...c'est qui?

29.02.2008 um 14:50 Uhr

content sybaritisme

Rumination

My vision is ripe, I am lost in my dream-castle where there is nothing too grotesque. Stimulus satiation makes my day and the only way to get rid of the overload of emotions is to spit my soul out, drown in into the drain. I'm starving myself and the litle heart works hard to keep this body alive. I'm the narcotic dream Addict with a synthetic smile plastered on her face.I am what makes you look away in disgust or continue to stare, the self-absorbed egocentric stranger, dripping with lunacy.The elitists hate me and the sycophants love me. Everything runs at a fast-rate here and I am more unsettled than the wether could ever be.

c'est bien la fille?

mum was away for the weekend, SO - that means house to myself (apart from if you count the 2 cats and "Crazy-Hair" Giles, my cousin who lives in the adjoining flat.) This isn't exactly my "typical day", but many days aren't far off it.

- I dont drive and have a 20 min walk to a supermarket in one direction, and a 10 min walk to the village (multiple small food shops in the other direction. - And a large backpack.

10. 00 -10.30am - small breakfast plus, antidepressants and multivits - whilst emailing and LJing.

10.30 - 12ish - walk out to supermarket with multiple bags of old rubbish, food packaging accumulating in my room. I have to dispose of this whenever and wherever I can, because the volume is so vast that I can't just put it in the household garbage. So I take it out and dispose of it in public street bins. I Buy huge quantities of binge food, plus even more than normal to be "stocked up". Whilst mum's away I'm, sure of being able to enter the house confidently with huge bulging bags without being spotted. She does "know", but has no idea how much I B/P. So that was a 20 min walk back LOADED down with heavy backpack and another carrier in each hand.

12ish - 12-30pm - Get breath back. Unpack. ie perishables go into the small "drinks" fridge that mum hardly ever goes into. Non-perishables into my room.

12.30 - 2.15pm - walk out the other way and buy food from all the little shops in the village. This takes time and planning, but I like to spread it out to avoid the shopkeepers thinking I'm wierd. It's a small village, so I recognise the usual check-out people by sight and I'm sure they know me. It must seem strange - a tiny girl, who shops most days for a lot of food, including quite a lot of junk. By the time I've done all the shops, it's another return trip with a HUGE back-pack and 2 carriers. Yep - I'm well stocked now. The sad thing is I know it won't last as long as I think.

2.15 - 6.00pm - Unpack again. Prolonged B/P session. Multiple purging.

6.00 - 11.pm - Sleep (Heavily) due to extreme exhaustion brought on by the morning shopping and B/Ping.

11.00 - 3.00am - Cook, prepare and B/P.

Collapse into bed and fall straight asleep exhausted. Pointless, pointless day.

When mum comes home in an hour and asks what I did - I have nothing to tell her. I did NOTHING useful. I am wasting my lifetime. I am wasing my money and I am wasting the planet's resources throwing away so much food packaging. This morning, my back, arms and legs ache this morning from carrying so much, and my stomach is tender from the purging. - And I deserve it. I hate myself this morning, but on goes the fake smile to chat nicely to mum about her weekend.

want to share a secret because nobody in my real life knows, and i could never tell them without being deamed a nutter.
every sunday evening my boyfriend gives me his car, while he works 3-midnight. i dont have a current licence, because my licence has been suspended. i eat a big dinner at around 6.30pm. i drive to the park around the corner, at around 6.45 and purge. then i drive to my boyfriends work, and we get dinner on his 7-8 break. 2 dimsims and a huge noodle/chicken box from our fav asian takeout place. then he goes back to work, i drive straight to Mcdonalds. 2 mcflurrys with extra oreos. bursting, i drive home and purge my little brains out while my family watches greys anatomy (and thinks i ate dinner 2 hours ago, and kept it in). i then shower and do some work. at 11pm, i drive to the supermarket and buy my binge food for the week. i also steal around 7 6xpacks of sugar-free gum because i have an ADDICTION, but nobody knows the crazy amounts i chew (if i paid for gum, id be seriously spending over $50 a week- eek). i also steal a few chocolate bars and some nice cookies form the bakery section. ( i have been shoplifting gum and small food items so much lately. i swear i cant walk into the supermarket and buy something without stealing gum or whatever that costs MORE than what im buying...). at 11.30 i come home, pleased. i hide the non-perishable food in my room (oh my my stash is enormous these days), and put the other stuff in the fridge. i pick up my boyfriend from work at midnight and we smoke a big spliff and shnugg. then i go home, and set my alarm for 6.30am. monday mornring, i wake to my alarm, take my birthcontrol pill (early so i dont purge it), and grab all the food outa the fridge/freezer to my room, so my family doenst see it when they wake up. at 8.30am, everyones left the house....i put all the food back, and then binge from 10.30am -around 1.30pm. by 1.45 im empty, cleaned up....and boy have i wasted alot of time!

they say that something becomes a 'problem' when it disrupts my life...i think that i am in denail because i have learned to find enormous comfort in this twisted routine of mine, and therefore view it not as a disruption to my life, but simply, MY LIFE.

I understand the comfort you find in your disorder. Bulimia is lethal -not just to your physical self, but to your presence in the world and most especially to your soul. And of course it's a drug, an addiction more addictive than any chemical ingested. You're always looking for that next high. Symptoms just keep growing and accumulating until there is no room for anything else. And then there seems to be no way to turn back.
And I definitely know what you mean, about the "secret" and if anyone found out they would think you're insane. Funny thing is, when I'm at the grocery store, or Tim Hortons ordering two dozen doughnuts, I wonder if it would be better for them to know that I'm crazy, yes, but I'm not actually insane enough to DIGEST all this crap! I mean gawd...I think everyone ELSE is crazy for actually eating and not purging.
(sorry that was so long, but I saw something of myself in your words.)

stock-taking (Bestandsaufnahme)

back to 40kg (and it makes me feel confident -how sick!)
flat is a total pigsty (saustall, auch:slum), in each corner there's some chaos, it's manky (verdreckt), cluttered (voller unordnung), in short(kurzum): it is all icky and disgusting (ekelhaft)!
3 bags of vomit plus 3 bags of normal trash are waiting to get dumped
I fed my dog some puked-up suasage and noddles the last 2 days - bulimia turns me into an inhuman being
My car ist full of food, I cannot even understand, why I bought so much food the last week. I must have spent over 300€ on that. But still, the things I am craving now arent there, so I'll have to drive to the supermarket to get raviolis, crisps, milk, cereal, bread, butter, peas+carrots, fishsticks, lettuce. Yessss.... I love, love, loooove food. That is so much oral satisfaction, which really remunerates you for all the adversity (Widrigkeit) and responsibilities (Pflichten; auch "attend to/ shirk one's duties = nachkommen/sich entziehen"; assume any..= irgendwelche...übernehmen)

I have a lot of trouble at work and why? Because I acted so much despising towards my boss. No wonder she doesnt like me at all now.
I did not get one single shift last week. Because I forgot to write my plan of action just in time. -Hallo?!? I HAD to buy bingefood instead, baby... :-/
I achieved NOTHING the whole week, didnt settle any matter (Aufgabe erledigen), in conclusion, now, I am left with the acknowledge I HAVE to work off all my debts.(Schulden abarbeiten; auch: discharge/settle/execute sth=abarbeiten)
Again, I am in this perpetuing play-catch-up-status (wdh hinterherkinken-status; hinterherkinken auch drag/lag behind) as I lag behind so many things in various life-areas (work, family-relations, to-do-list, university, friends)
It is monday, 12:30pm, I feel hangover (thanks to bp 9 hrs straight yesterday and absolutely need something kick my lazy ass
I want to move home into one of the flats is my mom's house on heddesdorferberg.

Schnee, überall. Seit vorgestern Nacht schneit es durchweg, nach einem frühlinghaften Winter kommt nun Ende Januar der winterhafte Frühling ins Land spaziert. Es ist ein Gefühl von Sehnsucht, das ich unweigerlich verspüre, wenn ich nachts -und immer nur nachts- am Fenster stehe, während alle Welt schläft und den rieselnden Schneeflocken nachblicke. Wie sie fallen, sich fallen lassen und schließlich in der Masse am Boden verschwinden. Ich spiele dann ein Spiel aus alter Zeit, versuche eine Flocke aus dem Getümmel zu fixieren und sie bis zum Boden zu begleiten. Eine Flocke aus dem einem Mückenschwarm gleichenden weißen Getümmel in der Luft, eine von vielen, die mit fast grausamer Stille herabschweben, tanzen, einen letzten Tanz, vom allerletzten Luftzug am Boden nochmals kurz aufgewirbelt, ehe sie sich mit dem Schnee am Boden verbinden, zerschmelzen und unsichtbar werden. Naturschauspiele beruhigen mich und lassen nicht mehr alles so sinnlos escheinen. Vielmehr ist es so, als ob ich nichts Materielles bräuchte. Ich kann mir wieder vorstellen, wie wenig der Mensch doch zum Leben braucht und wie unwichtig Besitz, Macht und Ansehen doch sein können. Irgendwann wird dieses Dasein zu Ende sein, warum da die ganze Zeit hinter Geld herhetzen und sich für einen Status in der Gesellschaft zerreißen? Was bringt es, wenn die ganze WElt um einen herum sehen kann,w ie erfolgreich man ist, wenn man dabei selbst gar nichts mehr vom Leben mitbekommt? Denke ich, nachts um 1 Uhr, am Fenster stehend, eine Zigarette rauchend. Egalität.
Der abheilende Herpes im Mundwinkel schmerzt und am Liebsten würde ich mir diesen oberen Backenzahn, dessen Zahnfleisch fast bis an die Wurzelspitzen zurückgegangen ist, selbst mit bloßen Fingern herausziehen, daran wackeln und ihn drücken, biegen, herausdrehen, solange Reißen, bis die Wurzeln herausbrechen. Dann bliebe ein Loch aber dieser störende Zahn wäre weg.
Der Magen füllt sich gespannt an, darin schwimmen wohl noch Reste der 3kg Pommes, einige Nudeln müssten auch dabei sein und wer weiß was alles. Nie wieder Pommes. Und nie wieder geschmolzenen Gouda. Das habe ich mir schon oft geschworen. Jedes Mal, wenn ich heftig würgend und den Bacuh krampfend, mit beiden Händen feste die Bauchdecke nach innen drückend über der Schüssel hing. Und gleich muss ich doch wieder durch diese Selbstfolter. Ich hab's ja nicht anders gewollt. Aber erst noch eine Zigarette. Oder zwei. Noch ein bisschen Zeit gewinnen. Dann den Herpes im Mundwinkel so eincremen, dass nicht alles einreißt, denn um Pommes und Nudeln herauszubringen brauche ich meistens die Hand, die ich dann so weit wie möglich in den Rachen einführe.
Draußen rieselt der Schnee leise weiter und packt allen grauen, schmutzigen Asphalt in Watte, verdeckt allen Dreck unter sich. Reinheit.

Nach einem ziemlich schwierigen Telefonat mit Mama stehe ich nun noch immer inmitten eines Gefühlschaos der besonderen Art, vieles ist mir aber klar geworden.Sie hat zum Ausdruck gebracht, dass sie mich zwar lieb hat, meine Art, wie ich sie im Zuge meiner Erkrankung mit Füßen trete, sie aber so sehr verletzt, dass sie sich selbst schützen muss. Daher zieht sie eine klare Grenze. Ich habe sie unter Weinen angefleht, mir zu helfen, mich nicht fallen zu lassen sondern auch ein Stück auf mich zuzugehen, da sie die einzige ist, die mir helfen kann. Sie gebe künftig die Konditionen vor, ich sei am Zuge, mein Verhalten grundlegend zu ändern. Es sei egal, ob ich 600km weit weg von daheim oder gleich um die Ecke wohnen würde: Meine ERkrankung (sie nennt das Kind nie beim Namen, nicht einmal höre ich sie sagen "deine Bulimie") treibe mich immer und immer wieder dazu, mich zurückzuziehen. Nähe aushalten sei mein Hauptproblem und die Tatsache, dass ich keine 14 Tage in ihrem Haushalt durchhielte, weil ich nicht ungestört fressen könne.Das alles stimmt. Auf den Punkt genau. Es ist so, dass ich mir schon vor meiner Heimfahrt überlege, wann ich zurück kann und endlich wieder der Völlerei frönen. Daheim ernähre ich mich diszipliniert von Obst+Gemüse, das geht einige Tage lang gut, bis der große Hammer kommt, Hunger setzt ein. Der Körper will Nahrung, Lebensmittel zum Leben. Und ich gebe sie ihm nicht. Dann kommt die schlechte Laune, ich werde unzufrieden mit allem und jedem und bräuchte nur eins: 3 Stunden Zeit, Unmengen Lebensmittel, noch größere Mengen Mineralwasser und ein Klo. Danach ist alles wieder in Butter, ich bin happy, gut gelaunt, erleichtert. Wie ein Alkoholiker auf Alk oder ein Junkie, der wieder Stoff bekommen hat. Ich bin ein Süchtiger. Abhängig.Zwischenmenschliche Wärme zu bekommen ist nicht immer leicht, man muss sie sich erarbeiten und oftmals auch darum kämpfen. Manchmal bekommt man sie auch entzogen, dann geht es einem schlecht. Da ist es viel einfacher, sein Heil im schnellen Fressen zu suchen. Sich mit Warmem vollstopfen, das süß und klebrig den Bauch mit Leben füllt und dann alles in einem großen, grau-braunen leblosen Schwall ins Klo erbrechen. Das Leben wieder ausspucken. Damit alle negativen Gefühle. Einfach weg, ab damit in den Abfluss. Es ist also das ständige Hin und Her zwischen Liebe und Hass. Ich liebe die Esstörung, weil ich sie brauche, sie mir Halt gibt und gleichzeitig hasse ich sie, denn sie vereinahmt mich, lässt mich mich selbst vom Leben ausschließen. Ich liebe meine Familie, doch immer wieder projiziere ich meinen Selbsthass auf sie. Ich möchte am liebsten in die Arme meiner Mutter kriechen und mich der familiären Nestwärme hingeben, doch ich traue mich nicht. Darum renne ich blindlinks in die starren Muster der Fress-Brechsucht, die mich dämonisch lockt mit ihren Versprechungen von Wohlbefinden. Aber sie macht mich allein und isoliert, unfähig, ein normales Leben zu führen. Denn sie kratzt immer wieder an mir, will ausgelebt werden, will einziger Lebensinhalt sein. Bulimie ist wie der Teufel, der von einem Besitz ergreift und einem das ganze schöne Leben vorenthält. Zwei Seelen in meiner Brust, so nennt es Faust. Wie fühle diesen Satz fürwahr.Gerade jetzt sitze ich hier und suche fieberhaft nach Ausreden, warum ich heute nicht heimfahren werde. Meine Schwster forderte mich eben am Telefon auf, einfach alles stehen und liegen zu lassen und heim zu kommen. Ich solle ihr vertrauen, jetzt sei einfach Familie wichtiger, also Hund ins Auto und ab nach Hause. Aber ich möchte mich erst mal beruhigen. Mit etwas "GUTES" tun, also fressen. Es ist so wie immer, ich fliehe vor mir selbst: Ein Wettlauf gegen die Zeit und gegen mir wichtige Menschen.Ich bin ein Versager. Nicht, weil ich mich in so viele Probleme hinein geritten und so viel falsch gamacht habe. Das wäre alles verzeihlich. Aber ich trete die Personen, die mir am Meisten überhaupt bedeuten, immer wieder mit Füßen. Ich bin genau so geworden, wie ich es nie sein wollte: egozentrisch, dekadent, verlogen, ziellos. Ist das ein angemessener Preis für eine überdünne Figur? Für einen Model-BMI? Fast froh sein sollte ich darüber, dass ich zumindest so etwas wie Skupel empfinde. Moralische Wertvorstellungen in mir sind es ja, die mich ständig in dieses Depressionsepisoden stürzen. Irgendwann kann ich mich selbst nicht mehr ertragen, das Herz lässt sich nämlich bei all dem Gekotze nicht einfach ausspucken und in die Kanalisation spülen.

Verlinken

31.01.2008 um 15:06 Uhr

ende jan 08

von: saracheret

O.k so I have decided I will try to restrict for as long as possible and then the purg is more successful. Kill two birds with one stone. (not that I want to kill any birds ha,ha) Seriously though, I need to quit while the going is good. The problem is that I had a good bp yesterday and after 3 days of no bp it was fairly quick and simple. Thats when I fall apart and bp more than ever and end up looking like a hamster. I have been trying to analyse the reasons and put some meaning to all of this. My marriage is on the rocks, my son needs me and all I can think of is where I hid the iced doughnuts. Seriously fucked up. I am getting behind at work and I hardly put effort into what I am doing. Iit is easier to put effort into a binge list, quite frankly. I exercise like an olympic gold medalist one day and the next I am lying curled up on the couch in a heap of depression. The cycle continues but at least I am putting in more days of no bp than before. Luv ya all.

I was just so frustrated, I had to say something. This disorder really does cripple me at times, and when I get on to either let out some frustration or read something to help somebody, I see so many negative things. Someone mentioned earlier how this community really didn't look like it showed support at all. Most of us just get so full of anxiety we post about binge/ purging.

I really did not mean to ruffle feathers, if I did. The last 3 months have been so good, and I'm tired of letting myself think it might be alright to hurt my body. I've got that dark past too. My mom neglected me for almost five years- those years when you're supported to become a woman and kiss a boy and freak the fuck out and learn what it's like to be a part of the world. She gave up on me when I barely knew myself at all. I had to raise myself. I don't resent her for taking care of my autistic brother, I love my brother. Yet, I went somewhere in my head. I let myself be abused by someone I could only love. And when I purged, I thought of her. I thought about my mom never wanting me, so I'd throw up to feel in control of everything. It's a nice drug addiction for five minutes... then you crash back to reality.

I guess the point I was trying to get across was that I was tired of seeing great people succumb to this disease. I'm so tired of feeling helpless and at night crying because I think about what it would be like to binge and purge for the rest of my life. All those years I had to reclaim and I've missed out on a childhood. So when that happened, I wanted my life back, without an eating disorder. I had to fight for some small thing that turned out to be so important. I wanted to get through that it's possible. Somewhere I told myself I was better. I just said it: I was better than that. I'm sick of helplessness.

Trying to stay somewhat readable;
I thought about my life, and there was something a lot of you can also relate to- I was all I had. I was either going to die, keeping this up until I was gone, or I was going to live. I don't get it... it's like I have this drive to stay alive and overcome because I believe getting over is possible because the people going through it really have to go to themselves. It's like running. It's the hardest thing you can do. There's not a ball to hit or throw. You are pounding the ground, breathing so hard and your lungs trying to keep up, your body wants to give in but your mind is pushing you and pushing you to finish the race. You are testing every part of you when you run. Even the best runners have shitty runs sometimes because of the mentality factor. I think that's the only way I can say it.

When we strip away all the bullshit, we are really just trying to be human. And it's not easy. Nothing really is. Panic and anxiety attacks get to me when I'm alone in my thoughts and I want so desperately for someone to shake me out of it. I don't want to be co-dependent anymore.

I think we should want more than this even if we can't have it right away or can't reach it just yet. One should remember their worth. Even the meekest heart never fails. I can't say enough how important you are... and I don't know you at all. You might be so far away it's cost an arm and a leg just to call you, but you have my love. What can we possibly hope to have in our lifetimes if we can't even love ourselves?

And I think the convention thing is a great idea. We all should get together and party down. We should get to have a weekend of fun and laugh and dance all night.

This is my cry for help.

I have to mention that some of the same people who whine about others 'not being supportive' are the ones who NEVER bother to comment on other people's posts. Anyway, this was a great post. You are a compassionate person, and if you were to get better, you would be a strong voice in recovery.
That being said, i think you should book this convention in my town because there's a brand new hotel with a golden corral right next door. Boy would they be sorry they ever heard of 'all you can eat'
*hugs*i don't comment much anymore. this is totally selfish of me, i'm so depressed i can't see that anything i do or say will help anyone or make a difference to anyone. i get guilty when i do post because i feel like an attention whore.

sorry everyone, i really am with you in spirit.

Aw Gem, I wasn't directing this at you at all, and you're hardly selfish. But your input is always valued when given. *mwuah*

I've been laying here for hours now reading the purge on my phone not being able to sleep.I have tissue pieces clogging my ears in attempts to drown out matty's bro's music 2 doors/rooms away but the muffled sounds and my icky full feeling and thoughts are all still keeping me awake.
So glad matty's a deep sleeper cause I could never deal with my restless constantly using my phone self.

I think this site is very very triggering for me, but my addiction to it has me in denial.

I gotta be up by 930 to finish packing for the move, then school, then work and won't get home till 1am earliest.

UgHhhhhhh

Someone text me whenever u want, add me on myspace, SOMEthing

516 384 3411
Myspace.com/vamps

I am so drained right now. I just had the worst binge.. mostly the after effects. After eating almost all the food I'd got at Safeway (ice cream, microwave mac&cheese, 2 donuts, cinnamon roll, cheese popcorn), except a microwave burrito because by that point I felt so sick I wanted to die. I keep feeling worse and worse and more and more full every time I binge. I just couldn't wait to purge. Couldn't in my bathroom because my roommate was here.. so I walked over to the common area to use the wheelchair access bathroom. Someone was in it, and people were playing ping pong right next to the door anyway. So I walk outside into the cold, feeling like a near-exploding and very unhappy manatee(reminds me, does anyone know that Moldy Peaches song where she says "I'm just an ass in the crack of humanity/I'm just a huge manatee"). Anyway, so I go get my car keys from my room. Walk up the street to my car, intending to purge into plastic bags (I keep them under the seat, haha) in the back seat. But some fucker is standing on the corner near my car talking on the phone, and obviously sees me. So I couldn't just climb in the backseat and not drive anywhere. Kind of weird. So I'm like ughghgh and drive over to an elementary school in the neighborhood, park in a dark corner of the parking lot, and commence purging. It was such a relief. It was to the point where I sort of started off hands free purging, and then part way through it switched over to me not even needing to flex; it just came up on its own. And that's my sad sad binge story. I thought I would share. At least it didn't involve exploding bags of vomit or anything. OH and because I drove to Safeway tonight in order to get said binge food, I lost my parking spot. So I had to park on the street. So I will be getting a parking ticket, AGAIN.

I don't want to binge tomorrow. I can't do it. I give myself permission to throw up anything I eat that feels like too much. I am eating both lunch and dinner with various people at the dining hall. But I am NOT bingeing if I can help it. I have to wake up and get an EKG at 8 in the morning tomorrow. Can we say Hooooray?!

Grrr, trying to find a place to purge, can be frustrating. Once I was so desperate, I didn't even care anymore, so I purged in a bathroom, in a stall, with a few people using other stalls in there. I was like, whatever... I don't know these people, I don't care what they think, and I don't want to gain weight, so fuck it.

Finally after downing probably close to 1/3 cup of baking soda, and sitting there for 1/2 an hour waiting for it to work it's way down into my stomach, I was able to get up a grand total of like 5-5 1/2 cups. Coulda been a lot worse. Felt a lot better. I'm starting to think maybe I haven't been drinking enough liquids during my binges as of late. During this one I had maybe 2/3 a bottle of Snapple and 1/2 a cup of milk with the cereal. Also, I usually avoid mac&cheese, and have for years, due to how little luck I have with it. Which just goes to show how desperate I was this time around.

Fuck. Me.

I'm fasting till Monday. Fuck you if you wanna call me stupid for doing so. Coffee and other low cal liquids (and alcohol) are OK. Everything else can go the fuck away.

Oh, and Martha sucks and is a cheap boring bitch whose idea of an audience give away is a little box of Sweethearts and a "spa bag" that looked like she lifted it's contents from a hotel bathroom.

Yeah, it might have been liquids, since the milk curdles as soon as it stays in for like 10 min, damn milk. :/

Actually baking soda can be harmful and dangerous given the wrong situation but I'll spare you the rant. This time. ;) Hope you feel better.

interesting day...so, last night i took a boat load of laxatives..yeah yeah, spare me the lectures please on how they dont work, etc..this, i'm acutely aware of, but doesnt stop me from taking them, obviously...so apparently, they decided they wanted to work a little earlier than i'm used to and i was up every hour beginning at 3am this morning....every morning i take 3 pills..antidep and the what not...im cutting the rest of this for those that would like to be spared the details of the outcome...

so, 6 hours later...yes 6...keeping in mind i've been going all day...i go to the bathroom and see one of my pills in the water...WTF?? How does that work? I cant imagine that my pill just sat in my stomach unabsorbed all day...so, I guess I dont understand. So, if this wasnt absorbed, does that mean that denser foods also wouldnt absorb and just flush through my system? Im a bit confused...i know in a 'logical' sense that foods pass through your small intestine then to the large where its then expelled...so, obviously you have to absorb some for energy. So, that being said, would it also be true then, that denser foods would NOT absorb like my pill??

Maybe someone that understands body functions better than myself will be able to explain...cuz its a bit weird to me...

On another note, i purged into my garbage disposal after doing dishes for the first time..that was interesting...no messy clean up!!

Triggering. Which is my fault because you warned me and I looked anyway. I like to torture myself.

I can't believe I just got disappointed that I cannot or want to eat anymore.

I bought all this b/p food early in the morning, and I did my 1st b/p session before going to bed, then when I normally wake up I feel famished.

Tonight, I wasn't even hungry, which doesn't happen 'cause I only eat when I know I can purge, which means I'm always hungry.

But out of habit, I did it anyway. I felt like it was more so of a waste as I didn't really enjoy it much. I stopped binging mid-eclair to smoke 'cause I was like "I don't even like this."

It's just such a weird feeling to get frustrated you can't enjoy it. It's confusing. And I have all these pastries, chocolate, and drinks, and I don't want it now.

I'm pretty sure I'll change my mind in the morning, otherwise I wouldn't be where I am today.

Habit, eh? I often wonder what would I be doing if I didn't b/p? I don't even know! I'm so used to wasting my time with it, having time to do something else/anything else is ... strange. I don't know *what* to do!

But for now, I think I'll just go purge.

Lol after I left the comment I thought you might read it wrong.

What I meant was, it sounded like you were sharing from experience

I just got back from the doctors. It went alright he did kind of flip out but he was really understanding to some degree. First thing they did was weigh me the nurse was like holy crap Stacey what happened and you were looking so good before. I just kind of said I don't know. What am I suppose to say-anorexia dumb ass. No she was nice. My doctor is just freaking getting started on the referral which means I have at the very least a month to wait. He was kinda wondering weather it would do any good considering all the treatment I've had. He said he would do it but he wants me to give my all this time. He said outright he really does not understand my eating disorder but he will do what he can to help. It takes a lot of work to do all the referral stuff so I am thankful he is doing it. He's like it costs so much money to send you to the States they basically charge you for using toilet paper. My blood pressure and stuff must have been okay. I got the Karen Carpenter speech too about how she died and how I will die if I continue this way. He almost had me in tears though when he went on about how I don't have to be carrying around the guilt and stuff from my past (he's not your typical doctor he tends to go into stuff like that he really cares for his patients). I also need to be a bit better at taken my potassium pills on my last blood-test it was 2.4 so I'm thinking that is not so great. He said I'm in pretty good danger walking around with levels like that. So I'll be more vigilant taking them. He also gave me some of his free samples of vitamins to take. I'm also going to try a new drug called Cipralex. He thinks it could work pretty good for me. He gave me some free samples because he was not sure if it was covered under my drug plan. I may have to go to celexa if that's the case. So that's about it. And to top things off I saw a woman from my old neighborhood. My mom kinda started a conversation with her and then she proceeded to ask me if ate anything and made some stupid comments about how small I was. I have another appointment in a week. He's going to see me weekly from now on. Doctors really don't seem to understand the bulimia at all though. They can almost understand anorexia alone but you put bulimia in the mix and it's just too much.

Verlinken

12.01.2008 um 15:05 Uhr

jan o8

von: saracheret

I didn't bp yesterday and so today is a little tense for me. My husband and son went to play paintball this morning and I am at work concentrating on not letting the whole bp thing get to me and drive me into the viscious cycle again. I have so much pent up stress from work this week it would be easy to cave in and let myself just cool off by bp'ing, but I am trying to remind myself of how awful I feel afterwards, how anxious I let myself become and how depressed it makes me. I did well yesterday but in the evening I did feel the need to purge even though I actually didn't eat that much. It is all habit for me.
If I am bored it is the best way too pass time
If I am sad or anxious it seems to relieve those feelings for a while.
If I am stressed it numbs me and makes the problem go away.
Seriously there is nothing better for me than having time and a few hours of uninterrupted bingeing and purging for me, I am not going to even try and deny it. I have come close to recovery on more than one occasion and it really didn't fill the void that this disorder does. I felt an enormous amount of loneliness and emptiness that is hard to explain. Maybe it is length of time I have been bulimic that makes this such a part of my life, Does/has anyone ever experienced this emotion. I was bulimic free for a month and I chose to go back to the torture, maybe i enjoy being a victim or having a reason to feel sorry for myself (although I don't feel sorry for myself and can't stand a sympathy seeker, I mean: get over it , move on, life's too short) Sometimes I wonder if there isn't a way to live with bulimia and still be happy? Something tells me this is an outrageous thought but one I have often thought about.

does your husband know? I'm assuming so but have to ask.

I honestly DON'T think there's a way to live w bulimia and be happy, since it is one of the effects of us being UNhappy

I also don't think so. Bulimia or any ED fills up too much of your thoughts to allow you to be happy and purging also messes with your seratonin levels.

Try taking every minute as it comes. And every meal as it comes. Just eat sensibly and keep full so that you won't need to binge and then you won't need to purge. Maybe find a hobby or something that relaxes you like a bubble bath or even reading or watching TV so that you can do that when work stresses you out.

the last year and a half (short of the past 2 weeks) has been the closest to "recovery" i've ever come. i've made several attempts, but this was the only time i can say it felt true or genuine. i had a couple slips, but seriously, i purged probably 3-5 times the entire time. part of my boyfriend's complaints of me in the beginning was my "weirdness" around food, but after i'd been with him for almost a year, it majority of it kinda went away. (i had eaten in front of people in years, and it was shock to me). but then i actually felt comfortable in my body again. at least the ED symptoms i had, i didn't show the world. . . it was all mental/emotional. and it was the absolute happiest i've ever been in my entire life. it didn't define me or rule my life for over a year.
but like a lightswitch, it turned on and off instantaneously. the relationship ended (partly to my self-destructive nature) in early december, i moved out of my apartment at the end of december/beginning of january, and almost quite literally, the second i got into the new place, i was b/p again. and again, and again, and again. i've purged over 20 times in the past week when i did it 5x max the entire last year. the "all habit" and reasons you listed fit me to a T too. :/ i dunno. . . just wanted to say you're not alone.

I MADE IT :)
Sounds like i'm bragging or something, but i'm really proud of myself! I haven't binged or purged since sunday. But, I also haven't...eaten. Since sunday. It works for me though. I wouldn't say it's a start...because I want to binge more than anything right now (preferably a large half-baked hand-tossed hawaiian pizza), but I lost weight and I feel emotionally stable and cleansed. I just feel good about everything again!
Really didn't think i'd make it until friday..It was pretty record-breaking for me, ha ha.
Now the trick is...to build my metabolism back up slowly so I don't gain a bunch of weight back. Cause really the weight loss was a big benefit and I feel fantastic.
I think i'll start eating solid food tomorrow but only low cal veggies n' stuff. About every hour. Hopefully it'll get my metabolism up. This is gonna suck cause of course i'm in binge mode now. At least i'm going to bed...wish me luck for tomorrow. *please don't give in, please don't give in, pleeeeeease*

Oh, and there's a really hot guy that just joined my gym..he's been there the past 3 days <3 All the more reason to go workout right?

