lskjfoiasl

i'm having trouble connecting.
and it feels like it's a waste..if i'm sitting in therapy all day either about to fall asleep or cry.
i don't know what the hell is going on with me.

and i'm still resisting meds. like an idiot.

this is so frustrating.

i wish i was at greek formal with trevor right now.
i'd be drunk. he'd be drunk. we'd be dancing. it's snowing there. everything would be fine.
but i'm in my sweats illegally on my computer in a house of people just as fucked up (and more) than me. and therapists. and a nurse. and nothing is fine.

lksfjoasifljk 31 more days. ahhhhhh. fml.

howdyyyyy from arizona!

do they say howdy here? seems like they would...since it's a desert. and there are cowboys in the desert. hmm. anywho.

residential is shaping up to be quite an...interesting experience.

the good news is that i haven't purged or binged or cut since i've been here. and. i don't know if that's an accomplishment...because i can't. well. i could. but...it doesn't seem like progress since if i left i'd go right back into it. i still think of eating boxes of chocolate poptarts and stealing my roommates ID to get milk to wash it down with, then purging in our room...trying to be quiet. and it seems like such a terrible chain of events now that i think back on it. but i still..yearn for it. and that kind of freaks/creeps me out. that's why i'm here though. and it's been less than a week. so it has to get fucking better. i'm banking on that.


i had to tell 'my story' last night. and...it kind of hit me, what the therapist was saying. i know that i have had a guard up my whole life, but it never seemed to be as big of a guard as i thought. and i'm starting to realize all the shit i have to work through...and she made it seem like it was a big deal, and that it mattered that i'd gone through it...that i wasn't just making it up. and i always have feared it...that i'm lying to myself and everyone and i could just stop at any point. but it's not like that. it's a real problem and i have real issues to work through. and they matter..it's not petty bullshit that a 13 year old came up with. well, not all of it.


the best thing in the world for me, though, was yesterday at the gym.
i have been going to the gym....obsessively at school. and, i have always gone at night after a bunch of purging, or in the morning after a bunch of purging. so, my heart freaks out and palpitates after less than a mile. the doctor said that i should run again and see how it is after proper nutrition.


i did last night and i ran a little bit over a mile. and it was freeing. and amazing. and it sounds stupid. because it's just a mile. but. yeah. it meant a lot to me.


i'm still struggling with connecting.
but according to the therapist from group last night...i should be struggling with connecting, and it's not surprising. but i need to work on it rather than isolate myself and do little dumb puzzles in my puzzle book from the fabulous minnesota airport i was in for five hours.


i don't know. it's the beginning.
so i guess this is to be continued.
this week has been up and down, and all over (so i should probably take those meds seriously...haha.)
so. maybe. it will....i don't know what. start working for me? yeah. it will.

Finally.

I guess it's about time I update with my actual final concrete plans. I've been waiting to have this for a while--certainty.

I'm leaving at 9:10 a.m. Monday morning for Mirasol in Arizona. Lay over in Minneapolis. Arrive in Arizona at 1:35 p.m. I'm extremely nervous, anxious, and scared.  I have been crying for the majority of the week. Especially when I got the e-mail of my flight itinerary from my dad.

I can't stop thinking about the fact that I'm actually leaving.

This is always what you hear about in health class in middle school.
They teach you about consequences of behavior they believe to be dangerous.

They say that a sip of alcohol will make you addicted and you'll end up in rehab.
A hit of marijuana, and you'll end up in rehab.
One cigarette, and you'll get lung cancer.
Sex out of marriage, and you'll get pregnant.
Eating disorder, and you end up in a residential treatment center.

I was always afraid that was where I'd be. I was always afraid I'd get 'thrown in' a residential center.

I'm less afraid of it in the sense that it's punishment.
It's fear of letting it go, it's nervous fear.

I've done plenty of stalking of the website.
Plenty of judging the therapists by where they got their undergrads and doctorates.
I have the weekly schedule memorized, and I've watched the virtual tour so many times I definitely already know my way around.

The uncertainty of the other girls is what is tripping me up the most.
I know it will be fine. Becuase they'll understand me and they have all been in my position of the first day there before.

I'm afraid of after. If I waste all of the money and effort that's getting and keeping me there.
But I won't know until I try.
I won't know until I try wholeheartedly.

I really really really AM ready to get better. I'm ready to let go of the bullshit.
But I'm afraid because it is something I'll always have in the back of my mind. It will never simply 'go away'...it doesn't work like that.

I'm sad I'm missing the holidays. But there will be more.

I'm trying to be positive, and it's coming through a lot more right now than it has been lately.

Sigh. See you all in 47 days.

<3

lkjaslkfj

this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.
this is going to be good for me.

i can't do this.

I know that it's possible, apparently, to recover.
I just don't think I'm strong enough. I don't feel like I can get through this.
Pending insurance, I'm leaving for Arizona on Monday.

I love Thanksgiving. Well, I hate Thanksgiving. I love my Grandmother's house, and I love Texas. I love shopping for 12 hours straight on Black Friday...requiring multiple trips to the car because we buy so much shit we can't even hold it. My extended family is pretty fucking insane, but it's always entertaining.

I'll be in treatment.

I love Christmas. Yeah, I'm not going to lie, I still can't sleep on Christmas morning and make everyone wake up at 5:00 a.m. to open presents...yeah, I never grew out of that one. But it's not the presents that makes it Christmas. It's my dad glaring at me and Kelly and Michelle while we disrupt Christmas Eve mass, it's the crazy Christmas Eve traditions we have...watching Anchorman, the non-traditional meal we have: lasagna..because it was Mr. Bill's favorite. It's the matching pajamas Miss. Joan gets us and all of us cramming in the trunk of my dad's car to drive creepily through neighborhoods, looking at lights even though none of us have given a shit about it for 5 years, at least. It's the home movies we watch over hot chocolate, even though it's not even cold in Georgia yet.

I'll be in treatment.

There will be more Thanksgivings, there will be more Christmases...but that I'm missing THIS year seems unbearably difficult. I'm missing reuniting with the few people I like from high school, the ceremony where we receive our IB diplomas, and standing in endless mall lines doing last minute shopping with my mom.

I haven't seen my mom since October. We fight a lot and I bitch about her more than I bitch about anyone, but she's honestly my best friend. And I know they'll visit at least once while I'm in treatment, but...damn. I don't want to go by myself. I don't want to be an adult and do this.

I'm so damn tired of dealing with this.
I hate that I have been sitting here trying to convince myself to eat something for going on 3 hours.
I'm so fucking anxious I can't function.
I have a French test tomorrow......nothing is sticking.

Part of me is relieved to finally go somewhere that could help me be free of this.
Part of me is happy that I'll be away from the holidays and my family...it may be my favorite thing ever, but it does really trigger me. Now that I think about it, I went to ACE right after the holidays...
And yet another part of me is excited to be around people that actually get it.

I know that I need this. But I'm just scared. I'm scared to tell my friends I'm leaving. (Read: I'm scared to tell Trevor.) But I'm more afraid of telling the people I am not as close with that I'm leaving. Or...not of telling them...but of them noticing. The people in my classes, the people that always end up being at the same parties as me...and my extended family that has no idea about this. They think I'm smart and strong...so what will they think when they find out about this.

I've said it a million times before, but I'm just so fucking terrified of letting go of this and it doesn't make sense.

I hate changing my mind from being ready to fight it and get better to wanting nothing more but to go back in time and not tell anyone I started struggling.

Maybe insurance will fuck up and I won't go.
I can't decide what emotion that would make me feel.

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
If only I wasn't in the library right now.



Bright side = I'm not missing Harry Potter 

priorities.

if i miss the harry potter premiere for treatment i'm going to kill someone.

hi.

i have an eating disorder.

What's holding me back?

Myself. I'm the only thing that's holding me back.
I could have any resources I want, they're all open to me. I just have to choose them.
I have the terrible ambivalence struggle where I want to want to be perfectly fine and to work towards recovery...but I'm just...meh. My heart's just not in it.

I know the medical risks, people are trying to scare me into getting better by telling me at any given moment my heart could explode, but somehow I don't care.

There is a part of me that wants it, so don't get me wrong. A part of me wants this more than anything. Part of me is so fucking tired of living like this and of being controlled by this fucking beast. But the other part is just...afraid? Maybe? To let it go? I've let it define me for so long that I don't feel like I have an identity without it.

I mean, I'm sure there's a person behind my eating disorder...I'm just afraid of who that person is. I clearly hated that person at age 12-13, and that's why I wanted to change in the first place.

I feel like it tames me, similar to the way getting drunk or high has a calming effect.
Eating makes me a crazy bitch, but purging calms me down because it gets it out. It's the release of the tension of a bomb in my stomach.

aklsfjlkasjfkljasfjaieosjflkajsdfljaslkfakjsfklajfs

I really really hate myself for not wanting it. I hate disappointing people and seeing them look at me like "that" when I tell them that, no. I don't want to get better. I want to get thin.

still confused.

I'm going to dinner with Trevor and his fraternity tonight. It's this "etiquette dinner" thing they're holding. I wonder if proper etiquette includes purging.

