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.

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

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. 

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.

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.

Letters to No One.

Dear Creepy Guy At the Dance, 

Thanks so much for feeling me up and shoving your tongue down my throat. I wasn't that drunk, and it's really nice that you've helped me lose what little trust I had for humanity. 

Dear T, 

Thanks for being such a good friend, and for offering to hit CGATD. (Please don't though) And for helping me get a cab after I slept through the first one. And Thanks for continuing to text me as I had a constant panic attack in the cab and the airport. And while I was in Georgia to make sure everything was going ok. And thanks for offering to be there for me, even if I don't believe you. 

Dear K, 

Your wedding was beautiful and so were you. Sorry for tripping when I was supposed to go speak. You know how graceful I am, especially in my stupid heels. I hope your married life is amazing. I love you. 

Dear Mom and Dad, 

Thanks for having faith in me and believing that I'm telling you the truth. It makes it easier to lie when we keep it simple like this. 

Dear Struggling Friends, 

It breaks my heart to hear/read about hard times you're going through, but I know how strong you all are. You're all so much better than this monster and I wish you could all see your beauty and fabulous characters. I hope everything looks up and I know what I've just said is the shittiest thing to say, because it doesn't help. But words are pretty meaningless in the grand scheme of things anyway. I wish I had better advice, but clearly I don't really know how to handle it either. <3 kafsjldjlas;fjka I'm sorry this had to happen to any of you. None of you deserve it. 

Dear Georgia, 

Thanks for being so fucking memorable of my life before college. It makes me hate you but at the same time I want to crawl in my bed forever. 

Dear Chicago, 

Thanks for helping me forget. 

Dear Eating Disorder, 

I hope you're enjoying your stay. If there's anything I can do to make it more hospitable, BY ALL MEANS let me know. Also, fuck you. Please stop controlling me. But please stay, I'm raw and vulnerable without you here. 

love, 

me. 

Babble.

I'm having an insanely hard time writing out what I'm feeling. Or saying it. Or letting myself feel it. I told T way too much and I want to push away but he keeps pulling back and I think I like that he's doing that. I think I like the support, which scares the shit out of me.

I lost weight. It's not an unhealthy amount but I did it unhealthily. I lost weight because I'm hardly eating. It's so easy. I'm only afraid that this happened because of how it made me feel. I used my friend's scale. I don't have one. I want one, I went to Walgreens to buy one but they don't have them. I planned a trip to Target to get one in my head. I'm trying to fight myself on it because I'll become a slave to the number again. Yeah, it's the only thing on my mind. Yeah, it's consuming me and I'm calculating the time it'll take to reach my goal. And I'm pissed off at the side of me that's saying it's unhealthy that I lost weight from new (expensive) symptoms. I don't have the fucking money to spend on helping my eating disorder. I'm in college, I can hardly pay for toothpaste. I know that, but I tell myself once I get my job a certain amount can go towards this. NO. I will not hit rock bottom again.

I don't want to go down further, but I don't want to go up either. I like where I am. It's the perfect amount of symptoms to help me cope, but it's not enough to force me into isolation and hatred of anyone who speaks to me.

I absolutely can not wait to go home. I'm so excited to see K even though I had a huge rant about how much she'd hurt me. And I'll hardly see her, I know...because she's going to be pretty busy getting married. But I got new shoes and a new dress and I'm conceited enough to be solely excited to wear them. (I just wish my hand didn't scar like it did. It's so ugly. Lesson learned, though. again.)

I wish I could articulate this better. I don't know. I just...don't.

Trust Me.

This is going to be long and non-sensical, just a warning.

I keep getting weird fortunes in my fortune cookies. The first time, they had my favorite ice cream in the cafeteria, and I wasn't letting myself have any. They also had chinese food, so I wanted to see my fortune. It said "It would be good to treat yourself to dessert". Last night, a group of us went out to Chinese and mine said "It would be good to tell someone what's on your mind." I thought about calling a friend because the more I thought on it, I wanted to talk to someone. I was just afraid. I just brushed it off and continued about the night.

