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This is spectacular.

Saw K today and reassured she doesn't hate me. In response to her comment, there was nothing she could have done and yes I let MYSELF down. Always failing myself each time I crawl back to the damn anorexia.

Not much to say because I'm tired after a day's shopping with my other friend S and now I just want to sit down and chill. Ooooh and I'm following the chiropractors advice and have swapped some of my diet coke for water with freshly squeezed oragnic lemon. Drank about 1.5 litres of the stuff today, it just doesn't have the hit that coke does ;)

I feel terrible about eating. I can't seem to get it off my mind. I feel like I had this major binge and I can't be trusted around food. Never mind that there are cookies in the kitchen that I'm not eating. Ignore the fact that there is cheese in the fridge, my one true passion food-wise, and I'm not eating that. I'm being "good". But it doesn't matter. I already failed. And with the way Larry grades, it's impossible to bring my grade up. Once I fail, that's it. I've failed for the entire day.

Each day starts a new test. It doesn't have letter grades. It's pass or fail. Today was a fail. Yesterday was a pass. Tomorrow? I don't know yet. I can only hope it's a pass. I don't want to listen to Larry berate me again tomorrow night.

But how do I pass? It seems like the only thing that makes Larry happy these days is fasting completely. If I have 200 calories, that's a fail. If I have 100, still fail. 10? Yup, fail.

Why? Why does Larry feel that any caloric amount is too great? Doesn't Larry realize I start work on Monday and I can't do a good job if I'm fasting completely? Doesn't he know that I can only fast for so long before my body shuts down and Larry no longer has anyone to yell at?

Larry, listen man, I love you, you know I do. And really, I like having you around. You're good company. But I really wish you'd lighten up just a little. I can live on 100 calories. But I need something, my dear. Please don't make me feel like a terrible person for eating one meal that I immediately purge. I know we have the same goal....or do we?

Do you really love me, Larry? Are you really trying to help me? Or are you the serial killer they accuse you of being? Are you really planning my slow demise? Please, Larry, tell me that's not true. Lie to me, Larry. Tell me the things I want to hear. Hold me in your arms and whisper those sweet lies of hope. Let me cling to my delusions one more night. Love me, Larry.

"I'm Still Here"
by Johnny Rzeznik

I am a question to the world,
Not an answer to be heard.
All a moment that's held in your arms.
And what do you think you'd ever say?
I won't listen anyway…
You don't know me,
And I’ll never be what you want me to be.

And what do you think you'd understand?
I'm a boy, no, I'm a man..
You can take me and throw me away.
And how can you learn what's never shown?
Yeah, you stand here on your own.
They don't know me 'cause I'm not here.

And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can the world want me to change,
They’re the ones that stay the same.
The don’t know me,
'Cause I’m not here.

And you see the things they never see
All you wanted, I could be
Now you know me, and I'm not afraid
And I wanna tell you who I am
Can you help me be a man?
They can't break me
As long as I know who I am

And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can the world want me to change,
They’re the ones that stay the same.
They can’t see me,
But I’m still here.

They can’t tell me who to be,
‘Cause I’m not what they see.
And the world is still sleepin’,
While I keep on dreamin’ for me.
And their words are just whispers
And lies that I’ll never believe.

And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can they say I never change
They’re the ones that stay the same.
I’m the one now,
‘Cause I’m still here.

Mmm, wow. What an emotional day.

Do you ever get tired of fighting the same old crap? Crap in your head, crap with your family, just crap in general?

I sit here in the dark sipping a mug of green tea with lemon. I'm trying to calm my stomach. I just purged. My head feels great, my nerves have calmed some, but my stomach's annoyed. My little 4 year old niece is lying on my bed to the left. Man, I love that kid. I don't know how a heart can contain so much love. I love her brother and sister too. And I know you're not supposed to have favorites....but.....she is my little angel.

This morning started, right after I woke up, with a disagreement with my mom. About my second older sister. The one with the 3 kids. Our disagreements are always about her. So anyway, that left me pretty upset for a while.

I try so hard not to be upset with my sister. I try not to be bitter. But we've been dealing with this stuff for the last 7 and a half years (when my nephew was born) and it all just builds up. I feel like I can't take anymore. I'm not strong enough. (No, I'm not suicidal) I just don't feel like I have the physical or emotional strength to cope anymore.

So I sit here, listening to Goo Goo Dolls on deezer.com. I love John Rzeznik's voice. I ought to buy an album when I get some money I can spend. If that ever happens.

I sit here and reflect. There are so many things I want to say to my sister. But I know I never will. And I hold my tongue like a good girl. I play the part I was given. And darn it all if I don't play it perfectly!

It all breaks my heart because I love her so much. How can you love someone so deeply but be so angry with them? And why can't I just get past it?

Sometimes I don't know where I'd be without music. What a dismal world it would be if we had mo music. The beauty of it astounds me on a daily basis.

Eh, I don't really know where I was going with this post. I ate today. I had a quesadilla around 7:00pm that I purged. I had a couple pieces of cheese around 10:00pm that I also purged.

I got to play cribbage with my dad today. He skunked me once and I won twice, so we ended even. It was really nice to do something with my dad.

Well...this post doesn't really seem to have a point, so I'm going to end it now.

Resumo

O presente trabalho, com base numa revisão da bibliografia existente e num estudo explorativo de quatro pacientes anorécticas, pondera a existência da função ómega (δ) proposta por Williams na etiologia da Anorexia Nervosa, assim como a sua contribuição para a prevalência de dois sistemas de defesas distintos ("Sem Entrada" e "Poroso") ao nível dos seus subtipos restritivo e purgativo. Considerando que o processo em causa se trata da falha de uma função relacional ou não de uma função paralela ou equivalente, é proposta a denominação disfunção ómega (δ).

