living is easy with closed eyes.

And then she recovered.......: So you think you want an eating disorder?



So I've fallen in love with this blog since it was recommended to me in treatment. I think the author is beautifully honest, inside and out.



I especially love this post because so many ignorant people or people who want to diet think it's funny to jokingly want an eating disorder. Sorry, but it's not a fucking joke. It's serious. It's painful.  It's deadly.



Sometimes when people say something as outrageous as that I just laugh at their stupidity and ignorance on the subject of eating disorders. But most days I want to scream in their faces and curse them out until they wished they hadn't said a fucking word about it. But I hold myself back, because I know that it isn't the way to get my point across. It isn't the way to educate.



So that's why I think this post is so vital, so important and so starkly and stunningly written. It tells every bit of truth about the horrors we face with eating disorders.



Check it out. Pass it on. It's a must read.

i guess you could say i had been having a 10cc love affair.

So I finally had my very first psychotherapy and education group (PTE) with my local eating disorder treatment centre. I've had a few 1 on 1 sessions with my counselor there, but it was sporadic and not as regular as I had hoped. So I'm glad this has finally started so I can get on with making the changes I desire. I'm excited (but nervous) to learn the skills they will teach me and how to put them into action to start my road to recovery.

 I also met with their dietitian and she has given me an ED specific meal plan to regulate my eating. That scares the hell out of me. I never eat. I go all day with no food, then binge and purge at night. How am I supposed to avoid weight gain when I have to eat 6 times a day?!? Now I know that's Jenna, my ED identity, talking. She's the girl in my head screaming at me all day, telling me what to do to be skinny and criticizing when I don't lose weight. Or even worse, when I gain.  But still, eating is terrifying. What if I do gain weight? I can't afford to. Literally and metaphorically. I can't really afford new 'fat clothes'. I'm already at a much heavier weight since getting sober. The methadone and my anti-depressants make me crave sweets. And now that I'm not on the streets and am actually eating (sort-of), my weight has sky-rocketed. And worse, I don't have the dope to keep me from eating. It was my miracle drug. I felt good (or nothing) and never felt hungry. Win-win.

But sobriety has been so much better. I feel good. I feel normal for once in my life. So I'm not willing to throw all this work away over a few pounds. I have hard days with it still. Days when I want to just give it all up. Roxy, my addiction's identity (am I starting to sound crazy yet?), starts telling me about all the good times we had, about how much easier it was. About how happy I was. She reminds me of how many more friends I had. She promises I'll be okay and tells me to just let her out of the cages she's been put in for nine months.

"You have money now. Just take a few days off and celebrate with your left over birthday money. Come on, you deserve it after all this hard work!"

'But what if I get hooked again?'

"You won't. I'll protect you. Don't you want to lose that weight too?"

And with that thought, Jenna's on her side. I may be strong enough against Roxy now, but if they both team up on me, it's almost impossible to say no.

So I make a compromise. Instead of the drugs, I just won't eat. No drugs, no food. How does that seem fair? It isn't. But until I can get them both locked up, it's what my choice is.

So as you see, my life and sobriety is dangling by a thread. Not only do I want recovery, I need it. I just want it to work so badly. I can't live like this any longer. I want to quiet the voices in my head. I want to smile because I'm happy. I want to eat because I'm hungry. I want to look in the mirror and like what I see. I want to see my value as more than my weight and size. I want recovery.

I'm finally ready to take the steps, not just dream about them. Although the first group was pretty dull and only the introduction, it made me optimistic. I felt for once that I can  do this. And I will. It will be a long, hard road. But I've walked those before and ended up stronger than when I started. So it's time to do it again, to raise my head high, lift my feet, and walk this journey to freedom.

i tell myself it's all in my head, but i'm pretty hard to convince.

The problem with taking psychology as you major, is you realize how fucked up you really are.

 It's bad enough I'm bulimic with a capital b, but did depression, anxiety, and borderline personality disorder have to get thrown into the mix too? And now, I have a voice in my head, who takes over my body sometimes, in the form of a girl named Jenna . Well most of the time really. Is that split personality? Or schizo? Both? I mean, she even has a name. I'm so screwed.

The last thing I need is a drug addiction on top of all that. And I'm not talking minor leaugues here. My habits are bad enough, I don't think my mind could possibly handle it. But then again, don't I sort of have two minds? They could share the burden of one more issue. Right?

This is what Jenna is telling me to convince me to do it.
It'll make you forget all you're problems, you'll feel great without my help for once.
"I don't know, Jenna. Don't I have enough to deal with already?"
How could you doubt me after everything I've done for you. You'd be fat without me.
"I know, but this isn't a good..."
She interrupts me now, screaming.
Listen to me! I'm never wrong, you know that! You won't feel the pain anymore. Won't miss your dad. Won't hate yourself. Won't think about how everything around you is falling apart. And did I mention you won't be hungry any more?

She had me and she knew it. So I said,

"Okay, I guess trust you."

But she was wrong, and I'm foolish for ever listening to a voice inside my head. I tried to tell myself this before it started, but I'm (she's) pretty hard to convince.