T was all worried and didn't want me to drink again. Same with C (My roommate). Well. As college would have it, we did. But someone ended up having weed so we smoked instead. I hate that it calms me down so much because I hate the idea of drugs doing that. If I hate it so much, I shouldn't do it. But it felt really nice to be so chill after how anxious I've been lately. (That makes me sound like a stoner. I'm not, I swear). We hung out and talked, and then T and I went outside and had a cigarette again, just like Friday night. We sat there for a while and he just said "what are you thinking?" ...like it was that easy to just...say that I was thinking about how fat I am and how I'll never be good enough for anybody and that I don't even want to get better anymore, I just want to lose weight and disintegrate. And I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't know who this person is that drinks and smokes and reads sparknotes and doesn't really care about schoolwork. I don't know who the hell I am. I know why I'm like this though, and it's because I think so shit-ily about myself. It's because I'm so engrossed in my eating disorder. It has control over me and I love it. It feels like an old, warm sweater. You know that it's the most hideous sweater and it's been sitting on the floor all year but once you put it back on, it's warm and comforting and you never want to take it off. I don't have to think. I just let it take control. But at the same time, I think overtime. I think about everything but what I should be thinking about. If I was normal, I'd be able to pick up the damn Odyssey and read it and write my essay. But I can't focus on any of the words. It doesn't make sense. If I was normal, I would be able to make a lot of friends and enjoy what's supposed to be "the best years of my life". Everyone said that about high school too, but I'm pretty sure there was nothing worse than that.  I didn't go into my deepest thoughts with T. I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't tell him about the inner workings of my mind. That's too fucked up. I'd never lay that on somebody just because they asked what I'm thinking. I just told him 'my story'. The short version. The whole...I've been making myself throw up since I was 12. Off and on until it got really bad my junior year and my parents found out. I've been in treatment all year and now I'm here. It's harder. Because I'm alone. And then he said the two words that I hate more than anything. "Trust me." I don't trust.  


Other people always let you down. You've just gotta be alone so you won't get hurt. That's how I think of it. You can't control other people. They do what they want. Who's to say that someone will stay true to what they promise? You have to trust that they will but how can anyone do that? How can you be so sure they're not going to hurt you? In my experience, people say: I'm here for you. Call me if you ever, ever need it. I'm not going to judge you. In the few times I've done this, people don't have time. They don't answer, and then they don't call back. They don't want to deal with all of my baggage. I didn't ask them to, they told me to tell them. I trusted that they were telling me the truth. People just want to help you to make themselves feel good. It feels good if you help someone in a moment of crisis, but what happens when I'm always in a moment of crisis? When you could literally call me every hour and I'd have a different worry? When I'm in crisis every time I walk into the cafeteria? That's a lot of phone calls. That's a lot of advice. And people don't get it. "So, why can't you eat the dessert? I'm eating it." "Because it's going to make me fat. It's going to make me explode" "Are you serious? It's good. Just fucking eat it. You're not fat. Get over yourself. Or don't eat it...it doesn't really matter." Maybe that's true. But that's not what support is. It always starts off well, too. They answer every time, they check up on you. Then two weeks later when you're still struggling they're like..."you're not over this yet?" Especially when the person has known you for all 6 years you've been struggling. "Why is this still an issue? You're not 12 years old in dance class. You're a big girl. You know better. I thought that was just a phase."

So how does T expect me to trust him? I've known him for 2.fucking.weeks. I trusted him enough with a lot of this information. Yeah, I wasn't sober but last night at least, I was in a good enough state to tell him I didn't want to talk. But it felt good to talk. I don't know if I'll do it again though. He knows the stuff on the surface, the easy stuff.

When we were sitting there, I just got to wondering...is it worth it? Is anything? What the hell is the point of life? Everyone dies. Everyone works hard to get somewhere but we just die. You're going to die, that's the reality. I know these thoughts are dangerous. They lead to 'if i'm going to die anyway, why not now'. I'm not in that place. But I am wondering what the point of recovery is. Maybe this is how I'm destined to die. Maybe I'm not supposed to get over this. Why should I try so hard to get better when I'm going to die anyway? When I don't mind this. This life, these disordered habits...they make me who I am. They make me psychotic and sensitive and hateful. I don't connect well, but that's because I don't want to. I chose this. And is it really so bad? Plenty of people out there are on diets. Plenty of people out there are just like I am but aren't in treatment. I'm used to living like this. This is how I've grown up, basically...one-third of my life has been littered with these thoughts. Everyone's different, so maybe it's just how I am.