Palavras chave: Anorexia Nervosa, Disfunção Ómega

Abstract

The present study, gathering basis on the revision of the existing bibliography and in an explorative study of four anorectic patients, aimed to analyse the existence of the omega function (δ) proposed by Williams in the aetiology of this illness, namely, its contribute to the prevalence of two distinct defensive systems (“No entry” and “Porous”) within Anorexia Nervosa subtypes: Restrictive and Purgative. Gathering in mind that the referred process is a failure in a relation function rather than an equivalent or parallel function, we propose the denomination omega dysfunction (δ).

Key words: Anorexia Nervosa, Omega Dysfunction.

Catarina Santos

Psicóloga Clínica

Psicoterapeuta Psicanalítica

The background is that my father sexually abused me and my older sister. That leaves a lifetime of scars. I don't have statistics before me but I know in the past that I've read that something like 80% of people who were sexually abused have eating disorders.

For me, it was a bit of a different style. I wouldn't starve myself, but I would binge, but never throw up. I was missing that second half of the bulimic equation. Mostly, from such an unbalanced diet, I would get diarrhea and purge that way. Anorexics and bulimics might take Ex-lax or stick their fingers down their throats to vomit. Mine was more natural. I tried the throwing up thing once and couldn't do it.

No one ever binges on lettuce or carrots. It's sweets and carbohydrates; junk food and fatty foods. I was put on a diet by the doctor when I was about 12 (my eating disorder began around the same time). I remember nothing of what I was supposed to eat, except sneaking down to the freezer in the basement and pilfering cookies. When I was in my late teens/early twenties, I would buy candies from various stores. Like an alcoholic, I would try to not hit the same store twice in case they started to recognize and judge me. I never had any change in my purse because I used every spare cent for sugary crap.

Once I was going off to dance class. (I was living with my boyfriend but I hid my sweet secret from him too.) I had a bag of smarties (or something similar). I threw it in the dumpster when I left for the class but when I came home, I dug it out, ashamed but unable to stop myself. No one knew I had this eating disorder. It was a dark secret, a terrible stigma. When I moved to Vancouver it continued, in my home, when alone. I ate normally in front of people.

I tried diets several times. But my pattern of not eating much and then binging on a full bag of cookies, a box of chocolates, a carton of ice cream, continued. Diets worked to a degree, until one year. I tried Weight Watchers and gained in the first week. I hated myself. I weighted 175 lbs, more than I'd ever weighed, I was single but all my friends weren't, and I'd fallen in love (accidentally) with a man who couldn't love me. I nearly became an alcoholic, recognizing that abyss only when I was hanging over it by a thread.

Finally desperate enough, I went to my doctor and said, "Some of my friends think I have an eating disorder." She said, "Which friends?" I said, "Well, me." Then she asked if I'd been sexually abused and I burst out crying, while at the same time I sat there and watched myself cry, feeling odd and disassociated with my reaction. She sent me to a psychiatrist who specialized in eating disorders. He asked me if I'd been sexually abused and I had the same disassociated reaction. At the end of that first session he said my eating disorder had nothing to do with being sexually abused. ??WTF? Then he put me on various meds like Prozac and Fenfluramine, and then Fluvoxamine when the first didn't work. He promised that I would lose weight. I never did.

The counselling of course was nil and I'd go to his evening sessions with all the skinny anorexic models and me. At least I hadn't known someone who died from their disorder, like they did. One thing I had never felt when eating was full. That mechanism had malfunctioned and I would only feel full when I'd binged so I never stopped eating soon enough. The medications, which made me somewhat zombie like to my friends, did not aid in losing weight, but did in fact seem to bring in that mechanism of feeling full. A year later, frustrated with the lack of progress with this doctor and with the unending pills, I just quit both. What I found was that I could now eat and feel full. Something had changed.

A year or so later my doctor asked me how I was doing, did I still binge? And I said, yes I did. She asked me what I considered a binge and I said eating two or more chocolate bars in a day. She told me everyone does that once in a while. What I then realized was that it had never mattered how much I ate but how I felt when I ate: I hated myself for having no control and I was out of control.

I sometimes still get that feeling and it scares me when it happens. I unfortunately still have a sweet tooth, but I eat way healthier. and don't have to eat all of something. If I'm depressed I tend toward hiding under chocolate. I have to watch that. I might have suffered less and had fewer sensitivities to foods now had someone given me the right help early enough, had my father not scarred my psyche, had I not been ashamed.

I was talking once with friends and the subject of comfort foods came up. I couldn't name one, because for me, there had never been comfort in foord. Just trauma, guilt and self-hatred. These days, I can take comfort in a few foods, like Lipton's chicken noodle soup, but I never feel I can let my vigilance down because that eating disorder is still just around a corner.

this blog began on blogger as an eating disorder blog only.  a place where i could make public my weight loss goals to help me stay accountable.  it was only recently that i began writing fiction at all, and it was a personal thing to do, again the reason that i posted it publicly was to keep myself accountable.  it was just that instead of being accountable for a weight loss goal i was holding myself accountable to write a very short story once a day.

since this is a public medium i find myself less and less comfortable combining the two sorts of writing.  i suppose i want a certain reaction to my fiction (ideally i'd like you to be awed by my genius) and a completely different reaction to my personal struggles (i suppose i want you to feel sorry for me, poor thing).

my discomfort comes when i imagine someone who likes my creative writing when they first visit the blog then reads about my eating disorder and feels sorry for me.  i hate that idea, it makes me feel embarassed and ashamed of my eating disorder.

so, i'm considering splitting the blog in half.  i guess in the interests of honesty i'd leave all the eating disorder stuff on this blog but have all new posts be creative writing and perhaps create a new blog to talk about my eating disorder and personal struggles.

i haven't decided yet, but i thought i'd put it out there and ask what my readers think.  should i keep the blog as it is, or split it up?  people would still be able to find both blogs if they clicked my profile, but my writing would no longer be a mishmash, instead i'd have things fitting neatly into their boxes without all the messy spill over.