I don't want to go.
I love getting dressed up, but I don't like it in this....'date' situation. I don't know. I'm worried I won't look good enough and being on display in front of a bunch of frat guys.
And Trevor is wanting to get more serious and it's making me want to see him less. Because whether or not I want it, I'm afraid of it.

And I am still in the same mode where I want to lay in my bed and watch Gossip Girl.
My motivation to drink myself into oblivion has gone significantly down, which is probably a good thing. I'm tired of having to piece my night together the next morning over Excedrin and Gatorade.
Sooo that makes it hard to get up and go to this damned dinner tonight...if I just want to go to bed after. (alone.)

I think I'm staying here, though.
I mean...I'm probably doing a few weeks to a month of a residential/inpatient thing in some midwestern state in the time between thanksgiving and christmas. But I'm going to be here next semester....and yes, I'll be doing groups and shit. But I'll be at school.
I'm...happy? about it. I'm extremely nervous. I'm extremely anxious.
I'm worried that school and treatment will cancel each other out. I've made it clear that I value school over other things. I made that clear last year in treatment. I was going to use symptoms if it helped me cope with stress of exams better...and it did, so I did.

And I have a rough semester next semester...don't ask me why I decided to switch from English to Business major. I'm keeping my double in Comm and minor in French..but now I have to do finite math or calc by the end of my first year and I fucking hate numbers. So, HELLO 8am math class!

I don't know about it. I'm confused at how I went from going to residential for 2-4 months to doing a month at the most of something similar and then iop...at school.

And I don't know if that's a wise decision or if I'm just glad I'm getting away with it so I don't miss stuff I'm excited about next semester.

...And...part of my uneasiness of being here has to do with Trevor I think. I can't be platonic with him, but I don't want to hold his hand or him to kiss me in public. And I don't want to go to fancy dinners with him.

slkfjalskfjlkajsflkj I don't know what to wear.

(and i still have to quit work. i'm calling tomorrow. i will not go to the holiday meeting. i will not go to my shift this week. i will quit tomorrow. haskfjalskfjklajsf I DON'T WANT TO.)

I'm not quite sure this has a point.

All I really want to do is lay in my bed and watch Gossip Girl.

1. It's clearly quality trash television.
2. I'm running out of outfit inspiration
3. Chuck Bass is so fucking hot it should be illegal.
4. There's too much on my mind to do anything other than mindlessly indulge in the drama of the Upper East Side.

There are more options being formed which are, in turn, stressing me out to no end.
Final answer now pushed back to...Tuesday. I swear to god, I'm going to fucking graduate before anyone decides what to do with me. I'm not even going into the new things that I'm being told because it involves the formation of many new possibilities, all of which I hate and frankly, it's useless for me to pick apart each one of them...all of them will have pros and cons and all of them will get me in a better place than I am right now. And that place=HELL.
And my lovely brother is causing all kinds of shenanigans, making me feel bad/guilty for not being able to be the good kid anymore that my parents can fall back on. Now they've raised two screw-ups and I could go on for pages about that whole situation and section of my issue.

Sigh. I just want to be here through the week so I don't miss the Harry Potter premiere.

Now, back to Gossip Girl. It's very intense stuff. Dan just LIED to Serena about a girl being over and now she's not asking him to the masked ball and he wants to go and it's awwwwwwkwarrrrrddddd.

Nate is also looking extremely attractive and I wish I had Blair Waldorf's wardrobe. (and bod. shhhh.)

oh, and ps: it's midnight on a friday and i'm sober. first? probably. go me. and insurance sucks. and so do males. and so do eating disorders. aaaaaaandddd...... it smells kind of weird in here. i need to find febreze.

these people suck.

now they're saying residential.
my mom talked to the lady at the hospital who said that i seem to be anti-recovery, therefore a 'relaxed' treatment environment doesn't seem right for me at this point.

and i didn't want to hear that.

i want to flip the switch or go back in time and stop this.
i'm scaring the shit out of myself...i don't understand why i can't stop. because it is...just food. and it's such a simple concept, to eat. to eat and NOT purge.

i don't understand why i did this. if i could understand that...i feel like i'd be set in recovery.
but i don't think i had a reason.

ughhhh fuckkkkkkking shit.

pros and cons.

thank you for the idea.
i'm actually writing it out.

pros and cons are broken down into being healthy and unhealthy and i contradicted my unhealthy thoughts in red. yayyyyy split journaling. 

staying at school/doing the hospital program.
PROS.
healthy (inspired by my 'wise mind')
friends
schoolwork
i like it here
i can do treatment at the hospital

unhealthy (inspired by my eating disorder): 
it's easy to keep having an eating disorder when i can tell my parents via e-mail how i'm doing
yeah. it is. and that's why i'm in this situation in the first place. 

CONS.
healthy (inspired by my 'wise mind'): 
it's easy to keep having an eating disorder when i can tell my parents via e-mail how i'm doing
new therapists don't really work out for me
i hate telling 'my story' over and over and over again
but maybe having new perspectives on it would change how i react?

unhealthy (inspired by my eating disorder): 
i'm ready to pack up and leave the relationships i've established because they're freaking me out.
that's fucking retarded. i can't keep leaving people (even just friends) when i start getting close to them. that's a really great way to end up alone. and no matter how much i say i want that, it's bullshit.

going home
PROS
healthy (inspired by my 'wise mind'): 
support of family
support of friends back home
getting to see people i miss from back home (aka people from ace. i hate everyone from high school.) 
i've already told my story at ace, aka...no starting over
i'm pretty sure it's what i need

unhealthy (inspired by my eating disorder): 
getting to run away from relationships
we've been over this. 

CONS
healthy (inspired by my 'wise mind'): 
i'd have to leave great people behind

unhealthy (inspired by my eating disorder): 
will mean i failed at...
a.recovery 
isn't going back to try recovering again not failing at recovery? isn't it just trying harder? isn't failing at recovery giving up? going back is not the same thing as giving up. b.school  
my teachers are mostly on board with me finishing the semester at home. so i'd get credit for the semester and my credits make me a sophomore anyway... so nothing is wasted. and it's not like i'm dropping out of college completely.
c. work
getting a job was another way to distract myself from recovering. it was a way to not be around food and to be busier so i could be better at having my eating disorder. quitting it is showing more strength than failure.
d. being the kid in the family that doesn't fuck up
meh. this one is hard. recovering doesn't mean fucking up, though. correcting mistakes doesn't mean fucking up. it's not a weakness. taking a break to be healthy isn't the same thing as my brother failing out from getting fucked up on week nights/being too obsessed with his fraternity to bother going to class.
nothing bad has happened after having my ed for this long, so nothing bad will ever happen and i can just keep on going like i have been.
bullshit. if nothing bad had happened, i wouldn't be in this situation. 
people finding out/judging me, hard to tell... (family,friends from here/random people i've come across here (what will they think?), friends from high school)
fuck them. this has nothing to do with them. this is about me and me being able to actually live for once.
i'm overreacting. i'm not even *that* sick.
i'm pretty sure if i wasn't that sick, no one would have suggested me going home in the first place. i don't have to be underweight or visibly falling apart to be sick. my eating disorder is telling me i'm not sick because i'm not skinny but it's not about that in the first place.
it's probably not even going to work. again.
i've grown up a lot. i'm in a different mindset. i understand i need to get better. i can't judge the future like that. yeah, it could go either way. but i can fight like hell for it to go the right way. (aka, getting better and moving on)
it's just going to waste my parents' money. again.
they've said 10 million times it's not a financial burden at this point. they've said 10 million times that spending money on me getting healthy isn't wasting it.


meh?
longest list award goes to
unhealthy cons of going home. 

shortest list award is a 4 way tie between
healthy cons of going home
unhealthy pros of going home
healthy cons of staying at school 
and unhealthy pros of staying at school.

which says a lot.

...

.

i want to be able to control what i feel.
i'll let you know when i figure out how that works.

it's my decision.

and i don't like that.
why won't someone just tell me to go home?
i'd do it if they just told me to do it.
but they're telling me i have to make the decision by myself.
and i can't admit to anyone that i want to just go home.

i don't want them to think i'm giving up.

this is taking way too long to happen.

right now, i want

to eat everything on my food shelf.
to spend all of my dollars and quarters on vending machine snacks.
and to stay bent over the toilet all morning getting it all back up.
and to go to the gym tomorrow and run until i pass out. 

but this isn't that big of a deal. and i can get through it without this deteriorating cycle.
it is 1:39 am. i need to just go to bed. i can sleep this off. it's not that big of a deal. it's not.

i'm bad at relationships and that's ok. maybe it's the wrong time, maybe it's the wrong guy.
maybe lucy's right and it really IS just the idea of him i'm attracted to and not him.

i'm struggling with not using symptoms because i'm hungry.
and it's really late. and i feel like i shouldn't eat at 1:42 am. and i'm worried that if i do, i won't stop.

i can get through the morning without using symptoms, without hurting myself further.
i can. i will.

(but i'm skipping class in the morning)

new plan:
watch friends, go to bed. sleep IN and well, be rested in the morning....then....i'm going to figure my life out.

please please please email me, you stupid dean.

i need answers. gkljasklfjasd grr.