I hate to say it but I'm impressed.

My experience with my own metabolism is that it bounces back. Don't be surprised if you do gain some of the weight back right away though. Some of the weight loss could have been from dehydration.

p.s. the most I was ever able to do was six days, but I always found that even after only three, eating a lot was NOT an option initially anyhow so I wouldn't worry too much about binging..at least not the first meal you eat.

its been a long time since i posted anything. a long time too since i read anything here. for awhile i stopped posting and kept reading but eventually i stopped reading too. i of course have not stopped b/p'ing. i dont even know some of you and i dont know if anyone remembers me. its funny how much this community can change but its always still here, which is good.

i dont have anything grand to report. next month it will be one year since i started down this road again. in that year so much has happened. but i can count on both hands the number of days i went without purging at least 1 time. in a whole year under 10 days. it makes me sad to think of it this way. next month is also the anniversary of the big thing i still cant talk about. the thing that coincidentally a week after i shoved my fingers down my throat.

i dont know if this means ill be back to keep reading or post again anytime soon or if it just means that i cant sleep this friday night and found my way back here. i know though that even if my friends ignore this or dont know how to deal with it or simply dont get it at all, i always have this group of strangers to come vent to. thank you for that.

Nice to see you again.

I hope you get to the point where you can talk about the big thing. I think you need to.

(((hugs))

So I'm still kinda doing crappy that's kind of why I don't post much. I comment all the time I just don't like posting. Probably because I feel so guilty for how bad I'm doing and I don't want to bring anyone down with me. I still feel so guilty about how much I wrote with my other username. I've had several people find me and their first response is I'm glad you are still here. I wish too I could say I'm doing fine recovery went great and I'm happy and healthy but I can't. Things now seem to be getting shittier and shittier. Over the last week my body has gone to crap. I don't know what I did but this last week I've dropped like five pounds. It does not seem like much but it's really noticeable. My mom's boyfriend noticed it today. He's like shit stacey how much weight have you lost just this week your bones are sticking out everywhere it didn't look that bad even a week ago. I feel like utter crap for putting my mom through this again. She keep asking me if I'm alright. If I so much as sigh she's asking me are you alright. She asked me today if I'm sore. And my binging and purging is of course shitty. I'm binging and purging like crazy but it doesn't effect my weight at all. Crap I almost think sometimes I burn more calories in the process of binging and purging than I retain.

::hug:: You're exhausting yourself. I wish I had some advice but I don't. Just, please, try to take care of you. Don't worry about what friends and family have to say (even though they are important), what matters is that you listen to your body and try to heal.

think not getting the cut to work is the least of your problems.

You're always so helpful and supportive in your comments. It's only right that you should be able to reach out when you're feeling like crap and want some help. You're a wonderful person and you deserve all the help out of this hell you can get.

Yesterday and today I've just had this overwhelming sense of sadness. I don't know why I'm so gloomy and so unhappy. I visited my high school the other day and was really excited to be there and see everyone because I miss them so much, but once I came back home I just felt so depressed. I don't know why I can't let things go. I thought college would help me be happier because I have more freedom and a less stressful schedule, but I've just had more and more difficulty dealing with the change.

For the past few weeks I've been at break and I'm just reminded of how things were last year when I was living at home - I just don't have the school day to save me from the wrath of my mother. I sit at home with no reason to get up or go out, and I wake up to the sound of my mother yelling at me and criticizing me for whatever she can think of every morning. My b/ping is out of control and everyone is sick of food disappearing around the house because I eat it all in the middle of the night.

I don't know what to do. I'm just so upset right now and I can't handle this anymore. I can't wait to go back to school. At least there I don't have to deal with my mother all day, every day.

We all have those days. Visiting places I used to live, go to school, or know people is always hard for me. If you get emotional about visiting your school I totally understand. Maybe while you're home spend some time with friends or other family so you don't have to see your mom so much. If you ever want to talk I'm on aim as eskako

Your mom reminds me of mine. She's fucking insane. runs in the family, i guess!

planned binges are entirely way too overrated
cause honestly it's just one big let down. Nothing tastes as good as you imagined it would, you get full so much faster than you want to, and then, when your luck sucks ass, like mine apparently does, even if you get up six pounds worth you still feel like a bloated whale.

I honestly think I may be done with this whole fucking b/p cycle for a while at least.

I hate it.

I felt so so so much better about myself three hours ago before I went through the whole damn ordeal. The flippin' salad tasted hella good, and then the rest of everything was dissapointing and unsatisfying. So much so that I purged some, ate more, then purged more, which I NEVER do.

Stupid dry refridgerated sushi, stupid tasteless chicken/prosciutto wrap, stupid pizza which was flavorless after the first slice, stupid white castle which was inhaled before I could fully comprehend I was eating it, stupid cherry pies which were a task in its self, stupid icecream which was one of the few OK tastings things and then there wasn't enough of, stupid croissant w/ melted chocolate and stupid ghetto brand peanut butter filled chocolate penguins which no wonder they were only 39 cents after being marked down from the holidays CAUSE NO ONE WANTED FUCKING PEANUT BUTTER FILLED CHOCOLATE PENGUINS.

::sigh::

I'd rather starve myself than have another b/p session like this one was.

And then, just as a friendly you're-a-fucking-dumb-ass reminder,

I really hope she's ok too. I wish someone on here knew her more and could check on her. What a shame. :(

work 9am-2pm.
buy new zip lock bags (I'm terrified I'm ruining the plumbing, so I'm resorting to this)

I feel like we need to finish the 'set'!

I think it was Frieda who said she had a list of these that she could complete and I'm very bad at expressing anger (erm ... hence the bulimia!) so I thought I'd try to do this one.

I am angry that:

- I have been trampled over so much of my life and it's ultimately up to ME to pick up the pieces

- I make excuses to remain eating disordered

- I can't control the impulses I get around food

- People in my family act like they have no idea why I am the way I am or they blame it on external factors

- My anger destroys me

- People can be so disgusting and abusive

- People think that you just need to 'snap out of it' or 'just eat' or 'just get up and get out of the house' etc

Haha, I think it's ironic that I'm angry about my anger being destrictive =P

I could get angry about so much more. I could be so much more explicit but I'm kind of scared of it to be honest. I feel like my anger could take over if I let it surface. I'm sure a lot of people feel like that?

've got a lot of the same ones as you. also:

-that i am too busy self-destructing to deal with real life and
-because of that, i'm constantly throwing away oppurtunities
-that i lack the self-confidence necessary to accomplish much of anything
-that i CANT just 'snap out of it'

My anger kind of rises and falls and randomly fixates. I'm mostly just angry at myself for not being able to take charge and fix my life.

I felt a bit fraudulent because I don't actually *feel* angry about them, I just know that I am. Generally I can't express anger so it just makes me upset or I 'deal with it' by b/p'ing.

I don't like anger - it's not good for you!

I disagree, anger is quite good for you, and expressing it in a healthy way is even better. How can a natural feeling that EVERYBODY has be bad for you? It only becomes bad when we don't know how to express it, or become unable to do so because we are told to be "nice, sensible" women/girls with no feelings.

True, I think it's more that I fear anger. Anger = dangerous and scary. People get angry and then they hurt you. I don't want to get angry because I might hurt people. Yeah, I need more therapy, I know ;]

I agree. Anger when expressed and channeled appropriately can be a wonderful thing. But for me getting angry tends to be a bad thing because I end up turning it on myself.

- a certain person knows they fucked me up, but won't acknowledge it

Oh me too - more than one person. I just hate being in that position, especially when you can't tell anyone what they did because of shame so you feel trapped with just knowing that it's between you and them. Grr, that really does make me angry! Sorry that's happened to you =[

delayed gastric emptying.

For all of you who know me and trust me, I was wondering if ANYONE here would be interested in doing a small amount of 'snail-mailing'. I'm not talking any long letters if you don't want (although I DO like writing) - just maybe a card here and there - whatever. I don't know about anyone else, but I always like getting stuff in the mail, even if it's just a card to say hi, and I love sending letters and cards. It proves we're more than just userpics and typeface.
It seems as if, although I think my email is on my profile page, not everybody can see it, so it's: tamsinlloyd@btinternet.com

If YOU are interested - email me with your address and I'll send you a card. I hope some of you guys are keen. A lot of us seem very down at the moment, especially at this time of year. How about some post-holiday cheer in the mail?

also:
(Wow - LOADS more people! well....the more the merrier I suppose, although my heart goes out to all of you. You are amongst people who understand the pain and welcome to the best ED forum) xxx

Shameful....but weirdly fascinating fairy-tale of a bulimic
I should probably cut this coz it's boring - but hey, just skip it if your in a rush or not in the mood for a long-winded non-consequential tale.

I trust that most of you guys here know the fairy-tale 'The Princess and the Pea' - the one where the poor girl has to prove she's a true-blood Princess by sleeping on a stack of mattresses and discover the hidden pea......blah, blah, blah.

Well - It's now confirmed: I'm an official eating disorder princess. Hoo-bloody-rah!

You may or may not remember that I am the one who ALWAYS starts a b/p with raw carrot - as a marker. Today I broke the habit *gasp*!
I was finishing my coffee, about to begin the big b/p ritual, carrot sliced, all food ready and waiting - and I opened the fridge to put the milk away and saw a bowl of mashed potato with one single pea in it - (must have come from a serving spoon). I swallowed it - then began on the carrots and binged my way through enough to feed a family. I had this thought that it would be some sort of miracle if I saw the pea again.

I saw the pea! I saw the pea! I was so excited. OK, so it wasn't RIGHT at the end of the purge, but fairly close. The only thing that came into my head was the tale of 'The Princess and the Pea'! ALL that binge food and I still saw the pea!!

Wow, I'm stupid. I apologise for wasting band-width, MBytes and everyones time

It's Dr. Evil, I didn't spend six years in Evil Medical School to be called "mister," thank you very much. 'lol

I'm not sure if this is such a great idea, but I thought that since we have a confessions list, we could also have a list that would be a wee bit more positive (not that theres anything wrong with the confessions list!). So maybe we could list things that we are happy about or are proud of.

Heres mine;

- I'm happy that I have such a great little sister, who always makes me smile
- I'm happy that when I'm feeling down my cat comes to comfort me
- I'm happy for the days when I feel at peace with myself, no matter how rare those moments are
- I'm happy that I can still find joy in some things
- I'm happy that I found this place and am getting to know so many wonderful people

- I'm proud that I graduated with pretty darn good grades
- I'm proud that I still have belief in a better future
- I'm proud that I haven't given up on my dreams

damn good post! :) thanks for making it. . . i need a little positivity @ the moment. ♥

-I'm happy that I'm on my way to finding myself and still find hope in even the littleist (sp?) things. At one time, there was 100% darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. Today, there may only be a flicker at some points, but hell, at least it's there.
-I'm happy that I have a few friends who I can call real who aren't only there for me because of what I can do for them. who don't take advantage. who genuinely care about me because of who i am. I never truly felt loved and cared for until the past year when i met these people.
-(Possibly because i've just recently learned how to let myself be loved. and lemme tell ya, it's a DAMN good feeling.)
-I'm happy of the things i've accomplished in the past 2 years. I've maintained a reasonable of health, whatever you wanna call it. may not be "normal", but it's good enough for me. sanity at some length of the word. I HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE HOSPITAL FOR OVER 2 YEARS. and sometimes, i just wanna shout that from the freakin' rooftops. i know for most people it's a breeze, but because it's taken a lot of work for me, i'm proud of it.
-I've grown up from a selfish, needy little girl to a grown-ass woman who is self-sufficient. yes, i'm still fucked up without a doubt, but i've at least learned to cope with daily life without curling up into a ball and being completely non-functional in bed all day. i feel bad, but i go to work anyway because i have a sense of responsibility and maturity now (and my health isn't so critical that i can't), i binge and purge and have a migraine, but i can get over it pretty quickly and laugh and smile. i can laugh these days true laughter. i don't smile to fool the world anymore. lord knows i have my ups and downs. but the feeling of self-sufficiency, actually getting out into the real world and beginning to make something of myself has been one of the greatest feelings i've felt in my entire life.
-I'm happy that I'm making baby steps towards that flickering light. . . like the OP said, the belief of a better future. I haven't given up completely on my dreams. at least I have them now and feel like they're within my achievement.

dude, i'm the most long-winded poster on here. i'm sorry! i swear i'm not this annoying in 'real life.' :x thanks again for this post. :)

Okay, I'm re-doing my post. It's hard to get me to admit that I've accomplished anything.

I have a decent relationship with my boyfriend. For once I didn't pick someone who was wrong or bad for me and then sabotage it as well.

Even though my finances are a mess, I still manage to pay my rent on time each month. I really can take care of myself despite how scary I find real world responsibility.

I have a college degree. I got through and got it. That's still something even though I'm not using it.

That was very sweet. As soon as I can think of something good to say I will try to make a positive reply to this post. *pouts*

ve got a lot of the same ones as you. also:

-that i am too busy self-destructing to deal with real life and
-because of that, i'm constantly throwing away oppurtunities
-that i lack the self-confidence necessary to accomplish much of anything
-that i CANT just 'snap out of it'

My anger kind of rises and falls and randomly fixates. I'm mostly just angry at myself for not being able to take charge and fix my life.

I'm angry that;

- My parents kicked me out when I most needed them
- In the past I've made decisions based on someone else's opinions
- I'm in a bad cycle of b/p
- There is so many bad things going on in the world
+ Many of the things you wrote down

These were a lot harder to come up with, guess I'm not as angry as I thought I was :D

I agree. Anger when expressed and channeled appropriately can be a wonderful thing. But for me getting angry tends to be a bad thing because I end up turning it on myself.

a certain person knows they fucked me up, but won't acknowledge it

Oh me too - more than one person. I just hate being in that position, especially when you can't tell anyone what they did because of shame so you feel trapped with just knowing that it's between you and them

Haha well I'm just pretty stupid. I've gotten myself into a lot of bullshit and I just feel like I could have prevented it. It's just my fault, most things. :/

I don't identify with anger. I definitely understand it though. I feel fear or pain instead of anger.

I went through the posts above and had a feeling of understanding but yet not identification, too.Like there's to be sth beyond. Your post affected me directly, like, bang, that IS exactly,as I feel it.I guess fear and pain are first emotions, but they leave ourselves too vulnerable. In the course of self-protection, it might -perhaps- often turn into anger, as a second emotion.Usually being hurt (might it be emotionally or physically) might occur first, before we get angry (with ourselves,so else, whatever).Can anyone relate to this?

Oh reading this made me smile :) I think theres something really wonderful about the fact that even though we do suffer from this disorder and it's hell at times, but still we can find humour (sorry, can't think of a better word, been up all night again)in it at times.

Maybe someone should re-write the story as The Bulimic Princess and The Pea

That was entertaining and well written. Brought a smile to my face.

I love this post. You are so freaking cute. Only a fellow bulimic would find such a story both adorable and amusing.

that's fucking AWESOME and I shall be trying this tomorrow night. Though I think I'll have like a spoonful just to give myself a better shot at beingsuccessful =x

hehe your story totally made my night :)
I love when I have a marker like that but a single pea..now that's nifty!

Haha, that's awesome in a fucked-up kind of way! Weird to think that you did not chew the pea atall, though.

I just got back from the doctor's office. My therapist insisted that I go get a physical--I guess she wanted to be sure I wasn't going to keel over in her office or whatever, which I understand, but I don't like doctors. I don't even have a regular doctor, so I just went to one of those doc-in-a-box clinics.

And what I found out is I've apparently screwed up my heart. I'm having premature atrial *and* ventricular contractions, and he wants to rule out mitral valve prolapse. I'm being sent to a cardiologist for an ECG and a Holter monitor, and I should hear back Monday about the bloodwork they did for my electrolytes and stuff.

You'd think this would scare me into stopping, but it just makes me want to b/p more because I'm freaking out

I'm sorry but I have no idea how to do a cut.

I can't believe why this depression just doesn't go away!? I'm too tired to even make any effort any more, I've tried so many times and nothing changes. I hardly have any friends... I don't know if I can even call them my true friends because I could never in a million years tell them that I still b/p. Tell them how I really feel about things. Tell them that I'm bisexual. Am I ever going to have people around me who will accept me for who I am. I hate how they watch what I eat and think that I don't notice their looks. I don't deserve to be looked at as some kind of a freak or a monster. And yet all I keep thinking about is how do I get money tomorrow to buy binge food... The place is a mess, there's food wrappers and dishes everywhere, vomit all over the toilet and I DON'T EVEN CARE! I can't be bothered to clean it up, because I just don't care, I don't see the point.

Sorry I'm only posting such depressed posts, I can be happy at times too though!

Well at least I found a good movie on Youtube. It's called My summer of love and is just amazing.

I am lucky enough to have wonderful friends, a choice few of which know about my b/ping and my bisexuality. My boyfriend knows about both of these and is very supportive, and although he is quite religious and doesn't believe homosexuality/bisexuality is "right", he doesn't impose his beliefs on me, which is all I can ask for (personally, I believe if it feels right and it makes you happy, you should do it).

My suggestion to you, is to make it a point to try to find a couple NEW friends. Not a whole lot, just maybe two. My next suggestion would be to have these two new friends be guys (in my experience males are way more accepting and laid back, whereas females are very uptight, and if they feel any competition at all, they shoot to kill).

I duno, just my thoughts and ramblings. But you are not alone!

can't believe all these things are happening to me. My dad called me not too long ago and he got details from my landlord. My roommates...my fucking whore roommates....went to the landlord about me. As you all know, I decided to do something I usually don't and I opened up to the people around me. I explained to them what a rough time I'm having and how I've hit a really low point. We had a talk all together two days and everything seemed good. Hugs and all. They seemed so sympathetic and open and understanding. Obviously not.

They went complaining to the landlord that they're now afraid to leave food around and that they don't want to have to be responsible to clean the toilet.....which should I mention that I clean after I purge....I clean the bowl and all that....i dunno, maybe those nazi bitches are checking every single crack. I guess they want a 'meeting'...and i don't know who's brilliant idea it was to call my parents! Ruin my life here and my home life.....good thinking. My parents are old. My dad is 65 and with parkinsons. I know I'm a huge cause of stress for him and I hate that.....but now he has to be under even more unnecessary stress because of this.

I also found a note on the fridge basically saying that they don't want to worry about my disgustingness (exact word used) and that they don't want to keep food out. It was the bitchiest note ever. I dunno, I've always been friends with just guys so I've never had an experience like this before. The few girls that I've had as friends were always so chill and down to earth. They'd never do something like this. I never really experienced the whole girl, bitchy, 2-faced thing. I live with these random girls, so I know I wouldn't be friends with them outside of this.

Whatever. I know that maybe part of all their stupid reactions are out of concern, but they have gone about it all wrong and have hurt me very much. I'm not the type to blow up. I'm not going to yell. I opened up, because I didn't want commotion and I wanted an open and peaceful atmosphere. Even if they went to my landlord, I could understand that....but my parents???? And that note???? It was all unnecessary.

I was crying (silently in my room). But I stopped. I'm ok and calm just typing here. My dad will be here in an hour or two. I don't want to talk with my roommates and I don't want them talking to my father in any meeting with my landlord. I will sit with my landlord and father and figure out if I can get my checks back for these upcoming months, so I can move somewhere new. This is a college area. You can always find something. I really hope someone can be understanding and let me leave and give me my checks for jan-april or at least feb-april back.

I've learned a very valuable lesson that I've always know deep down: Never open up. People back stab and never really understand.

I think I was delusional on prozac to think that maybe, just fucking maybe, people are nice and good and understanding and that I can open up and talk about my problems and really get better. I realize thats not true at all. I'll always be fucked up and nobody will get that. I need to get better at just relying on myself and dealing with my issues, feelings, and shit on my own.

Whatever. No matter what I do it's a lose-lose situation. God, they're all out in the kitchen outside of my room talking like the dumb bimbos they are. Oh and they invited their boyfriends over I hear. I guess they wanted them to see the freak before she leaves. This is beyond embarrassing and low.

I am so sorry, that's really terrible. Your roommates are being completely inconsiderate and making things harder than they have to be. They had no reason to go to your parents or even the landlord, considering they had no complaints before you opened up to them. They obviously didn't have any problems if you were able to keep it from them until now.

I hope things work out for you. You don't need to put up with these girls and their stupidity. It's tough when you finally feel like you can open up to someone and it blows up in your face, but it's important not to let this discourage you. Having a support system of people who know what you're going through can be helpful, you just have to be careful about who you trust. Don't let these idiot girls stop you from ever asking for help -- not everyone is like that

Oh *Big Hugs*
I'm so sorry - it sounds like hell, and those around you HAVE behaved horribly!!

I'm responding quickly (sorry - in a rush) - but I have to let you know that most people out there ARE good and understanding - and especially, don't forget all of us on the Purg! We'll be behind you if that helps at all.

Some people can be shits. A lot of people aren't and I wish you all the luck in the world today. Please remember that you are not a bad person. Don't LET people make you feel bad - (hard, I know - but try). You have support.

Thanks so much for that. I'm sitting in my room in torture basically waiting for my dad. You hear them all outside laughing and talking loudly and then they'll go quiet and you'll hear whispering for a few minutes. Its just really bad.

I must say that this forum has helped me so much. Just writing out my frustration here has really helped me keep my cool. And you guys are very supportive and amazing.

That reaction is so incredibly immature, hurtful, and hypocritical. I am so, so sorry girl. My heart goes out to you right now. How would they feel if they were in your same situation? You made it very clear to them that this was a tough subject, and they had to know on some level that their actions would make it worse. I'll find it hard to believe if they claim they had good intentions. Especially after one practically admitted she wished she had an ED. I wouldn't be surprised if they are acting out of resentment and

I can't imagine how bad you must feel, but the fault is in them, not you. God what arseholes! Sorry for the language but that is just beyond my belief. Want me to come over and kick their bimbo-arses for you? I just might do that...

*lots of hugs to you*

I've learned a very valuable lesson that I've always know deep down: Never open up. People back stab and never really understand.

That's exactly how I feel as well. Opening up to people is more trouble than it's worth and I'm sorry that you are going through what you are going through with those bitches. They clearly don't understand and don't care about you. They sound very selfish and you'll be better off moving out and not opening up until you know 100% that you have found people you can trust.

*hugs*

I just want to say that I think your roommates are more messed up than you are. You have a disease you didn't choose and wouldn't wish on your worst enemy, they conciously choose to be back-stabbing bitches. I am so sorry you are going through this right now. I'd be on their side if they just wanted to get you help because they care about you, but that doesn't sound like that's the case at all. They could at least have not invited their boyfriends over. You're not a freakshow, you're a human being.

They're the disgusting ones here, not you.

And like some others have already said, don't let this scare you out of opening up or reaching out. There are good, caring people out there.

Holy fucking shit!!!!!!

My landlord just called my PARENTS to drive down here immediately (today or tomorrow) for an emergency meeting!!!!!!!!

What the fuck did I do now? Does everybody want to do an intervention? God damn A&E. I haven't done shit to the landlords....and its such a big deal that she can't talk to me personally? She has to call my parents??????? Oh god.....life is 100% no good right now

Can your landlord even do that? Isn't that some sort of invasion of privacy or whatnot...? I guess I don't really know the whole story, does your landlord know? or have you time after time clogged your pipes? sorry for the multiple questions, I'm just so speechless right now. I'm pretty sure my landlord doesn't even remember who I am, let alone call my parents about something so private and sensitive.

Yeah I know. I don't even know if its bulimia related. I don't know if the pipes have been clogged....maybe that too...i've thrown out puke bags, but nothing was ever left behind by the garbage men....unless they're taking them out and collecting my puke bags....which would be extremely weird. And wouldn't they confront me after the first puke bag incident? I have no idea what it could be. This is the last thing I need right now.

try and be calm it is probably not as bad as you think. I get paranoid when stuff like that happens always thinking its bulimia related but it isn't. Apparently us bulimics are masters of disguise.

Anyway sorry I haven't spoken for a while. Hope things work out. xxxxx

I have to apologise for not having replied to any of your comments on my last post. Time-wise I've been really busy, there's so much revision to do and so little time. The more I think about it the more I feel like I'm going to fail all this. The only thing I've got going on for me is that it's only a mock examination, so it doesn't count for much... but my teachers will still give me hell if I do badly on them. Please think of these updates as my way of replying to your comments.

As the title suggests I could do with some movie recommendations. I'm trying to keep next week b/p-free (yet again) and thought that watching a good movie when I get the urge might help. And I also just learned how to download movies ;>

I watch mostly drama, but in general I like movies that make you think. But theres nothing wrong with some good-old comedy every now and then.

Thanks in advance!

Have you investigated the children's ranges?

OK - this might not be the best option if you have long legs, but I'm short and petite as well as underweight. Fashion-wise there's no problem. Kids wear such grown-up clothes lately.

The other solution I go for is to find the smallest sizes I can - then make sure I have a reliable BELT!!!

Verlinken

17.10.2007 um 18:23 Uhr

dez

von: saracheret

So after my doctor thing on tuesday, I basically didn't eat. I didn't really eat before it either. I bummed around on the comp and kept thinking of food, food, food. By around one am, I woke up from a mini-nap in total binge mode. I was unstoppable....but remember I don't keep much food, if any, around. So what was I unstoppable on? Yes, my roommate's food. I felt so low afterwards. Devouring bagels, pitas, slimfast mix, hot chocolate mix (in cold water?), a jar of jam (on the bagels and pita), mayo, butter, nutella, and peanut butter.

Well, after puking I had a little breakdown in my bathroom. I puked and then I felt so shitty and low. I ate my roommates food, I binged and purged knowing what physical state I'm in, and then every single worry I have (school, family, etc) just hit me. I felt like such a loser crying (silently) on my bathroom floor (which could have random scary bugs running around at any time....thats student living ppl).

I then started to freak out more cause I wasn't going to get any food money the next day and I wouldn't be able to replace their shit before they'd find out. I basically binged and purged myself into a corner. So, since I'm a coward and can never talk about my ED in person, I left my roomies a little note on the kitchen table and then passed out in my room. I missed every class today (i slept until 5pm) and then found some money! Did I replace their food...no only, the pitas, then I used the rest to buy binge food and binged/purged away the evening....better to b/p than feel like a complete loser and failure at life, right? I feel really crappy right now. And whats the most important thing on my mind right now? No, not health, not school, not integrity, not family.....but what 'shit stayed down?', 'did i really get it all out?', 'i'm such a slob, I slept and didn't work out!'.........i can't believe myself.

Anywho, here is the letter I left my roommates and the reply of one of my roommates (who really is a sexy italian bitch with a great ass). I don't know what to tell her. I haven't faced any of them yet in person.

I feel so damn cheesy writing a letter, but I’m a coward and don’t have the balls to say these things in person. Even if I wanted to, I’d probably not be able to get the words out. I wanted to tell you guys that right now I’m dealing with a really strong eating disorder. At the hospital I’m put under the severe and high risk category. I know its not pretty or nice to talk about. I’m in no way looking for sympathy or anything like that. The last thing I’ve ever wanted was for people to know about this damn problem. My current ECG recorded my heart rate as 40. The doctors check it whenever I have an appointment. Every two weeks I now have to get an ECG and blood tests. My electrolytes are out of whack. I’m basically a walking heart attack waiting to happen. If my heart rate drops any more, I’ll basically be thrown into the hospital. I got a lot of this news recently and what did I do? I spent the day skipping meals and binging and purging at night. They basically told me that I need to try and stay alive for treatment and what do I do that very night…the one thing I shouldn’t. Its sick, but I vomit blood too, and sometimes I keep going because I need to get it all out. I’m not emaciated. I’m not 90lbs. I look so healthy and curvy that I don’t feel I have a right to get treatment and that maybe there really is no problem. That’s so wrong to think and it’s a complete misconception. People with eating disorders can look 100% healthy and normal. They don’t need to always look like concentration camp sufferers. Even though my weight is normal, it just borders the healthy and unhealthy line. I look so full bodied, curvy, healthy, and normal though. It is hard to think that I’m really not healthy at all, and that I’m in fact really sick.

Even when I was doing better I was purging every now and then. Usually, in my room into bags and then sneaking to the side of the house to throw it out. Those are really embarrassing and low moments too. I always throw stuff into the garbage at the side of the house and worry if bags of puke have broken, does it smell, does anybody suspect anything? I know it seems weird that I’m so paranoid to let anyone near my room and I never want the door open. I probably wouldn’t think twice about these things if I didn’t have this eating disorder, but since I have been puking in my room I’m always worried that maybe it smells of puke. I open the window in the winter, because I’m so worried about that. I’m trying to stick mostly to toilets, but I’ve got a good skill of clogging them with vomit. Not very pretty, but there really is no nice way to put it. Its disgusting.

I’m really just admitting it to myself that I have a serious problem and I really am trying to get help. I go through cycles of anorexia and then cycles of bulimia. It’s a starve, binge, purge cycle. It is terribly embarrassing to even accept that is what I do and have been doing for years. I must say I am at a really low point right now. I was doing a bit better at the beginning of third year, but 2^nd semester of 3^rd year I started to really fall and relapse bad. I’m sorry that Anne-Marie had to meet me at such a shitty point. I know this all seems nuts, but outside of it I’m normal. I’m extremely sorry if I ever take any of your food to binge and purge on. I will always replace anything I take. I’m sitting here and I can’t believe I’ve stooped so low. Tiffany and Linda lived with me for a bit when I was doing better, and you guys know I wouldn’t do that. Bulimia scares the crap out of me. I hate it. You get into these states when you’re so hungry that you’ll do anything to binge and purge. Eat food off the floor, out of the garbage….you basically lose all dignity and rationality. It’s sick and disgusting. I don’t buy food once a week anymore, because I’m scared of binging and purging. My parents have taken hold of my accounts and credit card and basically send me $20 three times a week for food, hoping I’ll avoid the binge/purge thing. I just end up binging and purging one day, completely starving myself the next, and continuing the cycle. Sometimes I lie and tell them I’m going out with friends to get more money to keep around just in case. I always feel extra shitty doing that. Its not something I would normally do. I don’t even care to vomit in public washrooms or at the library. I always figure that people don’t know me and they can’t tell me anything. Plus, when will I ever see any of them again. Who cares if they’re staring and gossiping, its more important to get food out….and if its in a public washroom 99% of the time I’m purging just coffee with skim milk and some nuts. It would be harmless to keep the damn things down. You lose complete rationality in those moments.

But anyways, I’m rambling. After struggling with this for about 11 years, I am just now starting to get real help and I’ve just realized (literally this past week) that I need to admit to myself and to those around me that I do have a problem. It’s extremely embarrassing, but I need to stop all the damn hiding and sneaking around. This is my problem and as sick and revolting as it is...it’s a part of me. It’s a real slap in the face to do that and extremely humbling. I don’t have the guts to bring up the subject myself, but if at any time you want to ask me about it then feel free too. I’m not opposed to talk about it. I just freeze when it comes to me bringing it up. Again, my main point in this is that I have a problem, I wouldn’t normally be like this, and if I take any of your food at any time I will replace it. My full outpatient treatment starts soon and I’m really going to try and normalize my eating and follow their advice and help. I don’t want to fail school, live in the hospital, or die. I hope to be having normal meals, keeping them down, and not doing all this shit. I’m not some kind of eating disordered food monster if I can just do that one simple thing. Anyways, I feel awkward and dumb writing this. I hope you guys can understand (y’all are pretty awesome girls) and really don’t feel you need to tip toe and avoid the subject around me. I really have no apprehension to talk about it anymore. Alright…I’m totally done rambling now.