What a Mess.

I shouldn't be here. At college.

Yesterday was both the best and worst day I've had since I've been here.

The worst if I'm being honest. But, I went to class and then went into the city with my roommate, C. I'm going home next weekend for literally 24 hours so I can be at a wedding that I don't want to be at. A wedding for a sister figure in my life that is no longer a sister figure. She was a person that was there for me for everything throughout my childhood. Up until high school, pretty much. I could call her crying and she'd come over. (They lived across the street...not hard to do) She would take me to the mall or to lunch and make me feel special. I was best friends with her younger sister. I don't think we were ever really friends. I think it was always forced. When you meet someone at age 2, you don't have a personality. You can't not like another 2 year old. We were always together. Until we realized that we didn't really mesh, I guess. Around sophomore year it got pretty shitty. We spend holidays together, with their family...but I'm better friends with her older sisters. K is the one getting married, M is a couple years younger. CH is the one my age. I don't know. I just don't want to be at the wedding. I don't want to spend time with people that mean so much and so little to me at the same time. They all hurt me. I'm excited to be home for a little bit though. I wish it was for longer, and for a different reason. I wish I could see some of the people from ACE for a little bit that are helping me even though I'm far away and not at ACE anymore. But I'm getting home at 2pm on Saturday. The wedding is that same night. I'm leaving at 10am on Sunday. This long thing was to say, I went to the city to get a dress for the wedding. I'm speaking at it...reading something after the vows. I have to look nice... but we'll see about that. I was almost in tears in the dressing room because I looked so big. I hate that I can be so affected by how I see myself. I kept saying to C that I looked terrible in all of the dresses, etc. etc. and she kept saying I didn't. I know I don't "see myself" correctly...I don't really get how that works. How I can look one way and see a huge monster in the mirror.

I purged everything I ate yesterday. I never even waited in between to consolidate the amount of times. I was in a terrible place emotionally once I got back to school after the city. I should have put a movie on and gone to bed. But I went to T's suite and took way too many shots of Captain Morgan. I know how to drink responsibly, I do it often. But to be responsible, I can't be drinking when I'm not thinking straight sober. I can't be drinking when I have purged everything that day. But I did. I drank too much to drink when I am thinking straight. T and his friends kept saying that I was a badass, to take 2 double shots in a row. Somewhere before all of the liquor settled in, I went outside with T for a cigarette. He asked me how I got the cut on my hand and the scars on my wrist. (Cat. It's always a cat.) No. I didn't have inhibitions. "Scissors and a razor blade" He hugged me for a long time. He asked me why I'd ever do that to myself and I told him I'm fucked up in the head. He told me to keep going and I told him about the eating disorder. He just continued to hug me and tell me he was always there for me. Once I realized what I had just done, I flipped my shit and told him it wasn't true, etc. He just said that it was okay and that he's glad I told him. He was drunk too. I hope he doesn't remember. But considering that I remember after having more than him...that's probably not very likely. Some time went by and I got extremely sick. I was laying on the futon and they just kept holding cups up to my face so I could puke in them. It went on for two hours or so until T finally let me close my eyes. C said that he stayed up watching me sleep to make sure I was ok. I apologized this morning and he just brushed it off saying "it happens, we're in college" but I should have been more responsible than that. I'm not as mad that I drank too much and got sick, because T's right. That DOES happen. I'm mad that I drank knowing I had no food in me, knowing that I had a lot of shit on my mind I needed to forget. I'm mad that T apparently cares about me.

I've known him for 2 weeks.

People don't do shit like that. Normal people point you toward the bathroom and laugh at you. T sits in front of the futon putting cups up to my mouth and keeping me awake. He kept checking to make sure there wasn't blood...because then he said he was taking me to the hospital. I'm surprised there wasn't blood...the way my throat feels. He's a nice guy. Okay, that's good. But why would he give a shit about me? Me. I could go into a long spiel about how I don't accept that people can care about me, but I'll skip the melodrama and say that I don't want to leave my dorm or face T again. I want to go to Georgia and lay in my huge, comfortable bed forever.

unfocused.

I'm posting on this entirely too often, but it's been a rough day. I'm using this as a replacement to my journal which I used in excess as well--this is SO much easier...to type than to write.