WHY IS NOTHING CONCRETE?
i just want to know the exact time rachel's going to call.
"this evening"....my impression is that 4-6ish is evening and then 6+ is night...and it's 6:34 in atl.
i know i'm over thinking it but that i haven't gotten a call makes me think that she doesn't want to talk to me. and i understand that because any time we talked, it never really went anywhere. i just want/need to have her opinion and her...blessing? that i should be coming home? i usually didn't listen to her...so it's weird that now i need to know if she thinks this is right.
i'm also just anxious.
i have really good intentions about what i need to process with this phone call.
i always have really good intentions going into any session/group...i just can't make myself say it.

i think....it might be different this time.
i don't know why.
i have a more open mind. maybe. right now i do.

i'm still nervous about possibly living at home again.
i'm nervous about what the fuck i'll be doing on weekends/when i'm not at ace.
i'm nervous about stupid shit like thanksgiving and christmas when relatives ask me how school is going and i have to tell them i had to drop out because i'm disgusting and can't get my head out of the toilet.

both sides have long, long lists of pros and cons. and i don't know which one to go with.

1. the fucking dean needs to answer my e-mail.
2. rachel needs to call.
3. i need to tell my mom i lied to her.
4. i need to quit work.

then we can see where we are.
i hate growing up.

the verdict. kind of.

i have been stalling on writing this and dealing with and processing everything that happened on thursday. i mean, yeah...i called my mom and yelled at her, saying that everything the DOCTORS were saying was bullshit and that they didn't know anything. and i cried so hard i couldn't breathe so lucy came over to talk but once she got here i somehow turned it off and pretended i was totally ok. and i have sent many angsty texts and fb chats back and forth with an assortment of people...but i haven't admitted to anyone but myself (or out loud) that this is going to be extremely helpful.

the hospital wants me to do 2 weeks of php and then continue with iop for the rest of the semester. which i don't want to do and i EXPRESSED that. (you're welcome, ryan). so their next idea was for me to go home and back to ACE....asap. which i liked somewhat better. which sounds weird because i don't really want to go home.

but. i don't want to be at school and do php. i wouldn't be in class...but i'd be living here. i don't want to live at school and see all the people in my classes and find a way to explain my 2 week disappearance...just in class. but i'd be here at night and on the weekends...and i don't like the stupid hospital. it's so..medical. and i don't like that they can...at any time...take my heart rate and blood or run any test they want just because they have a feeling something is wrong. or they can just....stick me in a hospital room and make me stay and watch me over night. that's way too much control..

and going back to ACE...I don't know. I go back and forth. I was starting to get comfortable talking there around the time I had to leave. So, that part makes me think that going back would be a good call because I'd be comfortable starting out and then I'd be able to talk more and make more progress. I also think I'm in a better recovery-minded-place right now than I was before I came to school. I mean, I've cursed the people making the decisions based on what's good for me right now, but I WAS the one that went to them despite being uneasy about it. I could have kept lying. I did have some pushing, but I've always had pushing. I accepted it this time and actually went to get help. So, I'm more understanding of needing it. And I can see where not getting it takes me. And when I was at ACE this summer, I was too busy constructing lies so I could get to college to think about recovering. I mean...if I was thinking about recovering, I wouldn't have come to college in the first place. But it's taught me a lot anyway. And then there's the bad parts of going back. Which aren't that bad. I'm just uneasy about the same thing I'm comfortable with--knowing all the therapists...and some of the girls there. I'm sure a lot of new people have cycled in at this point. They all know that this is what I wanted and I convinced them that this was going to be good for me...although I'm beginning to doubt that I fooled many of them. But it's admitting failure and defeat...which is hard. But I think it was a little bit expected...even though that sounds bad.

But I don't know anything for sure yet. Since I convinced my mom that the people trained to make these decisions WEREN'T trained to make these decisions, she is all confused and thinks I can stay here without the hospital program. Which is what I wanted 30 seconds after the appointment. And it's what my eating disorder wants. And it's what I want when I think about what/who I'll be leaving behind...after a really good night of getting shitfaced. But I know, in my 'wise mind' that I need to go home. I know that the people I've met here are really, really great, but if they're great enough they'll still be here when I get back (unless I decide to transfer)...and that I shouldn't only feel the pull here after a night of getting so wasted I actually sing karaoke in front of a bunch of people I don't know, dancing wildly with a tshirt over my dress that kept inching up and showing my ass. That's not the kind of image I want around me. I know that everything I'm doing here (whether it's connected to my eating disorder or not--though I think everything is connected somehow) is unhealthy. Extremely.

I have to schedule a meeting with the dean to see if I can salvage any of my semester at home. If I can do that, I'll pack now. If I could go home and still get credit for my semester, I'm in. I have accepted that I'll have to say goodbye to people...relationships aren't a big deal to me anyway....but I can't accept ditching my schoolwork. I can't accept not getting credit for working my ass off. Then I wouldn't feel like my parents wasted a bunch of money so I could relapse. There would be less guilt.

I'll try and schedule it sometime soon. I hope he has an opening Monday or Tuesday so I can know for sure what my plans are by the end of the week.

It's hard though, because Thanksgiving break is so close, and Christmas comes up riiiight after that. So part of me wants to just push through. I just don't know how good that would be. I can't decide.

I'm talking to Rachel (therapist at ACE) on the phone tomorrow. I can be honest with her (for the first time) and I trust that she knows what to do...even though the people here ARE trained to know what to do...I don't know them and I still feel like they're out to get me. At least I trust her a little bit more. Even if she's still a therapist, which I hate.

I JUST WANT SOMETHING CONCRETE. I want to know the date that I'm leaving or that I'm not at all so this isn't all up in the air, causing me more anxiety than I fucking need.

aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Boys are stupid.
I don't want him to give me butterflies.
I don't want to think about him.
I don't want to wait for his text messages.
I don't want to want him.
I don't want to like him.

My fate is decided in 3.5 hours.
I have never been this anxious in my life.
I'm at a cross between the sound of food making me sick and wanting to eat anything I can get my hands on. Or wanting to run until I collapse. Or wanting to scream, break something, hurt something.
So I'm just going to sleep. Or I might do something stupid.


Please. Please. Please....what? I don't even know what I want to happen.
(because I don't want recovery at all.)


fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkiiiiiinnnnnggggg shittttttttttttttttttt.
i hate having emotions. where the hell did my numbness go? alksfjlaksjfkasjdfoikl

People make me want to die.

"SO! Who wants to accompany me to the bathroom to throw this up after we're done?" -My gay best friend.

Considering the others there were Lucy and Trevor, and they know...they just kind of looked at me for a cue of what to do. I laughed. Awkwardly.

What I wanted to say was that since it's an extremely, not to mention deadly illness that has been robbing me of my life since I was in middle school it's probably one of the most un-funny, and degrading things he has ever, EVER said.

But I made a quick subject change and was a major bitch to him the rest of the night.
He makes those comments literally every time we eat.

I want to go apeshit on him.
I don't understand how people can think that's ok.

Especially when he preaches on acceptance for gays. Because after his snide little comments, he launches into a discussion about how he doesn't understand HOW people can DO that to themselves. (A similar conversation was had in relation to self injury). It's just so STUPID and frankly, he just hates throwing up. Which makes me want to say, OH. I just decided I'm gay now. So I'm gay. But, wait. NEVER MIND. I don't want to be gay anymore because it's just so, incredibly STUPID, and frankly, I can't imagine having sex with a girl. And maybe it's different because I obviously know he's gay and he doesn't know I have an eating disorder. And the two situations ARE extremely different....

But. I'm not going to make excuses for him.
It was wrong.
And I wish I could have said something besides just my awkward laugh.

But there's always next time.

Dante's Inferno

"This way I went, descending from the first
into the second round, that holds less space 
but much more pain--stinging the soul to wailing"

"now here, then there, and up and down, it drives them
with never any hope to comfort them--
hope not of rest but even of suffering less"

"There is no greater pain
than to remember, in our present grief,
past happiness..."