The ED is running amok at the moment and I feel like a puppet on a string. I just want to close down and shut everyone and everything out but I can't. If I do that I've given in and I may as well admit defeat. I won't do that...I won't quit!

This is what EDs really look like...deceit, shame and always running away. Throwing up in toilets here there and everywhere, panicking over every morsel you eat. I can't keep doing this, I'm not strong enough yet every day I pick myself up dust myself off and keep of going.  It's horrible...don't ever go down this road if you can help it.

Sophie cannot finish her dinner
She says she’s eaten enough
Sophie’s trying to make herself thinner
Says she’s eating too much
And her brother says, "You’re joking,"
And her mother’s heart is broken
Sophie has a hard time coping
And, besides, Sophie’s hoping

She can be like all the other girls
Be just like all the other girls
Living in an ordinary world
Just to fit in, in the ordinary world
Just to fit in like an ordinary girl.
from "Sophie"
by Eleanor McEvoy

You should feel privileged. I don't usually share this song with people. As in, I never do. Now, it's pretty well known in the ED world, but it's kind of like my "dirty little secret". I don't know what it is about this song, but sharing it makes me feel kind of vulnerable.

Today's been a hard food day. I haven't eaten today. It's 10:00pm, I don't plan to eat tonight. I haven't even had any gum today because I couldn't handle the 2 calories in a piece of gum. I have, however, consumed a gallon of kool-aid made with splenda and half a gallon of water from my gallon jug.

I don't understand why some days are so hard food-wise. Not that it bothers me, really. I'm down a couple pounds and hoping to lose some more before I start work on Monday. It's interesting, but things that are just ordinary for normal people always become weight loss deadlines for me. Holidays, my birthday, a new job, getting to see friends you haven't seen in a while, pretty much anything can be one. And that's on top of the standard Sunday deadlines.

And speaking of weight loss, scales. I have a beautiful, sleek, glass top scale. My scale has all the bells and whistles. I think it's appropriate to say that I love my scale. I am indeed very fond of it. Interestingly enough, I'm never displeased with my scale for telling me things I don't want to hear. I get upset with the little digital number. It's like it's a separate entity apart from the scale. Crazy, eh?

Still concerning scales, I noticed today that the number of times I weigh myself has dramatically decreased. A year ago, I weighed 9-12 times a day. Yeah, I'm a little obsessive. Now, I weigh every morning, every night, and once in the middle of the day. Now, granted, my 9 was actually like 27 and my current 3 is actually about 9 because I weigh about 3 times each time I weigh, just to be sure.

So yeah, I haven't weighed yet tonight. I hope it tells me nice things to go to sleep to :)

But that's only part of the problem today.

I just got home, got off the bus. I had called my mom to come pick me up, but she never god damn showed up, so i had to wait 2hrs for the next bus outta town.. Got home, and she asked me why i had to go there, and i told her for tests and stuff, and she started asking like all sorts of STUPID questions, stuff she would know if she would have supported me in the first place..She asked why i had to get hostpitalized also, and i told her cause of dizzyness..She was like WHY WHY WHY do yo get dizzy? ..By now she was screaming..why she was screaming, i'll never fucken know.. I didin't know what to tell her.. I mean FUCK.. i HATE talking about my eating disorder..It's an embarassing thing.. So i didin't say anything. She started saying on how i make her feel worthless, and that my dad treats me like crap but i kiss up to him and she's always there and i treat her like crap.. SO not true.. man, if you'd know the story behind me and my dad, you'd SHOOT her for saying that!!! Then, she started crying and saying that she was gonna kill herself and blah blah.. fuck man, i really can't take this.. i mean, i WANT to be there for her, but i can't, i can hardly function half the time... It's not fair.. i'm so fucken depressed today..

FUCK HOME.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I like people, I like talking to people. But I have to make the decisions about recovery for myself or it’ll never work. Plus, don’t you have anything to talk about besides what you eat and how you burn those calories? I do that too, but I talk about other stuff too. It’d be nice to hear something else from you.

Anyway, all that was leading into this conversation. First, I enjoyed it because, although a good deal of it was about eating disorders, it was not whining, tips, or suggestions. It was actual conversation. The other reason I enjoyed it was because it was nice to find someone who had the same thoughts on recovery. That’s something I have yet to find before. Usually, with the ED world, people are either gung ho for recovery or they want nothing to do with it. Not that middle ground, what if it’s all futile? kind of thing.

