because it would be a waste of time and money. Someone said turning around half way is like the man who tried to swim the English Channel, made it half way and said he couldn't make it, and turned around. Except, I'm not turning around and swimming back. I'm being rescued. I refuse to go back. But I can't keep swimming. I know I wouldn't make it another year and a half. And I'd rather give up that dream than completely give up on life.

to all the recent commenters

I'm literally crying at this very moment because I feel so supported in this decision. With every passing moment I can feel just how right it is. It doesn't seem like I will have to be so ashamed for needing to do this.

Sarah: Thank you for praying for me. I need it and I feel it. Just simply by the fact that I am really thinking about it DOING it. Every few hours I start to panic about what it all means and will I really go through with it, or will I chicken out and not go through with it. But you're right. If I put law school or anything in front of my sobriety, I will end up losing it. That will happen. I see it happening.

Z: :) Thank you. I'm much better today. Of course the eating still stinks miserably but I'm at a friend's house. I'm safe. I'm laughing and enjoying myself because I'm really easing into this whole thing and it just feels right and doable.

DG: When I talked to my sponsor tonight she said it sounded like in my heart Ive made my mind up but that my head is trying to confuse me. She advised me to stop worrying about the future, even what will happen tomorrow, forget about the 5 year plan and just do the next best thing. What's the next best thing for me to do? Come home so I can do more OT. And yes, there are many things involved with that first step. Primarily, convincing myself that I deserve this, that I need to do this for my life. That's hard because it's tough to trust that things will work out when I'm afraid of what will happen, but I guess that's why I need to pray and just ask for God to make this possible if it's in His plan.

CINDY: Thanks for stopping by. It truly brought a smile to my face to see a new commenter. It feels good to know that there are people out there who care and I don't even know them! Quite honestly, it also makes me really sad. I'm sure I've said this before at some point, but knowing that people can care and want to see me recover and make really good decisions over the next few days in regards to moving back...well it hurts because my parents can't do it. I get this lonely ache that burns (but sometimes its icy) all over because I feel so lonely and I want THEM to care. But in the end, all it matters is that I am supported and cared for and loved. And I totally get ALL of that here. I can't say it enough. You guys are awesome.

ANIA: I'm glad you stopped by. It's really encouraging me to do the right things when I know people...lots of people...WANT me to do the right thing for ME, and not just fulfill some expectation they have of me. You write so well, with such conviction. I appreciate it. (I have to survive my feelings to reach any goals...) Yes. You're right. I mean you're absolutely right. I need to work on that, surviving them, talking about them, not letting them take me to binge/purge land if I ever want to be free. I wish it were easier. I struggle with the feelings, with talking about anything that bothers me, with needing a connection with my therapist because I hate the idea of it all. So no, you weren't overly familiar at all. :) Thank you for your encouragement.

AE: A BIG THANK YOU. I needed to hear/read this: "I have NEVER been sorry that I chose Life, Recovery, my Heart." I do not want to be one of those persons who never does what is right for her because she's always doing what she's supposed to do. I felt highly hypocritical tonight while on the phone with my sponsor because I act like I guide my own compass so much of the time, refusing to take certain internships because well, "I didn't come to law school for THAT!" And I laugh because she was merely asking me to do what I really wanted to do without thinking about what people (including myself) thought I should do. How could you ever be sorry with choosing life or recovery? I'm not sure its even possible. Oh God now it seems like so much, but I just think about 5 years from now. I could either still be bulimic and depressed and a lawyer or not...or I could be recovered and whatever that life will bring. Door 2 is a REAL future. Door 2 is a REAL LIFE. Maybe I won't ever go back to law school...but hopefully it'll be a different kind of Erin making that decision about what makes me happy and what I could do, not what I should do.

AND I've been job searching for a few hours. I'm just getting ready. This is something I want to do, something I need to do, now all I have to do is make it possible by finding an apartment and job and allowing myself to forgive myself. I need to feel this is okay before I do it. So I've got a few days. And I told my mother after she said she'd really ask my father to leave that "I need a safe home away from you." It felt great. I didn't want her to continue thinking that he was the only person that made her house unsafe. Bitchy. Sad. But the truth and I need to do a better job about not keeping that to myself.

considering all the possibilities

My sponsor is the most amazing woman. I've spent the past two days at her farmhouse and its on 17 acres with a creek and hiking trails in the woods and its been good to just do nothing and not freak out.