It's just interesting how I can relate Dante walking around the bowels of Hell to my eating disorder. When I'm trying really hard to convince myself I'm not living in Hell right now, that it's completely ok and normal to live like this, but I can relate what I'm going through to Dante's description of Hell.

especially the last two.
'hope not of rest but even of suffering less'
the souls are in purgatory. they're being judged to whether they'll get to go to Heaven, Hell, or stay there. Purgatory is apparently the worst, which is weird to me. I relate it to mediocrity. You didn't do anything good enough to get into Heaven...but you don't suck enough to go to Hell. So no one will remember you for anything. You're left wondering what you could have done, what you could have been.
I'm not going to pretend like when I let myself feel, when I don't numb out, that I'm not hurting. And I'm not really looking to be completely better. I don't need that. I just want it to ease up a little bit. I'm not reaching for the stars here. ...and I'm not worried about it killing me. I'm worried about living like this forever.

and then, 'there is no greater pain than to remember, in our present grief, past happiness...' which is the most true of them all. To live not being able to do just that....to go through every day completely mechanically, and sitting down at the end of the day not really knowing what the fuck i did...it just being a blur...and then thinking of when i WAS happy. whenever the hell that was...maybe in like, elementary school. fuck. it makes me think of the time machine concept. if i could just go back to the time i was ok, the time i was just a liiiiiiitle bit happy...and savor that. and shake myself and tell myself to never let it get to me, to keep being that spunky, self confident, frizzy haired little kid attitude.

i'm doubtful if that made any sense at all. but anyway.
back to dante.

you walk around screaming "screw the world" because that's easier than feeling something

i have officially numbed out.
i don't always get why that's a bad thing.
i know you need to feel,
but god DAMN do feelings screw shit up sometimes.

i don't really care what happens. i don't care if i have to go home.
i don't care if i stay here. i don't care if i do anything about this.

make it stop.

i'm currently trying to think of a way to make all of this stop and go back a week to no one knowing about this that will make my life change.

the good news for my health is that i can't make it stop. i can't 'get out of it'. my mom knows. that's enough to ensure i'll be going somewhere for therapy. fuck my life.

i had another appointment this morning, and i cried. like an idiot. no, i didn't cry yesterday when she told me i should leave school. i didn't cry when she told me i had an appointment tomorrow for the hospital evaluation. i cried when she told me she wouldn't reschedule it to accommodate my work schedule. i told her i can't do 2:30 because i work at 3 and she goes...really? what's more important here?

and i get that. i really DO get that. but. at the same time....i literally started working there 3 weeks ago. and where the conversation ended up, she is already telling me to quit and i haven't even been evaluated yet.

this job was the first thing i've been excited about in a while. granted, most of the excitement came from the hefty discount they give us...but also because that was the plan. i planned to come to lake forest and get a job at j.crew. and for the first time in forever something actually worked out according to a plan i made for MYSELF. (besides anything that has to do with ed shit) and i did that. myself. i'm not a very mature 18 year old, i can tell you that much. my mom still calls and sets up my hair appointments. and as dumb as a part time retail job sounds...it meant a lot that i had that and now i'm losing it. and i really enjoyed it. and also, i don't know how to tell them that although i've worked a grand total of 7 times i have to stop now. because i'm not capable of taking care of myself. and i have to call and tell them i can't work tomorrow because of a 'medical emergency'

but seriously. how hard would it have been to make my appointment earlier in the day? or another day? it's been 3 months, so waiting 2 days isn't going to be as detrimental as everyone is making it out to be.

and if we're looking for irony in the situation, the whole reason i backed out of the iop program here in the first place was because i GOT that job. and people told me that it'd overload me. i've tried that before. it did overload me. and now i'm quitting IT for therapy. awesome.

i hate that i cried in front of her of all people. i never cried in front of lori. and i never cried at ace. and i was comfortable in those places. definitely not comfortable in her office. it's probably one of the most uncomfortable places i've been.

i know i'm being stupid. because the way it's looking i might be leaving school soon...so obviously i won't be able to work in lake forest....but while i'm here...i'd like to. and. yeah. i know that's stupid. and i know i'm being dramatic. because my measly hardly-even-part-time job at a clothing store will hardly mean anything in the grand scheme of things. and i know that i need to have this evaluation. and i know that crying in a therapist's office isn't that big of a deal... i don't know. i just wanted to be stronger.

anyway. i was supposed to call and confirm the appointment/give them insurance info but i started studying my ass off instead so i wouldn't have to think about any of this. and by the time i remembered i had to be responsible, my phone was dead. so i left a message. but at least i'll ace a test for a class i'm probably not going to get any credit for anyway. yay, priorities.

i want it to stop. i want it to stop ruining everything.

it's happening.

Decisions are being made and I don't really know my feelings on it.
The first thing Cindy said to me was...well, I think you know what you need to do.
I DO KNOW WHAT I NEED TO DO. SHE'S RIGHT.
Because if I could have done it here, I would have.
And the worst part is, I lied to her. I lied about the frequency I've been purging lately, and when she blatantly asked how much I'd been eating...I completely made up bullshit to make it sound like more....and she still said..."well, I think you should do a couple of weeks of inpatient and then go home where you don't have to worry about school."
What if she really knew? Would I already be packing?
I was supposed to call my mom and tell her that I'm back in hell completely. I didn't just have a minor setback that I'm going to fix in a month or two.
Well, I called her. But I ended up not saying anything and pretending like I just wanted to catch up.
I have to tell her though.
Cindy wants to conference call with me there tomorrow morning.
I'm going back to her tomorrow morning.
I can't skip it this time. She knows too much. I'm afraid she won't just sit and wait for me to make the right decision this time.
We're setting up an evaluation at an eating disorders center in a local hospital.
Because I was a little bitch and refused to just go home.
But if I'm truthful on all the little tests...and if I don't do stuff to normalize the blood tests and my weight...that's where I'm headed.

I was talking to a friend. And she said I needed this to mature. And she's right. Fucking with the people that are just trying to help me is extremely immature. If I lie, and make it seem like less than it is, I can't really get the help I need. It won't be enough.

Spring semester came up a lot today though. And so did next year. And the rest of this semester.
I'm trying to look big picture, and know I'd be missing out on more if I don't get the help I need and...die or something...than if I miss a semester or two...

Making this decision is extremely hard. Admitting that I failed at this is awful. Admitting that I was wrong about my strength to overcome this is unbearable. And there's the constant struggle in the back of my mind saying....what if it still doesn't work?

And on top of all of this...I have a shit ton of homework that is extremely, extremely hard to do if I think I might be leaving.

i've overused the word scared.

i.am.freaking.out.
i can't focus.
appointment in 2 hours and 43 minutes.
breathe.
slkdfjlkasdjf;ajksldf

i'm so scared.
i'm scared she's going to tell me i have to go home now.
i'm scared she's going to tell me i don't have to go home.
i'm scared i'm going to have to do groups.
but i'm scared she'll say i'm ok, and i don't really need therapy.
i'm scared i'm overreacting. i'm scared i'm insane.

i'm scared to go.
i have a lot i want to say.
but i usually clam up and just stare. and hope she can just read my mind or something.
i don't want to write it down and give it to her. i hate doing that.
i don't want to go.
i just want to flip a switch and be ok.
i don't want to do this anymore.

i'm scared that i'm this scared about going. why am i such a baby?
fjalksdfjlkafdj
2 hours. 40 minutes.

i can't breathe.

home is where the heart is.

I've been all over the place and back and I can't decide what the right answer is or what I even want it to be. Before being forced to see the reality by around 5 or 6 different people made me realize that there at least needs to be a change. I've been in denial for...ever...that I actually needed therapy at all. I'd have random little epiphanies that changed my mind for a couple hours, maybe days if I was lucky...but they never amounted to anything. So I swore off recovery and lied because I thought college would be the ultimate healer. It hurts more than anything to know that I was wrong about that. Because I was so sure that a change of scenery and a change of people would bring on the best new life for me.

I guess a part of me knew that it wasn't going to . But I am trying to not be terrible hard on myself for coming here and realize that I needed to experience and see it to believe that packing up and leaving was going to make it worse overall. But it's also probably what I needed to kick me in the ass. Yeah, I'm in an awful place recovery-wise and emotionally right now, but damn. I have made good friends. I haven't felt loved by people like I do for a long ass time. Georgia got stale. It's fresh here, and I love the atmosphere...my campus is probably the most gorgeous thing ever. Maybe I'm a little bias, but it's really fucking pretty. Anywho. I don't really know what it means to be happy. But I've seen a lot of people that are. And I might be understanding it better. And I've taken a step back from my drama at home, and all my teenage angst in hating my friend for telling my parents, and hating my parents for wanting to help...and being terrified that anyone would find out that I have a problem...and I've matured a lot. I told my mom that I was struggling. I never would have done that before. I told Lucy about everything in a sober conversation when she asked what was wrong instead of blowing off the question. I still have a lot of shit that I need to deal with but I think I might be able to. Maybe.

That's the part where I'm all over the place. I go back and forth like it's my job. I couldn't imagine leaving here just days ago. And somehow, at some point, the switch flipped and it became hell. It's getting back into neutral territory where I couldn't care either way...but damn. Saturday and Sunday were awful and I was going to try and go home this week, or to my aunt's in Missouri just to get away. But it's about 300 dollars. So I decided against that...

All day yesterday I was in the state where I was going to tell Cindy that I needed to leave ASAP. I wanted nothing but to just get the hell out of here and go back home and go inpatient, or ACE or whatever. I didn't care, I just wanted Georgia and the familiarity of it. I don't know if it's right for me to stop college this close to the end of the semester. There's a little less than 2 months and I can go to an ACE-like program around here...I'm sure that's what will be suggested, or possibly enforced so there aren't liability issues if I keel over and die or something. I can finish the semester though and continue therapy over break and THEN see where I am. I can see if I'm stable enough to go back to school, or if I need to take classes somewhere local and do therapy at home. Or no classes at all. I'll have enough credits at the end of the semester to be a sophomore, so I would be able to graduate on time and all of that...which is important to me...

But there's this other strong side of me that feels like I should be punished for doing this and go home....because, after all...that was the deal. Struggling? Residential. Goodbye, Lake Forest.