Ps. I’m really sorry for anything.

One of My Roomie's Responses:

hi emily,

i read your letter. I am so proud of you for having the courage to talk about something so personal. I have to admit that since last year I saw all the warning signs that you had an eating disorder, but i thought it wasn't any of my business so i didn't say anything to you about it. I'm glad that you're open to talking about it now.

I don't think it was cowardly of you to write it in a letter.. heck, i'm sending you this cause i dont have enough guts to tell you in person either!

This may sound odd, but I am kinda jealous of you! for years i have hated the way i look and i work out and try to eat right but it never lasts for long and i dont see any results. often times i bring myself to the bathroom and try to purge but i can't do it! i just gag but nothing ever comes up. I'm kinda jealous that you're able to do it so easily and look the way you want... if that makes any sense?? to me, you're beautiful and you look great, and i want that.. no matter the cause. this may sound wierd of me asking...but do you make yourself throw up?? I know you're probably going to tell me that it's not something i want to be getting myself into..but i hate the way i look and i just want to be thin!

I think it's great that you're trying to get healthy - you probably then hate me for suggesting that i want to be more like you!

anyways..now i'm rambling..

She's not ignorant and un-emotional at all. She is really great. Obviously, she hates herself and is desperate to lose weight. It just shows how little people know about eating disorders. She really is a smart and caring girl. I put her letter up, because it made me really sad that someone whom I thought was so together, beautiful, and happy with herself also has these thoughts and the potential to get an eating disorder. This is becoming such an epidemic.

I think your roommate sounds like she sympathizes and identifies with you. Especially the first paragragh. In the last paragragh she sounds like she doesn't understand how serious your problem is, but she also sounds like she's just a gag reflex away from going down the same road you're on. I think you could have done a lot worse in a roommate.

"And whats the most important thing on my mind right now? No, not health, not school, not integrity, not family.....but what 'shit stayed down?', 'did i really get it all out?', 'i'm such a slob, I slept and didn't work out!'.........i can't believe myself."

This is a perfectly normal response. Bulimia is your coping mechanism, you're going to turn to it whenever everything else gets too scary, and things sound pretty scary for you right now.

I'm proud of you for having the courage to write that letter too.

I was almost in tears reading your letter. I cannot imagine how much courage it must have taken to write that, and I think it's absolutely amazing. Which is why I'm so...appalled by your roommate's response. I can't believe she could be so insensitive after you divulged how nightmarish it is to live with an eating disorder. You went into so much detail about the shame involved in having an ED, and she has the sheer fucking stupidity to ask for tips? Hiding bags of puke sounds appealing to her? I'm sorry, but that really pisses me off.

Drained and Scared
Hi everyone. I am really feeling shitty - grad school performance and motivation continually declining. Everything feels like it is unraveling on me, and I just feel too weak and distant to do anything about it. I am doing so poorly behavior-wise (B/P and restricting)...hit a 15(?) year low today - 86.8 lbs, and I am 33 years old, 5'4". That is really bad. I feel like complete shit physically, no energy, etc. I am really feeling like things are getting put into motion that I might not end up having control over (school withdrawal, hospitalization, etc.) and I don't know whether to feel terrified or relieved. I am not sure that it is not past the point where I can fix it, work hard, and progress without major intervention. I almost can't bear that thought - have been there, done that so many times in the last 20 years (but not that recently.) I feel bled dry today, and I have so much I have to do - seriously I am nearing the point of not being able to cope. Anyone have any thoughts?

(P.S. The crowning glory is that the only therapist I have ever been able to work with, who I actually loved and was the first person with whom I felt hope and a therapeutic connection, told me last night she can't work with me now because she is booked with patients. I took a self-inflicted hiatus from TX with her over the summer and now I guess she won't see me anymore. That was the most crushing blow I've had in a long time. I guess like with the rest of this illness, you can't appreciate what you have until it's gone. I am a total therapy cynic, so now WTF do I do??)

About a month after I saw that episode I ended up at the same treatment center that Selina did. I, too, saw myself in that video. I was actually jealous of Selina, because at least her family knew she was ill and wanted her to get help. I was still in hiding and wanted to get help but couldn't yet tell anybody.

I am by no means recovered now, but I am finally starting to get better.

I'm with you on this one. I too, felt like I would never ever stop being bulimic. It was bad. But now I'm better too

What the hell...
Is wrong with me? I went to the shops to get some stuff to make some wraps, sorta mexican stlye.

I bought lettuce, tomato, cheese, sour cream, salsa and avocado... Came home, cut it all up, made one small pita bread full of the stuff, ate half, then made a wrap that was a bit bigger, and I couldn't finish the fuckers. Damn it. This has been happening a lot lately, I can't eat too much, a plate of food and I am uncomfortably full. So I puked and threw the remainder of my food out... I didn't even want to eat it after emptying myself gahhhh. I still have all the salad stuff, 95% of a block of cheese, most of the sour cream (light) and salsa, and half an avo left, not to mention a whole heap of wraps/pita breads that live in my freezer. I always finish my avcado, I love it, and I can't. This makes me mad as a cut snake. I can't even have a good old binge when I want to.

And to make matters worse, I threw up so violently I had to completely scrub the toilet and surrounds, and wash the clothes I was wearing, I'm normally clean easy and silent... Not so today. I still feel full...

Maybe the nearing of entering a treatment program has caused me to psychologically cut down so that I don't seem as bad, even though I'm nowhere near as bad as I used to be... hmmmm. Or maybe I'm just ready to give it up... confusing much?

On another note I thought I would put up some differences in terminology seeing as though it's a hot topic... I think it's funny...

Aussie first...
Toilet - Bathroom
University - College
Fizzy drink/soft drink - pop/soda
Ute - Truck
petrol - gas
jumper - sweater
Shopping centre - mall
biscuits - cookies

OK can't be bothered anymore, off to drink drink drink my new favourite energy drink and vodka mix (70 cals per can, 1.7 std drinks, 7% alc vol.) as well and vodka/mailbu and diet coke, and probably some beers and wine when I lose willpower...

alright,
so i've been suffering from bulimia consistently for about 2 years, but in the last few months i've been having a strange new problem that never occurred before: if i eat too much, even if i'm not purposefully binging, i automatically throw up. it's like once i reach this certain level of fullness, my body just forces the food back up without me even doing anything. now before you tell me that i'm lucky and that's cool and easy, let me just say that it is paralyzingly embarassing and inconvenient. i have absolutely no control over it. christmas eve, i was sitting in mass with my family after eating a big dinner (that i wasn't planning on purging, by the way) and i just threw up out of the blue, it wasn't a ton, but it was definitely a very shocking amount (my mouth was full--gross, i know), so i just clapped my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom.
does this happen to anyone else?
i am so fucked up.

let this be a public service announcement to anyone patrolling these boards looking for tips on "getting" bulimia or an easy diet. THIS IS A DISEASE. IT IS NOT GLAMOROUS. IT IS AN ADDICTION THAT TURNS YOU INTO A FUCKING DISGUSTING MESS.

I'm a little bit anxious. Cut for crude language

Does anyone else purge in the shower.See here I thought I was being clever, until I read a post in an anorexia community concerning a girl who had, but was caught because her mother cleaned out the drain.
Now I don't know about this, but I'm pretty careful come my shower purges.
In fact it's my favourite type because there is bountiful amounts of water, limited suspicion, a chance to shower away the stench and lots of sound to drown out the gagging.
I'm really anxious as to how she got caught. Unless her mother was cleaning the drains of hair residue, I don't see how this is possible.I've heard of pipes bursting (which has always scared me) but I make certain to crush up any large bits of food before they hit the waterslide.
Well the hair idea I can rule out , all in my family have short hair, drain clogage is seldom.
Unless of course plumping a drain with that toilet thingy is possible.
Anyways is this post rather pointless.
Take care

i purged in showers a couple times but it was more trouble than it was worth and didnt work for me too well anyway.

my HOUSE pipes have burst before though and my father made a comment to me about all the puke..sooo..yeaa....fun times.

Asshole, Douchebags, Fuckers, Sluts.

really? mostly where i live everybody is so nice to everyone else. guys still open the doors for women and everyone is sir and ma'am
i always wanted to see ny but if people r really like that ill be handin out good ol country ass whoopins here and there. lol

lthough I am fairly Aussie and I say stupid shit like bonza, gold, and a whole bunch of slang that confuses the hell out of most people here, so I have to be rally conscious of it... All my friends call me a bogan/ocker... which is like really Aussie and yeah, don't really know how to explain it, except for I drinnk beer, watch footy and cricket and talk with a really thick aussie accent... haha.all down the puker. ya most ppl call it the pisser or the shitter but im callin it the puker.

uummmm oh and like a half gallon of sweet tea. naturally.

what do yall think bout plastic surgery? like lipo or boob jobs?

do people in other parts of the country really not say yall? i find it hard to believe if its true.

and then post purge - my yummy yummy camel frost cig.

i feel bad bout leavin the water runnin when the drought is as bad as it is but really, cant let mama hear me up chuck. its so not ladylike...or something....

yall have a good night...or day...wherever u r

poem about eating disordered communities

An Elite Society, we are.

We lay easily in this virtual existence,

holding hands, dissolved into illuminated words.

Pixels glowing steadily through the quiet nights.

A network of dark endeavors, stark honesty,

pouring through the veins of technology

feeding our fears, desires, obsessions.

It’s a toxic competition; a game we play,

hands poised over keyboards,

eye’s glued to the world before us,

and with passages growing exponentially

we continue in uniformity

existing to feed one desire only.

Scrolling through manipulations of light, intrigued,

emulated precision flashes before us,

and we stare, and long…

We grasp hands, our common thread

is our choice of self destruction.

An elite society, we are.

We ascend the hierarchy of prestige,

here in this virtual world, with each new number to boast.

But here in Flesh- we are losing. Rapidly.

Organs failing, days spinning. No one trusts us.

White gowns and plastic trays. Living by the ticking clock.

Broken dishes, tears, blood. It is time. They are watching.

We lie, but it’s because they don’t understand.

They force, we rebel. With our only voices, our invincible powers

what self control—

our fragile frames, shrinking to silence, up against everything-

becoming nothing…together.

okay so ive had a few very bulimic days, binging and purging, lying, hiding food...lots of fun things like that. today was ridiculous.

i woke up, skipped breakfast, went to my nutritionist appointment. she told me she couldnt help me and sent me out the door. and our appt lasted 10 mins (supposed to be an hour) and she called and demanded her copay. grr. anyway,
after i came home and bped. called my therapist, cried a bit about being "given up on" and she tried to convince me that it was her, not me. okay. fine.
then my mom and i went to the meat store to buy brisket for new years and some party stuff. we're throwing a little three people party. me , my mom, and my little sister. i was happy to spend time with her. we bought a pinata and filled it with cute little toys for my little sister.
then we went to whole foods and got groceries, and i bought my snack, which was carrot juice and a muffin. im on a carrot juice kick for some reason.
but after i felt really full, even tho it was a fat free muffin and i hadnt kept anythign down yet. so at the next store we went to i said i had to pee, and puked real quick.
i felt bad becuase it was kind of expensive....then i came home and while my parents hung up some new picture frames upstairs, i binged on random shit and purged. then my mom was like "okay we should have lunch" so i ate a few things, puked before we left, and then we drove to the store to do a few other things. we got back a few hours later and cooked dinner together. i
offered to clean up after dinne rand puked into the garbage disposal while cleaning dishes. i felt bad, i was getting all down on myself like you effing failure everyones giving up on you you cant even try.
then i binged on cereal, fruit, some raw veggies, a cup of soup and kept it all down. i feel like shit. but whatever. later me and my mom played banana-gram, its like a scrabble game but with loose pieces. we get super competitive. im an obsessive scrabble player.

Now. I just feel icky, bloated, and dissapointed. Everyone seems to be mad at me, like "well you have to make the choice to get better" if it was that fucking easy why the hell are the people telling me this still sick!!! jsdhfkajdshfadfasdjfjsdfajd bargh

oh and if i sit down for a long time my entire left side goes numb. weird...i mean i know it has to do with electrolytes and stuff, i just wonder what particularly is causing it.
that and does nayone else get REALLY LOW BLOOD SUGAR after they purge. like to the point of hot flashes and shaking- is this a sign of hypoglycemia or diabetes or something

Gah, this place fucks with me something terrible, but i can't stay away.
Posts about drugs crawl all over me. Not the ones where people are just talking about their drug use because that's real, and honest, and they NEED to talk about it, but posts where people are like, omg, when i do coke/ephedrine/meth etc it's Leik, so KeWl cus Then I don'T Purggggg......yeah, no shit. You're also weakening your heart muscle even further, compromising your already beleaguered immune system, risking your freedom, blah blah blah rant lecture shut the fuck up frieda.
Buuuut, there are very young women here, 14, 15,16 who are already sick of b/ping and desperately looking for a way out who might be willing to try anything. And having an eating disorder and turning into a crack whore makes you.....a crack whore with an eating disorder. I feel like I can pull rank a little, because I'm fucking old and I HAVE tried anything/everything as an alternative to b/ping.
Post what you like, but put your big girl panties on if it's something controversial.
You might get knocked around a little, is that really the worst fucking thing that's ever happened to you, to get your little feelings hurt on the internet? If so, i want your life.
And we are NOT each other's thinspo for god's sake.
Someone else says that to ohyesitsroxy I'm gonna have to choke a bitch.
Hubbys' home, gotta go.

You can't spell "purge" without "urge."

Coincidence? I think not.

Why can't i just stop eating?
I never cry. I have just cried. Why? I was meant to be going shopping with my Grandma whom i hardly ever see and i had to tell her at the last minute that i wasn't going because i couldn't be bothered. Real reason? I don't fit into any of my clothes. She was going to buy me an item of clothing as well. I am such a fucking fat cow.

How can anyone with so many different sizes of clothes not fit into ANY of them?!

I just don't want to eat until i fit into them again. I threw out all my clothes thinking it would stop me from putting weight back on. Wrong! Now i will just have to walk around naked. Now if that isn't a deterrent for not eating i don't know what is.

The funny thing is that i have been going to the gym everyday and the weight is still creeping back on...well creeping is probably an massive understatement. ( Weight Talk ) I just want to be invisible.

I'm going to run so hard at the gym (if you can call it running- i have some chub rub going on and i actually waddle) that i will be 154 by the time i get back....if only magic like that actually happened!

basically i have a boyfriend and he knows about my e/d...he knows way more details than anyone in real life (eg- that i purge daily, that i have a chocolate box hidden in my room, that i purge when im out at restaurants etc etc..). mind you, he doenst know details that NOBODY knows (eg- the extent of my bp sessions when i'm home alone). but the thing is, while he doesn't want me to be like this forever (obviously i don't see that as an option either), at the same time he accepts my current position - i'm not ready for recovery or to give this up.

i really do not make attempts to get better...i plan my bp's, its not an accident, & i know exactly what i'm doing. i feel enormously guilty about this, but its gotten to the point where we go out and get a meal, i go purge in the bathroom straight after. its out there, its on the table, its not even him turning a blind eye. and he also sort of helps me when im in annoying social situations- eg: we're at a friends b-day together, he will be like "everyone's dancing, quick go un-eat now" (we call it "un-eat"...twisted much). once i came home from a big asian meal and my mum was unexpectadly there, so he was like "you can come to mine if you wanna and do it there".

i feel wierd typing this...as if i am painting my boyfriend as a careless monster. we are 100% in love and he is the man that i will marry. he shows concern for me on countless occassions, but i think we are at a closeness and understanding where he KNOWS i won't give it up yet, and pushing me to will just cause MAJOR problems. i have nightmares over a situation where i would have choose between him or my e/d (hypothetical). i would actually die.

anyway..just wanting to know if anyone is in the same boat as me, so i feel a tad more 'normal' (not that i want to be normal).

ps- there are so many pros and cons about having him know and in such detail...

pros-
-i can be totally honest if i NEED to bp...i just say it.
-hes there for support and i can open up to him about things.
-i can go out with him and have an amazing night and eat too much but not have to deal with such enormous guilt/plot how i'll purge

cons-
-he knows all the signs. he pretty much knows by the way i act (eg- drink heaps of water) whether im going to keep it down or not
-the obvious guilt for puting this burden on him and placing him in this situation
-majority of my 'private' bp's home alone, he knows exactly where i am and what i'm doing ( we are EXTREMELY close, always know where eachother are and what we're up to), which takes away from the whole privacy.

Besides binging/purging... are there any other addictions that you guys have here?

When I went to my new shrink last week, she was concerned with my drinking and smoking, along with my bulimia. She said that i needed to quit and that they could be affecting my depression... She said that with my problems that i need to go to a rehab... i'm nervous about going. Altogether, I know that I have.:

- of course drinking alcohol to where i black out about once a week
- smoking
- pull my hair when I'm stressed (called trichatellomania... but i'm not going bald, haha;)
- take laxatives as another method to purge
- drink TONS of caffeine
- restrict after a bad binge day

.... ok, i'm going to stop, i'm really fucked up...

but i'm wondering if anyone else has anything here that they want to share, or any advice about rehab...

pulling my hair out
shoplifting
diet pills
promiscuity
drinking

wow we all have some of the same issues.

smoking
stealing
lying
hurting
each intricate form of self injury i can grasp at.

I smoke, drink lots of Energy Drinks - granted they all are low carb or low cal ones, still has all the bad stuff in it, I drink a lot of coffee - mainly from Starbucks. I have an oral fixation - i know, i know, it sounds dirty. But, I constantly have to be smoking, eating (hence the bulimia), or chewing gum to keep me sane. And, Im a "fidgeter", I always have to be moving, I bounce my leg, tap my fingers, whatever - its a form of A.D.D.

earlier today or maybe yesterday someone asked about muscle-loss and i remembered i've had this theory for a while i wanted some educated feedback on and i don't think i ever got round to posting it...it's quite simple really, but me being me i've rambled,

so basically between a girl i know of who was so upset by having large breasts she tried to bulime them away and ended up skinny as a rake on most counts but still mightily beracked, and my own transition over the past few years from strapping, mesomorphic 'pear' to flabby little boyling with barely an 8 inch difference between my hips and waist, i started to think maybe bulimics tend to carry there weight a bit higher - round the chest and stomach rather than the hips (just one more way in which we're losing on the health front gals :P)...so in short somehow bulimia-induced weight-loss is primarily a result of loss of muscle and healthy fat.

and if that's the case (as my mighty 2-person study suggests) then i want to know why. and the reason that comes to mind is that, as we're probably all too aware, when you purge you never get it all out. and what's more, when you're coming to the end of your binge the food from the beginning is already on its way into your system. (acts it's something i keep in mind a lot - anything substantial i eat i think of as 'on-loan' to my stomach - 'here's some of that nutrition you've been craving, it's yours to do what you like with for 90 minutes, and then i'm taking it back')...umm, how not to balls this u, i'm not great at conveying things concisely, case you hadn't noticed ;)

right, so let's take a 90 minute b/p session (which i know is a lot more than some of you leave, but i just want an arbitrary figure for my illustration). In 90 minutes the only things your body will have time to digest in any significant quantity will be simple starches - sugar etc - while fats are more complex and take longer and protein...well, i'm not sure my body digests that at all anymore (chocolate and biscuits are already pukejuice in your mouth, but chicken from hours or even days before can come up in recognisable chunks). so as well as restricting your calorific intake as a whole, you're restricting your calorific variation, and sadly to those kinds of calory that when unused turn to 'bad fat' around your abdomen and chest (that's also why high waist to hip ratio is used as an indicator for certain types of diabetes - it may be a sign that a high proportion of your diet consists of sugar), while depriving yourself regularly, and sometimes even unitentionally of more complex foodstuffs which the body takes longer to break down, particularly protein and fibre, leaving you unable to maintain your muscle (or move your bowels regularly)

erm, obvs sorry that was so long, also sorry if i sounded didactic or know-it-ally at any points - it's a habit i have sometimes, when in fact i'm not too sure what i'm talking about x

this was a great post, thank you so so much for posting it. I never thought about any of these things before, but it sounds very logical.
I have been on a health kick lately, trying to get in tons of fruits and veggies with some lean protein and carbs here and there, and I already feel a lot better. This post makes me feel encouraged, like I am doing the right thing for my health and sanity. I have been exercising every day too, and that helps a lot with convincing myself to keep everything down.
I used to think that thinner was better, i.e., no ass or tits, just skinny, but now I want to be curvy with lots of muscle. It took a long time for me to change my aesthetic but it's worth it.

Verlinken

04.08.2007 um 15:17 Uhr

ll

von: saracheret

Here's the scoop on my night.

I had to babysit ALL day. 8:30am to 11pm...oh well I had a good day, I was just tired. It happens but all I wanted to do was go straight to bed when I got off because the family I work for is letting me stay for the weekend (I have a room here in their summer home but I usually don't stay weekends because they have guests a lot)...anyway I had my Dad's car bc my rents were away and I had work done on my car. All fucking week I'm telling my Dad to call me when he needs his car back and I'll switch and my Mom said he doesn't need it til Sunday...so I think I'm planning on staying here all weekend. I was going STRAIGHT to bed after babysitting and have a little "me" day tomorrow complete with gym, mani/pedi, beach and people watching at a sceney cafe. Well fuck that because my Dad calls me at 9pm telling me he needs his car to go to work at 6am tomorrow. Ummm are you kidding me? So I had to go drop off my car when I got off at 11 (I live an hour and a half away from here) and then drive back here.

So what do I decide to do on the long lonely car ride to my house? Binge of course. What happened at this point I can't believe. I haven't done this in MONTHS. I went to 7-11 got ben and jerry's, a box of crumb topped donuts, and a strawberry frosted donut. Then I stop at McDonald's (BIG mistake) and got large fries, a cinnabun thingy, 3 cheese burgers, 6 piece nuggets and a large milkshake. It doesn't sound like a lot but it seriously was. I felt like it wasn't me doing this. I started to eat but I fucked up not drinking enough liquids in between the fries and burgers. I usually have a balance of liquids and solids that keeps purging REALLY easy but this time I was just not thinking straight. So I'm eating this shit, realize I got too much, I'm home and there's still stuff left, so I decide to keep driving around. Finally I NEED to puke. I pull over on a deserted-ish street and try to purge but nothing was coming out. It was one of those big globs that is blocking the waterfall of puke that needs to come out. It was miserable. All that was coming up was some milkshake. After several scares that my stomach was tearing, a serious, near-death choking experience (I'm not kidding, I almost thought I was dying for real) I gave up and decided to head home to chug water and loosen things up. I thought it was only my dad home but I walk in the door eating the last donut, with food splattered down my shirt and an empty ben and jerry's container...to find 3 of my brothers up and watching TV. I had to deal with their questions, "Umm why are you never home?" "who are you?!" (they were just kidding) and "can I have a donut? wait they're all gone..." Basically I chugged some water and tried a bit but I couldn't get anything up without actually choking again and noise was not allowed so I gave up. I snapped at everyone at home because I was in scary-fat-bitch mode, switched the cars and ran to the nearest 24 hour waldbaum's for some milk of magnesia so I can get this waste out of me ASAP. I'm not dumb enough to think this could block calorie absorbtion but I just need to feel skinny soon or I'll get into the b/p cycle and it will ruin my weekend.

I just feel like tonight was a total regression. I thought I had come farther then this, to sink back to my normal routine, it was so easy. Too easy I guess. At least the purge was horrible, I forgot how bad it gets when it's not easy like normal. I seriously hate fast food. It makes me feel like shit, I'd much rather binge on healthy food or home cookin because I'm convinced the shit they put in fast food makes food stick to your insides.

I just wanted to mention in this meaningless post that I look pregnant. With food that is. I seriously could be mistaken for "showing" right now. It looks sick because you can see my hip bones and stomach muscles sticking out with a MOUND under it. It is scary. I was tempted to take a pic but I don't want t you guys to think I'm fat haha. The whole car ride back here I was mournfully cradling it like a Mom would cradle her belly because I felt like I was growing something in there haha. So uncomfortable.

There are so many things I wanted to post here about. The things that go through my mind during purges, the way I space out so much when I binge that I'll snap to it and realize I'm listening to some terrible radio station and didn't notice. I feel like a different person when I binge. Expect some boring, self searching posts from me in the near future.

I'm not b/ping tomorrow. And I'm going to the gym two times. I will have a great weekend none the less. I'm off till monday , in an awesome beach area having friends visit. Iife is overall good, even if it fucking sucked tonight. oh yeah, and I confessed my sins of the night to you guys and I'm done with it. Except I have TERRIBLE gas that keeps reminding me of my fuck up haha

Now, whatever your position on suicide is, posting a goodbye in a livejournal community is not only silly, it's downright dangerous. How many of you would've lived with enormous amounts of guilt and shame if Kat had not been able to figure out how to find her? That is unfair. I agree that Gem apparently had some deep seated psychological issues, but if anyoen else is thinking of pulling a stunt like this i would highly advise you to take me off your friends list because i don't ever want to pull up my fav community and read suicide notes again. cool? ok thx.

In other news, I am down to purging only about 2 or 3 times a day now! And I've been sober for three days. (sounds small, but it's big to me!

I have been trying to eat more of my safe foods (fruits, veggies, tuna packed in water, sushi) so that I will be less tempted to purge them. Staving off a b/p session is so much harder when i am upset about something (aka the little criminal matter i was involved in.) but since i am now more calm and collected about things, I am finding it easier to rationalize myself out of a session. Geez how many freaking years have I been doing this>? Too damn long that's how long.

Comment so that I can be entertained at work today by reading! HOpe you all have a magnificent weekend!!!!

Isn't it strange how you're mind flicks between modes. I go through 3-4 day long healthy modes of no binge-cravings of food obsession, coupled with light, happy mood - "I'm cured!" I think, flippantly.

Then it'll creep up on me and I'll be gazing at "bad" food in shops, thinking of "bad" food, then it takes over and screams at me screams screams screams!!!!!!!!

On my light, happy days I think "don't eat that, you'll have to purge it", so I don't eat food I can't handle. On the screaming days I'm like "scarf it, scarf it then purge, purge"

On the screaming days I also want to punch innocent bystanders and pedestrians. I wanna start a Fight Club. Could be a bulimia recovery group. Invitation extended... sheer, raw, primal aggression as radical recovery strategy. I bet we'd all be blissed out after.

Wake up. And after I dress and bag - elevator from the pandemonium I live, to... elsewhere.
At the lake evening. Just figurating and entitling the day perfect. Heading to bed.
Lay down and feel as anxiety glut my vessels. Pertubation fill my head.
After hour of calming and reasoning myself, fail. Get up. Clock testifies 3:00 am.
Half way through binge proceed crying. Food's unsavoury. Though, finish is beyond.
Don't feel my body anymore. Shiver from exhaustion. Repeating: "Don't faint. Don't faint. Don't faint."
Improbable, but purge properly. Scrub my teeth and shamble to my room.
Don't feel any better. Trun on the reading-lamp. And lay down. Despair and terror goes away after an hour.
(Today got yelled, because of eating potatoes. In the sequel I yelled louder.)

Think am getting a relapse. In every possible way.
My life is better! I am better! I'm afraid.
Rather die then go to mental hospital again.

This question haunts me these days.. everyday that I give in to my bulimia and stuff my face full of food until I feel like dying and then spend an hour or so puking my brains out only to repeat the horendous act all over again within minutes or hours I ask myself.. Why? Why do I do this to myself? Why did I ever start doing this to myself and why cant I stop? I used to enjoy it but I dread it now... I hate every minute of it. But after 11 years I dont know how to live normally anymore. What is normal? I dont know what a normal serving or food is anymore.. or a normal "full" feeling. I'm petrified of eating in public or around other people. Does anyone else feel this way? :-(

I'm sorry guys.. I'm just having a really rough day

Verlinken

01.07.2007 um 17:20 Uhr

kkkk

von: saracheret

does anyone out there ever stop and wonder why some days recently you haven't noticed things like the sun shining brightly or birds singing or the fact that it's really nice outsiede and little things like that when you used to notice stuff like that all the time?
I used to ride my bicycle down this little side street early in the mornings and I remember thinking back then to myself, "I'm so thankful to be on my bike right now, I'm so happy cause it's such a nice day out, etc." And just noticing how beautiful every thing seemed to be.
It's not like that anymore.....why is that? i just kinda go through the motions now. Everyday i wake up and I ride my bike and it's just another bike ride. Or at work, it's just another day at work...

Some days I'm just so unhappy. I can't make myself happy like I used to be able to do.

It keeps happening every once in a while (this started about an hour ago) so it's not continuous, but it's still doing it. It's not painful or anything, just... I don't really know how to explain it, but I've had muscles in my legs do this sometimes, too. Anyone know why that is? It's never happened to me before and I've had much worse b/p sessions.
Also, have any of you lost your period (presumably because of your eating disorder)? I haven't had mine in maybe two or three months, although I'm not sure because I don't keep track. It's irregular anyway so I don't even know if this is related. And I'm not particularly worried about it but I'm just curious as to why it happens and if it's common in bulimics, because it's not like I'm underweight. I know anorexics lose their periods but I don't know how common it is for us to do so.

so i went to the doctor for testing yesterday and he had told me at my consult on monday to remain calm because the chances of them having to do a biopsy were so little. so i was relaxed all week even though ireally really didnt wnat them to do the procedure. but the whole week i'm thinking i cant panic until they have to do a biopsy. two seconds into the procedure he says "we are going to take a biopsy" :( it hurt so much and yesterday i was so doped up and light headed from the loss of blood that i really couldnt think too much about it. but now today... all i can think is what if something is really really wrong here.
and then i get mad at myself because here i am destroying myself with this disease and i could die from it but suddenly im terrified i might have cancer. doesnt it seem a bit hypocritical? maybe this is all a giant wake up call. only... well yesterday i didnt b/p at all b/c i was asleep most of the day but today i was back to my usual habits. what is wrong with me? this could kill me but yet im worried about the biopsy results... it just seems very wrong in my head...

wanna die. i cant do this anymore. i binge i purge i binge i purge OVER AND OVER AND OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I HAVE NO OTHER LIFE! im sick of everything revolvng around my weight. i'm in tears right now! i never talk to ppl about it no one understands...they think i just am obessed with myself! I DONT KNOW ANYTHING ELSE BUT THIS. its been the way i've thought since i was 9! I HATE MYSELF! I WANNA DIE! I CANT STOP AND I've TRIED SO MANY TIMES! I HAVE NO HOPE...this is not how i wanna spend the rest of my life. this isnt living. this isnt life. fuck it im done. i hope u all get better, and i know u dont know me and im new, but im no stranger to mia. i decided to get on the comp to see if there was like any sites where ppl like me talk cuz i feel so alone. im out of control. blah fuck it - peace out

Verlinken

24.06.2007 um 17:27 Uhr

purg june 07

von: saracheret

better mood, thanks to you all.
Eeeek. Thanks to all that who bothered to respond to my black death/gloom&doom/annihilistic rant yesterday.Especially, thanks to or calling my attention to it a few entries down.....
She asked the same questions in a much more user friendly and thought provoking way than my rhetorical spewing. That's what I get for staying away for a couple days.