It was just good to escape into something not self destructive.

Shish and I planned out what withdrawing from law school would look like. We prepared for the worst scenario just so I could deal with what it looks like ahead of time.

I move back to my hometown and find someplace safe to live until I find a job to get my own place, well...with roommates. I don't ever have to think about going to my parents, that's not acceptable.

I need to find a part time job something not too stressful but I'd have to enjoy it too. I can't go from one bad situation to another. This also helps out with money since I'd be on my own.

I'm not friends with my high school friends anymore but this is a college town so I should be able to find a group and socialize. Something I haven't done since school.

And obviously I'd be doing recovery hard core. Twice a week with her, giving my meds a second try, really TALKING to her.

But there's still one thing...the thing that's holding me back the most. I've never quit anything. What if I don't go back? I already can't bear the thought of monday...how do I live with myself then. like honestly. how do I live with knowing my parents would be soooo disappointed in me. I should be above that. but I want them to be proud. I don't want them to talk about me the way they do my sister. I don't want them to shake their heads with shame and disgust the way I already do myself. I want more than anything to be able to say 1/10th of the shit I say to Shish and for them to receive it and care about ME and help.

And I know...I know just like getting down to size X wasn't good enough for me. I know finishing law school won't be good enough for my father. But maybe if I can just go 1.5 semesters...maybe it'll be good enough for me.

except it won't be. I know that. it'll never end, not accepting myself or loving myself or taking care of myself until I resolve all this shit and dedicate the time.

but its the same thing with finally accepting that fine...I am human...I should eat and not purge at least once a day. ok. fine three times a day. I know what to do but I can't bring myself to do it.

but guess what? strangely things might be working out so that I can do this. I'll pray. and listen for God. and start looking for a job down here. someone has already offered me a place to stay.

thank you all so much. that's really all I can say. that I love you and care for you all dearly and hope you all are having a better start at the new year than me. yall are really a bunch of livesavers and I'm so glad I can come here and be safe.

update...

so this is it. I think I've hit rock bottom. but I've heard even then people don't get it together and things get worse.

so I'm afraid that things will get worse. I'm spiraling out of control and yet still seriously planning to return to school on monday.

I'm sure tomorrow's session with Shish will be a new plan of action that involves me leaving.

why can't I leave school? why is that more important than my safety and sanity and life? what am I so afraid of? oh...the possibilities of all the fears are endless and then some.

my first or second session with shish I said I figured I'd need to hit rock bottom to be willing to do whatever it takes.

I crashed monday night and it was scary and lonely and soooo cold. I was terrified by where my mind took me but I'm afraid of what else tomorrow might have in store for me if things don't get better.

if I find an inpatient treatment, will my family pay?

will I ever go back to law school?

will I get better? not everyone does. and I'm trying to be strong and optimistic but real. has it just gone on too long? will it work? will it be worth it?

I suppose moments like these I need to solely depend on God but I'm afraid of doing that too.

will I ever forgive myself for doing this to myself? I think not. I'm not a forgiving person. I can't forgive myself for fucking up my life. I can't believe I deserve anything better than this on most days. and then there's a quiet voice that says I'm a liar. I can forgive. I deserve a better life. I can live. I can recover.

its too quiet though. those whispers come through and save me but I'm afraid that part of me is getting tired and will give up on me too.

I'm calling my insurance to see where I can go for IP. I told my mother last night that it might be the next step. that was hard but I need her to help in all the ways she can -- financially. If shed be willing to do that...I know its expensive and my dads medical bills are astronomical I'm sure.

I'm afraid shell say she can't do both. that once again, she won't choose me.

and finally good news: I'm taking incompletes, not F's in my three paper classes, which limits my job prospects for this summer, but I can live with that.

