all we need is just a little courage to temper what is locked inside our bones

Yesterday my life flipped upside down. I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I'm not ready to face it.

I stumbled across this band, completely randomly. I clicked on this song. I spent the next few minutes crying silently into my bitter, black coffee.

You know this doesn't stop when you do
It doesn't stop just cause you want it to
Hold on, wait, hold on

All we need is just a little courage to temper what is locked inside our bones
But we gotta drop this burden
Stop the aching in our hands from hanging on
You know this doesn't stop when you do
It doesn't stop just cause you want it to
Hold on, wait, hold on

don't look at me

Sometimes I paint my fingernails.

When I'm done, I feel so accomplished. I put together a cute outfit. I curl my hair. I go grocery shopping. I buy healthy food. Good food. I smile at the cashier. I hand over my card, admiring how put together I look with my nicely manicured nails.

Look at that girl! Did you see how nicely painted her fingernails were? She must have everything figured out. 

The charade ends when the paint starts chipping. My little burst of motivation never carries over into upkeep. It would take me 30 seconds to remove the polish. But I don't. I glance at my hands, and the chipping polish nags at me.

Fix me. Fix me. Fix me. Take care of me. Do something!

I'm really good at ignoring things.

So I do. I ignore it. I stay up way too late, sitting bleary eyed on my computer. I hit the snooze button way too many times. When I finally roll out of bed in the morning, I throw on an outfit I put together from a pile on the floor, ignore my messy hair, and go to work. I don't bother to shower. I skulk through the store. I buy Oreos and Cheetos. I avoid eye contact with everyone. I can't wait until I'm home. Safe inside my house.

Don't look at me. Don't see me. Don't see me for what I really am.

..........................................................

..........................................................


"Are you being healthy?"

The question come from where he sits on the bed, the lamp on the nightstand casting a shadow across his face. His blue eyes are fixed on my half naked form at the end of the bed where I stand in my underwear, searching for my sports bra.

"What?" I play dumb.

"Are you being healthy?" He repeats, his eyes narrowing just slightly. Just enough to tell me that he's not fooled.

"Of course I'm being healthy." I say and my lips curl upwards in that maddening, panicky smile.

"Are you sure?" He sounds desperate suddenly, almost frightened. Like he wants to believe me, but he doesn't.

"Yes." It comes out too emphatically to be believable. I scowl.

"What did you eat today?" He frowns.

I don't even have to lie. I ate like a cow.

"A muffin for breakfast. Leftover spaghetti squash for lunch. And you saw me eat dinner." I rattle it off, frustrated. But not at him.

He stares at me, frowning. I find my sports bra and yank it roughly over my head.

"You're so skinny." He finally says, and he sounds sad.

where have you gone?

I'm not ok.

Well. For a normal, well adjusted person, I suppose I'd be considered ok.

I've been eating. That's what I'm trying to say.

I don't know where my self-control went.

I've been eating around 1,000 calories a day lately. Just typing that number makes me feel panicky. Four digits? What happened? Where is the girl who was eating 400 calories a day? This body abducted her, locked her away. This body took over, started making all the decisions. I disgust myself. Weak. Pathetic. Even my insults are starting to hurt less. I've been hearing them a lot lately.

I can't purge. I've discussed this at length. My intense phobia of throwing up is both a blessing and a curse, I suppose. So instead I've become an exercise-aholic. I meticulously calculate every disgusting calorie I put into my body. And then I work my ass off to burn them all away. I'll exercise late into the night, into the early morning if I have to. I used to hate exercising, but lately, it's been the highlight of my day. I skipped one day a few days ago because I was sick, and I was so anxious about it I was basically pacing around. I couldn't sleep. I was miserable.

I don't know what is happening to me. Who is this person?

I guess the good news is that despite my horrifying intake, I've been working out so much that it hasn't really affected my weight too much. BUT I also haven't been losing weight lately.

This morning I woke up and all my joints hurt. My ankles. My hips. My knees.

Fuck, body, stop being so old.