Not Me: this is cool

Me: lol. hi
Not Me: I need one of these
Me: nifty, isn't it?
Not Me: as you can tell....me=old, yeah they are handy
Me: haha, whatever. old is 80. i know you're not 80
Not Me: nah, 44
Me: that's about what i figured. 44 isn't old. i hate to destroy your illusions
Not Me: haha
Not Me: dont feel old so thanks
Me: hey, anytime
Not Me: already had the song on...I needed motivation
Me: *searches for ipod*
Not Me: and more diet coke, a kick in the pants to get goin, yeah, my taste in music = young
Me: um...diet coke = ew
Me: and yay for young music!
Not Me: really you hate diet coke? My friend got me on it over 20 years ago
Me: i'm so sad. my favorite diet soda, i can't find anymore
Me: and no, i don't like coke or pepsi
Not Me: what was it
Me: diet dr pepper berries & cream
Not Me: ahhhh has to be berries and cream
Not Me: my son says diet dr pepper is awesome
Me: it's actually one of the better ones, i think
Not Me: tastes like the real stuff, he also will drink diet Dew (yuck)
Me: i like a&w diet cream soda the best now that i can't find the berries and cream
Not Me: I like diet vanilla coke=cant find
Not Me: I used to call it a snack in a can
Me: yeah. pretty much if it's yummy and 0 cals, it's impossible to find
Not Me: darn them! lol
Me: all the other ed people took them first
Me: we just need to be faster
Not Me: now THAT is funny
Not Me: you ever notice them?
Not Me: the others when out?
Me: i do
Not Me: as an adult, I can and I find myself odd...cool you do
Me: it think it's impossible to not, for me
Not Me: My hairdresser for one
Me: haha
Not Me: she can fix hair when it gets bad...she can relate; but of course never mentions "why"
Not Me: *a person* is in recovery as well
Me: that's cool
Me: hearing about people in recovery makes me happy
Me: i respect people who can stick with recovery
Me: i'm honestly not sure it's something i want at the moment
Not Me: It's not about food, yeah, I agree sticking with it
Not Me: LIke right now that is what Im struggling with
Me: i think recovery is an interesting concept. i admit, in my two years of talking to eating disordered people online, i have never met anyone who "recovered".
Not Me: exactly
Me: that scares me in 2 ways.
Me: 1st, it scares me that i might be like this forever
Me: 2nd, it makes me feel like recovery is pointless because it's easier on me emotionally to just live with my ed and if i can't recover anyway, why waste my time and money?
Not Me: you just read my mind
Not Me: emotionally easier
Me: i don't usually tell people that though. i can just imagine the comments/looks i'd get
Not Me: Well I'm gonna come out and say it , I am ...cause that is where Im at, ya know?
Me: i'm so much calmer and, actually, happier when i'm not trying to recover. it may be a false-happy, i don't know, but i still feel happier
Me: well, if i had my own place, i think i'd be a lot more open about it
Not Me: I wonder if that is what *a person* meant when she said Eat to live.
Me: could be
Not Me: Own place...see, that is my problem, when my last kid moved out, things got bad around here
Not Me: I dont HAVE to cook
Me: yeah, precisely
Not Me: or buy food...I am a grocery shopping idiot
Me: however, i'm in a completely different situation
Me: i'm young-ish and i live with my parents so everyone feels they have a say in my life
Not Me: they dont get it
Me: (they also feel like i'm mooching off them, so i try to keep my head down so as not to stir up trouble)
Not Me: Oh that feeling never goes away...
Not Me: haha
Me: wonderful
Not Me: I think parents always make us feel like children, I still feel like a bother, I know the keep the head down routine well
Me: but yeah, last year i had my own place in another state. it was really nice to be able to eat (or not?) when i wanted without people noticing or caring or commenting
Me: well, like i said in my blog, when people are around, you're on your best behavior. you're perfect for that moment
Not Me: It is...my kids show up and the first thing they do out of habit is open the fridge *cringe*'
Me: haha
Not Me: yeah, perfect for that moment
Me: isn't that a great concept?
Me: if i could figure out how to be perfect for all my moments....
Not Me: wonderful...not
Me: when i had my own place, my fridge always looked like i had no money
Not Me: then I dunno, I think we may pull off perfect too well sometimes
Me: this is probably true
Not Me: My boyfriend offered me money LOL LOL!
Me: haha, wow
Me: oh, that reminds me
Not Me: he said...wow...you sure have a lot of cheese
Me: one time, my friend came over and i don't know if she looked in the fridge or not, but she said, "you know, if you ever need money for food, just let us know"
Me: yes, cheese!
Me: i would live off cheese alone
Me: actually...come to think of it, i have
Not Me: I am laughing SO HARD
Not Me: Cheese is life
Me: good :D
Not Me: I love the new (er) string cheese that you can put on a cracker cause it is not round and has probiotics in it
Not Me: activa or something (colby/jack)
Me: i was thinking once, i should make a resolution to laugh every 10 minutes. like a good hearty laugh. because i think it'd make me feel better. and it'd throw people off, which would probably make me laugh again
Me: oh, yeah
Me: i haven't tried it
Me: i don't start work until monday and i'm not about to ask my parents to buy food for me
Not Me: That is what we say *a place*...people should have a good, cant breathe, tears rolling laugh/day
Me: i agree!
Me: i wonder if i could get my phone's alarm to go off every so often to remind me to laugh
Not Me: a laugh reminder
Me: hey, could you imagine, your out doing something and this person's alarm goes off and they just start laughing hysterically?
Not Me: and people would think you are laughin at them
Not Me: too funny
Me: maybe i am laughing at them...
Not Me: muhahahaha
Me: lol
Not Me: I have to get to the shower
Not Me: TTYL and thanks
Me: enjoy
Me: thanks for the caht
Me: or chat, even

March 06, 2008

"She's gonna be just
like you-she's so picky
already.....it's so hard
to find things she likes...she
must not like the texture of
most things, she spits it out
on her plate"
(and gives people a very defiant stare
after doing so)

She has brown eyes like me.
I know that dark stare.