I just hope the insurance thing doesn't fuck up being here for me after the face. If we have to pay out of pocket, I'm exiled to UGA or somewhere like that. And I would rather struggle here than go to UGA. That's not true. I'd rather just not go to school.

I need a place to go. I need a safe place to belong. I'm scared of going home at all though, even though part of me wants to pack up and leave like...now.

I wish my mind wasn't such a cluster fuck.

mindless wanderings. fuck fuck fuck.

I'm starting to wimp out. bahhh. Cindy, the counseling center lady, e-mailed back. My appointment is Wednesday at 2.

I just have an aversion to therapy. I've tried this. I know I probably didn't try hard enough...but I sometimes feel like I'm not going to get better at all, and it's just how I am...or maybe I'm not even as sick as I think. Maybe I'm overreacting. I know that part probably isn't true, but it's something I've always struggled with...especially since I actually started therapy. The first appointment I had with Lori, there was a clearly anorexic girl in the waiting room. So pale. So frail. It killed me to look at her because of the insane amount of pain I saw in her eyes. I'm not saying I wish I was close to dying of starvation, or that I wish I was THAT thin...but. I don't look sick. It's hard that eating disorder umbrellas people that are at dangerously low weights, normal weights, and dangerously high weights. It can be anyone...and that makes it hard for me. Because I look normal. It's just hard to wrap my mind around the fact that I have a similar illness to someone that is that sick looking. And I know comparing gets me no where. I did that to myself at ACE a lot. I didn't feel like I was supposed to be there because some of the girls were struggling more. People that are terrified to finish their meals...and I generally had a pretty easy time...I'd just purge it after. I don't know. It's stupid. But I hate being treated for something I'm not even sure I have. I understand I have the bulimia/ednos label...whatever the fuck I am these days. But I still don't accept the fact that it's true sometimes. Saying "I have an eating disorder" is hard. Because the general, uneducated public thinks that means someone underweight. Which I'm not.

Weight shouldn't play such a big role in my life. I hate that it does. I bought a scale though, so that was a bad idea, for obvious reasons. I shouldn't be allowed to monitor my own weight or know it at all. The number controls me too much.

I'm not making any sense right now. I'm just really scared. I feel like I'm walking into my very first therapy appointment again. Sitting in the waiting room terrified of what was going to happen....

I can't fuck it up again. Not this time. I went back on my own this time. I wasn't forced. There's no way I can mess it up this time and have a good reason behind it, or have it be ok.

I don't know if I'm ready to be healthy still. And that's what scares me. Because I'm scared I'm not ready. and I'm annoyed that I'm not ready. And I'm going anyway. And maybe that's good. But. Fuck. KLAJSFLKJASLFKJLASKFJLKSJFLKJSALFJSLKDJFLKJASAOIFJKLSADJFLKJSGLJKLSDFJKLSJFKLSJFKLJSLKJFGOIJVKM

fucking fuck. I need to scream.

maybe there's a little fight left in me.

But I don't know for sure. 

I emailed the lady in the counseling center, I'm assuming she'll have me start groups. This means I'll have to tell my mom, who I also just emailed. I don't know if it was coincidence, or if she was tipped off, but in her last email she had this in there: 

Are you doing okay?  I know that you are busy and I am glad that you have such good friends.  I just still worry about you.  I know that you can put up a pretty good front.  You seemed happy while we were there but I felt like I noticed a little pain in your eyes.  Sorry-I can't help it-it's a mom thing.

I was going to lie, but instead I wrote this back: 

I don't want you to freak out or anything, but I am struggling a little bit. I stopped seeing the lady in the counseling center a while back, but I just emailed her to schedule an appointment. She had talked about me going to a local place for groups a while back, and I'm assuming that's what she's going to suggest when I see her. I let myself get too busy and put my guard down too much. I'll let you know what she says. I think the insurance plan covers it, but someone would have to look into that more to know for sure...

So that's that. I'm extremely nervous/anxious about what's going to happen. 

I don't really want to stay here anymore. I want to go home and do this there. 

I just know that putting your all into recovery is literally your all. And it's extremely hard to do school and work on top of it. I had to quit work within a month of starting at ACE. I did horrible for my standards my last semester. Not only because there was a substantial time commitment at ACE, but it's draining emotionally, and it made it hard to annotate books and do math problems while I was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me and why. It boils down to it, for me, with my exam grades. I passed. But that's it. I got straight 4s. Average. I know being average isn't bad, but I like being a little bit above. I don't want to settle for average and have to say, well...really, I would have done better, but I was in recovery. I want to be better and then own the shit out of whatever I'm doing. I realized I needed to do something when I got my English midterm back. B. Really, Kelsey? I have gotten perfect scores on every thing I have turned in/taken for that class so far, and I got a B on my midterm. This wouldn't be bad if I did a mediocre job on all of my assignments. I wasn't there mentally for the midterm. I easily could have gotten an A with a bit of focus. I reread the shit I wrote...god. I don't know if I'm making any sense. I'm just tired of saying/thinking "I could have done better if I didn't have my eating disorder on my mind" 

Leaving feels like giving up though. EVERYONE has their shit. I'm not the only person in the world struggling with something. I don't think I should have to leave school to deal with my shit. I don't want it to be one or the other and it seems like it is. 

But that's that. Everyone knows that needs to know...and I'm still ambivalent and nervous about actually getting better. I'm worried about changing. I'm worried about finding out who I am without this monster. Olivia told me once that it doesn't define me, and I shouldn't let it. I do though, I have. Without it....I'm just an average student with crappy attitude. And I don't want that to be who I am. 

But either way, I just got extremely homesick and I want nothing more than to go home. I have never wanted to be with my parents this much, or to be home this much. I just want the familiarity of my room and my home. I hate that I want that since I tried swearing it off so much so I could go. 

And then there's the Trevor thing. Our relationship went from having mutual friends to being drinking buddies to being friends with benefits to him thinking we're dating and me avoiding him. A while back I posted about talking to him about just staying really good friends, and him hating me for it. Well, then comes homecoming weekend and ten shots of rum within an hour. I got pretty damn sloppy and when I get sloppy I get needy and there was a very horny Trevor. So we hooked up and I woke up next to him. Fast forward over an awkward couple of days to hooking up drunk a couple more times and deciding we could be friends with benefits. Then comes last night when he asks to me Greek Formal and if I wanted to date him. This shit has happened to me before, and this is the point where I cut off contact. That's harder to do when I've gotten this close to my little group of friends...and Trevor is an important part of it. I can't just stop talking to him--I'd have to stop talking to my other friends too and create drama of choosing sides. I just don't do the relationship thing...which is stupid because I'm dramatic to the fact that I've never had a relationship, and the opportunity comes and I flee. Emotional connections and me don't get along. 

I'd walk home if I knew the way.


-----

edit:

now what i did is setting in and i want to take it back. ahh. :\

bye.

i've given up.

cleansing.

The definition of purging, at least in the context of my ancient and medieval lit class, is cleansing.

That makes it sound so much better. I'm just cleansing the nasty, fatty shit out of me.

I need my head to shut the fuck up so I can focus on real things.

pain.

WHY DOES THIS HURT SO BAD?

Emotionally, I'm in knots. I just want to curl up and blare music.
I'm so tired of hurting. I'm tired of every minute of every day being a struggle. I have to force myself to do anything. To lift up the water bottle next to me. To put make up on. To eat.

New week. New scars. Weight lost. Friends lost.
(why am I happy about all of that?)

I fucked up.
Surely this can't be me.
Surely I can't be this pathetic. Is it possible?
Well. Obviously it's possible, but is it possible to really be like this, without influence?

I'm such a wreck. I can't get myself together, and I can't make myself want anything.
I seriously can't handle school this week. Thinking about actually getting up and going to class makes me sick to my stomach. Thinking about being productive and studying for my midterms...and doing well on them...I can't do that. And fucking work. I'm only scheduled 13 hours this week...but somehow it seems unbearable. SO PATHETIC.

I shouldn't stay here, I know I shouldn't. Yet I am meeting with my advisor and setting up my Spring schedule.
I'm looking at summer semester.

Part of me wants to go home and be where I know I'm *safe*. But the other part wants to stay here and let myself deteriorate.

It sounds so terrible, but at the same time, it sounds so peaceful.
I'm ashamed, but I just want to float away. I want to leave everyone and everything behind.
No worries, no struggles.

I'm so damn numb it's like that anyway. I can do anything in the world right now and feel nothing. I could yell at my roommate right now for smacking her gum and not feel a thing. I apparently "broke someone's heart" and I don't feel bad. I know I didn't eat anything red....but I don't feel worried. I am just here. I don't know how I'm here. It feels like there's a body and I'm three steps behind it (kind of like I'm high). It's like I'm watching someone do everything that I'm doing. I'm getting around mechanically. I don't know how I'm functioning. I don't think I am.

I did feel though. I felt elated when I saw the scale. Why is that the only instance in which I can feel something?

"Fuck you."

So, I got a letter in the mail yesterday.
It's from Olivia.