Summer is coming, despite the snow and the cold. Summer is coming. Swimsuit season.

I've never owned a bikini before. I've always hated my body too much to be that bold. Flaunting all the worst parts of me for the world to see? Are you fucking kidding? All my swimsuits have been very carefully selected. Covering without being frumpy. As flattering as possible. This summer I want to buy a bikini. That's my goal. The end of July I'm going on a camping trip with some friends. I need to hit my goal weight by then. Hear that, body? So stop fucking sabotaging me!

I need to take back control. So today, all I brought to work was gum and Coke Zero.

Control. I will have it again.

today is a good day

Hey!

Guess what?

Today is a good day.

I weighed in this morning at 118.6 lbs again.

My sore throat is much better! I went to bed last night at about 11:30 pm. Only to get up at 1:30 am to take Nyquil because my throat was so swollen I couldn't sleep or swallow. When the Mr. woke up this morning, I'm pretty sure I was feverish, but when I got up, I felt pretty ok. And I've continued to feel better throughout the day.

HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF.

My hip has been fine lately too! I worked out last night and it was totally fine. I don't think the exertion helped my cold, but my hip felt fine! Ha.

I'm excited about this weekend. I'm excited to fucking SLEEP IN tomorrow. I love sleep so much. Just not at night. I'm excited that I went back down to 118.6 lbs again. I'm excited to keep going down. I feel good. I feel like I can breathe, and I'm smiling.

Also, the sun is out!

Like I said. Today is a good day.

of sore throats and clumsiness

I woke up with a sore throat this morning.

And I weighed in at 119.4 lbs.

It's so frustrating. I held onto 118.6 lbs for a long time. I thought I was going to keep going down.

Also on my tale of woes, I fell on some ice a couple weeks ago. In front of my boss and his entire family. So that was fun. I landed hard on my left hip and it hurt like a mother for almost a week. Well, that pain is gone now, but lately my right hip has been pinching sometimes. Like it's pinching a nerve. And most of the time it's just an obnoxious kind of weird ache, but sometimes it's a sharp stabbing thing that makes me gasp. Two nights ago I had to stop my workout because it hurt so badly. Which was really frustrating and panic inducing because I really need to be able to workout. Last night it was fine. I did the treadmill for 70 minutes and it ached a little, but no pinching. I don't know. I can't tell if it's something that will eventually go away on its own? Or if I'm going to make it a lot worse by not doing anything.

I also don't really want to go see my doctor. She hasn't seen me since I was fat, and obviously me losing 23 pounds is something she's going to notice. And part of me wants to wait to see her until I've hit my goal weight. To be really shocking, I guess. But another part of me doesn't want to see her at all.

I swear, sometimes I am so conflicted I don't know how I am ONE person.

Sorry this is so rambly. I'm feeling really anxious today and work has been really stressful. And I should be working right now, but I'm not because I'm so anxious about all the work I'm not doing.

I've started using caloriecount.com to track my calories. It's a little annoying because they don't let you set your goal for under 1200 calories. But at the same time it's kind of nice to see how far away I can stay from that number. I've been staying right around 700-800 for the most part.

I love it when I reach the end of the day and the nutrient bar says "Too Low."

Also, the first day of spring was yesterday. We welcomed "spring" with 6 inches of snow and a temperature of 3 degrees.

Oh well. I guess it just gives me more time to get skinny before shorts and tank tops and swimsuits, right?

118

118.6 lbs.

It's been six years since I last saw that number. Six long years.

I was 20 years old, and I was a bridesmaid in my sister-in-law's January wedding. Two weeks before Christmas break, I relapsed. Because, see, I was going to see my mother in two weeks. I was going to cross the 1,000 mile buffer I had put in between us and she would see me.

And I COULD NOT see my mother while weighing 125 lbs.

I stopped eating again. Panic made it easy. I got down to 118 lbs in two weeks. I was in the wedding. My collarbones and shoulder blades looked stunning in my dress.

My mother asked me if I'd lost weight.

I said yes.

She told me I looked beautiful.