They all say, "oh you're just like
your aunt"

She just turned two.  She has a new baby brother.
She started spitting stuff out not too long
before he arrived.
When he came home is when she abruptly
cut out food groups.

I went on...talking about visiting with her during her lunch one day in front of the family. I told them I would feed her, that I bet I could get her to eat.  It was going to be fun, and it was going to be no big deal.

I talked to her, and offered her one of everything
on her plate. It was stuff she liked. She would take a bite.
Just look at me while I made over her, not "her eating"
or "being a good girl" for eating. Just talking to her, paying attention.
She took a bite, I took a bite.
She was so distracted, she didn't notice the ham. (hidden in the cheese)
She didn't eat alone.
She was not sitting in her booster chair at the table all alone,
while they cleaned up and
talked to her from across the room.

It wasn't a battleground. There were no
defiant stares. It was a simple lunch.
She didn't finish it. So what? She was full.
All done.
No..."good girl" for eating.
No fucking rewards are necessary for lunch.
No "You're going to sit there until you at
least take one bite of *whatever it is*"
Eating should not be some anxiety ridden, "Will I be in trouble deal."
It's lunch for fucksake!

I'll be damned if she ever sits there all alone, last one at the table, crying because she can't get down; because she is being punished for being "bad" for not eating.

Later.......She was bringing the baby his pacifier that we'd rinsed off.
My sister said, "You're the best helper in the world, you're such a good big sister"
I said:
"No.
She does not have to be the best helper.
The best big sister. The best lunch eater.
The best anything."

They got a dose of me that afternoon.
I still don't think they get it.
WTF I gotta do? Hold up a sign!?
I hope they at least saw my way worked at the table; now if only people would quit telling her she is a good girlfor taking a bite of food.

My sister agreed with the part about not having to be the best.
How "everybody" says that, when a new baby comes
home...without thinking a thing of it.
As if telling a toddler that being the "best whatever" makes them feel
included, special. No. It makes them feel they have to be the best to get attention.
I hope she remembers that.
I hope she corrects anyone else who feeds her that "best helper/big sister" bullshit

Yeah-when I typed that, a lot of old ghosts came back. I'm not big on emotions or crying; and by the time I finished typing that, I was crying.

"I wasn't abused and I did have a happy childhood; but why did that just hurt so much?    What hurts? "

Two weeks ago, I was with my other niece, she is 8.  She was on me like glue when I showed up at her brother's game. I realized game-watching was not happenin' for me. She_was_bored. She wanted to hang with me.

"Want to go get some ice cream?" I asked.

"Yeah, but lets walk there"

"It's clear across town, we might not make it back before the game is over" I said.

"I need the exercise, I don't want to be fat.  I never want to be fat"

Where did that come from?

Anyhow, i've got an appointement at the hoistpital today around noon, i'm about to leave in a bit, but, this appointement is -really- stressing me right out. Cause i've been doing really bad lately, binging and purging and restricting every single day.. I'm not supposed to, not with my contract anyways.

Well, i'm gonna go catch my bus into town, will update later.

Love,

A.

'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars
And live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
We'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat
And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
In the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger's
Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny
With her bleach blond hair
from "Rockstar"
by Nickelback

Ok, despite the questionable lyrics, I love this song. But that's not why I posted it. I posted it for one specific line. You've probably noticed it and are thinking of it right now. That's right, "We'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat". I've been a fan of the song for a bit, but the other day my brother played it for me. I always find it humorous when someone plays a song for someone who has an ed and it has a line like that.

So today was fun! Last night I went to bed sometime around 5:00am. So I guess I should have said, this morning i went to bed....but anyway! Then I had to get up at 9:00am because I live in my parents' living room and they were trying to use it. I spent the morning playing video games then jumped on the computer for a couple hours. This afternoon I spent a few hours cleaning the bathroom (I'm very, very thorough), took a shower, etc.

I didn't eat until around 8:00pm. Then I ate about 2 cups of spaghetti and 2 cookies, then immediately purged. Around 10:00pm, I was really wanting to eat, so I took some more spaghetti to the bathroom and chewed and spit. That's the extent of my food today.

An interesting note, while playing video games, I was drinking diet soda. Suddenly, I felt very full and began to panic. I thought, "I need to purge!". Then I was like, wait! I didn't eat anything. I almost purged the diet soda anyway just because feeling full was scaring me.

This child is lovely and real in all ways -- graceful, talented, vibrant, brilliant to the point of eccentricity, genuine, free-minded, remarkably bold... and remarkably wounded. Her proud stance and vehement need for justice as she intercedes for others is the outgrowth of the justice and love she fears to seek for herself. All of that strength. All of that courage. All of that righteous defiance for what is good, and right, and needed. The grit she musters to be the mantle for others could teach many of us many great lessons in standing for a thing until we grow deep roots.

And then there is the part of her which few of us would guess: frightened while strong, deflated while courageous, weak while standing in righteous defiance. Appearing to be strong hides the needed safety from exposing fresh wounds. Putting on the garb of courageousness offers temporary escape from personal powerlessness. There is hope for righteousness itself in her larger worldview, even though the view in her world right now lacks justice.

Her suit of armor sometimes leads to right action, wrong method. Rages against the family dynamics used to fill her conversations. Now, she's finding her voice, the strong one, the one that can put words on the truer pain beneath the rage. And not only that, she's taking on the struggle of teaching her emotions to let rationality share a place in her world. That rationality allows her to grow into the person she's beginning to believe she can be. She's looking at her wounds and curling up on the couch, allowing herself to receive the love of a few, and risking the strange and awkward first steps to claiming herself.

postado por Flávia Albuquerque - Psicanalista - (21) 9792-8326 / flavia@pontolacaniano.com.br

Superman,
That's what you want me to be.
To be your everything.
I only wish you could see.