That being said, the only real compassion I feel is for all of you, who are honest in sharing your pain. The rest of the world I have grown more bitter towards. Whenever I see some impossibly thin celebrity prancing around and gushing about diet secrets( most recently Kelly Ripa) my eyes roll and I think bitch, plz, we know the real deal. When my friends in the RW make comments about my food intake or lack of it, I get defensive and consign them to jealousy (which might indeed be the case sometimes).
So. Only you on the internet seem to really get me.
But thank god somebody does.
Love y'all.......
Has anybody else found that their bulimia has gotten worse i.e. increased binge amounts, increased frequency, more uncontrollable, since they've been diagnosed? before I was diagnosed I didn't realise what I had was bulimia, I thought I was just a freak, but now if I get the urge to binge I kind of think it's ok because I'm bulimic and I can't help it because it's not me it's my illness....so I feel that my diagnosis has given me a bit of a leeway, a get out of jail free card to give in to the urges and blame my behaviour on bulimia and not myself, like it's not disgusting me that b/ps it's this disgusting bulimia kid that lives inside me.....does anybody else find this? I don't know if that made sense, I still disgust myself and beat myself up about b/p but I still do it because bulimia is stronger than me.......?

warning: negativity ahead
Binging is unsatisfying, robotic, and demented. The feeling of being overfull and crippled from it inspires suicidal thoughts. Purging is fucking demoralizing and violent, it's like sitting still for a beating. Bulimia is so stupid as an activity, it causes one to obsess on the insipid and the banal. Life becomes about calorie absorbtion and delayed gastric emptying. It is the most selfish of addictions. I'd like to think that we're a 1000 or so very intelligent people caught up in idiotic behavior, but what if we're just a bunch of fucking idiots who have willingly vomited our intelligence away. I'm just so disgusted with it all.
Whatever.

what has it done for you?
has your bulimia made you stronger?
has it made you weak?
has it made you more compasionate,
or rendered you bitter?
has it brought any joy into your life,
or made it an empty hole?

has it made you happy...
was it everything you thought it'd be?

Honestly, I think sometimes it has made me stronger I know that I have survived this much I can do anything, but it is also a crutch and therefore I have difficulty surviving without it.

It has made me compassionate. I care so much about people and I will drop everything to help people, but I am so upset and bitter that when I reach out it is not reciprocated (although that could just be my personality and not the bulimia but who even knows which is which anymore)

It's made my life an empty hole and I've only recently been able to beleive that there is anything outside of the hole that I even want to be a part of. Knowing that has made it easier to want to get better but made it harder too because it is scary out there.

I hasn't made me happy. I don't know what I thought it would be. I started purging when I was 12 and then started purging with regularity at 15. I don't think I ever understood that it would take a hold of my life like this. I think at 12 and feeling insignificant and worthless I never really believed my life would come to much anyways and it felt like what I deserved. I am just a ray of sunshine over here!

It has made me more compassionate - in a way. In therapy, I came to understand that my addictions (starving, B/P, cutting, alcohol) all came from the same place and I feel a lot of compassion for others whom most other people wouldn't.
I have learned that the horrible emptiness of depression that I fill with my EDs - other people fill in other ways. I feel deeply for drug addicts, homeless addicts/alcoholics etc, and even others who commit anti-social behaviour. I have become good at putting myself in other peoples' shoes and thinking things like "yeah, well these youngsters who commit petty theft, minor crimes, anti-social stuff - they're just feeling empty and trying to get kicks". - I'm not saying it's right (but what I do isn't "right") it's just more understanderble to me.

I suppose to summarise - I just "get" that even good people do stupid things because they feel bad or sad inside - and that makes me more forgiving.

The only other positive thing that comes out of my ED is that it keeps me teetotal. I'm a recovering alcoholic and I WOULD be seriously on the bottle without my ED crutch.

Bulimia - you could say, has saved my life in the past because I was a very hardcore anorexic before, and at least with binging, I am able to eat and some food stays down. It's lessened that total fear that comes with anorexia. I still remember the times I was afraid to swallow too much toothpaste, and thought twice about taking a tylenol because of the possible "carb content" - I'm not like that any more. ;)

Of course, in general, my EDs are a pain and have weakened me, but sometimes it's good to reflect on what purposes they actually serve and what they've done FOR you. They obviously ruin a lot of things (lke your health etc.) but hey, we talk about those negatives all the time, don't we.

i want bulimia to go away
i'm tired of doing this to myself. it's going to kill me, mentally before physically.

reasons not to throw up:
1. there are people who are starving, and i'm selfish enough to waste so much food every day of my life.
2. i'm wasting my money and my parents' money.
3. it will rot my teeth.
4. if it gets bad enough, i'll eventually hurt everyone i love.
5. it's a waste of time. i could be doing something productive.
6. it hurts my throat, and it makes my voice raspy in an unsexy way.

what to do inst

ead of throw up:
1. count to 100 and breathe.
2. do crunches or pushups or something along those lines.
3. call someone.
4. paint nails so i can't stick them down my throat.
5. masturbate (hahahaha..trying to be a little light-hearted, here.)
6. create art.
7. turn on music and dance.
8. take a nap.
9. go for a walk outside.

i hope this helps someone else. i just threw up, and it was the stupidest thing ever. i'm so scared of getting fat.

feel free to add to these lists! <3

've been looking into lightboxes for a while, i think i may have some variation of seasonal affective disorder:

I used to love all kinds of weather, no matter how harsh, uncomfortable or more often just flat, something about it would please me. it was bizarre, but i was happy with my external world.

by contrast my mood this last year or so has been in utter sway to the changing light and we are having a dismal summer so far. I am beginning to lose the ability to 'face' things again. daily stuff; little things floor me on cloudy days. Anyway, the whole time i never realised i might be able to cure two ills with one overpriced led-stuffed plastic box :)

seriously though, if there's a link between sad and bulimia, that explains a lot for me.

anyone here tried light therapy?

Cause I've been asked so many times (probably cuz I'm an old bitch who you all think has alot of puking experience):

1. Yep, I'm hands free. It's easy if you put your mind to it and bend over and squeeze. And DON'T eat too much pizza dough and expect to get it ALL out even hands free people have a hard time with that!

2. I'm purged into coffee mugs in front of people and pretended I was drinking instead of eliminating. Just make it look like your taking a sip of coffee and really just spit out what you puked.

3. Puked into trash cans at work, just make sure you're alone and tha you take out the freakin garbage afterwards otherwise it'll smell like high hell in your office the next day!

4. I've hidden glasses of scotch and wine and alcohol all over the house in paper cups so that I could sneak away and have a little sip once in a while...

5. Never dated a married man - NEVER will - thank you very much! That's just fucking sleazy! I've done alot of crazy shit, especially when I was in college, but that's NOT one of them.

6. And - OH! One more ....Yea, I'm 41 dammit!!!!I'm a lawyer. I went to law school it was HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARD! Took the bar no tonce but twice, cause I failed it the first time. Thanks for the compliments too, btw! Secrets to looking young: wear sunscreen every day even if it's just in your moisturizer or your foundation, eat at least one or two servings of fruits and veggies a day (if possible), stay away from fats as much as possible unless you plan on purging ALL of them, drink ALOT of water if you can stand to, thank your mom and dad alot cause they're where your genetics come from, DON'T EAT ALOT OF SUGAR if at all possible or plan on puking if you do. And last but not least - EXERCISE!! It's a MUST! Find an activity you actually enjoy and DO IT everyday, or at least 5 times a week. You'll meet nice, decent guys too! I guarantee it. I did! Lots of them too.

Here's a question.
Something Friedapearl said in an earlier post and her most recent post has kind of sparked this.

Most of us are stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, vigilant, when it comes to our disorder. Going out of our way to defend our actions, or lie to cover our asses. How much does this extend to your everyday life? I mean if someone makes a rude comment, or witness someone being rude to a customer service worker what do you do? . Even your relationships in day to day life do you take shit from other people?

I have an absolute zero tolerance for offensive comments, thoughtless behavior and rudenesI'm a bit of both... usually I keep quiet and don't say anything until one day I snap and flip out over nothing... which kind of gets me into trouble.

s. If someone says something that hurts someone I love, or has the potential to hurt me, I just cant swallow it quietly. For example, when my mom says something like, "you are so thin, you look really good." She knows better. My appearance weight wise is off limits. I will tell her her comments are innapropriate and she needs to stop. She is coming to visit in a couple of weeks and I am visibly thinner than the last time she saw me. Oh what fun it will be. And I have to try not to loose my cool cause we go through this everytime I see her, even though usually I am the same weight.

If a guy makes a cat call or sexist comment to me, I will get in his face and shame him till he apologises. I will say, "shame on you, how would you feel if you saw someone doing this to your mom or your girlfriend or sister? What makes it okay for you to do that to me?"

What is your tolerance? Do you tend to keep your mouth shut and take shit, or do you speak your mind?

have no tolerance, especially when it comes to weight comments, but pretty much equally across the board for racial comments, sexist, elitist, etc. . .I'm basically outspoken, although I have thankfully learned to keep my mouth shut when it's really important. Some people are just dumbasses, and nothing can be done to save them, so I gave up my one-woman crusade.

I always call friends on it though. That's basically all I care about, if the people I love make fools of themselves.

never keep my mouth shut. i'll keep talking until you admit that youre wrong and see how your words could hurt the other person's self esteem, pride, confidence and spiral into something else, (self injury, ed, other things) - you never know whats going on in one person's life at any one time. why add to it by saying something stupid..

most of these comments come out of the mouths of guys.

husband, father, asshole.
So my husband was arguing with my daughter about something and said something about her" fat ass" and.....AAAAGHHH. Fuck. The look on her face was all too familiar.

DOESN'T HE KNOW THAT'S HOW IT ALL STARTS!!!!!!

I'm so frustrated and angry, but mainly I hurt for her.
I grit my teeth when some of you post about outrageous , insensitive, sarcastic and sometimes outright cruel remarks that your parents/siblings make. Don't they have any fucking idea?!

Oh, and he also said something about her someday being "skinny as her mama" Well, FUCK ME!!! Her mama pukes up everything she eats! And he knows that even though she doesn't.....yet.

I was a skinny, funny looking little kid, which my mommy dearest minced no words to remind me of, daily, so i know it's not all about weight., it's about how you think others see you, and those ideas are formed early on.

Does anyone know how I could find a community for mothers with ed's, who were deperately afraid of fucking up their kids?

This is not a noble legacy....

Oh Frieds, my heart just breaks a thousand times for your daughter. I can't believe it. How nice of your husband to start killing her spirit at this early stage. Seriously. You need to tell him if he ever says that kind of thing again he will be sorry for it.

Easy for me to say, I know. You mentioned that in another post that IRL you tend to get walked on by family/friends etc. Take a page from me and say exactly what you feel. Tell him to go fuck himself. Jeez, I get fucking furious just even thinking about the look on your daughter's face as his comment was registering.

Yeah I got in his ass about it, but I don't think he realizes the devastating impact of his words. You'd think he'd be more sensitive, considering the raging bulimic lunatic he's married to.

I probably shouldn't be so disrespectful...But then, when has what I SHOULD do stopped me when I'm in a temper?

That's positively FOUL of him. In my opinion, that's an absolutely idiotic, asshole-ish thing to say, and if I witnessed that, I'd likely do creative things involving an empty Mountain Dew bottle and stuffing it where the sun don't shine.

Er. Sorry. I just can't stand when people are that insensitive, especially to their kids.

In conclusion: create the community! It's a good idea. I think. But don't listen to me. I am but a small pawn in this big, big world.
Wow, that was the most incoherent comment I've ever left in my life. Sorry for not speaking English...*facepalm*
Actually I was going to remark on what a cute, outspoken little pawn you are, and yes, a soda bottle inserted into a certain orifice would have been timely indeed. Too bad he's 6'1 and outweighs me by about 100 lbs. But, one has to sleep sometime....

Once upon a time, there existed yet another bitchy teenage ball of freakishness named Ariel.
That bitchy teenage ball of freakishness is me.

I suppose this is the part where I tell you the sad, sad story that is my life, but honestly, I won't lie: I've got things pretty good. I have a few things in my past that I'd rather forget, but then, don't we all? So anybob, I firmly believe that everyone deserves to realize the bad about me before they go to the trouble of getting to know me. So, if I'm honest:

I'm vain.
I'm shallow.
I'm selfish.
I'm arrogant.
I have a foul temper.
I can be extremely self-righteous.
I can't stand how I look.
I can't seem to keep my mouth shut when it matters most.

Other than that, I'm an okay person. I love to laugh, and to make other people laugh. The former is a little harder to accomplish - most of the time, when I laugh, it's either exaggerated or flat-out faked. It's not that I'm not easily amused - I am. It's just that I'm not usually nearly as amused as I make it seem. If that makes sense. So if you can make me laugh for real, I'll love you forever.

I have world-class obsessions with the following:

The Dark-Hunter novels by Sherrilyn Kenyon
Lord of the Rings (and anything to do with it)
Harry Potter (the books, not the movies)
Stargate SG-1/Stargate Atlantis
Writing (I'm a freak for fantasy)
House (I'm going to be him when I grow up)
Cake (if you don't like it, I pity you)

If that bothers you, I'm sorry, but I'm sure I rock enough that we can be friends anyway :)

So, in conclusion...Shut the hell up and leave me to my chocolate cake! I'm Ariel, and I am your worst nightmare.

The question asked in order to save her life or take it
The answer no avoided death, the answer yes would make it

"Do you believe in God?" written on the bullet
Say yes to pull the trigger
"Do you believe in God?" written on the bullet
And Cassie pulls the trigger

All heads are bowed in silence to remember her last sentence
She answered him, knowing what would happen
Her last words still hanging in the air

"Do you believe in God?" written on the bullet
Say yes to pull the trigger
"Do you believe in God?" written on the bullet
And Cassie pulls the trigger

How many will die?
I will die.
I will say yes.
Yes.

My hands look jaundiced from eating too many carrots.

Last night I was walking home after class. There was a guy and a girl walking ahead of me for a while. The girl had on a top that revealed the majority of her back. She was skinny, as in you can count every rib and see each individual vertebra, the kind of skinny that I have always longed to be. Except last night as I checked out every inch of her seemingly fragile frame from behind, assessed the large gap in between her thighs as she walked, the way her pale skin was stretching across her bones, the way her elbows jutted out from the rest of her spindly arm, I suddenly felt disgusted. And it's fucked, because I always feel disgusted when I see someone who is abnormally underweight.

And so I continue to wonder, why in the fuck is it that I fool myself into thinking that degree of thinness is something I long to attain. I'm healthy and relatively fit, sure I've got some extra chub hanging out, but fuck, I don't really want to llose it and end up looking really ill. BMI of around 20 and I burst into sobbing hysterics because I think I am grotesquely obese. What in the fuck.

Why can't I just rationalize my way out of this mess? I feel as though I'm able to formulate the thoughts necessary to understand that so much of this disorder is supremely illogical. Then why can't I just say fuck this shit and never look back? So very few of us here in this community are what I would consider stupid, but to me, the very essence of bulimia is just plain idiotic. But, I know, it's all so inextricably linked to the shadows of our sunconscious and all sorts of psychobabble fun times. I'm just sad about this whole mess, I guess.

i couldn't agree more. this is all so rediculous, and yet i just keep on banging my head against the same goddamn brick wall. urgh. i guess rationale comes second to ones neuroses.

Oh whoopie - Snap!
I'm a little orange due to excessive carrot consumption. I would certainly be much more orange if all the carrots I ate stayed down - I eat huge quantities at the beginning of a binge because they hang around down there and make good "markers".
A few years ago I actually gave myself vitamin A poisoning by drinking nothing but tomato juice. Not only did my skin turn orange, but it went very dry and peeled off in layers - literally.

I completely understand your whole post, though. I see someone very skinny and think it looks ugly, but I want to look like that too. The only rational way I can think about it is tat I have some sort of twisted desire to make myself dissapear from a world I don't want to be in. I need to be as small as possible. There is a psychological diference between "small" and being "thin". Part of me doesn't want to grow up, either - so staying "small" is like remaining a child. (?) Looking "thin" also means that I know people will see I'm sick and forgive any mistakes I might make. (?)

IDK really - just tossing around ideas. We certainly aren't stupid people, but by it's very nature, it's almost impossible to understand what lies deep in the subconcious. That's why it's called "subconcious". Frustrating - very.

this saddened me because:
every day when i get on the scale, if ive gained 100grams im like "oh no. im going to get fat". and if i look in the mirror after that i think "why am i so fat?" but if ive lost more than 400g i'm like.. "oh no.. thats no good.. better eat more today" but then when the day comes im too scared of gaining any weight.
sometimes when i look in the mirror i actually see ME. that girl is thin. the girl in my head is obese

time to pull out the wallet again
Crap I just realized I ate all my food and now I don't have anything to binge on tonight! I HATE spending so much money on food, it's such a waste, I spend way more time puking it back up than I do actually eating it.

Anyone else feel like buying food is a waste of money??

Write a letter...
Hi there.
I haven't been here for a while - I wonder if anyone still remembers me?
Even though I don't post and rarely comment, I still do read many of the posts/comments that other people write.

I had an idea last night: it seems to me that there are a lot of people here who aren't able to share things with people they care about. For me personally, I'm unable to tell my mom that I still b/p when she's not home, that I'm not really as okay as I pretend, that even though I function normally it's because I've become conditioned to believe that my world is normal.

Also, someone else mentioned that it seems like this community is becoming less community-oriented; more selfish, if you will.

So this is what I propose: reply to this post, but don't reply to me. Write a letter to someone - a mother, father, sister, daughter, best friend, boyfriend, girlfriend - and tell them whatever you want to say. Maybe it'll help you feel better. Maybe it won't, but that's the risk you'll take...and you have nothing to lose.

Dear Mom,
I'm sorry that I couldn't be the perfect little girl you wanted. I'm sorry that out of "perfect," "little," and "girl," "girl" was the only one I could be, imperfect and impatient and not-so-little anymore.
Would you really want to know that I'm still lying to you, even now? Probably not, but you wouldn't want to hear the truth, either. The only option you give me is for me to say that I've recovered and don't binge-purge anymore, but I'm not recovered and I most definitely still do b/p, so my only option is to lie.

I wanted you to help me, but you couldn't help me unless you knew that there was a problem, and I didn't let you know because it was my burden to bear, not yours. You've made it clear enough to me that I always take things for granted, I always want the easy way out. See, see? I want to ask you. Look, I'm not taking the easy way out. I'm plowing through everything by myself, and it's killing me, but my facade is perfect. The mask doesn't break; it laughs and smiles and eats and talks, just like a real person does.
But you can't see, and that's the irony. You'll never see how strong I'm trying to be, because once you look, there's nothing to be seen; I can't be strong on my own if you know, because then I'm no longer relying on myself.

You love me, but only because you have to. Because you trained yourself to. Because you think that a mother's job is to mold her children into perfect beings and then love them, and when you failed at the first task you tried to cling to the second.
I don't love you, Mom.
But don't take it personally, because I don't love anyone.
I don't believe in your God, so stop thinking it's you and me and the rest of the Christians against the unwashed heathens of the world.
It's not.

It's you against me, without any religious connection or connotation.
I will succeed in the world on my own terms. I don't work my ass off in school so that you can say your daughter is first in her class, your daughter got a 236 PSAT. I do it so that I can get a scholarship to college and won't be dependent on your money to carry me where I want to be.
I don't want to be indebted to you any more than I have to.
I don't want to be indebted to anyone.

And the cake you bought for my sixteenth birthday?
I ate it all.
It didn't stay eaten.

(Leave a comment)

ear max,
i hate you. i truly do. youre the biggest fakest phoniest person i have ever encountered. you believe you are so above everyone else, especially "americans because they are so fucking arrogant". no fuck you, you are so arrogant and ignorant. you are the one person i trusted with my ED and what did you do when you got mad? you spit it back in my face. and because of that, i dont trust you anymore at all. and now you constantly make food/ed jokes and hardly think of what you are saying. you are a selfish bastard. or maybe you just dont know how to deal with things. what i do know is you make yourself the victim. you dont think of others and i wish i knew this 6 months ago.

dear parents and brother,
you three are the ones that brought my body to my attention. i always considered myself normal. then you told me to suck in my fat stomache. so i noticed the bulge there. and then you said "god you have a huge ass". i had never noticed that before, but thanks to you i did. instead of encourage me to lose weight you mocked me. you guys have no idea how painful it is to hear you all call me fatass each day. it makes me feel unhuman. you all think i do things for attention. but i dont. i drink, take pills, starve, dry-heave any food out of me because its the easiest way to kill myself without actually having to do it myself. its complicated, i can hardly explain it to myself so i cant explain it to you. and honestly the only thing i want is to leave you all and never look back. i hope one day i can do that. i know you dont have bad intentions, but the way you do things without thinking hurts.

Dear Mother,

You don't know me or what I do when you don't have me pinned under your thumb. Think what you want about me, you nasty, critical bitch, but just know this: you're probably wrong. Go ahead and turn your head to everything else going on right under your nose. Transfer everything to me, because it's easier than opening your eyes and dealing with the real problems.
Yes, I have an eating disorder. But just think for one second about everything you do and say to exacerbate the problem. Think about all the shit in our family that you ignore and that I let myself see, that I have to deal with on my own, without you. Send me away, fine, you can because I've made mistakes, you can because I've made it easier for you to persuade yourself that I'm the most fucked up one here. But watch as everything else stays the same, watch me get better and then realize that your ignorant transferrance won't absolve you.
Believe me, I want to be gone a thousand times more than you want me gone. I know you want me as far away as possible so you don't have to deal with me. You don't want me around to fuck up your perfect, imaginary world. Well, fuck you. Fuck you for flying off the wall because I refuse to hide my problems, the result of your stupid, naive enabling... well, guess what? Even with me gone, there will be plenty of corruption churning beneath the surface. Good luck dealing with that when your scapegoat has left.

I'm writing you this letter because I can't speak when I look at you, I choke on my anger towards you. So here's a letter, everything I want to say to you but can't manage to spit out... Thank you for never failing to remind me of everything I've done to fuck up my life, because I'm not constantly aware of how hopeless I am. (That was sarcasm... I hate myself enough without you calling attention to every single thing I already know is wrong with me) I hope you choke on your negative, destructive, unhelpful, uncalled for condemnations.

(I remember you, definitely. Thanks for this post - it's a good idea and useful as currently I'm feeling emotional and have just cleaned up from a small b/p and am trying to figure out if I really want to do another one.)

-------------------
Dear W.,
I haven't talked to you since you left for work on Monday morning and I miss you. I've only gotten the voicemail on your phone the few times I've tried to call, which means either a) you're at Joe's place, where your phone gets no reception, b) you're asleep, which is quite possible, or c) it's my fault for any number of reasons. Here is what my brain is coming up with: (Thanks brain, that's helpful of you.)
- you're avoiding me because I've been doing a little avoidance of you lately due to needing to purge after work, etc.
- you're disgusted with/tired of dealing with a girlfriend with an ED
- you think I am boring and have better things to do with your time than be around me.
Granted, options a) and b) are most likely, but I am really insecure and lonely at the moment, and in times such as these I become paranoid that I've done something wrong; screwed up somewhere along the time.
At any rate, I miss spending time with you outside of waking up/falling asleep/at work, and I wish you'd call me so I could avoid binge/purging again. (It doesn't make me feel much better, truth be told.) But I don't know what to do with all this free time and at least it stops me thinking, temporarily, and gives me a clear objective.
I want to be better than this. I want to take you out to dinner for your birthday on Thursday and not worry about what I'm going to find to eat that won't make me purge, and not make you worry that when I go to the bathroom that I'm purging. (Sorry, that was a convoluted sentence.) I don't want to be your girlfriend-who-has-issues. I want to be a nice, normal girlfriend who doesn't scare you or worry you or make you sad because of what I do to myself.
Sometimes I'm afraid that I'm letting you down, because you hold such a high opinion of me, and I don't feel like I'm that person at all. That's why I avoid you, when I feel like I'm not living up to the image of me that you appear to hold.
Bingeing is disgusting, purging is disgusting, my thinness is disgusting, my preoccupation is digusting, my sheer inability to get it together is disgusting and I'm so worried about becoming disgusting to you.
I know I probably have nothing to worry about.
It's just frightening when someone loves you so much and since you aren't so fond of yourself you can hardly believe it, so when there's a gap or a silence, you fill it with insecurity, convincing yourself that your side was the truth all along.
(Sorry about the switch to second-person-tense there.)
That's all.
-S.

PS - Also a concern: that you might think I choose the ED over you & feel unloved, etc. I have been, this past weekend. I'm going to do my damndest to stop. I wrote myself a note and stuck it in the bathroom by the sink last night. It says:
"NOTE TO SELF:
- attain normalcy --> - stop fucking up your relationship.
That is all. Carry on, but not as usual."

Dear E. (my daughter),

I just want you to know how much I love you. I don't care what clothes you wear or if your toenails are painted or what color your hair is this month because you are beautiful to me no matter what. I also think you're strong and kind and smart and can accomplish anything you set your mind to.
We've talked a little about your grandmother and how hard it was for me growing up, and maybe that's why I'm so overprotective and nosy about what you and your friends talk about and what you're doing on Myspace.

I didn't get much affection when I was a kid, and maybe that's why I'm always hugging and kissing you and thank you for letting me, even though it probably gets on your nerves.

And you know that your mama is really weird around food, and that's why I won't buy you McDonalds or order pizza or let you eat chips and cookies at the house. I wish I could tell you why I get real tense and upset and sneaky at dinnertime, someday I will....
I love you more than anything in the world, you are the best thing that's ever happened to me and you are IMPORTANT, more important than anything else I have in my life.
I don't want you to turn out like me, I want you to be better, happier, and healthier than me.

I love you and you will always be my baby..

Love
Mama

Dear Dad,

I'm so sorry. I've done it again. I've traveled down a dark, unnecessary path, a path of secrets and self-destruction and misery. Once again, I'm off messing up my life for no good reason, and you're left worrying and wondering what you ever did wrong.

You didn't do anything wrong, I swear. This isn't your fault. I'd love to rant to you about everything, and to rationalize what's wrong with me, even to blame it on Mom and her stupid restriction and stupid body problems. Because if I could rationalize this, then maybe I could beat it. But the truth is, there's no one to blame but me, myself.

I wish every day that I could tell you what's going on in my mind; that I could tell you how much I want to die, how little my future means to me. A part of me wants you to make everything better again. But I can't stand the thought of seeing your face when I reveal how much I've fucked up. I don't want you to blame yourself...Because honestly, you're the best influence I've got in my life. You're selfless and wise, and you're always the one who listens to me when no one else will. You're the one who picks me up when I've fallen.

Honestly, you're the greatest dad in the world, and you're more than I have ever deserved. I'm a liar, I'm a misfit, I'm a social outcast, I'm such a fucking terrible daughter. You should never have had to deal with me, and I'm sorry I've ruined everything again. I'll try to make it up to you, someday, if I get through this alive and sane. I love you. And I'm so, so sorry.

Mother.

I love you more than even i realize at times, but you are the one person who can crush me under the weight of your words. I don't think you understand just how much it hurts when you act like you do, or rather, i hope to god that you don't understand. You think you know me. You don't. You think you understand why i do things, why university happened the way it did. You think you know what's best for me. You don't. You think i'm all you see. I'm not.
You see me as a failure and don't dare deny it. I failed at medicine and i failed at university. You think it's because i'm not clever enough, because i'm lazy. What you will never know is that i failed because i was eating, drinking, puking and thinking myself into oblivion. You think i'm immature and incapable of dealing with things for myself. You think i'm fucking clueless. You will never know the things i deal with alone. You will never know i'm apparently bipolar. You will never know i was/am bulimic. You will never know i've cut. You will never know the health scares i've faced alone. You will never know these things because i can't deal with you as well as everything else. It's just easier to keep it to myself. I can't cope with you dumping your issues on me and i can't cope with your absurd guilt for God knows what. I love you but it's so fucking hard.
I don't understand why you're still with my father. I don't understand how you can put up with him. I hate him for showing me what i can be like. I hate him for his obvious untreated bipolarity. I hate him for making our lives harder than they need to be. I love him for being my father. I love him for all the things he's taught me. I love him for his obvious awkward confusing dedication to us. I love him for trying to deal with things alone, and i hate him for failing and unknowingly taking it out on us. I wouldn't change either of you. Not for one second.

----------------------------------------

----------------------------------

Sister.

I can't trust you at all. I never could and i found that out the hard way. I love you so much but i can see us falling out badly in the near future. You underestimate me and you will learn that the hard way. I love you but you disappoint me and you hurt me time and time again. Grow the fuck up.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was so honest and so sad. Do you think you could ever sit down and talk to your mother about those things? If I were her, I would want to know...I don't know, I read somewhere (Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte?) that happy families were all similar, but each unhappy family was unhappy in it's own special way.....misquoted probably, but you get the feeling. ilu.

don't think i could ever tell her, anything. she's too volatile and she doesn't like nor understand anything like this. if i told her about the bulimia she would be disgusted and appalled, and then angry. if i told her about the bipolar thing, she would think it was just me being a petulant moody brat (but i couldn't ever tell her about it because i have a hard enough time accepting it myself, i don't accept it, so i couldn't tell her...you know?).

i guess that's why your daughter is so very lucky to have you free, you'd understand the things she's going through, and even if you couldn't fully understand it, you'd be able to appreciate where she's coming from. you wouldn't dismiss her feelings or thoughts and you would be able to offer advice or understanding. that's a special thing and one that very few parents can offer.

Dear Mom,

Why do you not have emotions? Why did you teach me through your actions that emotions were unacceptable to express? Why did you stop hugging me just because, AS A TODDLER, I didn't SEEM to want to be hugged as much? Didn't you think I had emotional needs? In fact, have you ever fucking cared about my emotional needs?

Half the time I think you don't really love ME... just some image you seem to have of what I am. And you still don't spontaneously hug me, or understand why when you verbally ask to hug me I refuse. If you really MEANT it you wouldn't have to ask to do it... you'd just do it! And if I'd actually been raised with hugs in the first place, I'd be used to it.

You made a royal fucking mess, and you'll never, ever admit it. You think you did everything right. And that's what gets me most of all. Because I'm sure that, if you actually loved me, you'd acknowledge your part in my downfall. Only you never did, and you won't, and never ever will, because you don't love me enough to go through a little emotional pain for my sake. You won't endure living with the fact that you fucked up if it means I would get better. No -- you live only for yourself. Your children's welfare doesn't really matter to you, unless it upsets you somehow. If I upset you, you'll do ANYthing to recify things -- but the second I stop making you feel unpleasant things, you wander off and pay no attention to me at all.

See, I'm pretty sure half the reason I do this shit is to get you to pay attention. To get you to care. Because when I don't have a disorder of some kind, you don't care about me at all. And I am so pathetically miserable and lonely that I'd hurt myself terribly, or even come close to death, just to feel like somebody gives a shit.

I wish you were capable of caring about me. But you aren't, and you'll never be. And that absolutely fucking kills me inside.

I wish I'd ever had a real mommy.

Reason?
Is there a reason why some are posting like 2, 3 and 4 posts one right after the other? This is called being a "post whore."

Please try to say everything you want to say with ONE post and also, if it's going to be really long, put some of it under a cut so that we don't have to scroll like a mile down the page to find other people's posts....

Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaase...I'm really asking nicely here, believe it or not. And NO I'm not the mod but fuck! I have to read this page and it's getting just a tad annoying....

*sigh* Sadly, my relationship with this place is the most honest one in my life. And I'm married, active in my community and have very good friends. But i can't talk to them the way I can talk to all of you.....I miss this place after only a day or two.......

Re: Fighting for recovery...getting fatter by the second...

I am struggling to find the words to articulate exactly how I feel... Not that anyone here cares or even knows me anymroe, but I need to get this out for myself so if I offend anyone, my aplogies...