And she meant it, she really did. I can't remember another time where my mother has told me I looked beautiful and really meant it.

i'll be better tomorrow

When I woke up, the sky was spitting out something that's not quite snow, but not quite rain either. It's almost a mist, a miserable cold wet blanket.

I'm so tired of winter. The world is gray and gloomy and I can't remember what sunshine feels like.

I feel removed from everyone and everything. I'm just floating through like a ghost. I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to hang out with my friends. I don't want to do anything.

Let's spell this out, shall we? I need to stay accountable. I need to confess.

I had a plan. And then I fucked it up.

Breakfast: applesauce (100)

Lunch: baby carrots (35) & cherry tomatoes (25) & Yoplait Strawberry Greek Yogurt (100)

A pity party: Starbuck's 16 oz. Caramel Macchiato with skim milk (190)

Fucking things up further: bite-size Butterfinger (33) & bite-size Nestle Crunch (50)

Dinner (out with the Mr.): Panera low fat vegetable soup with pesto (100) & whole grain baguette (180)

Giving up entirely: frozen banana (120) pureed with 2 T. Better n' Peanut Butter (100) and topped with 2 T. Mrs. Richardson's Hot Fudge Sauce (140), Toffee Bits (320), and fat-free whipped cream (20)

TOTAL: 1513 calories

I had a slight panic attack and pushed myself on the treadmill, speed walking at an incline for 70 minutes. I thought I was going to fall off the thing a couple times, but I didn't.

I can't stop indulging. I can't stop binging. I need to STOP eating sugar. Especially chocolate. I've been on my fucking period all week, so that hasn't helped, but I need to quit. It's like an addiction. I went for a long time without it, but then I caved a little, and then I just slid right off the cliff. Fuck.

I'll be better tomorrow. I have to be.

i can't remember what being warm feels like

I am cold all the time.

For a while, it made sense. Everyone else was cold too. I live in the Frozen North, and when the temperatures plummeted to -30° F, it was normal to be cold. In my past fat winters, I've been fine as long as I just wore long sleeves and a warm jacket. This winter I had to pull out my long underwear. I would go to work wearing long underwear under my jeans and under my shirt. Then a sweater over my long sleeved shirt over my long underwear. And a scarf. Sometimes a hat. And I'd still be shivering. Even when I would literally be sitting on the heater.

Now it's starting to "warm up." Which is what we call 20° F. I'm still cold. My co-worker has started complaining about the temperature of the office. Customers who come in have been remarking about how warm it is in here. I'm over at my desk contemplating putting my jacket on because I can't get warm. I've been drinking a shitload of tea just to have something hot in my hands and my stomach.

And now there's been a new development. Lately about 20 minutes after I work out, I'm suddenly freezing cold. Like the kind of cold that comes from inside of you. It's like my bones are made of ice, and no matter how many layers I put on, I can't get warm. My hands in particular get so cold, I swear they should be turning blue.

I did some googling (because I'm a hypochondriac) and found some forums where people talked about that happening due to carb depletion. Basically it means you're not eating enough and your body kind of freaks out.

A slow grin spread across my face.

Carb depletion! 

I'm not eating enough!

Those words were sweeter than the Cadbury eggs I binged on the other day.

I've been irritable lately. I've had trouble focusing. I've been so tired. Today in particular, my brain is just in this thick fog. I'm not getting much work done. I just want to crawl under my desk and close my eyes.

But I weighed in at 119 lbs this morning for the first time in a week or so. And I'm determined not to go up again. I want to go down. These are just minor inconveniences. I can handle being cold. I can handle being tired. I'm only 9 lbs away from my first goal. 9 lbs! I can do this!

the mocha

I spent all morning getting ready and convincing myself that I could get a mocha before work. It would be ok. I could plan for the extra calories and work around it.

So I stopped at the coffeeshop. I was super tired when I ordered, and I didn't realize until she handed me my mocha that I'd forgotten to get it with skim milk and no whip.