If I could fly,
From all the pain and the fear,
Tell me why,
Why would I be standing here?
from "Superman"
by Luna Halo

I love this song, it's so pretty. It makes me think of all the people I've known who want others to fix their problems for them. If I could fix you, don't you think I could fix me? However, if you just need a friend, that's another matter altogether.

On a a different note, I was once again reading someone else's blog and they were talking about a memory of something that happened when they were young. A food-related incident. I got me thinking, when I told my family about my eating disorder back in January (which I still regret), I'm sure they felt blind sighted. My mom is the only one who had wondered. (Likely because she said she frequently heard me purging. I'm a lot quieter now *big grin*)

I'm very good at being secretive. I always have been. I learned that young. I can't remember a time I didn't keep secrets. Maybe when I was a toddler, but I remember being 5 and having secrets and being afraid to tell anyone about myself.

A lot of this stemmed from run ins with social workers and my fear of being taken away from my family. I was afraid that if I said or did the wrong thing, they'd think my parents were bad parents and my family would be split up and we'd all be put in foster care. A little background about my family. No, my parents weren't bad parents. The situation was they've never had a lot of money. Often, we lived in motels in the winter and went camping in the summer. Camping was much more inexpensive and we all loved it. And apparently, camping is fine for families that have a house too. But not for families that don't. The state considered my family homeless (I never did, but I was just a kid enjoying myself) and they didn't think living in a tent was an appropriate situation for young kids. I don't really understand the logic, myself.

During the winter, as I said, we lived in motels. Usually one or two room motels. Now, up until I was 11, I had 5 siblings (that's 6 kids total, in case you don't like math). When I was 11, my youngest brother was born. So we had between 6 and 7 kids plus 2 adults, so 8-9 people in one to two rooms. The state didn't like that either. It didn't help that our neighbors would call child protective services because of how many kids we had living in that little space.

So I learned, when others are around, you're on your best behavior and you watch everything you say. The other reason I have always been secretive is because I was sexually abused as a young child and that was something else I couldn't tell people. (Wow, that's the first time I've shared that...) So all my life has been a collection of secrets and pretending to be perfect no matter what.

I started self-harming when I was about 7. It started with things like punching my legs and it evolved over the years to conclude with cutting and burning. That's something I've been working to stop for about a year and a half now. I started dieting around 8 or 9. It was never anything consistent at first. It'd be for a few days or a week and then I'd stop. Somehow, I "knew" I shouldn't tell anyone about that either.

How did it start? Well, I'd always been a chubby child. My older sister was 2.5 years older but always thinner than me. My whole childhood, she was referred to as "Skinny Minny", so where did that leave me? When we were kids, she and I always got the same Christmas presents and we did nearly everything together. But she was better than I because my parents like the way she looked better. She was skinny.

Honestly, I think this put a lot of pressure on her as well. When I was around 11, she started dieting with me. She was 13 at the time. Anyway, when I was...I don't even know, about 6 or 7, I was in the bathroom playing (we only had 2 rooms) and my mom came in. She told me I looked pregnant. That comment stuck with me. Then, when I was 11, we started going to a new church. The 5th and 6th graders went to Pizza Hut after church one day. I didn't eat. I remember thinking that if they saw me eat, they'd know why I was so fat. I spent the afternoon drawing on napkins to try to impress people.

It's been pretty much the same my whole life. Not eating in public. Feeling (and being) fat. Now, I was homeschooled from kindergarten through 12th grade, so I didn't have to eat in a cafeteria. But when I was 19, I attended a special program at a local alternative high school that would result in me getting a diploma from a real high school and getting to take a lot of interesting classes. However, this is when things started to get worse. I started cutting out carbs. I'd take a piece of turkey wrapped in lettuce for lunch. I started drinking lots of water.

When I started college the next year, I was excited that I now had access to a gym and a long distraction from food. I did as much as I could to take up my time. I rode the bus, which took up plenty, then I'd exercise before classes. Go to class, go to work in the Administration office, got to my office as the honor society president and work on honors projects for the school. I got to experience so many fun things in college. However, one of them wasn't food. My parents were going through tough times financially so I felt guilty if I ate their food. My school's student life office gave out free popcorn. So each day, after work, I'd grab a bag and eat that while I worked on honors stuff and home work. Then I'd go home and sleep. On the weekends I didn't eat.

It caught up to me in my second year. I got sick and didn't have the stamina or strength to fight it off. I ended up missing weeks of classes and eventually had to withdraw. Two months shy of completing my sophomore year. I spent the summer recuperating and switched to a school out of state for the fall. I lived in the dorms, an experience I wouldn't trade for the world. However, eating was still not my strong point. We had a gym on my floor and the girls and I would go there to study. Sometimes for hours. It was the first place I hit in the morning and the last at night (well, other than the shower).

I rarely went in the cafeteria during meal times. Sometimes, I'd be with friends and they'd decide to go to grab something to eat and I'd remember I forgot this or that or had to study for some test or whatever. Toward the end of the year, a couple of the girls on my floor started noticing. They started bringing me food from the cafeteria. Talk about awkward!