Around this time last year, I wrote her a letter apologizing for how bitchy I was when I found out she told my parents. I was actually, legitimately grateful for her doing that after a couple of months of therapy, and I wanted to tell her thanks, for saving my life. I guess it was easy for me in the beginning. I took on the whole "oh, they know, so I'll just fix it" attitude. So I started eating less and not really purging. I told her I was sorry, and I tried to explain why I was so upset with her...I didn't think it was that complicated, honestly. She thought I had no reason to be mad. But anyway. I thanked her and said it was the best thing anyone had ever done for me and that I was finally going to get better and live again. I knew that most of it was bullshit upon writing it, I guess...because days later I just started everything up again.

She mentioned that in her letter. She said she still reads mine from time to time and through the whole year of my up and downs in therapy...she wondered how much of it was bullshit. And now she said it's completely meaningless. Which I don't think is fair. But she kept going, saying that she's not going to watch me do this anymore. She's not going to say anything to my parents, but she's not going to sit back and pretend it isn't there.

BUT SHE'S IN NEW YORK. So don't fret. Because I am a safe distance away to hide it. There's just two rough weekends that we'll be together and I'll have to pretend a wee bit.

Anyway. It was really nice, don't get me wrong. I'm a little bitter right now, I know it's coming off that way.

But I read it right after lunch yesterday. Put it down. And purged.

I guess I don't give a shit about people anymore?
How could I read all about someone being concerned about me and pleading for me to do better on my own, or get help, and blatantly ignore it and just...purge.

Maybe I did just want to say...fuck you. Which is a really great attitude to have, obviously. I don't get why I have to do that. I don't get why I have to be such a bitch to people that just want to help me.

klsdajflkjasdogijkldslkasjdfjasklvjaisdjgiajdslkfjagjioradjfkvndfogkjhfklsdjfkl

I want nothing more than to isolate in my little hole.
BUT MY HOLE IS IN GEORGIA.

I knew it wouldn't last.

As soon as me and Trevor had the conversation...that one where I established that I really am not attracted to him, and just wanted to be friends...he stopped talking to me about anything of substance.

Normally, if I would have texted him freaking out, he would have been at my dorm in 3 seconds flat to talk about it. But he texted back: :\ shit happens, sorry.

I'M SORRY I BUSTED YOUR FUCKING BALLS. But is that really the only reason you pretended to care? Because you wanted some ass?

I have trust issues anyway. And somehow that motherfucker drew me in and I had an inkling of trust for him. This is exactly why I don't get close to people. Exactly. He only pretended to care because he wanted to fuck. I know not all people are horny assholes...but why does everyone that I come across, that I decide to trust a little bit fuck me over?

Everyone has the ability to change their mind, and leave. So who's to say they won't? Because everyone has so far. So how do I think differently when I haven't seen this firsthand?

I'm going to stop the melodrama and toot my own horn now so I can end on a happy note.

At breakfast, I had chocolate milk. and cereal. Not just fruit and water.
I know it's not balanced nutritionally or anything...but...no. That's why I'm proud. I didn't purge sugary cereal and chocolate milk. And it was pretty good, too.

all over the place.

I was looking at my pictures from my last dance show in May. 

The dance show I wasn't supposed to dance in because my weight dropped quickly. Because I was purging in the double digits almost daily. And I look thin. I do. Not skinny, not emaciated, but I look thin. Then I looked at recent pictures. I obviously gained some weight. I had to in order to avoid inpatient for the summer. And then I had to gain a little more for good measure. And then I gained a little more during my month of normal eating because my metabolism is so fucked, in Rachel terms. (ok, not an exact quote. but that sums up an hour session) 

I WANT TO LOSE WEIGHT SO BAD. 

I'm trying to be realistic. 

I'm trying to tell myself that yes, I gained weight. The NUMBER is up. But in reality, I fit in the same clothes. I fit IN the clothes. Maybe that's the problem. My clothes were loose and I liked them like that in March-May. Now...well, they fit. Fine. Sigh. This is so stupid. 

I find myself wanting to talk to a therapist. Which pisses me off because I never have wanted to go to therapy before. But something about HAVING to keep it all in...not choosing to...is making me go insane. And I am physically and emotionally drained by all of it. 

I told myself the dumbest thing, too. 

"Once I lose x amount of pounds, I'll email Cindy and start the groups"  

WHAT THE FUCK. 

I got my hair cut again. And colored. Which is something I regularly do, to change my appearance quickly. It's something concrete I can do and see...whatever. It's easier than the weight thing. I don't like my hair, so I have someone chop it off. I don't like my ass. But liposuction is too expensive. 

gah. My parents are coming tomorrow. I know what I should do: tell them I need more support (or some support at all...) but that it's not so bad that I need to come home. (lie?) 

And then I can maybe get that support and live better? And get healthy? 

Andddddddd yeah. I want to lose weight still. I am uncomfortable in my skin right now. 

I don't know. I don't like the counseling center. 

I'm all over the place tonight. 

WHY

CAN'T I SNAP OUT OF IT?

akdsjfoaigjsdklfjkalsdjgiasdjfklasf

I freaked out and told Olivia I'm fucking up. 

She freaked out too and said if I don't get help myself, she's going to my parents. 

Like she did the first time. 

And part of me wants to go and work this out. And live in the fantasy land of therapy where all you do is think about yourself and try to fix things. That makes it sound a lot easier than the actual experience is, but I don't mean to belittle it. I just mean that full time therapy vs. real world is completely different. Because if I know anything, going from seeing an average of 8 therapists a week to seeing none, plus the support of 12 or 14 girls going through the same thing to going back to a place where it's all secret...that's when the shit hits the fan. And that's where I fuck up. Of course I can get my life on track while I have 20 people supporting me every single day that know exactly what's going on. But that's going to have to end. And after, what if the same thing happens? 

I don't want to be one of those people that's in and out of treatment centers and hospitals my whole life. Though, I know that option is better than dying from this at a young age. Even though I may feel invincible, and like I'm the only person in the world that can purge everything, or not eat and not have it affect my body and health. 

Roles switched, I'd be on the phone with Olivia's mom right now. 

She said she won't say anything for the moment. 

I can hide it from her if need be. She's in New York. I'm in Illinois. 

I can't decide if this was a mistake or not. 

Any of it. 

pondering.

I'm trying to figure out why I think having skinny legs and a cute butt would make my life so much better.

I HATE PEOPLE.

1. People are untrustworthy. They can leave at any point. Who's to say they won't?
2. They say things to make you feel better when you're one on one, but in a group they don't defend it. They still laugh at stuff they know hurts you, they still joke about it even though they said they 'get it'.
3. They say they'll never tell anyone and then all of a sudden say 'you need to see someone'.

I'm not going to more therapy, you bastard. I told you that the first time we talked about this. I made it clear. I knew I shouldn't have told you. We can't do this anymore if you're going to say and think shit like that. You can't pretend for over a week that you've completely forgotten and then say you want me to go back to therapy.

It's not happening. Therapy doesn't work for me.

And this, kids, is why you shouldn't drink on Thursday nights.
Especially with people that know things they shouldn't.

It's taking everything.

I hate the part of this that keeps me from focusing. I used to love reading. I loved losing myself in literature.I can't focus on it now. I can only focus on..."did I get everything up? Should I go back and try and get more up? If I drink tonight I need to have something in me so I won't make an ass out of myself (again) and puke everywhere"...

I hate that I can't get those thoughts in the box and lock it, close it, and throw it away. I can't get it out of my mind. (maybe I need to talk about it. Process it)

I skipped both my classes today.
I don't do stuff like that. I'm supposed to be the good student.



Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
I NEED TO HIT SOMETHING. I need to hurt. I don't need another scar. I don't. I won't do it. I'm
not leaving the lounge until this feeling passes.

the facade.

Is it really a facade, or am I doing the half smile? Or maybe I'm just having insane mood swings.

It's hard for me to tell what emotion I'm feeling. It's weird. Because I know what they feel like...but I'm so numbed out, I'm not feeling anything. But at the same time, I can completely sink into my own world and feel so overwhelmed I'm paralyzed, or pretend like I'm the happiest damn person on the planet and ride on carts through Target. I'm not trying to say that my eating disorder makes it impossible for me to have a good time....I can have a good time, the only reason I'm questioning if it's a show or not is that as soon as the people I'm having 'such a good time' with leave, I'm back into the paralyzed, overwhelmed state where all I can do is mindlessly look at facebook or pick my split ends. 

I have good friends here though. I've known them for such little time, but I'm kept down because of them. I'm kept sane. I'm still using symptoms in a pretty out of control way, but even though no one (except Trevor) knows, I'm more at ease around them and...I don't know. It's nice to have people sometimes. I can't believe I'm saying that. Well, not to talk to about shit. But to have in case I think I'm going to explode. Or to distract me when they don't even know that's what they're doing. 

Because today was pretty awful. My weight is up. I'm trying to hear Rachel's words and remember that my fattened up state that I left ACE in was healthy in her opinion. In my opinion, it was extremely overweight. I'm fluctuating in that range and going up and down half a pound doesn't mean shit because it has more to do with whether or not I've taken a shit or my hydration level or what not...but a half pound is all it takes to make me spiral down. Which hints that I shouldn't weigh myself if I can't handle it, but I was at the gym and the scale wanted me to step on. On the bright side, I resisted the urge to buy a scale to have in my room at Target. Partially thanks to Lucy who continued to insist that it was a bad idea (and she doesn't even know)...and Trevor who looked at me all concerned. 