I am fighting for recovery...and it seems i am getting fatter by the second. My frequent passing thoughts are WHY am I even doing this? Feeling empty or b/p'ing FEELS so good. For a minute or two I might even believe it. However if I really stop and think about it and am HONEST with myself, I HATE ED. Being weak and shakey... Dizzyness and having no energy... Hours spent puking or planning just how much weight I can loose in ___ amount of days, weeks and months. Ultimately, it added nothign to my life, it just robbed me of precious time and money... It made my mind dull... My body unhealthy... It sucked away my hopes and dreams... It made me believe my worth was based on size and appearance... It messed me up so badly financially I cannot even begin to tell you of the thousands upon thousands of dollars wasted... And then, I remember why I am fighting to recover. I want more... I want life... I want hope and peace... Joy and tears... I want to live mindfully in each moment just as it is... Right now, I'm highly aware of the fact that IT SUCKS ASS. I'm retaining water and I'm uncomfortable. My stomach looks and sounds like a ripe watermelon... Every meal I think, 'I cannot do this...' and yet somehow I do. I should feel proud and accomplished, it IS moving in the right direction but IT'S SO STINKING HARD. Although I know that I must recover, I'm 32 and I've been at this for over 23 years...it still doesn't make it easy. As much as I want to be healthy and strong, full of energy, tone and fit (not obsessed there is a difference)... It's still difficult. It's uncomfortable. My friend is so supportive and eats dinner and snack with me thought out the week and it's great that I can eat more now...I've gradually increased but still part of me feels like I'm dying... Part of me HATES it. It makes me angry and mean to have to eat and keep it down. At times it's not so bad...but more often than not, physically it's torture... Mentally and emotionally it is beyond any anguish I've known. I don't even know what I'm trying to say...other than I ate my breakfast and I feel fat. I want to kick and scream and cry... I want to puke...run...hide... Instead I choose to face the feelings in this moment. I'm uncomfortable. I feel fat. I am retaining water like the Hoover dam...but it is the right thing to do... So...somehow...I will get through it...

oh,
how i have missed you.
i've been thinking of you often. all the time, really.

i started reading a book about the shit behind our (our = the eating disordered) disorders and the reasons behind our undeniably twisted lives.

from “gaining: the truth about life after eating disorders”

Apparently the people who develop anorexia and bulimia fall into 3 distinct temperamental groups researchers have said:
1. Overcontrolled, it includes most restricting anorexics and a minority of bulimics that feel like they have “nothing inside” and they avoid social contact, tightly control their appetites for food and for sex and limit their pleasures. They remain withdrawn from excitement, sensation and risk.

2. Perfectionist, it includes most bulimics and a minority of restricting anorexics. These are conscientious “good girls” who aim to please, excel, and conform. They worry about the details but are often so fearful of making a mistake that they can hardly get their work in on time. They read the slightest of arched eyebrows as contempt and a frown as a spike through the heart. They are intensely self-critical.

3. Undercontrolled, this group splits equally between bulimics and anorexics that binge and purge. Their emotions are intense, their behaviors very impulsive, they tend to fly into rages instead of expressing their anger passively or turning it inward, and they desperately seek relationships to soothe themselves. It is an emotionally erratic portrait that might include substance abuse, promiscuity, and bulimia.

FOR ME: this I found confusing, as I don’t fit one particular grouping. I am without doubt a mixture of the overcontrolled and undercontrolled groups. I am a crossover who remains not easily identified or labeled – how typical. I am an anorexic who binges and purges. I identify most closely to bulimic behavior, mentality and personalities. But, I spend most of my life (countless hours, days, months and years) as a very very very rigid anorexic. I’d say 20-22 hours of my day I am a restricting, abstaining anorexic lunatic who walls herself away and ultimately avoids changing my life, actively pursuing my dreams and attacking my goals. And close to 2 – 4 hours of my day depending on my schedule I am an undercontrolled CRAZY ASS MOTHERFUCKING I LOVE TO BINGE BUT I GOT TO PURGE bulimic. I am the iconic emotionally erratic and intensely confusing volatile picture of this neurotic disease. Except I would never ever relate to someone who seeks relationships as I have/seek out none and when approached by new potential friends or suitors I turn it down, flake, escape, or disappear immediately.

I didn't mean to start drama!!
I promised myself I wasn't coming back, but I missed you ladies. Isn't that terrible?? Freida's post about feelings, I think, really needs to open up some stuff. I honestly tend not to be confrontational, drama-ish, or attention grabbing and I HATE to seem like I'm trying to be that way (that isn't my goal here! :) )
I know this is the internet where people make snide comments because, well, because it's the internet and you can do/be/act however the hell you want too!
It makes me sad to see on this forum, OF ALL FORUMS, members making fun of other members. I feel like a lot of people really put their hearts out there. I feel for everyone here and I don't want anyone (new, old, or ancient members) to get 'hurt' in anyway when they are expressing themselves, espically when they are expressing something that is so emotional and hard to do (hell if it was easy we wouldn't be here talking to strangers).
I do think this isn't the place for me anymore for various reasons, but I miss some users so much (heck only 1 day away from you?). Heartitraces, the girl with the pink writing pic(huge lips, bf, just graded), the butterfly shop-o-holic, fredia, and the girl with the bikini bottom pic with HUGE boobies in real life (your post are mostly about restriction)- I miss hearing from you! I hope everyone teams together and makes this a better forum for everyone (is this technically a forum anyways?).
I'm off to post where I feel I better belong!!! I hope you girls (and guy) all have a good day. I'm sure I'll be posting something in the somewhat near future xoxox

So now, tell us how you REALLY feel....
Ok, so i happen to really love this place, but I've been on the edge of leaving, and probably acting like a real bitch in the interim. I know what I like and dislike about this place and have been pretty vocal about it (ya think?!) I don't know how much of an influence I am, but I don't want to push anyone out. Soooo....let's get all touchy feely and talk about our FEEEEELINGS. Seriously, why are you here, what do you expect from this page, what do you like, dislike, want to see more or less of? I welcome all serious answers, but of course I also welcome the snide, sarcastic and snarky, or I wouldn't be me! Please participate, my little disordered darlings, pipe up, punch your keyboards and be heard...

In all seriousness, I relly do want to know what you think, even if it's ME you don't like.

Verlinken

25.04.2007 um 00:56 Uhr

blog wording

von: saracheret

I feel like there are so many new names here it's intimidating to get back into. I don't mind new people at all though so don't get me wrong...I'm glad this community stays active. It's really hard to find any place like this. I'm trying to read posts and catch up with people. If I don't know you and you want feel free to respond to this and say hi or introduce yourself too. I know it's not a very interesting post or anything I'm just checking in. If I know you, you can say hi too...and I updated my journal with a little more about my trip but not a ton cause I'm bored of rehashing it to everyone at work/family etc. already! haha.

I think we've all said at one point or another that we need to stop. Especially in times of true torment, like in moments where you are checking your pulse and all you can feel is your heart spastically beating, and praying to whomever just for it to keep beating, just please, this one time, and you'll never do it again.
I had that feeling today. I had just gone to my local Barnes and Noble, and was enjoying a Venti Strawberries and Creme Frappucino with my best gay guy friend, and I was reading that book by Marya, "Wasted". I'm pretty sure I've seen it mentioned in this forum before. If you've never read the book, it is probably one of the most honest eating disorder memoirs I've ever read. She's been there, she knows what it's like to feel like you're holding onto that last beat of life, and she knows what it's like to freak out over an extra oil glob on your seared tuna. Reading this book scared me to death. I read the entire thing in one sitting, and when I got done, I started crying, and swearing to God that I was going to get over this, that I was going to beat this. That this morning when I purged ice cream it was the LAST time I was throwing up. The last time. I'm such a fucking douchebag. After all that dramatic promise, I went to the bathroom and purged my brains out on Frappucino.
Then the really scary part came. My chest started hurting and I was feeling very lightheaded, and I could feel my heart beating irregularly and I had to sit on the floor in the bathroom for an hour before I could pick myself up and go back outside. I was able to drive myself home, shaking and making more promises to myself that I know I won't keep. I just took a Lortab ten, and am still feeling funny inside.
I was scared. And I can't tell anyone. My boyfriend would just try to make me go to the ICU or something equally as ignorant. My mother would die of shock and pain and horror if I told her I was throwing up all the time, and have been for 3 years. That all this weight loss she's so proud of me for is just a fucking side effect of ripping my body to shreds on a daily basis. Anyone else would just act like "Oh poor pitiful Emily, how sad.".
I want someone who feels this. I want someone who knows what it's like to feel like you're going to die, and wondering if the next time you throw up, if it's going to the the last time you ever do.And not because you recover, but because you go into cardiac arrest.

I love you all. Coming here is my only ticket to sanity, no matter how fucked up I am.

Ok, so here's the scoop. I had my appointment with the endocrinologist on Friday. My thyroid is responding to the treatment I was given and working it's way down to an underactive state. Right now my thyroid levels are borderline high/normal. Nothing surprising there, but some other interesting things came up in the visit. My potassium level was at a 2.9, which seemed to really concern him. Now this guy rarely gives my chart more than a passing glance, but that number sent him looking at previous lab tests to find my electrolyte numbers... all of them out of wack. He also found the reports from my hospitalization in Feb where I was given IV potassium twice. Hmm.

My pulse was also low, 51 BPM, and my blood pressure 90/45. According to their scale, I've lost 6 lbs since my last visit in March. He's now perscribed k-lyte supplements and I'm to have a basic blood panel done every 2 weeks (not a huge deal, I have bloods done for one doctor or another every couple weeks as it is). He also made mention of my glands being particularly swollen, but I told him it must be from the prednisone. He agreed and told me not to worry about the weight loss, I was overweight a year ago when he first saw me, and I could stand to lose those 30 pounds! To top it off, he said not to be surprised if I start putting on weight again as my thyroid goes underactive.

If all this isn't enough to send someone with eating/weight issues into a tailspin, I don't know what is.

But I post all that babble to explain this bit. I am going to attempt to go raw. I need to break this binge/purge cycle, or at least slow it in it's tracks. And by doing something healthy for myself, perhaps it will help me to a) be ok with keeping the food in (lately even the idea of keeping an apple down makes me nervous and b) discourage myself from "messing things up" by binging on non-raw/unhealthy foods and then assaulting my digestive system in a frenzied attempt to get it back out

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14.03.2007 um 13:35 Uhr

mom talks instead of shows

von: saracheret

Came home and napped at around 12:45, and dad got me to work late at around 2:05. Worked until 6 at Old Navy. Was going to wander the mall alone but mom showed up in the store to pick me up unannounced. I had planned on calling her to get me at around 8- I wanted to shop around. But she was at dinner with Mrs. Kubik at Biaggi's so she came for me afterwards. Then the inevitable- we went "for a talk."

I hate that my parents always assume that "something is wrong with me," or that "I need a talking to." ALWAYS. Without fail, and it's JUST ME, not my sister, not consistently like me anyway. So my mom and I went to Starbucks, and she basically talked at me. It drives me insane. I think she knows I am purging, but then again I am suspicous and paranoid to an unhuman degree, so I really don't know. The thing about my mother is, like a poor writer, she "tells" instead of "shows." She will SAY this: "I just want you to know that I am always here for you, and I know you are finding yourself, and I know that it's hard right now, and I am confident that you were raised properly and you have a good foundation..." yadda yadda yadda. Basically, she is reconfirming aloud everything that SHE and nothing that I need to hear. She is verbally convincing herself that I am good, that I am rational and amazing, and that she has done a fine job instilling within me my fundamental values. False. She is quite misguided on that one, very very far off the mark.

And then of course my dad came in to talk to me after my mom and I got home, which I am sure was prompted by a panic-stricken "Joe, she's lost so much weight, I'm really upset about this," and certainly "she cut again." So he talked to me about school, socializing, lonliness, happiness, success, etc. etc.- all the biggies- and I felt sad, felt like "so this is me huh? This is eternally who I am destined to be- I am their messed-up, problematic first born who they will ALWAYS feel the need to watch. To give advice. To ask if something's wrong, because there always is." We have these incredibly somber talks, which I can only describe as that between a parent and a child who has just tried to take his own life, or is on his deathbed at the hand of self-destruction. Sounds terrible, but that's just it: I'm sitting in my room, and one of them saunters in, and in a low voice addresses me by "Lauren," in full, and sits down sighing and physically searching the room with their eyes for the words. Sometimes I wonder: is that my role- is being "that child" the IMAGE of me that they've projected for THEIR own purposes; or is that actually who I am- "that child" who is so internally torn and in need of emotional support because she herself is unstable. I really don't like either option, but I'm afraid I can't see myself as anything else

have been home for just short of 24 hours. Already, I have cried, cut, and yelled more in that period of time than I have in three months. I hate it here. I hate this. My mother and I just CANNOT get along. She does not listen to me. She does not accept who I am and what I am and there is no talking her out of it. It is what it is.

I took my medicine this morning. I am trying. I am really really trying. I ate breakfast. I cannot be around her. I can't. It won't work. I am conflicted, sad, torn- yes- about growing up and living without the pain of my childhood and past, but when I am at school, when I am away, at least I am not actually living IN the pain. I am only reflecting on it, only wondering what life would be like if I were still 14. Now, it's as though I have been thrown back there, to that time, where the sadness is inevitable. And at school, I've told myself, "this is a GOOD thing, you being on your own. You have NO REASON to starve yourself. You have NO REASON to cut yourself. There is no PROMPT, there is no negativity in your environment that would cause such behavior." There is pain, conflict, but it's emotional. It's me saying, "yeah I have no reason to do any of these things, but can I actually LIVE without a reason?" I am so used to having one, that to live without one is strange.

Except now that I am here, even though it's only for a week and I KNOW THAT, I still have no other options. I say, "ok, maybe now I DO have a reason to starve myself, to cut myself." And so, that's exactly what I just did. It's insane. It's all just a reversion backwards, back to not knowing WHAT ELSE to do under those conditions. My mother and I cannot live with each other. We cannot. I honestly 100% with all my heart do NOT believe that this will change. Yes, things change, of course; I have learned this and am sure I still don't fully understand the extent of the expression. But the fact that my mother will NEVER understand me, will never hear or

Verlinken

14.03.2007 um 13:35 Uhr

mom talks instead of shows

von: saracheret

Or at the very least an absract idea. It seems pretty obvious, what "home" is. But not anymore, not for me anyway. Is the town I live in home? Is the town I go to school in home? Is the house I live in home? Is the house I grew up in home? I really don't know anymore. I don't feel rooted, or connected, anywhere. Not positively anyway. Plain and simple: this town reminds me of my sickness. It makes me feel very sad, not to mention VERY conflicted, when I come here for school breaks. Certain places, smells, roads, all remind me of different things: that Dominick's is the one I used to wander around in, just staring at food, getting some sick satisfaction through only its presence; that restaurant is the place mom first told me something was wrong; that road is the one that leads into the city, into the place where I went to heal. So weird. I don't like it one bit. It's as though time itself has changed, but its elements have not. The last thing I remember about this place was a low note- sickness, homelessness, sadness. That's how I left it, and that's how I perpetually return. I wonder if that can ever change, or if I am bound to feel that way, simply because the feeling depends on the chronology of the events of my life, which are inarguably permanent.

On a different note, I am suddenly motivate to clean up my act somehow. Actually no, motivated is the wrong word. I'd *like* to, but I really don't seem to be taking any action. Which implies a terrible attitude on my behalf, but it's just that I DON'T feel compliant, and there's nothing I can do about that. I'm sure it'll come, but when? Eventually change ebbs all things, but again, Time and I are on a different page about this too.

I just read some e-mails; I was chosen for publication in two campus publications- Canvas Arts Magazine, and Labyrinth Poetry and Arts Magazine. This kind of news makes me happy, wakes something up in me that I like to see shine through. I suppose it's the reason for my sudden desire to actually DO something about the sorry state of my life. There I go again, holding back. Having my chance at the positive and letting the negative pummel through instead. It makes me sad, and mad at myself. But I feel like these poems, these writings, for the magazines and the newspaper, are definitive things about me. I write. That's what I do, that's what seems to take up my time, define who I am, what I like, what I do. In the most effortless ways. Some of us are "business majors." Some are "soccer players." You know, those kids you define by either what they do most often or what they talk about most often or what seems to always be a part of their life. What is mine then- "words?" "Creation?" "Storytelling?" It's vague. But somehow, as I sort it all out, it feels good to see something of a portfolio of work coming to fruition. Not even physically, the collecting of my productions, but just the mental note I am making- 'I have had this poem published here, this story published there.' Somehow, it feels accomplished and good.

When I walked in today, my mother frown on me. "You lost weight, I can see it in your face." Always the same thing. And I did lose a little, but not dangerously much, by any means. I then think she talks about me, to my father, to my sister, whenever I leave the room, whenever she has the chance. Which makes me very angry. It makes it seem as though she is acting superficial around me, which I don't like. Unfortunately, the only GENUINE thing I have ever identified in my mother is her cruel, demeaning personality traits. She is not being superficial when she hits me- this is a real intention. She is being superficial when she talks to me- this is forced and unnatural. Only, she no longer hits me, or hasn't in a very long time, and so I no longer recognize any genuineness in her. She cannot be the figure of a mother that I know UNLESS she is who I remember: a crazy bitch who beat me senseless and made me bleed. I suppose I cannot apply to this situation that time changes and its elements do not. Time has changed, of course, but so has the element- my mother. So why then do I feel the same about her as I do to this town, this place, this "home?" She HAS changed. Except she's managed to do it with a superficiality that time cannot reproduce, that time naturally does not possess. Or maybe I'm just rationing something I believe I'll never really figure out.

What else? What else... I am learning the value of a dollar the hard way, the VERY hard way. I will need to take money from my savings account and put it into my checking, because my credit card bill WILL be through the roof, no doubt. I am working 25 hours Monday through Friday. So much for a break over Spring Break, but I need that money. Badly.

And the wedding shower, for my cousin, is on Sunday. Of course, my mom is frantically trying to perfect everything, defying the impossible to achieve what she will eventually evaluate as an unsatisfying end. As always.

And she told me today that she was "so sad" about not having a job, about how she cannot afford this shower, about how she still has not paid me back almost $200 from when I did her Christmas shopping for her last year. I feel TERRIBLE. I do not know how much debt we are in, but they way she talks of certain things, I have NO idea how I am still enrolled in school. Things are just as I left them: we still eat canned tuna for dinner most nights, the fridge is bare, th coupon envelope on the fridge is stuffed, there are limits on what she can buy. You can tell what sales the supermarkets are having just by looking at the items in our fridge: ten yogurts- must be the 10-for-$10 at Dominick's; 2 liters of milk- must be the 2-for$3 at Jewel. Same old same old. It still makes me sad.

Today was good. I woke up at 12:30 :), because the shower was so much work. It went well, but things were horrible between mom and Aunt Donna. Just horrible. When Aunt Donna doesn't like someone, she makes no effort to hide it. I feel sad because they are fighting, because they have turned in a sisterhood that I can't IMAGINE folding after so long and so much together. But they did, and it's horrible. Whatever. And then a part of me is just plain mad at them, furious really, just pissed off by their stupidity and their childlessness- will one of you just please appologize and get over yourselves and STOP trying to make the other's life a living hell? Frustrating.

But the shower was beautiful and people said I looked good :). Everyone except my mother of course, who gave me a militaristic look of disapproval every time I turned down her offers to "put on a sweater" or "stand up straight." Translation: "Cover up that disgusting body of yours" and "try to pretend that you have something resembling a rack." Whatever. I am packing almost 25 extra pounds of whatever-the-hell-it-is (God forbid I call it "fat"), so deal with it.

I worked today from 2-7. Borrrring. But work is good, it gives me SOMETHING to do when I really have no means of doing anything else, what with my lack of car and lack of friends. I make good money there, which I am in desparate need of. Tomorrow J.T. and I were supposed to go help mom's friend Gail move some of her furnature and stuff out of storage. She moves around a lot- restores and then sells houses now that she's retired- and we're always moving her stuff for her. She is SO generous though when she pays us. Why she always asks a 110-pound former Anorexic and a 16-year-old girl to do her manual labor for her, I don't know, but I'll take it. J.T. was supposed to skip school to help her, because at this point the work is more important, but she says she has already missed too much and so it looks like I'll be on my own. That from 9-12, Old Navy from 2-6. Then I will go out to dinner with some co-workers at 8, which I always get so afraid of. Today a new woman at work met me and said, "oh you're the Lauren they told me I hadn't met yet, the one who's like this big around" (cue meeting of her thumbs and fingers in such a way as to suggest that I have an unnaturally small waistline). I laughed at her.

To Mom and Dad: no more- I am going to college. I have a life that I don't need your irresponsibility ruining anymore. It's college. I have to go, I have to get away from you. I have to do the one thing you never let me- GROW UP.

To Laura, Britt, and Linds: THANK YOU. I <3 YOU ALL ALWAYS!

To J.T.: We've always been in the same boat, only you are better at navagating it than me :). Hahaha Actually maybe we're in different boats. If mine was tht Titanic, then you might as well make yours a cruisliner, the Maiden Voyage, say, because you deserve it of course :). Or that boat that saved those drowning people from the Titanic when it was sinking. Yeah, that one. :)

To Kevin: You poor kid- sorry. You thought you were getting a no-strings-attached good time in Paris with a college girl. Hardly the case I guess, huh? I don't come with no strings attached. I would say next time your here we'll just go back to my place, except a.) you're not here and b.), I don't have a place.

hate the fact that the times in my life that *should* be "bittersweet but essentially happy" always wind up just being "bitter." Of course *going* to college is sad. But college itself is not. My parents cried like 2 year olds last night. "I'm so broken, I'm so sorry, I failed you as a mother, this is the one thing that I wished would never happen to you," being homeless, that is. My dad just said, so desperately, "Lauren, your mother and I are having a difficult time with this." As in, "we're sorry you aren't leaving for college from your own room, from your own house, with all of your possessions." And they sure as hell should be sorry. But God damn I sure as hell am SO SAD for them. I don't know what to feel. Things are getting to the point now where saying "everything will be okay" sounds like a gut-wrentching lie. Sounds not even worth saying, sounds absoultely
stupid. I *wanted* to trust them when they say that, I *wanted* to believe them and have faith, but I am finding that now, I just want to say "fuck you." Am I angry? How could I not be. But it's not so much anger as it is "sorry mom and dad, I just can't believe you anymore." Fact, not anger. Truth. I CAN NOT belive them- simple as that. Sad to no end, but simple as that.
Last night I had to walk away from home (or my new pseudo-home. I don't even run anymore, I just walk. Basically I said "Dad maybe I should go to community college and get a job, and save some money to go to IU sophomore year." He looked at me, laughed, and said "Lauren I don't want to hear another word about this- it's settled, you are going to college. Now I don't know what else you want me to say." Pardon me Dad for not believing you when you say something is "settled." Then he sat me down and said "Lauren, I will not tolerate your desire to not succeed in life." GO. FUCK. YOURSELF. How could someone say that to their child? Just because I mention the words "community college" does *not* mean that I "desire to not succeed in life." I had a few options, none of which came about because of *my* decisions: Go local, get a job and skip first semester, or fly to LA and say the hell with it, all of which I seriously considered. God that bastard. Since when am I the one who doesn't want to succeed in life? I've got news for you Dad- *you're* the one with no cell phone, no car, and no house, and not to mention no respect from anyone on the planet, yourself included. It gets me so down. But is he right? Do I not want success? Of course not. But sometimes the two of them make me feel so low that I believe what they say, and it hurts me.
Maybe even if I did wait, I wouldn't go away happy. How long can I wait for my parents to be okay in a situation that calls for them to simply be okay? I don't know anymore. *Something* is always wrong. There's always some factor that's fucking things up. I don't know in my heart if I'm doing the right thing by leaving. That's killing me, eating me up slowly. Tonight I will leave for Indiana University to start the rest of my life, to grow up and find what's left of myself... and I honestly don't know if I'm making the right choice.

Sometimes I just don't know what to do with myself. I feel sad and lonely here, but I feel sad and lonely everywhere. What if that's just the way I am SUPPOSED to be? What if all this time I've thought it was a "problem" when in reality it's just my... "personality?" Maybe it's who I am, who I need to be, who I want to be. I don't know. What I do know is that I just can't take it but I am unmotivated to change. Something weird has come over me; I know I am going home this Friday, and as... preparation? I have been trying to lose weight. Why why WHY does this happen? I feel COMPELLED to somehow. I think that, deep deep deep down, if I let myself admit why I am thinking like this, it's because I have tried to express my unhappiness to my mom, my dad, my family, but they just don't get it. Everyone always sends me these e-mails, or gives me these calls, that say "I'm sure you're loving school" or "I'm sure school is a blast for you." Which makes me think only 2 things: 1.) that school SHOULD in fact be a blast now that I've been here close to a month, and 2.) that because it ISN'T, there is something seriously wrong with me. So I play the whole "smile and nod" card. "Yeah I like it here, oh yeah I've met so many people, oh I never want to come home, etc." False. I want very badly to come home. I think. So going back to admitting why I feel the need to be so small/thin, I want my mom to SEE me and say "Oh so it's true- she really IS in pain. She really ISN'T very happy." I'm crying out again. Doing everything in my power to try to express what I am feeling, but no one is listening. Sometimes I think people talk about me. I am so replacable, such an un-permanent friend. I don't get along with anyone- NO ONE. I wonder where all the other people on planet earth are who are like me- honestly. The catch-22 there, though, is that, if I think about it, I DO know where those people are: they are on the ED floor of the hospital back in Chicago, they are my sister, they are the adults I know back home who I can have casual, none-too-meaningful relationships with. None of them are here, and none of them are located in an environment that would be "healthy" for me to be in right now. And if that's the case, then WHY ON EARTH do I crave those unhealthy environments? Simply because, *familiarity* is there. Familiarity is my bones showing, familiarity is lonliness, familiarity is being sad and not being able to, or wanting to somehow, pick myself up.

There's a football game tonight, which, needless to say, I do not want to attend. And when everyone calls and says "how was the football game this weeked?" I will simply say "I had so much fun."

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22.01.2007 um 00:13 Uhr

quotes

von: saracheret

I have known Shadow
I have known Sun
And now I know
These two are one.

My apologies, that just creeps me out everytime I read it. As does this:
Alice: But I don't want to go among mad people.
Cat: Oh, you can't help that. We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.
Alice: How do you know I'm mad.
Cat: You must be, or you wouldn't have come here.
Alice: And how do you know that you're mad?
Cat: To begin with, a dog's not mad. You grant that?
Alice: I suppose so.
Cat: Well then you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore, I'm mad.
-Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carrol

MR JAMES MACPHERSON, - I received your foolish and impudent letter. Any violence offered to me I shall do my best to repel; and what I cannot do for myself the law shall do for me. I hope I shall never be deterred from detecting what I think a cheat, by the menaces of a ruffian.
What would you have me retract? I thought your book an imposture; I think it an imposture still. For this opinion I have given my reasons to the publick, which I here dare you to refute. Your rage I defy. Your abilities, since your Homer, are not so formidable; and what I hear of your morals, inclines me to pay regard not to what you shall say, but to what you shall prove. You may print this if you will.
SAM. JOHNSON

For exactly the same reason, it is sometimes satisfying to cut yourself and bleed. On those gray days where eight in the morning looks no different from noon and nothing has happened and nothing is going to happen and you are washing a glass in the sink and it breaks - accidentally - and punctures your skin. And then there is this shocking red, the brightest thing in the day, so vibrant it buzzes, this blood of yours. That is okay sometimes because at least you know you're alive.

Augusten Burroughs - Running With Scissors

There will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere . . . "

Jane Austen - Mansfield Park

Frankly, I think you're better off doing something on the assumption that you will NOT be rewarded for it, that you will NOT receive the recognition it deserves, that it will NOT be worth the time and effort invested in it.
The obvious advantage to this angle is, of course, if anything good comes of it, then it's an added bonus.
The second, more subtle and profound advantage is that by scuppering all hope of worldly and social betterment from the creative act, you are finally left with only one question to answer: Do I make this damn thing exist or not? And once you can answer that truthfully to yourself, the rest is easy

Unless love is passion, it's not love, but something else; and passion thrives not on satisfaction, but on impediment. What d'you supposed Keats meant when he told the lover on his Grecian urn not to grieve? 'Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!' Why? Because she was unattainable, and however madly the lover pursued she still eluded them. For they were both imprisoned in the marble of what I suspect was an indifferent work of art. Your love for Larry and his for you were as simple and natural as the love of Paolo and Francesca or Romeo and Juliet. Fortunately for you it didn't come to a bad end. You made a rich marriage and Larry roamed the world to find out what song the Siren sang. Passion didn't enter into it."
"How d'you know?"
"Passion doesn't count the cost. Pascal said that the heart has its reasons that reason takes no account of. If he meant what I think, he meant that when passion seizes the heart it invents reasons that seem not only plausible but conclusive to prove that the world is well lost for love. It convinces you that honor is well sacrificed and that shame is a cheap price to pay. Passion is destructive. It destroyed Antony and Cleopatra, Tristan and Isolde, Parnell and Kitty O'Shea. And if it doesn't destroy it dies. It may be then that one is faced with the desolation of knowing that one has wasted the years of one's life that one's brought disgrace upon oneself, endured the frightful pang of jealousy, swallowed every bitter mortification, that one's expended all one's tenderness, poured out all the riches of one's soul on a poor drab, a fool, a peg on which one hung one's dreams, who wasn't worth a stick of chewing gum."

-- The Razor's Edge, W. Somerset Maugham
I've discovered the true secret of happiness, Daddy, and that is to live in the now. Not to be for ever regretting the past, or anticipating the future; but to get the most that you can out of this very instant. It's like farming. You can have extensive farming and intensive farming; well, I am going to have intensive living after this. I'm going to enjoy every second, and I'm going to KNOW I'm enjoying it while I'm enjoying it. Most people don't live; they just race. They are trying to reach some goal far away on the horizon, and in the heat of the going they get so breathless and panting that they lose all sight of the beautiful, tranquil country they are passing through; and then the first thing they know, they are old and worn out, and it doesn't make any difference whether they've reached the goal or not."
--Jean Webster, Daddy-Long-Legs

I could have slapped his face. I could have slapped that god-damned handsome, eagle-beakered, strong-boned, rubignious-hided high old face, in which the eyes weren't old but hard and bright without any depth to them and were an insult to look into. And the Boss laughed, and I could have slapped his goddamned face. I could have walked right out and left the two of them alone there, alone in that cheese-smelling room until hell froze over, and just kept walking.

But I didn't, and perhaps it was just as well, for maybe you cannot ever really walk away from the things you most want to walk away from."

All the King's Men
Robert Penn Warren

I wonder why the promises I make to other people always become more important than the ones I make to myself." - "Faking 19" Alyson Noel.
Could fulfillment ever be felt as deeply as loss? Romantically she decided that love must surely reside in the gap between desire and fulfillment, in the lack, not the contentment. Love was the ache, the anticipation, the retreat, everything around it but the emotion itself."~Kiran Desai, The Inheritance of Loss

It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?"
She shook her head, "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."

link

Young writers often suppose that style is a garnish for the meat of prose, a sauce by which a dull dish is made palatable. Style has no such seperate identity; it is nondetatchable, unfilterable. The beginner should approach style warily, realizing that it is an expression of self, and should turn resolutely away from all devices that are popularly believed to indicate style -- all mannerisms, tricks, adornments. The approach to style is by way of plainness, simplicity, orderliness, sincerity.