UPDATE:

my mom didn't exactly say no. she wants me to come home. I didn't give her the complete truth about what exactly rock bottom looked like. but I'm not going back. I'm not willing to do that and that may seem foolish in light of what I'm dealing with right now but I'm not above saying that my parents are a major part of the equation that has led me here...to THIS point. right now they cannot make it better. they will make it worse. and I'm such a baby because God I want to be home, but its not safe. I'm not any safer on my own though...which leads to the 2nd update

IP: insurance will pay for it, mostly, if theres a medical necessity. just being a bulimic for five years doesn't make this an emergency situation. neither is the fact that I'm suicidal. that's not a medical necessity because at that very moment I wasn't physically trying to kill myself. :) its almost comical...except of course its not. reminds me of the semester in college I had a balance and couldn't register for classes. but then the school refused to accept payment because I wasn't a full time student who was registered...they wouldn't let me pay or register. whatever.

the lady was really nice about it though...genuinely concerned about ME which sucks because again its someone who expresses their feelings more than my family.

the only IP place my insurance covers in the state is literally 15 minutes away from my parents house...which is good. no excuses for why they should miss family therapy. and its residential, not in a hospital...but a nice farm like setting. I guess this is GOOÐ...that I'm asking myself to see this happening within the few days and I'm not completely resisting it. hopefully by the time I meet the insurance qualifications (im just kidding...I'm not at that point thank God) ill be fucking ready to go.

watch your weight

I'm 24.
I'm in law school.
I live by myself.
I work (sort of.)
Sometimes I even manage to pay my bills on time. Sometimes.
I set an alarm. I hit snooze many many times.
I get up in the mornings.
I walk Chewy.
I bathe myself and run out of the door because I'm running late. Damn that snooze...
I attend classes and take notes and attend meetings.
I study.
I clean up.
I have been known to eat from time to time, to cook every once in a while.
I'm in recovery.
I am still in recovery.

There are certain things that another adult should never ever say to another adult, no matter what relationship these two adults have with one another. Not even out of concern, but especially when it's not out of concern.

"Watch your weight" is the one thing in the world that I will never stop watching. Funny though, because I would love to stop watching it. To stop this insane preoccupation with food and calories and sugar and junk and restriction and feelings and binging and purging and avoidance. If it all ended and that was ALL I had to watch, was my weight, just watch it, I would fucking laugh my ass off. If the madness would end once I started to "watch my weight" oh I would laugh my way inside the nut house for sure.

When someone you know eats all day long for a two week period and you watch their weight drop at a remarkable weight do not ever say "watch your weight." That's not logical. That's not smart. That's not helpful or considerate or sensitive. It's not anything but hurtful even if it's not the intent.

Was it encouragement to continue whatever it is I'm doing, despite the fact that thousands and thousands of calories are missing from the cupboard?

Was it sound and wise advice?

Was it fatherly concern?

STOP. NEW SUBJECT.

I talked to Shish twice today. I emailed Cruella about my food issues that "popped" up over the weekend and I'm assuming she forwarded the email to Shish because Shish has never emailed me and doesn't have my email address but emailed me within the hour and asked me to page her.

No progress on the papers. Having someone to report to doesn't make me accountable. It doesn't. Having an F looming over my academic transcript for the rest of my life doesn't make me work. I want to crawl into a cave and come out in spring. I wish not to fly south for winter like the flocks of birds. I would like to load up my ipod with batteries that never need charging, I'd like to take my cell phone (limited battery life though, I know I'll want to be unavailable at times), I'd like to take Chewy and a new pillow and blanket and emerge in about 90 days.

I don't care about the papers. That's the honest to goodness truth. I want it BEHIND me. Just like I want recovery BEHIND me. It's TOO HARD. IT'S KILLING ME. I want to wake up in 90 days and emerge somewhere near the end of next semester what the knowledge I need to possess in order to earn high marks on my finals and completely recovered from my eating disorder without having to do ANY of the hard work it takes to get there.

I don't like struggling or failing. I'm not used to that. I'm not used to everything in life all at once being so insanely difficult. It's family, it's school, it's my eating disorder, and it's me...and I'm supposed to just do it, huh? I'm supposed to not go to bed tonight until I finish one paper. (Shish's opinion? advice? ultimatum? I don't know what it was exactly.) I'm supposed to ONLY focus on one paper when my mind is warped right now. It is consumed with eating disordered thoughts. I want to ram something down my throat so fast right now and throw up everything I told myself I WAS NOT GOING TO EAT. I have a headache and I feel like it's about to explode. I said GOODBYE to my family today and I don't know when I'm going to be ready to face them again. One of my professors has decided NOT to email me back (and I completely understand that, I'm not angry with her, just ME) but regardless of all of this SHIT I'm supposed to just focus on the paper. HOW IN THE HELL DO I DO THAT? I WOULD REALLY LIKE TO KNOW!