Anyway, at the end of classes, I decided I missed my family too much and moved back home. That's when my eating got critical. I started fasting more. Sometimes for a couple weeks at a time. I never let myself eat more than 500 calories. My family was really starting to notice me losing weight, but they all thought I was trying to be healthy. They told me they were proud of me. My sisters said they were jealous. This only fueled my ED thoughts. Best of all was when my dad told me he was proud. He'd never told me that before. If it took loosing weight to make him proud, that's what I'd do.

Last June, I went to work at a summer camp. I admit, I took the job mostly because I knew I'd be able to lose a lot over the summer, but it was one of the best experiences I've ever had. I did lose a lot. But I also came across a problem. I had to eat every meal with dozens of other people. Now, I had purged occasionally since I was about 15, but I was never very good at it and I preferred (and still do) restricting. But now I couldn't do that as easily. Especially since, as part of our staff training, everyone was told how to spot signs of an eating disorder. I had to eat. So I figured out a way of purging that worked for me. So I've been purging pretty constantly since last July. (I started purging on my birthday, by the way. How sad is that?)

So that's pretty much the history of my eating disorder. That turned out a lot longer and a lot more detailed than I had originally intended.

And looking back, maybe this wasn't on a different note. I don't seem to be able to fix myself, do I?

Someone gave me that quote ages ago and I lost the piece of paper it was on. Bits of it have floated around in my head so tonight I googled it and yay I found it :) It pretty much sums up how I feel. And thank you everyone for the comments. And K, you are MUCH loved too :)

Anyway, everything's been pretty good lately.
I don't have anything too eventful to talk about.
Besides the fact that TC (my best friend from the spring break cruise) is coming to Chicago soon!
I am beyond excited.

Peace out.

I was quietly crying, because I could not do it and I wanted to. I was letting them down; and making them angry without meaning to. To make matters worse, it was an unspoken misunderstanding. I couldn't....NOT wouldn't.  I can't remember how they were except just matter of fact about it....quietly telling me I could not leave the table until I took a bite. Then they left me there.  Alone.   I guess the concept seemed simple to my parents. They probably thought it was a battle of the wills; and that my desire for tv and a fudgesicle would win.  After what seemed like hours "in kid time" (probably a little over 1) I was told to just go to bed.

Not a big deal. That happens to a lot of kids. Why am I so defective that, decades later, it still hurts to think about it?

I remember  when I was two. My mother trying to pry my mouth open to feed me fruit. I won.  I still hate fruit. That memory does not hurt.   This one does. They thought I was being willfully defiant; but in hindsight, I was punished for not being able to do something I wanted to do. 
In my head, I was trying and failing miserably.  I wanted to be good and I couldn't.  I'd let them down.  That had not happened much and that wasn't going to happen again.  I began to stuff food under the edges of my plate and spit bites into my napkin after that so it looked as if I ate more than I had. No more being a failure at dinner eating.

Too bad I could not see into the future, I should have warned them to get used to the idea of me being a disappointment and general all around fuck-up. Hell, I should have warned myself, I probably would not be writing this if I had, ya know?

...back to the dishes, the eating evidence I brought up in the first post.  I'm not sure why I hadn't noticed it before. Maybe because I've never been alone until recently.  I think it came to my attention because of the feeling of panic I had when I realized someone was coming in the door and I had not unloaded the dishwasher. What the (full-runnable) dishwasher load consisted of was oddness in itself: 2 dog toys that treats go in, a fork, a few spoons and two bowls. Why in the hell did I feel panic? Why do I go out of my way to hide and/or clean up any evidence of food goin' on? or still-when someone shows up and I am eating, I throw it down the garbage disposal.

Before I was alone, I never sat with the family for dinner. I served. If I ate, I'd eat alone after they were finished.  I just hung out at the counter, talked and was at the ready to heap more on their plates.  Just like I'd been doing since I could get away with it as a young teen.  "Get away with" may not be the right words.  It was just something I did as the sit down meals were no longer a mandate...the schedule got busy as we grew....there was no more, "Come sit down" it just seemed normal.  Much more normal for me at least. As if being released from jail. No more of that gawd-awful sitting at the table. People noticing what I did or did not eat.

From the time I wake up until I go to bed, I do not sit unless I’m driving out of town. I also stand at a counter to type…I’m always doing something. I should not own furniture. okay kiddies, there’s diet tip #1 for ya. (I’m kidding) That is not why I do not sit, seriously, your body gets used to it as a normal thing..it's not a calorie burning tip.

**Inside my mind. I’m talking about me…not anyone else, please do not take offense:

If I were to sit down, even to type, to rest, here is what I’d think to myself….Lazy, fat, gluttonous, undeserving, fucking, slob. You do nothing worthwhile and you think you deserve to sit?

Yeah..it goes somethin like that.

I own three desks and have turned my office into a guest room.  The office space off the kitchen is just that...space with another desk. I call it the useless room.

My office is the kitchen.   Here I am, standing alone in my clean kitchen, nothin to see here, I'm behaving and doing what?  now trying to please some negative inner voice? I dunno.

That will be $125.

Já ouvi hétero dizendo que homem é que entende de mulher, e mulher bonita é a que tem carne. É a mulher gostosa mesmo.

O que muitas vezes não percebem que pouco adianta cobrir uma ditadura com outra. Muitas garotas lindíssimas são chamadas de "sem sal", por não possuírem curvas.

Então fica nesta guerra velada entre gordas e magras, as magras vangloriam-se por suas barrigas chapadas, enquanto as gordas fazem o mesmo com seus seios avantajados. Nesta guerra na disputa pelo centro das atenções aos machos elas trocam farpas. Só concordam em uma coisa: As gostosas são as putas.