Part of me wishes I just got it anyway so I could get a more accurate weight in the morning instead of while I'm working out. 

I don't know. I really really really just have no fucking idea. I feel like I'm on a completely different planet. 

pictures and calendars. and non-sensical thoughts.

There's this slideshow my dad made me for graduation. There are a bunch of categorized songs...we've got your baby pictures, the pictures from my days of dancing, friends, family...and then the last one which is essentially a progression of my life.

It's essentially a progression of my eating disorder.
When I was bigger, I was happier. Before some asshole dance teacher told me to lose weight, at least...I was happy. I knew I was bigger than the other girls, but I had killer self esteem throughout elementary and the beginning of middle school. I thought I was a badass, and anyone who thought differently could just shove it. And I had a lot of friends...I was outgoing and friendly...compared to now. I'm shy, reserved, and stand offish. I would never ever describe myself in a positive light. I can't imagine how I could be. And what kills me the most, is that the head shots I got taken when I was doing acting stuff...they were taken when I started all of this. And I thought they were terrible. They're really not that bad. I wish I could tell my 12 year old self that it's fucking normal to be awkward looking in 7th grade. I'd tell myself that thinking you're beautiful makes you pretty. Confidence is gorgeous. I've been told that a lot by people...as if they think I don't agree. I do agree. But it's not that easy. I can't just wake up tomorrow and be confident with myself. I wish I could, though. I wish it was that quick of a fix. I may have chosen this at first, and I may have wanted it at one point, but I would never do it the same. I may still want it sometimes...but if there was a pill you could take to make it better, or if the time machine was invented...I would not hesitate to change it. So maybe that just makes me lazy.

Unrelated....one of my new favorite things to do is cross off the days on my calendar. It's like "I survived another one." Likewise, erasing a whole month and writing a new one is is just as 'exciting' to me.

Anyway. I'm tired of looking for symbolism in all of my actions...I thought I was going somewhere with that but maybe i'm just delirious and sleep deprived. First day of work: T-minus 4.5 hours.

Goal for tomorrow/today=go to bed at a reasonable hour. a.k.a....before 2am. Maybe midnight.

WOW COULD I BE LESS ELOQUENT.

i have no words. literally.

I can't fully articulate anything that I'm feeling right now. It's a mixture of mehhhhh, dskfjlasdkjflkjaslgkjlkasdjoiasd=fgjskljfdfkjsad, and I NEED TO FUCKING PUNCH SOMETHING. 

I'm skipping my English class on Wednesday to finally start training at J.Crew. I know it's not a good idea, but this is something that I actually want to do, and I'm not used to having that. So fuck English, I never say anything anyway. French test Wednesday, paper due tomorrow....sigh. I forgot about how shitty I am at getting my work done on time. I went to bed at 7:30am this morning. Not to whine and sound like I want sympathy. But...when I was doing better...towards exams and the end of the school year, I could work better. I could focus on relating globalization to translated literature rather than the fact that my arms feel like they're shaking when I type.

I'm such a buzz kill around my friends, too. I can feel it. They're all talking and laughing and I just kind of...sit there. I feel bad that I'm the one that's pulling everyone down because of my issues. I'm the fucked up one...which makes me want to isolate. BUT I CAN'T FUCKING ISOLATE BECAUSE I HAVE THREE FUCKING ROOMMATES. One that is incompetent at cleaning a bathroom. Hair on the shower walls does not equal clean. I just end up cleaning it, and I don't mind...I know I'm controlling like that. But I'm still going to be pissed off because it's all I know how to feel, I think.

Anger? I'm ok with feeling that. Sadness? No.

I'm never hungry but I'm never full. I'm so glad I don't have to check in at meal groups. I don't have a number. And my anxiety? Through the roof. Always. 10,000. Is that an acceptable answer?

Not being able to articulate makes me not want to try and make it better. It makes it hard to know how to.

I NEED TO BREAK OR HURT SOMETHING. or scream. 




fuck it. just. fuck it.

Challenge.

let's go to target. let's get a huge bag of reeses. and pretzel m&ms. and let's go to boomer's for dinner...do you want mozzarella sticks or french fries? you don't need to work out, come to taco bell instead! why are you just eating a salad...and damn you pee a lot. yessss, there's a cookie bar!! why aren't you getting it? Hot dogs for lunch today? Free hamburgers in front of Moore! Now we don't have to pay for dinner! you don't like hamburgers? you had one last night. LATE NIGHT AT FULL MOON! who says you can't have 5 meals a day? it's college.

I can't handle this shit. I can't have mozzarella sticks vs. fries. I can't have pop tarts vs. chocolate chip pancakes. This is too hard. It's too damn hard. I can't go to Taco Bell for "taco sunday" every fucking week. And I can't deal with the 'why aren't you eating' questions. I can't deal with the 'damnnn you pee a lot' comments.

Challenges freaking suck.

faaaaaaat.

I'M SUCH AN ANNOYING GIRL.
I try my hardest to not be that annoying girl that's bringing everyone down and being completely obsessed with her appearance and shit. But I definitely am. We went to Trevor's last night, like usual to drink and smoke and whatever...but I was in the worst mood ever because my eating disorder was not letting me think. I saw myself in the mirror and my legs are so damn fat I can't even begin to explain it. What the hell. It's all I could think about. I didn't drink, I didn't want to. (There's a plus to the ed then...) But I didn't want to do anything. They were playing cards, I didn't participate. They played never have I ever (which I hate anyway)...but I didn't play that either. I was just playing games on my phone and shit. I wanted to leave, and that's the only thing I actually wanted to do. Trevor of course noticed and got all clingy and worried, but I didn't want to tell him what was up. I can't just say "oh, well...I don't want to be around any of you because my thighs are huge." and then they went to a big party and I went back to my room. Again, I couldn't be around people looking like that. And I hate that it controls me like this. I hate that I have to be such a slave to it that I won't even leave my room because I feel like I'm not going to be able to get through the door. I know I need to challenge it so I can get through this week without going insane restricting...
but seeing pictures of my thighs in all their glory didn't really help the cause.

I don't like being like this.

Dear Self,

Get the fuck out of bed. SHOWER. Make yourself look nice for a change and maybe you won't feel like such shit. It worked last year. Dresses make you feel better than sweatpants. So wear one. Go to class and be present. BUY A FUCKING SNACK ON THE WAY. Something safe enough so it won't feel like a bomb in your stomach, but something substantial enough too. Don't go out tonight. It's a week night. Thirsty Thursday is a terrible concept. Don't start this shit too. Just do your homework after class and feel good about getting done early. Go to bed before midnight. Feel better in the morning. Try not to bite anyone's heads off today, it's not their fault you feel like this.

And remember to breathe.

Out of Control

Today has definitely been one of those days I just shouldn't have gotten out of bed. I said that yesterday too, but it has nothing on today. Eating disorder-wise, at least. I'm drained--completely. I almost skipped class today because my stomach was hurting so badly...it could have been so many different things. I don't know which speculation is right...I just hope it doesn't happen again. I'm thinking it was a combination of 3 or 4 different things I shouldn't have been doing.  Basically, I need to be more careful. I'm fucking myself up here. But besides going to class today, I did nothing but sleep. Oh, and eat.

My eating disorder was absolutely raging today. Lately, it's been that I can't eat...the thought makes me nauseous--I've been having trouble even drinking tea. But today, it was a whole different story. I couldn't get enough to eat. I don't even want to think about how many calories I ingested...
I purged it all, of course...so now I feel absolutely terrible. I don't think I could have stuffed more food in me if I tried...and by the amount of purges I had, god damn. I'm insanely weak, both physically and emotionally.

I need someone safe here. Trevor is obviously getting safer, and is helping me a lot...but I still don't trust him. I still don't want to call him and make him come sit with me, even though he keeps telling me to. I couldn't even do that with my friends back home that I'd known for years. I should have gotten some kind of support today though. I knew that I needed it, but I turned to my eating disorder instead. And now, I hate myself for it. Part of me is thinking I should go back to counseling and at least have something...but god, I'd rather die. Then there's the EDA meetings in the city...I just don't have to motivation to drag my ass all the way down there. I know being in a group that understands again would be very helpful...but I don't want to go. There's that part of me that knows I should force myself to go, just once. I don't have to go back. I was always like that with new ACE groups too...starting new ones, even after months of getting acquainted there terrified me. I knew almost all of the girls and therapists there, but I hated being the new kid in the room. I always 'liked' the groups though...as much as one can enjoy therapy, at least. It's just taking the step off the ledge and hoping you land somewhere safe. Part of it is that it's in the city. I'm really terrible at getting cabs, and I would undoubtedly get lost trying to find the building. I know I'm not the only person with an eating disorder at this school...I just wish I could channel someone to go with me, or something. The only way I know to even try to set that up is by talking to a counselor and asking them to bring it up to other people they see...and have them contact me if they are interested. But I don't want to go back to that place, so I won't. The other thing I could do is go to a center for eating disorders here, either through the hospital or a specialized place...also in the city. That's tricky though because it means getting my parents involved.