And saying goodbye to my parents was also saying goodbye to all financial support. So I said goodbye. I cannot come home again. I feel unsafe and unprotected and loved, but it's too much to deal with. I still love you. And my mother says (and I know she meant it because it wasn't a threat, just very matter of fact like) if cannot come home then you cannot accept our money. You may need to look into finding a job that can pay for your apartment and car and therapy. But I know you'll be back. You'll need us for that. Yes. I do need them for that. I also need them for recovery but they can't give me that. Some needs can't be met. I accepted this and now I'll accept that I'll also have another burden (and financial burdens can be very worrisome.) So I forced my mother to give me a hug (and we never hug) so she could know it was goodbye.

Then my father said, "watch your weight."

Bye Mom, Bye Dad.

It’s not that I want my family to be something they’re incapable of being.

My parents are good people. They try. They were at every awards day in high school, every play, every home softball game, every volleyball game. My mother was at every football game and parade (my father was not as supportive of all my extra-curricular activities like marching band) They came to Family Weekends, Dean’s List’s recognition ceremonies (even when they weren’t invited.) My father has any and every program from pre-school til the present. I come home and there’s a framed article in my room about some public service internship I received that I didn’t even know existed. My mother, she shows her love in other ways. She drives 2.5 hours to do my laundry and fold it and put it all away. She buys me my favorite junk foods, even now, which is quite disturbing because it’s like she doesn’t connect bulimia with food. Hmm….

I’ve always understood that as long as I did what was expected of me that they would always be there, that they would always be proud and never deny me. For my father, I was always lovable in college and when I decided to go to law school. But that year hiatus from school made me a disappointment. A waste. A disappointment. You’d think they’d be proud that their daughter cared and had an opportunity to do such important work, especially after Hurricane Katrina. Maybe they were. But it’s never enough. Whatever I do, I’m never enough.

But apparently, the same is true for them. Sometimes I look at her and I just don’t understand. I’m sure she was lonely after I left for college. I guess I never realized how lonely she must have been in order to let my dad move back in the house. What that says about how desperate she must have been for any affection or company after living with me for the past four years does not make me feel good. I know she didn’t date because I said I didn’t want to “deal” with that. And I do respect her for respecting my feelings on that matter. It would have hurt me to know that she could have made a relationship work with some man other than my father. Back then, I blamed her. On some levels, I still do. But I just do not understand what led her back into this abusive relationship.

I woke up Saturday morning to my father cursing my mother OUT. I mean he was going ballistic. It was the worst I had experienced in a really long time and it was over something so ridiculous. It lasted for over thirty minutes! Just him screaming and accusing and raving. I thought he would hit her. In fact, as disturbing as it is to write this, I’m amazed he didn’t. It was soooo early on Saturday morning too! And they were outside too. I could tell, because they got even louder when they came inside, and his rants were muffled when they went back outside. I just sat up in bed and threw my hands up in wonder. No really. I THREW my hands up thinking, “When will she get tired of this?” How can someone allow themselves to be called EVERY disrespectful name in the book, (almost) every day of their life for nearly three decades?

Well I’m tired of being tired of this. Really, I am. I’ve stopped crying and feeling sorry for her and thinking I should be there. That’s not my job. She’s my mother. She’s supposed to be the example for me everyday of her life. She’s supposed to stand up for herself and if she can’t do that she’s supposed to stand up for herself anyway so that I know I can stand up for myself. I’ve cried and begged and pleaded and argued and demanded for far too long. I’m so tired. I can’t tell her anymore how sick of all of it this makes me. I can’t passively punish her anymore. I can’t actively punish her anymore. I can’t put my foot down and set ultimatums. I’m so tired of being angry and affected.

I have to let go. I have to forgive them. I have to forgive them for failing to be less than perfect. I have to forgive them for being themselves. How hard that is! To forgive someone just for being who they are, incapable of change, incapable of wanting change. I feel so smug even thinking that. But they are the very reasons of why I refuse self-acceptance. They have accepted themselves and I’m not sure how they’re dealing with loving themselves, but people who do not accept themselves struggle internally as we do. We seek perfection, we know we’ll never attain it, but we continue all the same knowing we can do better, be better, be thinner, be smarter, work harder. I cannot accept myself for who I am because I need to always say, “No! You can be better. You can’t accept mediocrity or fat or imperfection. Don’t give up!” (Now if only I could be that relentless in my thinking that I deserve recovery and that it’s not okay to give up on recovery!) I feel guilty in saying that I have to forgive my mother for being herself, for doing the best she can do, for forgiving that it’s not enough and not what I need. I feel like as a daughter, I have no right to say that, because I have a good mother.