I took it. I couldn't bring myself to complain. I mean, it was my fault. I took a sip as I drove and it slid down my throat like a spoonful of butter.

I tried to convince myself it was ok. People drink these all the time (and get fat). It's just one drink (full of fat). It's not that bad (500 fucking calories in one fucking drink? You're serious right now?).

I got to work, and I went straight to the bathroom. I stood at the sink for a while, debating. I'd just spent $4.35 on this damn thing. I should just drink it. I shouldn't waste that money. But really the only numbers I could think about were the calories, and those numbers made me feel sick, panicky. 500+ calories. In my hand.

I poured it down the drain. All of it.

It swirled in a steamy chocolate river in the sink. The whipped cream perched on top of the drain, mocking me. I turned the water on, hot, and watched it melt away.

of pro-ana blogs

Do you ever go online and read what people say about us? I guess I specifically mean "Pro-Ana blogs," which I very much hesitate to label this blog as such.

Anyways, it's kind of fascinating. Rather infuriating. Patronizing, definitely.

It's specifically interesting for me because I had a Pro-Ana blog years ago. On Xanga if that tells you anything. And that was before the public knew about us. Before it became widely known that such a thing even existed. Before tumblr. Before Twitter. Before Pinterest. I'll never forget how several years ago, the Mr. suddenly asked me if I'd ever heard of a Pro-Ana blog. He showed me some article he was reading, written by the Huffington Post I think. I told him, then. That I'd had one. He made me promise never to do it again.

So much for that I guess.

One article I was reading had a section where a psychologist stated that one positive aspect of these Pro-Ana blogs was that it made people with eating disorders feel like they were part of a community. She went on to talk about how eating disorders are extremely alienating, how they draw you away from your friends, from your family. But now, now with the internet, you don't have to feel alone. With Pro-Ana blogs and communities, you can find other people who struggle just like you do.

I guess that's why I came back. Because I can't talk about this. Not in the real world. Not to my family or my friends. Because then I'm that girl. The girl that everyone feels obligated to worry about or check on. The girl that everyone wants to "fix." And then when they realize you're not fixable, then they pull away. They decide that it's too much work, too much drama, too much of a hassle, too emotionally draining. And they're right. It is. None of my family or friends know about this. Only a handful of people know I ever struggled with an eating disorder. I don't want to be that girl.

Which means there's a lot of lies.

"What's your secret?" They ask, and I have to paste a smile on my face so I don't scream.

"I don't eat very many carbs."

"I've become an accidental vegetarian."

"I just started working out!"

"Eating healthier, you know, smaller portions, more veggies."

Lies, lies, lies slipping through my teeth. They're so easy to say now. They're so easy that sometimes I actually believe them. But there is always the tiniest fraction of a second where I wish, I wish I could just say it.

But no one wants to hear the ugly truth.

of plans and goals

Yesterday went really well...until dinner. I caved and had some leftover chili (500). Then I caved further and ate three cookies (675).

Zero calories all day long and then over a thousand all at once.

Sickening.

This morning I took the cookies that were left and I crumbled them up into the toilet. I didn't take a bite, even though I wanted to. I just crumbled them one by one and then flushed them away.

I meant to go to bed early last night so I could get up this morning and work out. Then I could work out again in the evening and get about 1000 calories burned. But I ended up sitting in front of my computer too exhausted to do anything, but too anxious and miserable to go to bed for waaaay too long. So when my alarm went off this morning, my response was quite literally "fuck that."

I am not a morning person.

Today I tried something new with my coffee. I like my plain tea ok, but I don't love it. And this morning I really didn't want plain tea. At all. I was running too late to make coffee, so I stopped at a coffeeshop and got a medium latte with skim milk. No syrup or anything. Just espresso and skim milk. Then I added 1.5 Splenda packets. And it's pretty good. When I get straight up coffee, I have to add half & half. I hate coffee with milk. And thanks to my Grandpa (who taught me how to make a delicious cup of coffee), I end up adding a good amount, plus sugar. So when all is said and done, my coffee is probably around 100-130 calories. Which is frustrating. My latte was 140 calories. And it had a lot less sugar and a lot less fat. I can get a small for exactly 100 calories.