"Ellen Roche? Puta! Dançarinas de programas de TV? Putas!"

E passam a defender a moral e os bons costumes ao se sentirem ameaçadas, por sua rival na dança do acasalamento.

As mulheres grandes são bonitas, as pequenas e magras também.

E não é criticando uma a outra que "a beleza padronizada" se finda.

Gays e lésbicas não são seres "mal amados"(odeio essa expressão), que  visam destruir o outro pois desejam "tomar seu posto".

Não é afirmando a heterossexualidade com uma pitada de homofobia que se destrói a anorexia.

Há casos de moças que aliás, emagrecem em demasia justamente por assédios morais/sexuais. A vulnerabilidade em ser assediada quando se é curvilínea é bem mais corriqueira.

Nascer mulher já te torna mais "sexualmente acessível".

Quer seja gorda ou magra, teu sexo te condena a ser assediada e ainda ouvir "tem certeza de que não o provocou"? O próprio corpo se torna um apêndice que te lembra a todo instante: "É por isto que é agredida, é por isto que te violam, é por isto que te tratam assim". E como negá-lo? Negando o próprio corpo, negando as próprias formas, tornar-se magra até que não mais se diferencie seu corpo ou de um garoto de dez anos. Pressão psicológica que te faz querer sumir.

O inferno são os outros.

after posting about "the weight issue" in a way that was completely sincere at the time i posted, i then stepped on the scale yesterday after having been away for a few days visiting with my brother (had a blast by the way).  while i was away i was forced not to weigh myself for a couple days.

so i come back, step on the ol' scale in the middle of the day, after having followed my food plan and all, and the number was scarily higher than i expected.  i mean, i expected it to be higher than first thing in the morning, but it was about 3 pounds above what i was expecting and maybe 5 pounds above what i considered my normal morning weight.

i freaked- to the point of literally deciding i was done with recovery, making plans to cancel all appointments with therapists or nutritionists, planning my binges for today, and generally in my head being 100% over recovery.  this is after one visit to the scale that i knew was innacurate, mind you.

and of course what happens this morning but i step on the scale- with every intention of following through on my plans to chuck recovery out the window, mind you, and my weight was completely normal.  right where it had been, where it was expected to be, where i felt at least somewhat comfortable with it.  so, if i hadn't insisted on stepping on the scale yesterday evening when i knew the number was going to be high i would have just weighed this morning as usual and never had a moments thought that anything was wrong.

meanwhile in my head i'd been three months into my relapse already.  all for a few pounds i thought i'd gained- and mind you, even if i had gained that weight i would still be 10 pounds below the perfectly healthy weight i maintained for about a year the last time i was in recovery.

ok.  new plan.  a half measure, but maybe a good one.  how about, whenever i weigh myself i have to put 2 dollars in a coffee can.  and then i can use that extra cash to either buy rides on the T to OA meetings or just donate it directly at OA meetings.

this might be a good middle ground between throwing out the scale which i can't bring myself to do and acting like i'm chained to it, which is driving me C R A Z Y Y Y Y!!!

"Iris"
by Goo Goo Dolls

And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
and sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When every thing's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When every thing feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When every thing's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When every thing's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When every thing's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am

You know, sometimes I think music is so beautiful that it hurts. When I listened to this song a moment ago, that was how I felt.

I really associated with some of the lyrics in this song. For instance, "you bleed just to know you're alive" and "I don't want the world to see me 'cause I don't think that they'd understand".

I think having people know you is an interesting thing. I think that, on many levels, I'm afraid to have people know me. Afraid people wouldn't care for me if they knew what I'm really like inside. But at the same time, I feel a part of me thirsts for someone who really and truly knows me inside and out. However, since I'm too afraid to let anyone know me, that doesn't happen.

Also, I "don't think they'd understand" me. At this moment, I am drinking water from a one gallon jug. I have not kept any food down today. Or any day for weeks. I am reveling in the fact that my stomach is empty and I can feel that and I love it. I feel a little light headed from purging and I like that too. I am constantly putting on lip balm because purging makes my lips chapped, but purging makes me happy, so I don't mind. I don't get hungry. I don't eat bread or meat or a number of things because it's a good excuse not to eat. I don't eat chocolate because it's nasty coming back up. I like ice cream not because it's good but because it's easy to purge. Non-diet soda scares me to death. And so on and so forth, etc, etc, etc.

All my life, I've felt like, if people know things about me, if they know my secrets, my past, who I really am, then I've given a piece of myself away. That has always scared me. There's a song called Teardrops on My Guitar and one of the lines is, "The only one who's got enough of me to break my heart". When people know things about me, have pieces of my heart, I feel like it gives them a certain amount of power over me. The power to break my heart, to reject me, etc. If I keep all of me, I don't give anyone the ability to hurt me.

That's something I'm still working on. Trust. There are very few people in the world that I trust. And I'd say there's no one that I trust completely.

Then I asked have you ever felt abandoned?
Felt so lost that you were stranded,
Just like all the walls are closing in
And you were left inside
Have you ever felt like your days were numbered?
Stuck under a tree in thunder
Seems to be no way out!
But there is One when in doubt

Ready for another day
Slowly watch ya waste away,
Havin' fun, bein' cool
Like we did in high school,
Elementary romance
Feelin' nervous at the dance,
Crack a smile hold it down,
Whatever the circumstance.

From "When in Doubt"
by Thousand Foot Krutch

^ I think that's how it makes me feel. Letting people know me and my ED both make me feel like that. In danger, stuck, etc.

Faking a smile so nobody knows.