Anyway, shortly after my last post, I e-mailed CM and told her I wasn't going to talk to my parents and I'm not going to do the groups. I told her I was going to wait a few weeks and see if as I get more accustomed to being here it gets easier and also see what my work schedule is like. I know I'm doing this to distract myself from my eating disorder, and as L commented...I know the right answer. It's like I'm in class and I'm too shy to raise my hand. I know I can do it, I'm just so damn ambivalent.

The day didn't end well. I went absolutely insane with symptoms...but I didn't go to frisbee or work out and aggravate my heart even more, so there is one recovery-oriented thing I've done today.

I can't focus on my homework. Due to anxiety? That's what RR diagnosed it as when I was having trouble in high school. My lit teacher, Mr. T gave me really awesome strategies to help too (I broke down in class one day and ended up telling him everything. His wife is a therapist for eating disorder patients, and he does a lot to understand.) I'm not using any strategies for schoolwork or for myself. I need to force myself to do it until it gets easier and I will start tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a good day. I will not use symptoms and I will do my homework in a gentle, well-paced manner so I don't flip my shit and get overwhelmed. How do normal people do it? How do normal people sit in the library all day and just focus on one thing? How do they go to the cafeteria and eat a normal meal and still have focus and control over their life? My friend, T pointed out something interesting. I have had an anxiety-related eye twitch for a huge chunk of high school that went away for the most part with my old meds but still shows itself sometimes. It's like I'm winking, and T and I had an awkward moment because he thought I was winking at him. He jokes around about it a lot--I don't really mind, but tonight after dinner he goes..."Why do you only twitch when you eat?" Now, how the hell did I not notice that?

I think I'm more capable than I give myself credit for. I had a whole month purge-free this summer...which is amazing considering towards the end of the school year, I was days away from being put in inpatient for the summer. When I put my mind to it, I can fight my ED voice. I think I just freaked out because of the weight gain. Which was ridiculous considering I was eating normally...well normally for a person on the cusp of recovery...I wasn't eating enough to gain the weight that I did. RR told me that I needed to let my metabolism regulate. It took too long, but I can't purge forever. I can go through the discomfort and gain some extra padding for the Chicago winters and let my metabolism regulate. It just doesn't seem like I should have to gain weight in recovery when I'm at the higher end of a normal weight anyway.

Sometimes, I just want to take a knife and slice my fat off.

Ambivalence

I'm having trouble wanting this. I know I need to fight, but I don't have it in me. I just read a friend from therapy's blog and it really hit close to home. I'm thinking really shitty things about recovery. I'm convincing myself that I'm not THAT sick, no one even knows about my eating disorder at this school except the lady in the counseling center I blabbed to (CM). And the lady in the wellness center that does my physical exams/monitors my weight (K) (what a fucker). My friend, S even makes comments to me about what I'm eating at lunch. "You just worked out? Why are you eating pasta then, that's probably 800 calories...you'll need to go the the gym again...and a cookie? Really?" My first instinct was to say "Oh, don't worry, S, I'm throwing this up right after I finish anyway" but I just said fuck you and scarfed it down. It made me more proud to purge that knowing that he thought I was actually ingesting those calories. But I also felt the need to tell him that I'm not that weak to succumb to pasta. And I wish I could have told him off in a way that didn't expose my eating disorder...I could have told him that his comment was extremely hurtful, unnecessary, and inappropriate. But I cursed at him and laughed. My roommate says he was joking. But it still bothers me. And my roommate hardly eats anything...and I'm worried about it. I don't know if I'm hyper-sensitve to people's eating habits or something, but I know for sure that a salad for dinner (no protein on it) isn't nearly enough. But there are plenty of normal people out there that eat lightly and wouldn't have a problem eating more heavily...but actually weren't hungry. I don't get that.

School stress is starting again. How can I get 5/5 on all of my English papers and still feel like I failed at it?

I'm supposed to go to ultimate frisbee practice today and my old therapist, RR's words are going through my head: "if you purged, you have to wait 24 hours for physical activity." It's not like it's a lot of physical activity, but we run laps and I know that half of a lap will go by and my heart rate will be at 188.

I feel so whiney. I'm just tired of this.