I wish I could drink coffee black. I've tried numerous times, but I just can't do it.

Today's plan:

Latte (100)
Diet Coke (0)
Sugar-free Gum (<5)

And then around 4:00 pm, I have an apple and peanut butter (180). Then I'll try to pull the I-ate-lunch-really-late-so-I'm-not-hungry card to get out of dinner. It's been far too long since I've had a day under 300 calories. That's my goal for today.

Goals! Plans! I am in control. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

living on tea, diet coke, and sugar-free gum

Today's eating plan:

Tea (0)
Diet Coke (0)
Sugarless Gum (<5)

I weighed in at 121 lbs this morning, and that was the motivation I needed to get my act together. I'm not sure if I'll be able to get out of dinner, but I'll tackle that when I get to it.

For now, I'm feeling better just knowing that I have a plan.

i am not a bulimic

I tried to make myself throw up yesterday.

I sat in front of the toilet, shaking. I put one finger in my mouth, testing the waters. How far in could I go before I gagged? I closed my eyes. I told myself to just do it. I pushed my finger in further. Gagged. Ripped my finger out. Nothing. 

I tried for ten minutes straight. 

I couldn't. I couldn't do it. 

I finally gave up. Sat on my bathroom floor and furiously fought back tears. 

Dear Self, just stop eating. Then we won't be in this situation. Love, Me.

of addiction

Hello again.

It's been a while.

To be honest, I've been so bad lately I couldn't bear facing the cold hard facts. I've been so weak lately. No control. My eating has been all over the place. It's been so frustrating.

I watched the movie Flight with some friends over the weekend. It was just alright in my humble opinion, but it will stick with me for a long time. Not because of the acting or the directing or even the story really, but because of one single scene.

The main character is an alcoholic and he's looking at this mini fridge full of alcohol. For a while, he just looks. He's just looking. Then he pulls out a little bottle of vodka and unscrews it, no nonsense, like he's going to drink it. He lifts it up, smells it, and then he stops again. He sits there for a few more seconds. Then he abruptly screws the lid back on and places it firmly on the counter. The clock ticks by for about five seconds, and then he loses all self-control.

I have done that exact same dance in front of the fridge with food so many times.

I'm hungry. I'm not going to eat. I'm not going to eat. Maybe I'll just open the fridge. I'm not going to eat, I'm just looking. That chicken looks good, but I'm not going to eat it. Maybe I'll just pick it up and open the container. Maybe I'll just eat some. I'll just eat a little. Just a piece. I'll just eat one piece. It smells really good. One piece is ok. It's just one. I'll just put this piece in my mouth. Just this one piece...

No. No. I'm NOT going to eat. I'm not. Put it back. Put it down. Close the door, walk away. Good. That's good...

Wait, what are you doing? You haven't even left the kitchen yet and you're already turning around? No! Stop it. Close the fridge. Close it. Do NOT put that piece of chicken in your mouth. I'm serious! Don't do it! Don't...

You are so fucking weak. 

No, you know what? Fuck it. Grab another piece. In fact, what else looks good? Cereal? Bread? Peanut butter? Tomatoes? Apples? Leftover pasta? Crackers? Sure, why not? Go ahead, eat all of that shit. If we're fucking doing this, let's fucking do it you worthless piece of shit.

I still haven't purged. I came close the last couple days, but I just couldn't do it. Throwing up gives me just as much anxiety as eating. Which makes things rather complicated. Well, it makes them simple. I just need to not eat. That's just been a rather difficult rule to follow lately.

Here's some good news.

I finally bought new jeans this weekend. And found out that I am now 4 pants sizes smaller than I used to be!

That felt damn good.

For the first time in a long time, I had fun shopping this weekend. It was one of those shopping excursions where everything you try on looks awesome and fits perfectly. And my sister was with me and she kept telling me that I looked really good and skinny. And I believed her. I felt really good and skinny.