42shadesofgray

I tell her I want to die first. I've gotten so used to her that I would feel miserably incomplete. We are two views of the same person. I would spend the rest of my life turning to speak to her. No one there, a hole in space and time. She claims my death would leave a bigger hole in her life than her death would leave in mine. This is the level of our discourse. The relative size of holes, abysses and gaps. We have serious arguments on this level. She says if her death is capable of leaving a large hole in my life, my death would leave an abyss in hers, a great yawning gulf. I counter with a profound depth or void. And so it goes into the night. These arguments never seem foolish at the time. Such is the dignifying power of our subject.

Don DeLillo,
White Noise

was the barely living proof that whether or not an unexamined life is not worth living, an overexamined one simply isn't lived. During my Manchester embalmment, I forswore the corruption of the world in the form of meat and lived on a diet of curried lentils (which didn't help the condensation problem) and heady books (which didn't help the alienation problem). There was a limited number of reasons for actually leaving my room. Shopping for food wasn't really necessary, as a large bag of lentils lasts approximately fifteen years.

I would, however, visit secondhand clothing shops or Manchester's Central Library, both mortuaries of dead people's fancies. There were hours of bleak fun to be had sifting through the detritus of loves, hates, and passions just like mine. Wearing clothes worn by people now perished and reading books by hands now melted weren't simply economic necessities, oh no. They were symbolic protests against the Way of the World and a championing of the dejected and downtrodden in a decade in which shopping and superficiality were rapidly becoming the national religion.

-- Mark Simpson, Saint Morrissey

link

I give him a smile I don't really own."

"I scream at the top of my lungs for the longest time. And I know I should stop, but I can't. It just keeps coming out. But I don't cry. I won't let myself cry."

"Alex, the only one you should be giving a second chance is you."

- All from "Faking 19" Alyson Noel.

The art of not reading is a very important one. It consists in not taking an interest in whatever may be engaging the attention of the general public at any particular time. When some political or ecclesiastical pamphlet, or novel, or poem, is making a great commotion, you should remember that he who writes for fools always finds a large public. A precondition for reading good books is not reading bad ones: for life is short.

(Arthur Schopenhauer

Verlinken

22.01.2007 um 00:12 Uhr

quotes

von: saracheret

I have known Shadow
I have known Sun
And now I know
These two are one.

Verlinken

22.01.2007 um 00:12 Uhr

quotes

von: saracheret

I have known Shadow
I have known Sun
And now I know
These two are one.

Verlinken

21.01.2007 um 04:17 Uhr

itÄs like fuck_it

von: saracheret

peopl say,ed is about food.

Everyone always says "Eating Disorders really arent about food"... yet, what we (not just in this community, but in most ed communities/ just stereotypically in 'the real world') usually talk about is food/food behaviors/habits... for obvious reasons i guess beacuse its easier... but does anyone find it superficial? Does anyone find themselves disliking that we seem to be making such emotional troubles so superficial? Or do you/we like it that way?
Well, I personally hate it. But I try to remember that this is what drives the disorder to begin with. the inability to cope with emotions. it's easier to focus on food and weight (and part of it is survival mechanism our bodies adapt) than it is to face what is really wrong, especially because engaging with an ED behavior and manipulating our bodies or food intake at all times gives the illusion of consistant work towards a problem, hope for a solution. We just never solve it because it actually leaves the real problems untouched.

It's hard with two minds, the ED mind and the rational mind. It's hard to know where one stops and the other begins. I don't WANT to be vain and I don't WANT to waste my life away for something so superficial and dumb, and it seems asberd to me from my rational point of view, that I would. And then I feel guilty. I want to live and contribute to the world and build my life. But part of me doesn't know HOW or can't handle it, so the ED gets driven further and further, to let me "escape". I react to my own guilt by thinking I need to punish myself, but that is the ED mind, I just don't always realize it... it's hard to explain so I'll shut up.

What I think people mean (especially professionals) when they say "it is not about food", is basically saying that our difficulties eating, our distorted beliefs about food and weight and all the obsessive thinking and behaviour that EDs bring with them are merely SYMPTOMS of a deeper problem that we use our ED's to cope with. Very often those deeper problems are so intangible and so subconcious it is hard to see what he underlying problems actually are. It is about food and weight becuase that is what we focus on - but the REASON we do is much deeper. Really is is only symptomatic of a much bigger picture.

I think for me, it's because I am a bad person. Um. Yeah.

More explanation necessary?
PART OF me wants to be thin to make other weight concsious friends of mine feel bad. Because I want to be envied. I want people to envy me the way I envy girls prettier than I am, and I like the fact that these beautiful girls would envy me if I was thinner than they were, irregardless of my attractiveness. Vanity. Sheer and utter vanity.
I am vain. I am a sin. What else is a sin? Gluttony. No food for the glutton!

Also. I crave attention. I am a hysteric, a narcissist, a histrionic. I want to shock, I love to shock, I enjoy the exclamations of "God, you're so thin!" and I miss them when they go away :( Maybe my parents didn't give me enough attention as a child.
God, as I read this, I realise I'm disgusting. I'm actually disgusting. Eating only makes me fat, and fat people should be seen and not heard, right? No one wants to look at an ugly fatty. Fuck I'm being vain again. No food til I am not evil. No food til I'm less dirty. Less of a drunken whore. Less immoral.

Fuck I don't think I even answered the question, do you know that?

I'm aware that this is completely incorrect and irrational, but when I don't eat, I feel cleaner and like somehow everything is going to be okay.

If I get in a fight with someone in my family, the first thoughts that go through my mind are usually something like, "You're fat, that's why they're fighting with you. If you don't eat, it will be okay. It will all be okay." I convince myself that my fat and my weight is the root of all my problems, and if nothing goes in me, then I can stay clean and maybe I'll get smaller and take up less space. I have this overwhelming feeling that I'm really obnoxious and annoying and people hate me, just because of the size I am (and, rationally, I know I'm not overweight). I feel like if I was smaller, maybe people will think I'm more polite, nicer, sweeter, etc. That doesn't make any sense.

Other times I binge and purge because my anxiety gets so high and that helps release it. Then, it usually has absolutely NOTHING to do with the food at all. It's me, in the kitchen alone, shoveling food into my mouth like a starving African. I'm not even tasting the food. It's just about the actions, the purging, and the anxiety release.

I used to think it was all about weight, but now I realize that it isn't. It's about being clean and me having control. I don't have control anymore, though, because THIS is controlling me

I think it's about food only in the sense that we use food to control.

We can control what is going on about ourselves by restricting or overeating.

We use food in an emotional response to what is happening around us.

If things are bad we will go to one extreme or another. We either overeat and we're told it's emotional eating or we undereat to control SOMETHING.

The same with self-harm. We do it to CONTROL the pain we feel because we can't control the external pain that is being inflicted upon us.

Or whatever reason we do it, but food isn't the issue. It's the control.

Of Human Bondage - W. Somerset Maugham

Philip reddened to the roots of his hair, as he always did when any reference was made to his club-foot. Mr Perkins looked at him gravely.
'I wonder if you're not over-sensitive about your misfortune. Has it ever struck you to thank God for it?'
Philip looked up quickly. His lips tightened. He remembered how for many months, trusting in what they told him, he had implored God to heal him as He had healed the Leper and made the Blind see.
'As long as you accept it rebelliously it can only cause you shame. But if you looked upon it as a cross that was given to you to bear only because your shoulders were strong enough to bear it, a sign of God's favour, then it would be a source of happiness to you instead of misery.'

big brother is everywhere
Old George Orwell got it backwards.

Big Brother isn't watching. He's singing and dancing. He's pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big Brother's busy holding your attention every moment you're awake. He's making sure you're always distracted. He's making sure you're fully absorbed.

He's making sure your imagination withers. Until it's as useful as your appendix. He's making sure your attention is filled.

And this being fed, it's worse than being watched. With the world always filling you, no one has to worry about what's in your mind. With everyone's imagination atrophied, no one will ever be a threat to the world.

Chuck Palahniuk - Lullaby

Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller
"I am a free man --- and I need my freedom. I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company. What do you want of me? When I have something to say, I put it in print. When I have something to give, I give it. Your prying curiosity turns my stomach! Your compliments humiliate me! Your tea poisons me! I owe nothing to any one. I would be responsible to God alone --- if He existed!"

It seems to me that Papini misses something by a hair's breadth when he talks of the need to be alone. It is not difficult to be alone if you are poor and a failure. An artist is always alone --- if he is an artist. No, what the artist needs is loneliness.

- Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller

Things are again going well. I feel like I had hit a little storm squall for a few weeks, and now it's parted again to reveal clearer skies. Eating/weight stuff has been more or less a non-issue. I would say the thoughts were probably similar to how an average self-conscious young girl feels (too bad I'm in my 20s hahaaa); they exist but they are so far in the background that they aren't intrusive and obsessive at all. Eating has also been very easy and a relatively normal process. It's like a dream and I feel like I am on vacation. I feel normal. I feel so normal I don't even care enough to contemplate whether or not I made all of this up for attention (which I normally do when I don't struggle with it much). I simply don't *care* because I feel too good to worry about something so meaningless.

For some reason I feel at peace with things. It might be because I am so freaking busy with Christmas stuff (and thoughts will return when the distraction leaves my view), but I don't want to kill my joy buzz so I'm not going to think that. I am telling myself that the reason I feel better is because I got accepted into school and now I feel like I have a sense of direction and purpose, which makes me feel good about my place and who I am.

I had a bit of a revelation following the previous post. I was in my bathroom and suddenly struck by a moment of clarity. I realized that part of maturity is realizing that things are going to happen. Disordered eating is an attempt to avoid that fact and remain a child. Things overwhelm the child, thing come so fast and so much, you don't want to deal with it. I will often have moments where I'll be sitting in the passenger seat of a car, and I'll feel overwhelmed by simply being in the world. I'll see all the bright lights moving so fast, so many, I'll just feel frozen; I will literally get chills.
So in my bathroom I realized then that things happen and that's life, etc... this I knew before of course but for some reason this day I just "got it". I felt okay with that. I felt not bare and naked and vulnerable and powerless like I normally do but I felt a sense of connectedness and protection and strength that I imagine most people feel.

The reason I felt this way is because I realized something I never really did before. In a moment of what I am brazen enough to describe as a flash of divine insight, I instantly knew that I am a part of everything. All of us. We do not exist in a vacuum; we are interrelated parts, so nothing that happens is a force outside of yourself. This is why life is okay, you see. One must only be afraid when they are in the dark and have no knowledge of what lurks under the cover of shadow. In life, it is not necessary to operate like this. See, in any situation you are an integral part of the opposition. The perception of "being in the dark" is an illusion; it is only our human mind that does not KNOW, and the human mind as being the "ultimate" is itself an illusion. In another sense, a much more important "bottom line" one, we already know everything because we are everything. This means that in any situation, no matter how superficially adverse, there is always something you can do to better your circumstances. Even if it doesn't seem like it at the time, one thing we can always count on is that no matter what happens there is always a silver lining, there's always something positive to grow from the experience.
This revelation blanketed around me like a forcefield, it gave me warmth and strength that I hope to carry with me forever and ever.
I really feel like "whatever happens is okay", I feel liberated. To this I credit much of my new more positive outlook.

Costco is a Satanic church of obscenity.

My boyfriend wanted me to come with him to Costco yesterday. Stupidly, I agreed. Unfortunately, this was one of his "let's wander around and see what's there" moods. Oh, just dandy - here I am, striving to keep vile things out of the house, hating grocery shopping enough as it is, and he wants to go wallow in an orgy of binge shopping at Conspicuous Consumption Central.

The worst part was the crowds around the numerous sample stations. You know, those plastic gingham-covered tables manned by cafeteria worker ogres in hairnets, serving up little paper cups of Snausages and Pizzoids and Choke-'Ems. Repulsive little shots of warm lard.

There was a thick swarm of maggoty customers begging at each station. Standing right in my effin' way as they greedily shoved another cup of spooge into their pasty faces. I wanted to hurt each and every one of them.

So what ended up in the cart? Well, just about everything (apart from a case of Diet Coke) was his. Including an entire tub of oatmeal raisin cookies - Costco's addition to the line of Crack Snacks. Like the chips, these cookies are so addictive they practically leap into your mouth if you let them. You can easily consume 5,000 calories in one sitting. "Boyfriend selected, Mia approved!"

The whole adventure made me want to bury my head in shame for being American. So what am I going to do to add a twinge of guilt on top of that shame? I'm conspiring to slowly destroy the Crack Cookies. Mwah-hah-hah-hah-hah...

Since he already opened the tub and started eating them last night, I started detroying them this morning as he slept in. Took two of them and shoved them down the garbage disposal. Giggled to myself as it chewed them up and sloughed them down the drain. Washed my hands. Congratulated myself. No f*ckin' FOOD is going to win over MY IRON SELF-CONTROL.

I call it "preemptive purging".

Howards End by E.M. Forster
"Looking back on the past six months, Margaret realized the chaotic nature of our daily life, and its difference from the orderly sequence that has been fabricated by historians. Actual life is full of false clues and sign-posts that lead nowhere. With infinite effort we nerve ourselves for a crisis that never comes. The most successful career must show a waste of strength that might have removed mountains, and the most unsuccessful is not that of a man who is taken unprepared, but of him who has prepared and is never taken. On a tragedy of that kind our national morality is duly silent. It assumes that preparation against danger is in itself a good, and that men, like nations, are the better for staggering through life fully armed. The tragedy of preparedness has scarcely been handled, save by the Greeks. Life is indeed dangerous, but not in the way morality would have us believe. It is indeed unmanagable, but the essense of it is not a battle. It is unmananagable because it is a romance, and its essense is romantic beauty.

Margaret hoped that for the future she would be less cautious, not more cautious, than she had been in the past."

Ok so here it goes. On my previous post I asked if anyone would be interested on excerpts from the workbook that I got and some of you were so I will be posting little bits and pieces of the workbook from time to time. If you all were wondering what book this is from, the book is called the “Overcoming Bulimia Workbook” I hope this helps

Changing What’s Inside

An eating disorder is all about controlling what is going on with the outside (your weight or your eating) as an attempt to feel better on the inside. Trying to change how you feel inside by changing your weight may have helped you feel good initially, but in the long run it doesn’t work. This book will help you start to change the inside and help you start to change the inside and help you start to feel better about yourself and to take back control of your life.
Sometimes making a change means that you feel worse before you feel better. As you begin to take control back from your eating disorder, be prepared to feel worse at times. This is a period of transition, before you have developed healthy coping strategies to replace the unhealthy ones that you’ve given up. Hang in there! Just remember all the reasons why you picked up this book in the first place, and remind yourself that these are the reasons why you are going to continue on your recovery path.

Chapter 1: What is Bulimia?

Bulimia nervosa is an eating disorder that affects about 1 to 3 percent of women and girls (American Psychiatric Association 2000). That means up to three out of every one hundred females are struggling with this problem. Although this eating disorder is much more common in women, men can also develop bulimia. Bulimia most often begins in adolescence, but it can develop at any age, and it is most common in industrialized countries where food is readily available and where being thin is part of being beautiful or attractive. The course of bulimia is highly variable. Some people have bulimia at one point in their lives and then achieve a full recovery. Other people have recurring episodes of bulimia, especially during times of stress. Finally, there are some people who struggle with bulimia every day for many, many years. This chapter will help you understand what bulimia is, what symptoms you may be experiencing, and the psychological and physical consequences of bulimia. People are at different stages in their readiness to deal with their bulimia, and in this chapter you will be able to determine what stage you are at in starting the recovery process. You will also explore the role that bulimia plays in your life.

What is a Binge?

There are two types of binges that can occur with bulimia nervosa: objective and subjective binges.

Objective Binge

An objective binge involves eating, within a specific period of time 9usually less than two hours), an amount of food that is considered large compared to what most people would eat in the same situation. For example, an objective binge for Jenice, a thirty-five-year-old accountant, consisted of three bowls of cereal with mild, a container of ice cream, a large bag of chips, two dozen cookies, and a bottle of soda. Most people would agree that this does not look like a normal meal or snack. As well as eating an objectively large amount of food, for an episode to qualify as a binge, a person must feel a loss of control over her eating. Eating a large amount of food without feeling any loss of control is not considered a binge. It’s just overeating. But, when Jenice binged she had the feeling that she was unable to eat anymore.

Subjective Binge

A subjective binge occurs when a person eats and feels out of control, but the amount of food consumed is not large. For example, Clara has strict rules about what she can and cannot eat. Sometimes just eating one or two cookies makes Clara feel like she binged. Even though one or two cookies is a normal amount of food, Clara feels out of control while she is eating them.

Exercise #1:
What is your binge pattern like?

To gather more information about your binge pattern, complete the following worksheet.

Ok Yes I know there is no example BUT what the book has is a chart with the following categories at the top:
1. Situation
2. Length of Eating Episode
3. Food/Drink Consumed
4. Feelings after Eating
5. Objectively Large Binge?
6. Felt Loss of Control?
7. Type of Eating (What kind of binge?)

If you don’t want to make the chart, I have made one for myself and will happily send anyone who wants a blank chart for them to fill out. Just give me your email and I’ll send it to you but forewarning the chart isn’t perfect because I didn’t manage to fit it to one page but all in all the chart looks pretty good.
That’s all for now only one exercise and the introduction or hope you all liked this or thought it was promising/helpful.

Several months ago, when I was still very much struggling with the last grip of what I shall heretofore refer to as "something like an eating disorder", I made a desperate promise.
I desperately wanted to get into nursing school, and, I thought I was going to see my dream slip away. I made the following vow: Dear god, I will gladly become 125 pounds if you make this work out for me. I don't know how to explain it but after I said it, I had this sense of "UH OH!" because I didn't think I could fulfill my end of the bargain. What if in this desperate moment, I was condemning myself to fail? At the time it seemed impossible to allow myself to become that big. I had already gained quite a bit of weight, and it was intolerable. Those days I went to bed every night ashamed and certain I would become fat any day.

Anyway, I'm saying this for a reason. For some reason I can't explain, I had an innate knowledge that by the time school started, I would be 120 pounds anyway... and I would be okay with it. I don't know how to explain it. It was almost as if a miracle moment, like something somewhere showing me that it's going to get better soon.

Well, it's happening.
In a way I can't describe everything is coming into place. I honestly find myself *not caring* about weight. I am just *eating*. Because I'm eating normally my whole body is just like so much more energized and my moods are through the roof.
It's like a reverse eating disorder: the healthier I become, the more I want to let go of it, the less I need it. On your way down, the more sick you become, the weaker you feel, the more you need it and the more you want to punish yourself for being weak, in a terrible cycle.

I know it's not *totally* gone. I get lots of little moments, but, I don't know it's like the difference between living in a swamp and being surrounded by filth 24/7, and living in a beautiful neighborhood but smelling funk once in awhile. You can tolerate the funk and it's not so bad, if most of your life is beautiful. The more beauty you see, the less attractive the swamp is (because it's not familiar, and it's useless to you).

If I overthink things, food or life or anything, then I tend to want to do that ball up and hide thing. If I just take it as it comes and enjoy the ride, it's good.

I want to feel the way I feel today, every single day. This is what being happy feels like

Ive been watching this community for a few months now... and I feel I've gotten to know a few of you through your posts... I enjoy reading and being able to associate my own dealings in life with many of your own. I've been bulimic since the age of 12,with times in between of recovery. Now bulimia is back, and with a vengaence. I have cavities that i can feel with my tongue, but im far too scared of making an appointment with my dentist, as i know the game will be up as soon as he gets a look at the state of my teeth. I have an ugly permanent callus (sp?) on the middle finger of my right knuckle, awful abdominal pains... blackouts, seizing headaches, no energy...After eating, my body willingly brings the food back up without aid of a finger now, the feeling of any food in my body, no matter how healthy; how little, makes me physically sick. Relationships with friends and family are deteriorating as i become increasingly withdrawn, and cling desperately, almost unwillingly to a few very close friends, boyfriend. I spend hours every morning trying on dozens of outfits trying to find one that makes me look or feel remotely thin. Anxiety attacks have begun, and i often stay home for the pure reason that i dont feel thin enough on the day to face the world. These are things I'm sure almost you all have experienced first hand. And despite laying it out in black and white, I still cant comprehend. I know the ED makes me feel so, yet I don't seek recovery. I don't share my problem with anyone, I dont tell. 'I'll keep you my dirty little secret', I tell myself. But I can't muster why? I want someone to talk to about this side of me, the secret side of me. I've never had that opportunity... How does everyone else face the knowledge of how your day will revolve around purging? Sorry I've babbled, just thought I'd post my train of thought. x

women, charles bukowski
The sex had been fine; there had been laughter. I could hardly remember a more civilized time, neither of us making any demands, yet there had been warmth, it had not been without feeling, dead meat coupled with dead meat. I detested that type of swinging, the Los Angeles, Hollywood, Bel Air, Malibu, Laguna Beach kind of sex. Strangers when you meet, strangers when you part--a gymnasium of bodies namelessly masturbating each other. People with no morals often considered themselves more free, but mostly they lacked the ability to feel or to love. So they became swingers. The dead fucking the dead. There was no gamble or humor in their game--it was corpse fucking corpse. Morals were restrictive, but they were grounded on human experience down through the centuries. Some morals tended to keep people slaves in factories, in churches and true to the State. Other morals simply made good sense. It was like a garden filled with poisoned fruit and good fruit. You had to know which to pick and eat, which to leave alone

"There is nothing more alone than being in a car at night in the rain. I was in the car. And I was glad of it. Between one point on the map and another point on the map, there was the being alone in the car in the rain.

They say you are not you except in terms of relation to other people. If there weren't any other people, there wouln't be any you because what you do, which is what you are, only has meaning in relation to other people. That is a very comforting thought when you are alone in the car in the rain at night alone, for then you aren't you, and not being you or anything, you can really lie back and get some rest.

It is a vacation from being you. There is only the flow of the motor under your foot spinning that frail thread of sound out of its metal gut like a spider, that filament, that nexus, which isn't really there, between the you which you have just left in one place and the you which you will be when you get to the other place.

You ought to invite these two yous to the same party, some time. Or you might have a family reunion for all of the you's with barbecue under the trees. It would be amusing to know what they would say to each other.

But meanwhile, there isn't either one of them, and I am in the car in the rain at night."

All the King's Men
Robert Penn Warren

"Are you hearing unusual sounds or voices?" the doctor asked.

"Help us, oh God, it hurts," the boxes of cotton screamed.

"Not exactly," I said.

-- Denis Johsnon, Car Crash While Hitchhiking

Yet, as the night wore on, and white lights parted the curtains, and even now and then some bird chirped in the garden, gathering a desperate courage she would urge her own exemption from the universal law; plead for it; she liked to be alone; she liked to be herself; she was not made for that; and so have to meet a serious stare from eyes of unparalleled depth, and confront Mrs Ramsay’s simple certainty (and she was childlike now) that her dear Lily, her little Brisk, was a fool. Then, she remembered, she had laid her head on Mrs Ramsay’s lap and laughed and laughed and laughed, laughed almost hysterically at the thought of Mrs Ramsay presiding with immutable calm over destinies which she completely failed to understand. There she sat, simple, serious. She had recovered her sense of her now—this was the glove’s twisted finger. But into what sanctuary had one penetrated? Lily Briscoe had looked up at last, and there was Mrs Ramsay, unwitting entirely what had caused her laughter, still presiding, but now with every trace of wilfulness abolished, and in its stead, something clear as the space which the clouds at last uncover—the little space of sky which sleeps beside the moon.

Was it wisdom? Was it knowledge? Was it, once more, the deceptiveness of beauty, so that all one’s perceptions, half way to truth, were tangled in a golden mesh? or did she lock up within her some secret which certainly Lily Briscoe believed people must have for the world to go on at all? Every one could not be as helter skelter, hand to mouth as she was. But if they knew, could they tell one what they knew? Sitting on the floor with her arms round Mrs Ramsay’s knees, close as she could get, smiling to think that Mrs Ramsay would never know the reason of that pressure, she imagined how in the chambers of the mind and heart of the woman who was, physically, touching her, were stood, like the treasures in the tombs of kings, tablets bearing sacred inscriptions, which if one could spell them out, would teach one everything, but they would never be offered openly, never made public. What art was there, known to love or cunning, by which one pressed through into those secret chambers? What device for becoming, like waters poured into one jar, inextricably the same, one with the object one adored? Could the body achieve, or the mind, subtly mingling in the intricate passages of the brain? or the heart? Could loving, as people called it, make her and Mrs Ramsay one? for it was not knowledge but unity that she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge, she had thought, leaning her head on Mrs Ramsay’s knee.

Nothing happened. Nothing! Nothing! as she leant her head against Mrs Ramsay’s knee. And yet, she knew knowledge and wisdom were stored up in Mrs Ramsay’s heart. How, then, she had asked herself, did one know one thing or another thing about people, sealed as they were? Only like a bee, drawn by some sweetness or sharpness in the air intangible to touch or taste, one haunted the dome-shaped hive, ranged the wastes of the air over the countries of the world alone, and then haunted the hives with their murmurs and their stirrings; the hives, which were people. Mrs Ramsay rose. Lily rose. Mrs Ramsay went. For days there hung about her, as after a dream some subtle change is felt in the person one has dreamt of, more vividly than anything she said, the sound of murmuring and, as she sat in the wicker arm-chair in the drawing-room window she wore, to Lily’s eyes, an august shape; the shape of a dome."

A Million Little Pieces," by James Frey

[Jan. 20th, 2007|01:45 pm]

paravati

[

mood

indescribable

]

I am alone. Alone here and alone in the world. Alone in my heart and alone in my mind. Alone everywhere, all the time, for as long as I can remember. Alone with my Family, alone with my friends, alone in a Room full of People. Alone when I wake, alone through each awful day, alone when I finally meet the blackness. I am alone in my horror. Alone in my horror.

I don't want to be alone. I have never wanted to be alone. I fucking hate it. I hate that I have no one to talk to, I have it that I have no one to call, I hate that I have no one to hold my hand, hug me, tell me everything is going to be all right. I hate that I have no one to share my hopes and my dreams with, I hate that I no longer have any hopes or dreams, I hate that I have no one to tell me to hold on, that I can find them again. I hate that when I scream, and I scream bloody murder, that I am screaming into emptiness. I hate that there is no one to hear my scream and that there is no one to help me learn how to stop screaming. I hate that what I have turned to in my loneliness lives in a pipe or a bottle. I hate that what I have turned to in my loneliness is killing me, has already killed me, or will kill me soon. I hate that I will die alone. I will die alone in my horror.

More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to be close to someone.

More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to feel as if I wasn't alone. I have tried many times, tried to kill my loneliness with a girl or a woman, and it was never right. We would be together and be close to each other, but no matter how close we were, I still felt alone. They felt that loneliness and it made them want to get closer. When they tried, I either ran or did something to destroy what we felt for each other. I can run fast when I want to run fast, and I've always been good at destroying things

ey were Hedda Hopper, P. Pukham ("Hollywood After Dark"), G. Belcher, Max-the-Man Mercer, Dorothy Kilgallen, H. Salop, "Keyhole," Skid Skolsky (who dredged for hot Hollywood gossip from his perch on the mexxanine at Schwab's Drugstore), Gloria Grahame, V. Vennell, "Buck" Holster, Smilin Jack, Lex Aise, Cramme, Pease, Coker, Crudloe, Gagge, Gargoie, Scudd, Sly Goldblatt, Pett, Trott, Leviticus, *BUZZ YARD*, M. Mudd, Wall Reese, Walter Winchell, Louella Parsons, and HOLLYWOOD ROVING EYE among others. Their columns of excited newsprint appeared in L.A. Times, L.A. Beacon, L.A. Confidential, Variety, Hollywood Reporter, Hollywood Tatler, Hollywood Confidential, Hollywood Diary, Photoplay, PhotoLife, Screen World, Screen Romance, Screen Secrets, Modern Screen, Screenland, Screen Album, Movie Stories, Movieland, New York Post, Filmland Tell-All, Scoop!, and other publications. They were syndicated by the United Press and the American Press. It was their tireless task to spread the word. To shake the sheets and fan the flames. They ran ahead, loosing skeins of gasoline in the underbrush, to hasten the rush of the flames. They blazoned, they heralded, they beat the drums. They blew bugles, trumpets, and tubas from the ramparts. They ran the bells, and they sounded the alarms. Together and individually, in a chorus an in arias, they proclaimed, acclaimed, broadcast, and forecast. They ballyhooed. They disclosed, and they exposed. They praised, dispraised, promulgated, and disseminated. They were volcanoes of words. They were tidal waves of words. They pitched, they advanced, they plugged, and they slugged. They spotlighted. They limelighted. They hawked. They puffed, blurbed, fanfared, hoopla'd, ventilated, and hyperventilated. They predicted, and they contradicted. The "meteoric" rise of, the "tragic" descent of. They were astronomers plotting the trajectories of stars. Carelessly they scoured the night sky. They were there at the birth of the star and they were there at the death. They rhapsodized skin and greedily they sucked the delicious marrow. In boldface in the fifties proclaiming MARILYN MONROE MARILYN MONROE MARILYN MONROE. Photoplay Gold Medal Best New Star 1953. Playboy Sweetheart of the Month November 1953. Screen World Miss Blond Bombshell 1953. In glossy magazines Life, Collier's, Saturday Evening Post, Esquire. In posters with a crippled child in a wheelchair gazing up at her erect blonde beauty: REMEMBER TO GIVE GENEROUSLY TO THE MARCH OF DIMES. MARILYN MONROE.

--"Blonde" by Joyce Carol Oates

siddharta-hesse

How deaf and stupid I have been, he thought, walking on quickly. When anyone reads anything which he wishes to study he does not despise the letters and puncuation marks, and call them illusion, chance, and worthless shells, but he reads them, he studies and loves them, letter by letter. But I, who wished to read the book of the world and the book of my own nature, did presume to despise the letters and signs. I called the world of appearances, illusion. I called my eyes and tongue, chance. Now it is over; I have awakened. I have indeed awakened and have only been born today.

dorian gray:

I know what conscience is, to begin with. It is not what you told me it was. It is the divinest thing in us. Don't sneer at it, Harry, any more,--at least not before me. I want to be good. I can't bear the idea of my soul being hideous."

"He covered page after page with wild words of sorrow and wilder words of pain. There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution."

"Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one's mistakes

We are going to die and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they're never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place, but who will, in fact, never see the light of day, outnumber the sand grains of Sahara. ...In the face of these stupefying odds, it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here. Here's another respect in which we are lucky. The universe is older than a hundred million centuries. Within a comparable time, the sun will swell to a red giant and engulf the earth. Every century of hundreds of millions has been in its time, or will be when its time comes, the present century. The present moves from the past to the future like a tiny spotlight inching its way along a gigantic ruler of time. Everything behind the spotlight is in darkness, the darkness of the dead past. Everything ahead of the spotlight is in the darkness of the unknown future. The odds of your century being the one in the spotlight are the same as the odds that a penny, tossed down at random, will land on a particular ant crawling somewhere on the road from New York to San Francisco. You are lucky to be alive and so am I."

- Richard Dawkins, Unweaving the Rainbow

That means it does have to do with something more than food. Non-disordered individuals do not feel this way about food, because this is a reflection perhaps of how you feel about yourself.
To say that it isn't really about food isn't to imply that the obsession isn't there. That's the whole point. It SEEMS to be about food because of how obsessive we truly are over it, but there has to be something deeper than that obsession. It's equating food with something else, I think. I think everyone equates food with something... love, perhaps. However deserving or afraid we feel of love? I don't knowWell, I personally hate it. But I try to remember that this is what drives the disorder to begin with. the inability to cope with emotions. it's easier to focus on food and weight (and part of it is survival mechanism our bodies adapt) than it is to face what is really wrong, especially because engaging with an ED behavior and manipulating our bodies or food intake at all times gives the illusion of consistant work towards a problem, hope for a solution. We just never solve it because it actually leaves the real problems untouched.