All I know is that I need more support than I have if I am going to make any progress at all. I felt so out of control today, I felt like it was a year ago again and I was seeing Lori for the first few times, going behind everyone's back and purging out of control, almost passing out everyday. It's a terrible, terrible feeling and it makes it even worse that it has a peculiar aspect of comfort, like sinking into my bed at the end of the day and falling asleep.

So, I'm lost because I don't know what my parents would say. And I know I don't technically have to tell them, and I could go to counseling and EDA...but I don't want therapy to litter college. But my eating disorder is already taking a huge motherfucking dump on it. AGH, AMBIVALENCE. fuck you.

my heart has melted

i came across this youtube video and wanted to share.

http://www.youtube.com/user/MuggleSam#p/c/E04336B3AABD2C77/8/fULtU2NfPQA

adorable.

Ignorant Assholes.

"I could never be anorexic, I like food too much. I'd be bulimic though. It's really the smartest idea ever, because you can eat whatever the hell you want and lose weight."

I'M SO GLAD I HEARD THAT TODAY.

Because too bad you hardly lose weight--and if you do, it's probably because you're dehydrated. And never mind the fact that it can kill you.

I just LOVE the ignorance surrounding eating disorders. Even the anorexia comment--as if people choose it as a diet. Give up carbs? Nah, I'll just give up food altogether. If it was that FUCKING easy, people  wouldn't need to get such intense treatment. If it was about...vanity? Goddamn. I left the library when I heard it. I couldn't sit there for the rest of the conversation.

People suck.

Today was a terrible, terrible day. I should never have gotten out of bed.

Mehhh....this doesn't make any sense. So, beware.

These are the kinds of things I doodle when I'm in English at 10 am about to fall asleep since I stayed up until 5 doing the homework for it. And it's hypocritical, because I want nothing more than to be consumed in its gravity. God, it's so twisted. But anyway, despite my doodles being lies, I'm clearly an exemplary student this year. Which isn't all false. I have made good grades, for the average person...for me, I'm disappointed still. But at the same time I need to realize that I'm in college and it's a completely different ball game...so an A- should be looked at as a great thing and not a shitty grade that's almost a B. Even still, I tried to retake a section of the test to get the minus away but you can't retake with a passing grade. So I need to stop being such a stupid perfectionist with everything and stop micro-managing my life and feeling the need to be completely perfect...lower than 100% or 5/5 or whatever the grading system is and I am upset? No...that's not really how it should be. And I know that. Just like I shouldn't want to be under a hundred pounds just because it sounds like a 'good number' when I'm way too tall for that to be anywhere close to healthy. And I know all of this but it still goes through my head. It's that 'black and white' way of thinking that all the ACE therapists talk about that gets me into trouble. I rationally know that it's pointless to copy written essays 3-5 times to make sure my handwriting is perfect. Having one word crossed out isn't a big deal, having the ink smudge isn't a big deal...It's a fucking waste of time and who gives a shit about it looking nice? It's not even about that. It's selfish of me, too to be frustrated if my English teacher just writes the grade on the paper but doesn't put a nice adjective, like "Fabulous" or "Great"...but if it's "Good"...I'd rather not have the word there. It's so stupid and I'm just rambling.

My mom e-mailed me...which I sometimes really hate because it's like she's too much of a coward to just fucking say it to me, but she hit the damn nail on the head. She said she was worried because I seemed exhausted and irritable and she saw the scar on my hand. Stupid, ugly, purple scar. This would have been the opportune time to figure out what I need to do to get better, but instead I lied and told her something about cutting it on my broken desk drawer, and that I was on my period so that's why I was irritable. I was afraid of what she's say but she e-mailed back within five minutes saying how glad she was that she was wrong. Relief and regret, at the same time. Story of my life.

It's not all bad though. That's just the stuff that's going on in my head, the behind the scenes stuff. My outward life is exactly what I wanted it to be. I've met a good group of friends to spend late nights in the library and go into the city with. I love the people that I've met. I'm visiting my best friend in New York over fall break (only 26 more days--yes, another count down), and she's coming here in November. I got tickets to see Ben Folds with some of my friends, and Olivia will be down here that weekend also so she got her ticket and basically, it's going to be be one of the best nights ever. Wicked is coming to Chicago in January, so I'm going to that and to top it all off, Lady Gaga will be here in February.  I should finally be starting work this weekend, after a terrifying misunderstanding that I thought lost me the job (yeah, I read too much into that one as well, surprise.) Aaaand what else is good? Mostly everything except having the eating disorder. And I don't know what that's all about...

I can guess though. And I'm pretty sure I'm right, I just feel like a petty 18 year old writing it out loud. I've never had a boyfriend...I've gone on very few dates, and I was never asked to prom or homecoming. I never really wanted a relationship because I'm so untrusting, but not having the option is embarrassing. I've had a few slutty nights that clearly have amounted to nothing... Anyway. I feel ugly. To myself, and especially other people. I feel fat...which is a feeling that has little to do with my actual size and more to do with loneliness and overall insecurities about my personality. Fat doesn't even begin to describe the complicated shit behind it. It's a catch-all term. It's about not feeling like I'm good enough and not even being able to trust myself. I want guys to like me and be interested in me, but if they ever show anything that resembles interest, I start being incredibly bitchy and stand offish so they lose whatever smidgen of interest they had very very quickly. And I'm in a new place and I don't want people to think as shittily of me as I do. And I strongly believe (wrongfully too, I know) that losing weight is going to help me. I think that having smaller legs and pointier collar bones will improve my life. I'm incredibly uncomfortable in my skin and I want to crawl out of it more than anything. And I despise being ruled by the number and the size. I'm more intelligent than that. I have way too much knowledge to worry about the size of my jeans. I don't know how to be comfortable with myself. I literally look at pictures of myself comparing my sizes the past two years...which fluctuate, but not an incredible amount. The three pound difference means nothing on the surface but god damn, the scale number going down is better than any high. And it's way more addicting.

weekend from heaven and hell.

After going home, I'm pretty positive that staying would be insanely beneficial.
But while at home, after being blatantly asked how I'm doing with my eating disorder, I said "great."
Which is only half false because I'm doing great with my eating disorder, just not great at fighting it. But I know my dad wasn't making sure I was doing everything my ed voice is saying...wrong context.

The familiarity and smell of my house almost made me cry. Laying in my bed was overwhelming...
Whenever I was in my hole of depression last year, I'd put my headphones on and curl up in a ball in my bed and go into my own little world. I have been longing for that almost since I've been here. I don't think it's a helpful thing to do, but it's a comforting thing to do.

I was supposed to wake up at 5am so I could shower and do my hair and makeup for the wedding and catch my cab at 7am. After a night with an amazing start and end and questionable middle....I decided to stay up from 3-5 so I wouldn't risk sleeping through my alarm, since I was pretty intoxicated. T, L, and I fell asleep talking on the student center couches for a little so I decided it'd be ok to sleep for an hour and went back to my room at 4. I texted T for 30 minutes in which I was wide awake so I deleted my 15 minute warning alarm at 4:45.

At 7:45 my dad called to make sure I was at the airport. I was still sleeping. After crying and freaking out on the phone with my dad, I pressed a wrong button (really, I did) and called T. I noticed like a minute and a half later as I was still packing and screaming at my roommate because I was so panicky and stressed. He got me the number for the cab and they were there within 30 minutes...so it was 8:30 and my flight took off at 10.

Everything had to take longer and I got randomly selected to be extra-security searched with the high-intensity scanner and wand and patting-downage. I got to my gate as they were closing the doors and passed out in my airport seat.

I cried from the time I woke up until the time I fell asleep. I haven't cried that hard, or at all since my car accident in May. Especially not in public. It was mortifying.

But landing in Georgia and driving around my familiar construction-site of a city was perfect. Getting my nails done at my usual place and going to lunch with my mom at my favorite restaurant and getting ready in my bathroom was perfect. I just want to stay there and soak up its familiarity and figure my shit out. I almost cried when I got back to Illinois. I didn't want to be here at all.

So, I haven't done the homework from my 10am and it's 3:26am.
I'm afraid I'm going to crash and burn and get stuck in a terrible place though.

My parents honestly annoyed the shit out of me and I didn't want to be near them. Also scary...that's how I acted in the deepest of my ed, I was terrible to them. I'm trying to tell myself it's because I was hungover and had gotten maybe 6 hours of sleep over two days. But if I was happy enough to be there, that wouldn't have mattered. I could have been nice despite my exhaustion. I was terrible and rude because I'm hiding things and lying.

So how can I be so aware of everything I'm doing to keep going in the opposite direction I should be? I have no intention of trying to do better. And the only reason I can come up with is that I'm fat. Which may be true, but it's a stupid reason.

Stupid Kate Gosselin and her stupid tummy tuck and 7 mile a day runs. Stupid skinny celebrities and their trainers. I want to look like that, even if it's not realistic.

I don't even know what I'm saying, I know I'm being terrible and depressing and annoying as hell...but even though I'm so goddamn whiney I need to write it down. Even though it rarely makes sense at all.