But…my mother doesn’t understand bulimia. I want a mother who does or at least one who tries. Isn’t that selfish of me though, because who can ever really understand except someone who has gone through it or someone who has spent a considerable amount of time studying the disorder or treating it? One who hits up the public library and reads everything online and takes it too far at Barnes & Nobles trying to learn everything she can about the disorder. One who wants to actively participate in saving my life, not one who just pays the bill (how appreciative I am of that though!) Not one who prays her name never comes up in therapy because she couldn’t bear the guilt. I want a mother who thinks twice about bringing home chocolate chip cookies and candy bars for me because she knows I like them. I want a mother who thinks about that sort of thing and thinks about how better she could help her me feel better, and not with food. I want my mother to think about her disapproval of my weight and size and her only known way to comfort me with food and see how conflicting that is.

Does she want me better? She’s my mother. Of course she does. In some respects she wants me to do whatever I need to do to get better sooner so I can go back to being her representation, her validation that she is a good mother. A good daughter. Almost perfect.

She is not pleased with this evidence that she has done something wrong. She lives in denial. She very much wishes for life to return to the way it was when I maintained quite well with my bulimia and she knew nothing of it. When my grades were good and I called regularly asking for money for alcohol and clothes & dining out & spring break because that’s better than calls about money for my psychiatrist, nutritionist, and therapist. Any mother would be proud to give her daughter money to spend money on designer jeans so long as that daughter is in law school. She can gripe to her friends about having to support an adult and give her money for bar crawls and new boots and hair appointments when it also entitles her to bragging rights. She may bitch about paying my living expenses but she voices nothing about my medical bills. And I don’t think it’s because she’s ashamed of me or my eating disorder. I think she’s ashamed of herself and she would rather not think about why I have an eating disorder or what it all even means. She would rather go back to the days when she spent this amount of money because I just needed new pants from AE or a new jacket from J. Crew or I would just die or never speak to her again. (Yes. I was really that much of a brat. I swear, though, it’s all in the past.) She is disappointed because now she has to deal with her own role in this matter and she likes to pretend everything is fine. Perfect. I’m in law school, living on my own with Chewy and doing well. That is perfect. Coming home on weekends for OT is a slap in the case that things are not perfect.

I love her. I love him. I know that more than that, they love me more than I will ever accept. I know they want the best for me and expect it. I know their expectations and I know they have difficulty dealing with unmet expectations. But I have unmet expectations as well and I need to stop mourning for the parents I wish I had had, the parents I wish to have, and the parents I hope they’ll someday be. I can’t ever stop loving them. I won’t ever stop hating them either. But for the moment, while I’m in recovery, I need to be as selfish as possible. I need to care about me. I need to stop caring about them. I don’t even want to do this. But right now I’m nowhere near out of the valley. I’m still so deep into the darkness but I’m beginning to believe a light is there even though I don’t see it. I want to see the light. I’ll never see it if I continue to remember the past and let it affect me today. I’ll never see the light if I’m enmeshed in all their drama.

I need to care about me 100% everyday so that I have the energy to care again. I can’t save her now. I don’t even want to save her now. Feeling drained and depleted makes me angry. I don’t need to be angry right now. I want my mother’s help but I recognize that we’re both in low places now. She can’t help me. So I should accept that she can’t learn about bulimia on the internet or journey over to the bookstore because she can’t go there and it has absolutely nothing to do with me.

One day I’ll wake up and I’ll feel ready and up to the task of saving my mother. One day her actions will have no effect on me and my recovery and that’s when I’ll know I can be of some use to her. One day I’ll wake up so far into recovery, so strong, so healthy, so accepting, so secure, so loving that I can go back to my childhood and work on my relationship with them. I understand now why Shish stays away from my family and my past and only talks about food and the future. Maybe another approach would work just as well, but the most important thing right now is ending the binge/purge cycle. It could take years to work through all my shit first, and this might prove to be an easier task.

(I'm working on a post about my feelings and thoughts on safety as a child which of course involve my parents but that post will actua