It's hard with two minds, the ED mind and the rational mind. It's hard to know where one stops and the other begins. I don't WANT to be vain and I don't WANT to waste my life away for something so superficial and dumb, and it seems asberd to me from my rational point of view, that I would. And then I feel guilty. I want to live and contribute to the world and build my life. But part of me doesn't know HOW or can't handle it, so the ED gets driven further and further, to let me "escape". I react to my own guilt by thinking I need to punish myself, but that is the ED mind, I just don't always realize it... it's hard to explain so I'll shut up.

Verlinken

15.01.2007 um 12:47 Uhr

summary

von: saracheret

I'm sitting with wet hair, deciding if i should stay in the house and eat/be bored/watch tv or if I start to read a new book or get up off my ass and call a friend to go for coffee. only problem is that this particular friend has a tendency to bore me to death, so it's a rock and hard place it seems...although one option has coffee and the impetus to get dressed and see people. I showered my dog this morning, so he's sulking and won't talk to me now. I want to have another stab at the cryptic crossword in the Telegraph. have 2 classes today, Anat and phys 2 (second semester) and psych. I love the first class, even though it is demanding, and although I am interested in psychology, I've already decided that i don't like the instructor. She is an actual psychiatrist, with a virtual office, so you would think she'd be more intriguing, but she's a dour middle aged woman who treats us like unruly teenagers. Grrr I think you should go for coffee, just because you can people watch while pretending to listen to your haplessly boring friend. Both my dogs are in odorifously in need of a bath, but they're terribly misbehaved about it, and seem to think it's a game to see if they can get me as wet and shampoo drenched as they are. I wish I was going to coffee with you....<33

don't even feel like writing right now, or even feeling, but I guess I have to since I can't deal with it in my normal way, by binge or purge, due to my tooth being so sore I still can't even chew without terrible pain.

I'm just feeling incredibly...blank right now. Blank in the uneasy sense, like I can feel something coming, some great emotion just under the surface, boiling in my chest like water under the lid of a pot. I'm scared to take the lid off because I'm not sure what is underneath.

I ate 4 eggwhites with salsa on them for breakfast (65 cals), Chicken on light whole wheat with lettuce for lunch (190 cals) and a smoothie (200) and cottage cheese for dinner (90)... 545 calories... I keep thinking about food and calories and I'm finally realizing that it's an attempt to aviod thinking about my emotions or letting myself feel them.

All morning I was upset about something that happened a few days ago, I've been trying to supress it but I just can't. It's the fact that my parents didn't turn in my student status insurance forms like they said they would (I need to be a full time student to be included in my family's dental and health insurance). It's complicated but I had to go through this big hassle at the endodontist with them accepting me for my root canal and it ended in them accepting me bc I had my college fax my full time status to them...but I still had to lay out $360 for my root canal. My Mom put me on the spot and asked me to "lay it out" because "she didn't know" about the cost.

Side note: my mom is a master bullshitter. Side note 2: I have paid my rent for the last 2 months because my Mom bounced the rent check to my account and Jan rent I didn't even bother asking for bc she makes me feel so guilty.

I'm raked with guilt over the debate, should I have to pay for my own root canal and apartment when my parents say they will but never follow through? Why do I feel so guilty asking for money? Do my parents owe me that? Why do I always have to feel like such a burden? My Mom won't pay for my rent or pay me back unless I bug her for it and we just end up fighting.

I do know that I just feel like curling up and wasting away. I'm sick of the endless cycle of feeling this pressure to make money and be responsible when all I want to do is be taken care of. I just want my parents to nurture me and say they are going to do something for me like hand in my forms and do it. I went to get antibiotics for my tooth and just found out I currently don't have health insurance because the papers weren't handed in to show I'm a full time student when I AM A FULL TIME STUDENT. So I had to pay full price for my meds.

All of this just makes me feel like I don't matter at all, I'm not worth anything, I don't even deserve a small favor from my own parents because they don't care enough to even simply hand in a form for me. Like all I want to do is count on them for something.

I know it sounds so childish and irrational but I don't want to have to worry about this. I don't want to have to worry about paying bills yet, I'm not ready, I'm just constantly trying to prove myself, what the FUCK am I trying to prove anyway? That I can handle life? Because I can't.

My Mom just came into my room unexpectedly and found me crying, she kept asking me why and I kept saying nothing just leave me alone. Then she said "must be something with Erik (my bf), boys are the only things that make girls cry"....WTF is that supposed to mean? Shes just in denial, like I couldn't really be upset about something worthwhile. It makes me sick.

I guess I just haven't felt this terrible in a while. I just feel so much pressure, so much hurt in every single cell of my body. I want to rip this out of me or something. I want to just cut out (not literally cut) all of the bad and bruised parts of myself, but then what would be left?

hmmmm. This looks like one of those things that's a good idea in theory and then falls flat once the politicians get a hold of it and start adding crazy bullshit to it. But I'm remaining optimistic that it's a good idea, as long as they're not forcing the lower class to stretch their budgets even further because McDonald's doesn't want to give it's workers health insurance.

I was going to write a big long thing about how this could be where our system collapses because everything costs more than anyone can afford and instead of bringing down costs, we stretch the laws and whatnot until the whole thing falls through. But then I realized that even if there was only healthcare for the extremely rich and the average person couldn't afford operations or prescriptions, he would just say "Hey, that's life," or "That's just how the world works," or "God damn gays and foreigners!"

I'd elaborate more, but I'm exhausted and I want a full day of homework-doing to go down tomorrow (because I'm still hard geeking the sober way!).

I left a note on the outside of our common room door stating that I was sleeping in here and insinuating death for anyone who didn't respect the shit out of it. I don't know WHY I'm trying this sleep-on-campus(!) thing again. Oh yeah, because I don't want to get up early and I DO want to do something productive. Really though, I'll kill. If you can't respect my property world, AT LEAST RESPECT MY GOD DAMN HUMAN SLEEP SCHEDULE (*William-Wallace-esque raiding cheers*).

I found Andy Warhol's Fame on DVD in our library today. I'm checking it out tomorrow as a reward to myself for being productive - PERIOD.

"Don't ever become a pessimist, Ira; a pessimist is correct oftener than an optimist, but an optimist has more fun--and neither can stop the march of events.” -Robert Heinlein

Verlinken

14.01.2007 um 23:35 Uhr

purg

von: saracheret

seems like lots has happened.
weight - its really strange. over the years i have worked my butt off; restricting, exercising, driving myself up the wall...and always finding myself losing small amounts of weight, and then the weight creeping back on. now? i dont want to trigger with numbers but my bmi is something like 16.5 and i have no fucken clue how this happened. getting to this weight wasnt the plan...i mean who would have thought that that first purge, of my dinner, out of pure despiration (at my heighest weight) would slowly lead to...so much more.to an addiction. i am an addict! and now weight is no longer the issue...but my massive b/p's are unintentionally lowering my weight.
and its affecting the people around me. im getting negative comments of concern...its so so evident that i have an e/d, even to people who dont even know me. just people who see me from time to time, see my weight drop...
and it just annoys me soooo much that WEIGHT is the all-mighty deciding factor to all those people around me. its like when i was purging and maintaining...or purging and gaining...and i was at a healthy BMI, everyone thought i was fine fine fine. healthy yeh? i mean i cant blame them...i dont hold a sign up saying "hey im bulimic! never would have guessed that my tiny little body consumes 1000000000s of calories of cake and cookies a day huh?!"
but still. i sort of feel like theres
1.my current weight & 2.my eating behaviours (b/ping)
and right now i feel like my eating is the way more serious of the two.
yet all the focus is on my weight.
ugh....and i WOULD try and gain. 10lbs heavier, i was happy with my weight for sure. 20 lbs heigher? hell no. but 10lbs...i felt ok.but you know the feeling...when you lose weight, WHATEVER amount you gain back is always going to feel hugggge. because its in comparison. you know? and also if i WERE to gain 10lbs back, i wouldnt even know where the fuck to start. digesting food? that scares me...more than i would have ever imagined.
and anyway. idk...im just really confused. i feel i would be doing it for others around me. and thats not what i want. i feel like it would be a waste...not like i worked so hard to get to where i am, but more just...my e/d has become so much apart of me. and expecting me to just throw away my slender physique, what defines so much of me, is asking ALOT.

on a similar topic, i was out clubbing with a friend sat night, whos been traveling for the past 8 months. he was shocked when he saw the weight id lost (really not that much , but i have a small frame)...and he made it very clear that i need to gain weight. he is going to make me. i look sick, he said. i dont look good anymore. he thinks that im anorexic...oh, ha.if only he knew...but i didnt think id inform him of the details of my actual eating habits :/ his intentions are so good. he said "look lena, ive known you for sooo many years. i can see you have a problem. and I want to be the one to help you. im sorry if i am offending you, but im the only one who has the balls to interfere and tell you that you really need to gain weight. youll look better.and be healthier.."pretty much.
any advice on how to thank him but tell him i need to figure this out on my own?
this friend is quite pushy..its hard to finish a sentence when he's involved.

any other news?! hrmm...well i think i shocked the frigging HELL outta my best friend who joined me on my shopping advneture the other day.i was about to go to the store, when she calls up, bored...so she joined me.and i was gonna buy binge foods before...so i was sure as hell still gonna buy my binge foods!4litres icecream, 4 economy size chips, cookies, 2 blocks chocolate...etc etc.
then when we came back to my house...i think she expected me to put all the food in the pantry for like the family or something.she was so shocked when i shoved the bags under my desk in my room...yep babey, its alllll for meeeee :) haha, kinda awkward.but shes one of the 2 or 3 people that know. the extent?well i guess she just had a little awakening.

also im going on a holiday with my mum, in around 2 weeks.1bdroom apartment = i am shit-scared. i nearly had a nervous breakdown last time i was in sydney with my family...and that was a 2bdroom apartment with TWO bathrooms.plus...oh, idk.im.just.freakedouttttt

It's Saturday night, and since I have absolutely nothing fun or cool going down tonight a binge seems like the best possible way to spend an evening. But I wont allow myself. Instead I willingly opt for a night filled by the all-consuming feeling of what it is to be empty inside.
Hunger is an interesting thing.
I am not being struck down with hunger pains, not at all. I worked all day, but food didn't make my mouth water like it always did. The thought of skinny pulled me through. It's a powerful and twisted desire. I found joy in the fact that nothing touched my lips besides organic tea, flavored water, splenda, and a strong and beautiful man's lips. Oh it felt good. Oh it felt so good to be so good. So strong. So above. How pathetic to find joy in eating nothing. Why does seeing him only make me want skinny more? Make me want to eat even less? To prove something to myself? "Look at me, I am working harder. I am looking better. Don't you want me now??" Is that what it is??

My body and brain must be numb. But I like this numbness. Tonight it is fitting. Desire...need...wanting more...that is my hunger.

Tonight I will ride the waves of starvation and the quest to be more of a waif. For whatever it is worth. More like a pixie more like a spirit of a person than an actual person.

A hot bath in my boss’s sunken Moroccan bath (I’m house sitting not sleeping with...haha) will be my nightcap not a vanilla shake and fast food burger like the the night before, and the night before that...
...I will let my mind wander to the idea of a man's touch loving my every curve, the slightest poke through of my rib here and there...a peep show...the feeling of loving my skinny legs in the mirror, and my ass toned and smooth, my ever so slightly boney chest.... I will let the anticipation of the next binge stay with me through the night. Because surely it will come again.

But this feels good. This control.

I'm back at school. The bullimia is back at full speed. I can tell it's going to be a rough semester--I'm just hoping to survive it, and not have to end up in IP when I go back home...I don't think my family could handle it. They're big on perfection, esp. on the outside. I already am too fat to fit their need there, but being fat and bullimic would be even worse. And I'm scared the stress would kill my mom if she found out. She's had heart attacks, and I just am scared I'd give her another one. It's so stressful. Sometimes, I really, really dislike my life, you know? i'd never tell anyone this besides you guys...but i KNOW i need inpatient treatment to get better. ive been doing the outpatient program for months and months, and ive gotton worse. but my stubborn ass self wont, and will never admit to anyone that. so i guess im dooming to have this ED forever. shit. Business casual dress at my new job. It's a fricken call center. Our customers are on the phone with us. What is the point of dressing professional when they can't even see you? I have no idea what I'm going to wear and I'm too exhausted to start trying on clothes now. I read this about the job like 20 minutes ago and I immediately went to eat and purge. I purged everything I put into my mouth today. Ah, "Intervention" night. These people are going to get help, going to turn their life around... if they want to. Sometimes I wish someone would recognize that I need help. Someone that will just save me from myself. There is no such a person. It's up to me, right? Yes, it is and I can't see myself going forward with my life. I will stand still in the same position until something pushes me to go backward or forward. I desperately want someone to care, someone to stick with me until I overcome all this shit. No one deserves the shit I bring into people's life. I feel so hopelessly homely lately. My skin is a wreck, my hair never looks right, my clothes don't look right on me anymore, and I'm always too tired to act normally. I feel like everyone I meet thinks I'm some kind of flake, because really, I am. There is no doubt in my mind that I am LOSING IT and it scares the hell out of me. I keep worrying that I should get tested for early onset Alzheimer's but I think that if I knew this early on that that would be my fate, I'd lose it even faster. Either way, I'm not acting like myself at all lately and I keep getting loopier, to the point where it is starting to worry me. Billy has been in town since Wednesday night and when we go places, it's not at all unusual of me to ask him five or six times where we're going. I've been to his place in Midtown a million times and he has told me the cross-streets seven hundred million times and I still can't, for the life of me, even remember half of it. My use of post-it notes has skyrocketed and I find myself even sticking up notes like "don't forget to put on shoes before you leave," because I have almost walked out of my building a few times with no shoes on. Back to my skin, I'm ready to peel it all off. I look DISGUSTING, like there's something wrong with me. I feel like everyone is staring constantly trying to figure out what kind of fucking disease I have. There was something else I was going to mention that didn't have anything to do with me and my current state of homely-ness, but I have completely forgotten. In other news, I have gone on a mass DVD-box set-purchasing spree and purchased Ren and Stimpy, seasons 1-4, Beavis and Butthead, season 3, and Roseanne, seasons 1-4 (actually, Billy bought me 1 & 4, COMPLETELY ignoring the fight we had on Christmas about him buying me gifts, so I'm paying him back for them). I'll probably go out and get Roseanne 5 & 6 tonight. While I'm not a TV or movie person at ALL, there are a few things that I will watch over and over and over and over... all of which are things that I've already seen over and over and over and over. I don't have the patience for new things. No. You can't do that. Invasion of privacy. Just fucking stop. It's like nobody has a brain anymore. Didn't anyone take history in high school? Don't they know what this shit leads to? Freedom isn't safe. It's not supposed to be. The terrorists jeopardize our lives, while the government jeopardizes the freedoms that they're supposed to be protecting Vacuuming. Coins and possibly my missing stud got sucked in. People cold. Figuring out how to dispose of the dust. Feet got stomped on by heavy oak chairs. Tired. Frustrated. Printer. Doesn't print any other color than red. Shades of red. Will eventually (soon) become my sleeve. Getting yelled at. Perhaps I deserve it. Miserably whining like an emo child on my bed. Brother annoying me. Bugging me to read him a story. Touching my stuff. I want to kill myself. How did it come to this? I was reading some of my old journals from about 4 years ago, and I came across this passage that I wrote, which is pretty inspirational: -- You don't know what is fueling this. You do know that you are shaking. You observe your face, post-purge. Your glands are swollen, your eyes are wet, your lips tremble. Well, here you are. You're all here, all of you, more than here. At 90 pounds, a waterfall of common names for the bloated creature you have come to call yourself - whale, cow, pig. Sit-ups, to get rid of the goddamn stomach. 100 sit-ups, feeling your legs through your thin pajamas, the legs themselves not the least bit thin. 100 sit-ups to get through to get legs like the girls at the party, un-Bat-Mitzvahed 12-year-olds with flowy dresses and unobtrusive tummies. You are thinner than all of them - you must be. But you don't have those legs, and you want those legs... 82 - on the mirror, on the ceiling and walls. On the peanut butter jar, so you'll realize that you don't need, you want. You need to destroy that want. You need to be up to your neck in sickness, so it falls like a curtain when you feel like eating. And you will come to wait for the wailing hollow of your stomach, left unfed through the night and all morning. You have to have this. Stop questioning, stop crying out to health for help, let go of its hand. There is nothing to be scared of. It will all be fine. You'll be thin. You won't need to suck in your stomach anymore. You will finally, finally feel new and whole and beautiful. -- I wrote so much more when I was in high school, because I had so much time to myself. These days, when I'm not working, I'm with Darin. If Darin's at work, I'm at home alone, doing crunches and leg-lifts, perusing pro-ana boards. I'm not writing because my journal is at Darin's house. I haven't written since 2007 began! I need this glorious backlog of anorexia so I can look back, again, after my next shot at "recovery" and remember what this felt like. It was one of my theories that usually, when someone turns thirty, a key clicks in their lives and they are magically alright. All the teen angst, lost hope, useless struggle of their youth disappears. They are at ease with their selves, and no longer criticize their every flaw. Unfortunately, I am proven wrong. Today we held my brother's fifth birthday party. My mother invited three of his friends and their families. Standing awkward around the table, feeling way too long-limbed and idiotic, my sleeves not long enough to cover my marred wrists, I listen to their chatter. The other women start asking my mother about her eating and exercising habits--"your figure is great" "do you just eat soup all the time?" "do you spend your entire life on a tread mill?"--and of course, my mother replies no. And she doesn't. She's beautiful and that's the way things are, as my father stated when he cut in (proudly). These comments make me stressed. Already incredibly self-conscious about my ugliness, I get more stressed--I stuff my face, avoiding their gaze, while envying my mother as she daintily chews on a dumpling. I am relieved that they knew that my mother was far more beautiful than I, and did not aggravate the situation by untactful trying to compliment me. I eat handfuls of cashews. I promise to purge (haven't yet, ew). They move onto other topics, yet strangely, they always seem to return to the idea of food. My father goes into a scientific tirade about sleep and metabolism, explicating to the amazed women that sleep can make you lose weight. Another father proudly says that a bag of fries are forgotten and left in the freezer for an entire year. Attacks are made on chips, while I'm crunching on them, sad and tired of myself. Do women ever just fucking get over themselves? Another favorite of the crowds seems to be criticizing their spouses. On celebratory occasions, apparently it is a la mode to air dirty laundry in public. My dearest Vater rants about my mother's bitchiness, my mother retorts with some witty comment. The other couples are the same. Everything is done in a playful tone, of course. Then the couples look at each other with loving eyes and hold hands, right after they lent free rein to their feelings. I wonder if they know it themselves. I just ate another slice of pizza. I do not feel that bad. I know that somehow, my metabolism will deal with it. I know that my body will never be perfect. And right now, I'm feeling okay with that. I am pretty, though not shockingly beautiful. I have style, though not model-extravagant. I have character, though not Cleopatra-like. I have intelligence, though not on par with Newton. Yet somehow, people pass me by. Today is one of those days where i'd like nothing more than to hide away from the world and stay in my room all day. It's just so fucking hard to have to go through the motions and smile pretty and make myself laugh at stupid shit, when what I really want to do is yell and break things. I feel absolutely disgusting today. I look in the mirror and I just want to claw my skin off, to get this flesh OFF of me before I suffocate inside it. I can't see myself with all these layers of fat. My body feels too heavy to move anymore. I feel like I could peel it all off, like an orange. Sink it fast and hard, and just... pull. *rip* And then... Ha. October doesn't get it. There IS no "then" because she doesn't have the balls for it. She doesn't have the ability to stick to ANYTHING. Giving up is so much easier, right. So much talk. All bark. Just one more / just tonight / just at the party / just as a reward / just... anything to destroy this body a little more. Can't even stick to the vegan diet, or ANY DIET. It's not COMPLICATED, moron, you're just pathetic. You're completely weak. So much hatred. In a very sick and deeply rooted way.... I like it. I like it a lot. So much passion. Intense. Destruction is such a powerful thing. Green, my back hurts. It feels like my spine is ripping through my skin. It's expected; it'd been getting progressively more excruciating as the days passed. Knowing something's coming almost makes its arrival worse. I don't want comments. And I don't feel like making them. Don't you GET IT. I have nothing to offer you. I have childish, poorly executed poetry and an emo-etic writing style in my entries that just "make them look cool." If I knew ANYTHING about who I am, what I want, or even had a mild comprehension of the hypocritical words I gush onto to others, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't BE HERE. Here. Fucked up beyond measure. Don't TELL me you get it. I want to wallow in this pathetic woe- is- me void and rot in my own self-pity. I want my hatred to eat me alive; PLEASE, eat away any parts you can. YOU don't get ME. I don't even get "me." I don't know who "me" is. I am not a textbook case in any way. I'm betting you aren't either. Maybe you are. Congratulations. I don't do well being fitted into a definition that's too narrow for my child-bearing designed hips. Who cares what category of Messed Up you are, it doesn't change the fact of the matter. Green, I'm bitchy tonight. Screw love. I can't be loved by others when I can't even manage to love myself. I can't give myself to others when I can't accept any facet of my being. I can't embrace anyone when I want to be invisible. Love is not appreciated until raw hatred is experienced. I'm so tired of loving everyone else... I'm TIRED. Green, I'm so very tired... You can't take just the good without the bad, the two are hand in hand. Nothing is without price. Yesterday, they killed my cat. He and I always had comlicated relations: he was for the most part capricious and a tyrant, invading my armchair, my bed, disorganising my manuscripts, sleeping on my notebook while I was writing, avoided the food that I prepared for him but stole my scones during tea time. Nevertheless I loved him. Or rather because of these defects, terrible to my eyes but of which I know the power (yes this was a computer translation ^_^), I loved him. He placed his two paws on my eyelids, the evenings where I was fatigued. He waited for me behind the door during my absenses. (I can't figure out the next statement, progressed to cross my office in the manner of a panther and bounded savagely on his prey: my foot. We made scenes, we knew long nights of tenderness, of long days of amusing games. I appreciated his grace, his independance, his spirit and also his egotism sometimes made me grate my teeth. His amazing energy revealed in harmless gests: that he chased after butterflies. Or he licks his paw. The magnificent liberty of his body radiated. Even though he's an idiot (bête), I am grieved by his disappearance." Again, I'm never good at translations. I often understand things but I don't know how to work them into English-sounding statements. Maybe I just need to work on my French some more.

Verlinken

11.01.2007 um 17:06 Uhr

sseroius

von: saracheret

I suppose it's all in my head. I'm overreacting to the debate problem.

No, I'm not overreacting. I'm just overanalyzing.

AM and RZ seem to dislike me now, after AM and I got along so well. And I feel guilty for not managing the debate tournament better.

My heart felt like jack hammer. I positviely dreaded reading the message window.

I can't tell anyone else what happened. What happened to my friends? I love them so much yet I feel so alone. I can't tell anyone anything. I only ranted a bit to HN because I felt he wouldn't care. I also ranted a bit to Sammy because I thought she wouldn't care either.

What's happening to me?

I want to kill myself.

Again.

Why has it taken up so much of my life?
The truth can really suck at times. We go through life so often not questioning things, not doing any self reflection. And then if you do, you can find yourself stuck. Like me.

Who's preventing me from becoming the me who i'm meant to be, who I truly am underneath all these layers of falsehoods and pretenses and shields i've set up? Me. I don't even know how to fully convey how I feel about that realization. Anger, confusion, at a loss, hopeful...Walking into my true Self requires things from me that aren't easy. I'm scared of that. Terrified, on some level I didn't even realize existed. It's a big fucking step. It requires a lot of blind faith from me, a huge leap into the abyss when I don't know for sure where i'm going to land, if anyone's going to be there to catch me...nothing. That's part of it right there: fear of the unknown. Uncertainty.

I truly want to get rid of all this extra stuff that's holding me back, but I don't know how. Where do I even begin? I feel that at least in knowing this that's a big step in the right direction. It means I have something to face, to work with. So what do I do when I have the Will but don't know the way?

standing still, in your past
It's amazing how obsessive it makes you. I couldn't even wait until I got home. I got off the bus one stop early, went to the Starbucks, purged in the bathroom. Calmly, rationally, determinedly.

Maybe if I was forced to purge in front of a mirror, into a big transparent basin, I would have a deterrent. My self-described emetophobic friends say, "Ew, I could never make myself purge - I hate throwing up!" Yeah, and I just LOVE it. Nothing gives me quite the same delightful electric THRILL that throwing up all my food does!

Anyway, I have actually been quite good about it the past few days. And even though I wake up in the morning with that depressingly hollow feeling, I never feel tempted to pick at the food I'm putting out when I open the cafe in the mornings. (No one feels like eating at 5:30 am, say my customers, but I recall scooping ping-pong-ball-sized dollops of cream cheese icing off of our pastries and eating them, first thing in the morning, guilt-free.) Allowing myself a few samples here and there, like, for example, one chocolate chip, or the crusty edge of the banana bread, keeps me from going insane at work, despite the fact that I regularly trot off to the washroom to assess myself in the mirror as a BAD ANOREXIC.

All this vacillating is keeping me from my goal, which is either to become the Unbreakable Goddess of Thin or to finally achieve a healthy relationship with my body and with food - I'm not sure which one. The thing is, despite the horrifying anxiety that sometimes strikes me with regards to my health, nothing is forceful enough to keep me from purging.

The sensation of possible death, with no material evidence, is not as reassuring as the physical presence of large chunks of the food I just ate spilling out of me and into the toilet. It does not resound as well as the numbers on the scale, which are so matter-of-fact, which leave no room for theory or interpretation. If I weigh 100 pounds, that is a hard, quantifiable, qualifiable AMOUNT of FLESH that is on my SKELETON. It is far, far less vague than the concept of death that floats around my head occasionally.

Rediscovering the world of internet pro-ana after my longest hiatus ever is familiar yet frightening, alien yet womblike. Whatever happened to ana.luli.com? That was the only board I was ever active on. I'm trying to get more involved in project shapeshift, but I feel like such a n00b. You can't help but compare yourself to EVERYONE. "She's WAY too fat to be ana." "She MUST be lying about her LW." Et cetera, et cetera, ad infinitum (to trivialize it indefinitely). It has to be bad for me, but how else do I satisfy my requirement to immerse myself in this disorder entirely?

1. lose weight, of course. just a few pounds. i'd like to maintain at 91.
2. stop purging. i'm refusing to buy binge food anymore at the store, so binges aren't so fun anymore. although i have sucked not b/ping... bagels, sugar, and oatmeal are big triggers that my dad keeps around.
i would love to go back to just restricting. why?
going away from home wouldn't be a problem and wouldn't be enjoyable. i wouldn't be so anxious to get home and b/p.
eating in public wouldn't be a problem because i could actually eat food without purging.
drinking fluids in public would be more enjoyable because i would be hydrated and thus not worried about gaining weight.
i'd have so much more time on my hands.
my cheeks wouldn't be so puffy, my hands wouldn't be scarred, and my braces brackets would stay on better.
3. keep my grades up and graduate with over a 4.0 gpa.
4. get to know this guy i've been secretly crushing on since october.
5. be more social and do more social activites instead of staying home and b/ping.

Old flawed way of thinking and distorted perceptions... Old views and coping mechanisms I've used to view and deal with my life are pretty shaky but I'm attached to them. In ways I'd rather die than let go. I'd rather die than change.

AMBIVALENCE

A part of me really wants to meet the goals of therapy. But another part, would rather fight than switch. Rather die than let go of the old ways of thinking. It's a trap! It makes me afraid.

What do I do? How do I change? WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO? I'm told over and over again that no one can help me but me... if this is as true as I believe it is, I am definitely fucked! I mean in December when I lost my job because of drugs, my boss said " we would like to have you come back when you are better" so... instead of fixing my previous fuck up, it seems I've chosen to do anything in my power to worsen my problems. It's a control thing I guess.

I'm watching "Intervention" right now and always on this show does it say... you have to take place in this recovery process or you'll be in exile from your family and friends. It is ruining your family's life, you've become a burden to them and your friends. How much more guilt do these people really need to add to these confused individuals heads? I always feel so much empathy for the people put on these shows.

I realize that mental illnesses affect family members... which is worse for a family member, having a family member commit suicide or living with a mentally ill family member?

My therapist is sending me to an addictions councilor. I'm not sure what will happen with her. I need my drugs. I don't even have a big problem. I use a drug called "sleep aid" which is just benadryl. It helps me sleep. Since I lost my job, my sleep pattern has been reversed so it's not so bad. I have no responsibilities, no reason to sleep at night. It's better this way. I am a lazy self indulgent daughter. I live at home with my parents. I'm 19. I binge and purge their food. My family isn't well off or anything. My parents work like mad and are far away from getting ahead of their debts. I am definitely a burden to this family. I'm no victim. My family and people around me are the victims of me. I wish I could just sleep forever.

Ah, gawd, my life is shit. I will never fall in love because I will never be able to love myself. I will always be at odds with the world, with myself and with everyone around me and that's a freakin' fact!

Do I blame my eating disorder on my mother or any of my problems? No, I'm my own person, I don't blame any of my problems on my mother. However she does influence my decisions, my actions. I believe all mothers have an influence on their children... their daughters especially. I do feel that my mother compares me to other people so I think it's only natural that I do the same.

I don't feel that I've ever had someone that's always been there for me with unconditional love. My mother has always used anything she knows about me against me. I get blamed for everything and anything is this house. Everything is Jen's fault... if everything is my fault then I guess I need to get rid of me, I mean doesn't that make sense? Get rid of the problem? Sometimes I think about buying painkillers over the internet and just taking them all. That probably would just result in a hospitalization though. I need it all to end. I need a gun...where the fuck can I get a gun?

I have been in therapy off and on since I was 16. Some don't listen, some just do not give a shit, it's their job and they are just waiting to retire. If these therapists aren't going to listen to what I'm saying or understand what I mean then I will give bullshit answers to their bullshit questions. Mess with their heads when they are messing with mine. Is that so completely wrong?

I've suffocated my soul with guilt, I deserve nothing. My inability to cope with life has caused sorrow in others. There has to be consequences for my horrible actions.

life at the mental hospital

I sat with my back against the gray wall. The metal post of the bed dug into my skin, but my body refused to move. The pain kept me grounded. If I could not feel a nagging ache, then perhaps I would cease to exist at all. My head throbbed as well. I heard crying, screaming, shouting through paper thin walls. They drowned my thoughts to a simple desperate attempt to maintain sanity. I pulled my knees to my chest, longing for a familiar face. Across from me were my two roommates, staring at me critically. From my unwashed hair to my bare feet, their eyes moved up and down my body contemptuously.

The guards took my sneakers away when I first arrived; my socks were wet with sweat and fear. My watch was gone within moments. No ties, strings, hair elastics, metal, gum, electronics, or money was allowed past the metal detector. Nothing sharp was permitted. Yet I could see self mutilation still scarred the limbs of all too many. There was nothing much in the way of a simple distraction. The room was bare aside from a pile of clothes and three beds. Three blue uniform beds with hard mattresses and thin blankets. The heat was broken, too.

I counted the ceiling tiles. There were forty-five. The arguing got louder. I counted the floor tiles. The guard came in every ten minutes. Ten minute checks, they called them. What harm could anyone do in ten minutes? He was two minutes and thirty three seconds late this time. A woman dressed in white brought in a puzzle. I watched my room mates put it together, piecing the correct pieces in my mind. I prided myself on finishing it mentally before they had completed putting it together.

Perhaps no one believes that they belong in a mental hospital. I certainly did not. I was convinced that I was not like the rest of them. I wasn’t really crazy. Certainly I was the smartest person there, and most definitely the sanest. I watched them cynically as they poured their hearts out in group therapy, my arms tightly crossed across my body. Behind my own judgmental eyes was a terrible fear. Life had been turned upside down. My brush with death left me feeling all too aware of my plaguing “aliveness”. I could feel my heart beat. I counted that too. Fifty. I smiled to myself, knowing it would drop well into the forties that night. A little more dead than yesterday, I thought to myself.

Meals came and went on scratched gray trays with plastic forks. Plastic knives were only for those who have earned their privilege to use them. I swapped a pack of smuggled gum for a plastic knife to fruitlessly dig into my arms. I refused to bring any of this hospital food to my lips. This I could control. They could not take this away from me. I counted each macaroni, four more than in two servings of grain, I told myself. They were trying to make me fat. Four more macaronis; no one needs four more macaronis. A nagging suspicion arose from within the depths of my alleged insanity. The more they pushed me to eat, the more powerful I became. I was suddenly more in control than ever, and yet desperately out of it.

Every morning I met with the Doctor. He wore a suit and tie with black shoes. He was allowed to have laces. I never bothered to shower, nor change out of the clothes I arrived in. My hair was ratty and tangled. I stared at him with blank eyes.

“What happened that day, Zoe?”

“I don’t know. It seemed so necessary. It seemed like the answer.”

“Does it seem like the answer now?”

“I don’t know.” I stared at my fingers, blue and shaking.

“Do you know why we are concerned, Zoe.” He spoke down to me. Anger rose from underneath my skin.

“Yes.” I gritted my teeth together and glared at him. How dare he talk to me as though I was five. I was sick of staring at his crisp white shirts and ironed black pants. I couldn’t stand his condescending voice, his false interest in my well being.

“Do you realize that you could have died that night? Did you think about that?”

“I planned it.” He knew that. Why did he ask me such dumb questions?

“How long did you plan it for.”

I drifted into my own thoughts and ignored his questions. “I was excited. I couldn’t wait to do it. I had it all ready. The pills. Bottles and bottles of them stashed in my drawers. I cleaned out my desk, cleared my computer, and shut my light off.” I closed my eyes and felt it all come back to me. I was cold. My heart rate was forty-five. Some sick satisfaction found me then.

“Tell me more about that night. What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t need to think. I planned it. It was perfect. I giggled to myself all day, anticipating 9:46 pm, my chosen time. I sat on my floor, shoveling the pills into my mouth. I looked like a savage, but I was desperate to get them all in. In a fleeting moment, I worried about how many calories each of these pills contained. Then I decided it didn’t matter, as I would simply die fat regardless. One bottle warned excessive consumption may vomiting. I had researched the lethal amount of each medicine and took twice that. I couldn’t risk throwing up my own death. A bottle of extra strength Tylenol was only the beginning. Following was liquid Nyquil, Dayquil, prescription painkillers, prozac, celexa, and aspirin.”

“What did you do next? Did you tell someone?”

“She found me…my sister… shaking on the floor. My heart hurt so badly. I thought someone had sliced my chest apart. She screamed. I wanted to scream back at her. She ruined everything.”

“Then your mom came, right? Were you relieved, angry, scared?”

“She kept asking me why. She told me to make myself sick. I refused. Just a little longer to digest. Just a little longer. I refused. I tried to stall. I was going to die and no one could stop me. My resistance subsided and then came the tears…I kept telling her I was sorry but I just couldn’t live with the thoughts. The obsessions, the compulsions. I told her my eating disorder, the self mutilation, all of these would kill me anyway. I couldn’t bear to see her suffer and watch me die a little every day. It wasn’t fair…My dad drove me to the hospital and I tried to stall. I refused the charcoal adamantly. The doctors were quick to stick a feeding tube down my nose and give it to me that way. I wondered how many calories were in the thick black substance.”

“It’s interesting that you were remarkably close to death and all you could think about was how many calories were in the charcoal? What do you think that says?”

“If you are implying that I am crazy, well then you are wrong. I’m just not going to get fat. You all want to make me fat here with your greasy food and extra noodles.”

“Zoe, you counted the noodles.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Is that all you feel like you can control.”

“You and your ‘control’ shit. I can’t take this anymore. I hate being here.” I glared at him. He asked me to finish my recollection of that night. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I was doing them a favor. No one could live with me anymore. Even my sister said I lost my personality. All I cared about was exercising and doing my rituals. Everyone suffered watching me waste away. And I liked it. Even now I’m counting everything. The number of words you say, the times you breathe. My brain can’t handle this anymore…”

“Tell me more about the hospital…”

“They took a lot of blood. I passed out a few times. I threw up everywhere, black thick disgusting charcoal. I threw up on my self, but I didn’t care. I probably deserved it. Going to the bathroom was a treat, standing up hurt so badly. My entire body ached; lying down again was just as painful. I cried and slept for days. So many people came in to talk to me, but I couldn’t understand them. I tried to keep my eyes open but sleep was the only thing that took the pain away. Charcoal stained my teeth and face. I heard my doctors talking about a possible liver transplant. It was heard to hear them over the beeping of the heart monitor. The other machine warned them that my oxygen was low and temperature dropping. All I could think about was that that liver might weigh more than mine. Crying hurt too much so I slept.”

“You were lucky they saved your liver…and your life.”

“They had no business meddling with my life. The moment I regained consciousness my parents brought in a backpack filled with school work. I knew nothing would change. They argued with the doctors about getting me back to school early so I could take a test. The doctors laughed at them. I threw up again. I hated them both. The doctors and my parents. For letting me live and for giving me all this work. The doctors made me eat so much. I was on over a million calories a day, I’m sure. I was gaining weight just looking at the food they forced into me. I cried after every meal. When I was medically stable they sent me here. To a freakin mental institute. And guess what? You can’t legally make me eat here. So I guess you both lose.”

“Really Zoe, is that how you see it? We’re losing?”

“I’m going to die no matter what. If I can’t swallow pills till I die, I’ll starve myself. You can’t stop me.”

The buzzer went off. Our session was over. The woman with the white coat came in and took me by the hand. I glared at her. A sixteen year old doesn’t need her hand held. Not me, especially. I’m too smart for this place, I told myself. I’ll get out of here soon. Just give them what they want. Just give it to them.

“Come on Zoe, its time for your medication.” Cries filled the room. Patients argued mindlessly with the staff. I labeled it “insane noise”, “the sound of crazy people.” As I swallowed my pills I heard the noise die down somewhat. And then I realized how much of it was coming from me.

still have been feeling pretty down, though, and bulimia is getting worse. i really need to get some exercise. i told my sister i went for a bike ride yesterday just so she wouldn't know i'd been sitting around the apartment eating all day.

this living with my sister thing is wonderful - so happy to finally be out of my parents' house again, and my sister and i work together pretty well. only problem is at home i eat whatever i want cause whatever, it's my parents' food. and the best part is i don't even binge that much at home anymore. but here, on days that i want to binge a lot - like yesterday - i can't because the food has been paid for my my own and my sister's very limited and hard-earned money. plus she knows almost more than anyone about my bulimia and she knows me better than anyone else and i can't lie to her about big things and point is i guess that the fact that i can not eat this food makes me think about it more which makes me want it more. and that sucks. i've blown enough money on food.

i made myself a smoothie this morning to start off on the right foot. today is another day. and tomorrow is yet another one. life is full of chances.

09:31 pm
Haha, I'm lame

In 2006, I.....

[x] was single
[x] got kissed
[x] kissed someone new
[x] made out
[x] made out in a car
[ ] kissed in the snow
[ ] kissed in the rain
[ ] had my heart broken
[ ] broke someone else's heart
[ ] had a stalker
[ ] lost a friend
[x] had a good relationship with someone
[ ] came out of my closet
[ ] got pregnant
[ ] had an abortion
[ ] got married
[ ] had a divorce
[ ] kissed someone of the same sex
[x] met someone that I will never forget
[x] did something I regret
[ ] dated someone I thought I loved
[ ] lost my true love
[ ] lost faith in love
[ ] kissed under mistletoe
[x] got a promotion
[x] got a pay raise
[x] changed jobs
[ ] lost my job
[x] quit my job for school
[ ] dated a co-worker
[ ] dated my boss
[ ] dated my boss's son/ daughter
[ ] got fired from my job
[ ] got straight A's
[x] met a teacher who I became friends with
[x] met a teacher who I really hate
[ ] found the subject I love
[x] skipped class
[x] skipped school
[ ] got in a fight with a classmate
[x] did something I was proud of
[ ] discovered a new talent
[x] proved myself an idiot
[x] embarrassed myself in front of the class
[ ] fell in love with a teacher
[x] was involved in something that I will never forget
[x] painted a picture
[x] wrote a poem
[x] ran a mile
[x] listened to music I couldnt stand
[x] double dipped
[ ] skinny-dipped
[x] went to a sleepover
[ ] went to camp
[ ] threw a surprise party
[x] laughed till I cried
[ ] laughed till I peed my pants
[x] flirted shamelessly
[ ] visited a foreign country
[ ] visited a foreign province
[ ] cooked a disastrous meal
[xxxxxxxx] was part of a rumour
[x] lost something important to me
[x] got a gift I love
[x] realized something new about myself
[x] went on a diet
[ ] tried to gain weight
[ ] dyed my hair
[ ] came close to losing my life
[ ] someone close to me died
[x] went to a wild party
[x] drank alcohol
[x] drank alcohol underage
[x] got drunk
[ ] got arrested
[x] read a great book
[x] saw a great movie
[ ] saw a movie so scary that it made me cry
[x] saw a favorite band live
[x] did something that I want to tell everyone
[x] experienced something new
[x] made new friends
[ ] found out who your real friends are
[x] lied to your parents
[x] snuck out
[ ] got in trouble with police
[ ] kissed in a pool
[x] kissed under the stars
[x] smoked
[x] got high
[x] got wasted
[x] went to a party
[x] had the time of your life
[x] danced
[ ] fell out of love
[x] had a crush on someone
[ ] changed your sexual preference
[x] swam in a pool
[ ] made a snowman
[ ] went snowboarding
[ ] went sledding
[ ] slept in past 2pm
[x] held someone's hand that you care about
[x] got wasted in a public place
[ ] got wasted in Mexico
[ ] told someone you like them as more than a friend
[x] gone on vacation
[ ] gone on vacation with a friend
[x] driven a car
[ ] played strip poker
[ ] danced in the rain
[ ] rode a bike in the snow
[ ] got in a car accident
[ ] seen someone get in a car accident
[ ] got in a fist fight
[x] laughed until you couldn't breathe
[x] had an amazing year
[x] missed someone
[ ] got hit by a car
[ ] sent someone to the hospital
[x] got a new pet
[x] enjoyed this year overall

Verlinken

11.01.2007 um 17:06 Uhr

sseroius

von: saracheret

http://jeanluc.croix.free.fr/comparaisonimages.htm

easy:
cereal
peanut butter
bagels
pasta
ice cream

hard:
chocolate
cheese
candy
pizza

helpers:
MILK (works like a charm)
diet coke/pepsi (works if you're stuck, gives you i big heave if you purge right before you're gonna burp...sorry if that was TMI...hehe)

Can anybody out there hear me?
'Cause I can't seem to hear myself

I am stuck at such a crossroads. It's like I cannot even make a decision anymore. I do not even know what I want anymore. Not really. Do I want to stop binging? But, I like binging. I like it so much. It's fun, it feels wonderful, it keeps me entertained. It brightens my dreary, unsatisfying nights. Or, do I want to stop binging? Because, I like being skinny, I hate feeling like I have to hide out from the world if I don't feel good about myself.

So many mixed up emotions. I just don't even know anymore.
And of course, it's almost 8pm. Tomorrow's my only real day off for the week, and you know what I want to binge my brains out...and here come the decisions.

I have to quit this. And I know that. But I am an addict.

Evan finally called me tonight. I really like this kid. He's just so damn sexy.

So it's weird. If he is going to stay around in my life for at least a little while, well, I wanna be as hot as I can possibly be. Because, well, I want him to stay around as long as he is willing. I want him to find me desirable and to just think I am a sexy catch.

So if he is sticking: well fuck me, I need to loose 5lbs in a day and I deffinitly need to firm up my ass STAT. But if he isn't staying around well, fuck me, I am fine, I'd rather binge every night till I give myself a damn heart attack.

What to do what to do.
I can't exist in both worlds. But I already

hey just wanted to touch base --last night- only had that yoplait all day. i didnt eat but drank a ton of beer and got sick on that last night.

ended up going back to my home with a guy friend of mine - he is like 24 and i am 36 so he is a bit of a younger man which i am finding can be a lot more fun then the age range i usually date which is later 40s. any way we had a really snuggly night. i was on my period so no sex but it was actually pretty nice to be entwined in bed with someone who is a great kisser. it actually was really sexy even though no sex involved and no pressure to have sex either. sure i have had sex and sleep overs and i was married but i havent had a night like that in a long time. god maybe not since i was 24 :-))) or back in college in my dorm room. it was a very fulfilling night .

the other day i was talking to someone on here about how bp ruins your metabolism. and that can have a double negative effect when bp. if our metabolism is slow then that means we are not buring as much calories in everday living as other people. i think the average is like 1200-1300 calories. if our metab is slower we might be only at 800. plus the weight food we ingest that doesent get purged stays in our system longer thus you have that added weight.

like example - lets say ingest 1000 good calories. then burn thru workout 1000 calories. then being alive burns 1200 in an average person. that means in my example you have a negative 1200 calories and three days of negative 1200 equals 3600 calories which is equal to 1 lb. you have to have a deficiet of 3600 to lose one lb.

so if you are only burning 800 living bc bad metab- then it would take 4 days to lose that same lb. but you have to consider with bad metab the food is staying in your system longer and that food weighs something - so that is why i think if people bp only they have trouble losing weight.

some metab builders -that i learned about today -some things that can help metabolism and that are low cal are miso soup 35 cal and any type of tea. also weight training can help too. i concentrate on only cardio so thinking about doing some very light weight training to counter ballance some of the bad stuff i have done and continue to do

i'm majorly stuck now. im in a place where my bulimia and anorexia are comfortable parts of my life. it sucks that it really doesnt suck....if that makes sense.

ive been to hell and back with both...no energy to walk down the street, crumpled in a ball by the toliet, spending over 80 dollars on binge food per day, b/ping 10+ times in a day....its been hell these last few years. but now.....its comfortable. i starve all day, feeling fine. no joke. im like a freak of nature. buy a small amount of binge food (the usuals) go home, b/p, go to bed. no fuss, no muss. easy.

although im *glad* i feel okay and not like life is a living hell, i feel worried ill NEVER recover if it continues like this. why mess with a good thing??

oh fuck. im confused. :S

life at the mental hospital

“What happened that day, Zoe?”

“I don’t know. It seemed so necessary. It seemed like the answer.”

“Does it seem like the answer now?”

“I don’t know.” I stared at my fingers, blue and shaking.

“Do you know why we are concerned, Zoe.” He spoke down to me. Anger rose from underneath my skin.

“Do you realize that you could have died that night? Did you think about that?”

“I planned it.” He knew that. Why did he ask me such dumb questions?

“How long did you plan it for.”

“Tell me more about that night. What were you thinking?”

“What did you do next? Did you tell someone?”

“She found me…my sister… shaking on the floor. My heart hurt so badly. I thought someone had sliced my chest apart. She screamed. I wanted to scream back at her. She ruined everything.”

“Then your mom came, right? Were you relieved, angry, scared?”

“It’s interesting that you were remarkably close to death and all you could think about was how many calories were in the charcoal? What do you think that says?”

“If you are implying that I am crazy, well then you are wrong. I’m just not going to get fat. You all want to make me fat here with your greasy food and extra noodles.”

“Zoe, you counted the noodles.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Is that all you feel like you can control.”

“Tell me more about the hospital…”

“You were lucky they saved your liver…and your life.”

“Really Zoe, is that how you see it? We’re losing?”

“I’m going to die no matter what. If I can’t swallow pills till I die, I’ll starve myself. You can’t stop me.”

Verlinken

10.01.2007 um 01:01 Uhr

hjkj

von: saracheret

Musik: again ed real

I am really not sleeping enough anymore.

My face looks haggid and worn down.
I look tired.

I have exhausted myself.
Why am I doing this to myself?

Why can't I just get myself in bed???

tylenol pm VANILLA flavored! oh child I am all about that stuff.
Except that it knocks me out for literally like 13 hours and I can;t always sleep the day/ I dont always want to sleep the day away.

I think my no-sleep is all about STRESS and not at all the kind of no sleep you get when you are starving yourself.

My eating routine seems to always be the same. Apple a day and soy milk mixture for the day. I was being sooo much better about not b/p ing and just pushing through the nights, but recently I have been totally allowing myself to be a bulimic true to form. No good. I don't really loose weight that way, and it just only feels so-so when I reflect on my choices.

God I am so confused by what I like...restricting, binging, sleeping, being healthy??? I just do not know anymore. I guess the only answer I have found is that I like being skinny! Fuck me
Tomorrow morning I am starting a three day fast.
I am going to do the Master Cleanse Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.
I've done it twice before.
I actually enjoyed it-the good and the bad.

I think it will help detox me emotionaly and physically.
I have been such a wreck the last few days.
I know I can be strong and do it.

Just lemon juice, cayenne pepper, organic maple syrup and I'll cheat and allow carbonated waters and diet soda.
Hopefully I'll get some good sleep out of it too...

I am almost excited about the possability of it all...
I'll update if anyone is interested. Wishing myself bon courage.

Ok so technically I am doing much better. Technically I should be proud of myself. My binges have decreased significantly. I lost like four pounds last week, but you know what? This deadly cycle is exhausting. I had done so well. But over the last two days I just fell back into my rut. Stress really gets me every time. I need a vacation. I wish I could just be a little girl for a week or something. I swear exhaustion and bulimia DO NOT MIX.

I deff. do not plan on getting on a scale for a few days. (Yeah right I can’t go a single morning without like five weigh ins). Surely with my last few days of stupidity, weakness, and laziness, I have gained back every ounce I so strictly starved away. Motherfucker how disappointing and sad is that??? Binging isn’t the answer nor is starving. As if I haven’t learned it a million times. I HATE WEIGHT. I DON’T EVEN CARE ANYMORE (that’s a lie). All week you can catch me in a sweatshirt…I plan on sleeping and fasting away the end of October.

I am at this really strange crossroad.
Binging just is not as satisfying as it once was.
As I sit here, a few moments before turning in for bed I am stressed
"WHY DID I NEED TO BINGE? WHAT IF ALL THAT WEIGHT I'VE LOST THESE WEEK COMES BACK IN THE MORNING THANKS TO SOME STUPID FRENCH FRIES STUCK IN YOUR FLUKE?" I hate the stress of purging. How easily one forgets when she is starving and looking for a little pleasure at the end of a hard week.

Scenario uno:
I feel more calm these days if I go to bed without binging.
I am getting so much better. I feel back on track. I like feeling empty inside and stress free, knowing that in the morning there is no doubt that I will be lighter than the day beforeNo big night time feasts, only a few measly apples to hold me over all week. I am confident that my anorexia is back to stay. How exciting...then I remember.... the problem comes in to haunt me as I turn in for bed. Starving with hunger I am unable to sleep and grow tired and restless dreaming of food and anything to make the hours pass by...

Scenario deux:
After lets say two full days of no binging, no purging [a freaking big deal for me...three in a row would really be something...], and of course no eating, no breakfast, no lunch, certainly no dinner, I decided to “give in” to my need to self medicate. I decide it will be all right to allow a small binge. Suddenly once it comes time to purge I suddenly remember the stress and trauma that will ensue as I worry if I have gotten everything out of me. What if I undo two days of fucking hard work? How shitty will tomorrow morning be I wonder?

So here I am at my crossroad to date. Neither a binge nor a day of starvation works completely. Both leave me rather confused and lonesome. Neither fill the voids they once did. If I am fasting all I want is a binge and if I am binging I wish I could turn back the clock and have only resorted to a day of fasting. Each leaves me restless. I guess starving in the end wins. I loose weight; there is less stress involved. However one cannot starve forever. It just seems impossible. Oh well too late now, better luck tommorrow.

I am sitting here on the verge of tears.
I can’t really cry because my sister will hear me and want to know what’s wrong with me.
How can I tell her we’re more different than I thought?
How can I tell her I don’t feel I can share my heart with her anymore?
I am so heartbroken. Everyone who knew me, my mom, my sister…They are all so different and almost like strangers to me now.

She wants to continue purging and binging for the rest of her life? She wants that more than anything else in the world? How can that be what she wants from her life? I want more than that. I want to live and live fully. She doesn't see that this is a prison? She's lost inside it all. At least she feels happy. Good for her, I guess. I am done caring. I need to figure out me first. I have been so tangled in everyone else's emotions I dont even have my own anymore.

We are too sick to be living together.
I don’t know how to keep living like this.
I don’t want to live this way anymore.
I feel trapped. And I don’t know how to fix things anymore.
I wish I knew what to do.

What can I do but cry?
I hate feeling so helpless. I wish someone could rescue me from all this.

My parents divorce is official today. It is so painful. I am so hurt, I feel so abandoned, I am so disappointed. I feel so lost. I have been so wrapped up in living my life 2000miles away from my home and my parents that it is like I managed to forget how painful this all is. I have been so stressed, but as always, I have been blaming my inability to break free from bad weeks of b/ping and non-fasting to my work schedule, or utter lack of discipline. All along though I am realizing how much pain I am hiding underneath it all. No wonder I have been "dealing" with difficulties when it comes to restriction. Hello, the stress has hit the walls.

I am pretty sad. Not low and depressed like in the past. Just sad and disillusioned. Who cares if people don't understand what I am going through, I dont need to justify myself. I am sick, I have an eating disorder damnit, and right now I am doing the best I can ok? ok. I never thought my parents would be divorced. I am almost 22years old. I thought 26years of marriage meant something. I feel so childish, I mean I live on my own, but they are my parents, my only parents, and this is just all so confusing.

My eating disorder is such a crutch. My mom left this pathetically heartbreaking message on my machine and I just screened her call as I sat there binging away on ice cream and nachos, guacamole, and salty french fries. GROSS. I am so over food,. I don’t even want to eat in public anymore. I don’t even want to eat period.

I hate binging. I want to stop. It just all felt so "typical". I felt so lame. I don’t need my binges anymore. They do not even satisfy the pain or the longing or the emptiness anymore like they used to. At least in the past my binges were baindaids. Now I need real healing, a real filler to the pain...not some ED bullshit.

I guess I would rather feel empty on the inside than full like this. It hurts to be starving and unsatisfied but it is in the same moment more rewarding, I need to do something that makes me feel accomplished, not like a failure. I thought I would finish out my fast on friday. But seeing that i gave into my weakness and my self-pity tonight, I am thinking I will start my fast again tomorrow and just ride it out until the end of august. The master cleanse is pretty damn difficult for me, I don’t know if I can be so hardcore. With this divorce, and my own depression, I don’t know if I have the strength anymore. Life is so hard right now. But then, who needs food anyway? It doesn’t make me feel better, I wish I knew what could….

i am so startled by what has been going down here. i am now afraid to be honest. i am so sad that the purge has gotten so hostile. can we all just stop and go back to expressing and loving each other regardless of what we each value/feel the need to discuss??? sometimes our truths are harsh....but we are all strong women and men with the guts and intelligence to respond with COMPASSION and UNDERSTANDING.

i am judged all day long...i thought here i could escape that and just be myself, share my dark fears, share my thoughts, and have some support...
i live in a place, and work in a profession where my lively hood, my job, my life...is my body and its perfection. it is a currency here and i feel i must submit or leave...i wish it were different but it isn't. i cant lie to myself anylonger

QUESTION-
do i actually love my eating disorder? do i infact glorify it by believing that it is the way to success? i sometimes wonder if i am choosing to continue instead of choosing to heal.
do i infact hold onto my disorder...willing it to stay...taking advantage of it like a security blanket?

CONFUSION:

1. My inability to have meaningful, full, intimate relationships with people who are not within my own family....my total lack of connection
----is this BECAUSE of my ED that I am unable to handle social activities and friends or do I force my ED to "cover" for my own emotional problems and fear of stepping out and making friends

2. The fact that I like to be alone
----did I develop an ED so that I could make an excuse for the fact that I never want to be with others, or did my ED further make me want to stop socializing

3.from an earlier post "I am always afraid that I am being judged for having a less-than-perfect body. And when I hear that yes, people are judging and yes, they are being unrealistically harsh, it triggers those fears in me anew. " quoted from PHDWANABE (thanks)
------i deal with this same issue DAILY, HOUR BY HOUR. Here in LA I believe(more like i KNOW) that I am judged by my body...if it is not flawless then it is nothing. perfection(in terms of the outside appearance) is littering the streets in this town. it eats my soul alive-it is so exhausting. I believe with all my heart, that HERE people ARE judging me and are being harsh.

is this my ED talking or is it as I believe it really is-real world shitty, harsh as hell style???- do people judge us here by our waist line, and pant size ultimately or am I just being tricked? These fears, I feel, are real things that I must learn to live with. Is this inaccurate or am I actually speaking the hard straight truth of existence?

Verlinken

02.01.2007 um 13:17 Uhr

so und so

von: saracheret

Happy New Year everybody!

I hope everyone had a good one. I've had guests all week, enjoyed it but glad they're gone, whew.

There's a lot of new people, welcome to all of you.
There aren't a lot of rules in the userinfo for this community, which is one of the many reasons I am so fond of it. The posts are supposed to be somewhat bulimia related, but even that is overlooked if you're funny or cool enough. I don't like having to apply, and provide references like many other sites on LJ require, I can't be bothered with that shit, it's not law school, for christ's sake.

But, that being said, you have to be willing to take what's being dished out to you like a woman. If somebody thinks you sound stupid or frivolous, well, they might just tell you so...c'est la vie.

I myself have said a harsh thing or two in comments, and all those who were recipients to my outspokenness, for the most part, have responded right back at me, and good for them. They took it, they gave me a taste of my own medicine, and they DID NOT DELETE.

I'm sorry, but deleting a comment because it hurts your little feelings is just chickenshit. It's not as if whoever wrote it is going to forget they did, and it's not as though all of us who read it will get amnesia suddenly either. Take your lumps, bi-atches, like most of us do.
Some communities will actually ban you for doing that, because in deletion, other people's responses are often swept out also and that's not fair. That happens NOT to be the case here on the purg, which is fine with me because like I said, I hate too many rules.
Now you can ask the mod to delete series of entries that are sweepingly offensive and abusive, as is the case with trolls or stalkers.

But let's be adults now. Deleting a comment might make it visibly disappear, but the person who made it and all those that read it will certainly remember, and think you're an asshole.

Any responses are welcome, and I promise I won't delete, even if you talk about my mama or say I have genital warts.

To those of you who I may have argued with and who have responded sharply, I love you more for telling me where to stick it. Don't hold back. :)
lol i love you as a person. i think it's amazing that you can voice your opinion in a way that is very clear but not just plain offensive. and i agree with your post

sometimes i trick myself with the ol....ill get better tomorrow, and then i think...wtf. how many tomorrows happen until im dead? I dont know if i can stop bping again, i mean it took a hospitization and weeks of out patient to stop a cycle for a few months....im suddenly seeing this ED as this huge monster and im kind of lost in it...last night my mom asked me how things were going with food and i lied, i feel so guilty. i said fine that i hadnt purged but shes going to know on wednesday when i go to the dr and they do a blood test (test for amalase sp? to see if uve been purging). sigh...

you know what i was also thinking, when i was more active in the community i used to look at other bulimics and be like "oh im not that bad" "wow i feel bad for them, theyre sick" "i cant beleive theyre sick enough to go to treatment" i considered myself one of the ones with more control over the disease, i could stop if i wanted, i wasnt really that sick, i wasnt really thin, i wasnt really anyhting but a loser trying to cheat her way into thinness. and then it struck me that even the sickest people dont realize it, as i read back on some of my old entries i realized i was one of those people that peopel looked at and thought was really ill...and by no means am i bragging, i know it can be warped into that way, for those of you who remembered my posts from a year ago or so, the huge chocolate fiasco, my parents, my dad finding me in the shower with puke at my feet, the suicide attempt, all these things and in my mind i still wasnt that sick....it makes you wonder

found this quote in a comment on one of zoe's photo entries in her journal and i thought is was quite stunning.
"When our inner world is conflicted and lost we manifest that in our bodies. I used to use food to make me feel better then purge it because of guilt and shame of being fat. What I am trying to say is that we live in a world where being thin and beautiful like the models and stars becomes more important than living. We kill our women by expecting them to look like this. We are slaves to this image and lifestyle that is so innacurate. If you continue to live your life as a slave you will die. Women are the keepers of life, we are sacred and powerful. If you can get help from a therapist or go to treatment you can live a healty life. The deeper you go into the world of Anorexia and bulimia the harder it is to get out. You can change, but you have to find the truth in your soul. Happiness and love just dont happen to you.. YOU must choose happiness and accept love from others. You have to tell yourself everyday "I choose happiness and I deserve love" If you choose to help others like you , you will find growth and happiness in your own soul by giving love to others. Life is full of paths to happiness. Life is a spiritual journey of learning, your body is temporary in the infinite expanse of eternity , nurture your life, love your soul, Listen to your body when it is in pain or hungry, it was designed to carry you through this life. If you abuse it all of the harm you have done to your body will show and in a few years you will be aged way past your years and you will be tired looking and sad. Your skin will turn grey and lifeless, your heart will shrink, your immune system will die, you will get sick frequently, your eyes will shrink into your head, your bones will brittle, your muscles will atrophy, your teeth will rot because of the acids in your stomach, your esophagus will become weak and torn. You will feel like an 85 year old and you will look a death camp prisoner. You will lay down after trying to get up and collapsing from a blackout. You will lay down and breathe from your lungs half filled with fluid from pnuemonia. Youll put some lipstick on and your high heels and that new outfit. Youll try to muster enough strength to go with freinds to the mall and when you get to the mall you collapse on the escalator and fall breaking several bones and your heart has finally gave out, you die. you are 19, you watch yourself die from outside your body. You wonder if people will remember you for anything youve accomplished in life or do you think you will say to yourself "God, I look so fat". Your parents are wrecked with guilt and wonder if they could have been better parents. How could they have been so blind. They all thought is was just "High fashion" and you were theyre supermodel.
Love you and others will see how beautiful your soul is, they will follow and love you."

We have to be the change we want to see in the world-Ghandi

i'm getting so sick and tired of b/ping. like it's not even enjoyable anymore.. i just do it because it's rountine. and, well, i don't know any other way to cope or maintain my weight. it's been so long since i've been a restrictor. (like 1.5 years, unless you count the times i was forced to "recover") i don't even know how anymore! i'm terrified to eat anything and keep it down.

but i've made up my mind. i went to the store today and got my "supplies" (giggle). splenda, low fat popcorn, veggies, and fruit. i have ff cheese, bagels, and other foods i hope i won't feel bad keeping down.
this is it.

i'm going to try to make it a week without b/ping.

this is the first time i've ever done it on my own, willingly, unless you count when i've been away from home. my plan is to keep it at 700 or so calories a day and maintain at 900. i shouldn't gain weight, because i've actually lost a bit of weight on a 900 calorie diet when i was "recovering".
i'm actually really excited.

does anyone have any suggestions? foods to eat, ways to keep myself out of the routine? thanks guys. :)

Verlinken

29.02.2008 um 14:50 Uhr

Rumination

c'est bien la fille?

Le Sybaritisme ::...

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