relapse is apart of recovery.

So I have been so busy with everything that has been going on in my life.

I have recently stopped writing for those blogs. With school and everything that has been going on in my life I just couldn't keep up. Plus, I realized I need to write for me.

I have felt so burnt out these last few months because I was writing so, so much for other people and nothing for myself, I realized I need to get back to writing for my own eyes and a smaller audience in order to get my head back in the right place.

In terms of my ED, things that got better during group treatment have slipped back into those nasty habits. I don't go for my new assessment until November 2nd and it's getting hard to wait. I feel like I'm losing grips on my life again and it's scary as hell. I've completely relapsed in anyway that I made progress and it's horrible.

My depression has been bad again and no medication seems to be helping me. I'm starting to not know what to do.

As far as my addiction goes I can at least say that things have been better. I haven't been craving as much and I feel like this is the only part of my life that is in control.

I've been going to and running my meetings but I feel like nothing seems to help my ED and depression. It's like nobody really understands and I don't know who to turn to.

So, I'm back here hoping you guys will get it. I've missed you all.

Much love, xx/

writing is the art of the soul.

I'm bubbling with pride at the moment. I feel like my life is finally coming together. So you all know that I've been running Women for Sobriety (WFS) meetings at my local detox centre for the women in there. I guess a woman's shelter heard about me somehow and called to see if I could run WFS at their shelter once a week. It is such a wonderful, humbling, rewarding opportunity. I feel such happiness that my volunteering is making a difference. Not only that, it's saving people. There is one woman from detox who since attending the meeting I run, has been sober ever since. She's the only one so far, but only if I only save on life, it will be worth it.

I'm also going to be an aunt in less than 3 months! I'm so excited that I am sober and alive to be a part of the baby's life. I want my niece to be to have a role model in me, and I finally feel like I'm worthy of that title.

And on top of all that, my writing for both Substance for You and Sisters in Serenity and Sobriety is going amazingly well. I had two WFS members call me today to tell me how incredibly talented I am. I wouldn't go that far with it, but it's nice to be praised for my writing. Writing to me is taking all the negative, unhealthy, toxic energy from inside me and expelling it onto paper in the form of words, sentences and paragraphs. Writing is the soul's art. I am just honored to be able to express my soul in such a way that touches other people's lives.

I've missed you all, but I'm so happy to say that I'm feeling good. Except for the cold I have, but I'm in such a great mood, I don't even care about it.

Much love, xx.

the skinny on eating disorder myths.

http://substanceforyou.com/skinny-on-eating-disorder-myths-enough-bull/

Here is my newest article for substanceforyou.com. I'm pretty excited about this one, since I'm taking on the eating disorder myths that plague our society. Please read it and tell me what you think.

Much love, xx

i imagine my dreams before me, mine.

Warning: This poem is very violent sounding. It was intended to purge all of my anger the other day, so that is why it is full of such hatred. Just a warning so you all don't think I'm a psycho killer or something! Plus, as you will see, the whole idea was self-harm/death, not towards others.

I'm angry, frustrated

Annoyingly so

I imagine beating her senseless

I'm angry, pissed off

Aggressively so

I imagine the slitting of her throat

I'm angry, hurt

Painfully so

I imagine her slow death

I'm angry, enraged

Brutally so

I imagine watching the life leave her eyes

I'm angry, hateful

Deadly so,

I imagine laughing at her funeral

I'm angry, depressed

Overwhelmingly so

I imagine that she is me

I'm alive, enlightened

Breathtakingly so

I imagine my dreams before me.

Mine.  

my insides are screaming at me to just get high.

So good news! I'm feeling much better. 

The other day sort of got way out of hand when I had to speak to my brother about his drinking and talking to me while drunk. He's down visiting from out of town but has come home wasted almost every night this week.  It's just so frustrating and triggering when he talks to me like that. And for some reason the conversation always comes back to my recovery. So I'm talking to a person who's just waxed about not being waxed...it's awkward. Especially because my insides are screaming at me to just go get high so I can be in the same state. It sucks. So when I asked him not to, things got out of control and we fought. So I was in a bad mood and then sort of got into it with the guy who runs the site I've been writing for. It was mostly my fault and I escalated it pretty quick because of the two things happening around the exact same time. I feel bad about it, but everything is back to normal so that's good.

Anyways, not only do I get to write for Substance for You, I've also been asked to write for Sisters of Serenity and Sobriety, which is another huge website. It feels really good that my writing is being so well perceived. I feel really proud.

I've been missing you all, being so busy with everything I've sort of been neglecting my own blog, so my goal is to catch up with all three.

Hope all is well with everyone!

Much love, xx.

her fat ego makes me think she has a thin mind.

http://substanceforyou.com/body-shamers-be-ashamed-of-yourself/

Still not having a good day, but the good news is I have written an article taking on body shamers in the hopes that people will be more body positive. Please read and like it, or recommend it on here. I appreciate all your love and support, especially on days like this.

to just get high and let the blissful obliteration wash over my mind and body.

Seriously? Go fuck yourself. Like I have bad days too, I don't need people bitching at me because I have a simple fucking request. It's so annoying. I have more bad days than good lately and I don't take it out on other people. Maybe it's because I take it out on myself, but still, that's better than being a passive aggressive little fuck.

Ugh, now my day's turned shitty. I think I'm going to go smoke about 15 cigarettes then have a nap. Why does addiction and bulimia have to have such a strong grip on my life? It just makes me miserable. Do you know how much easier it would be to just give into it? To just get high and let the blissful obliteration wash over my mind and body?

Fuck....I just miss it so much. I feel like I lost a best friend or something. Or an husband. My addiction was my love and my life and being separated from it sometimes is just unbearable. I'm not going to relapse but I want to. I want to so so bad.

your body broken like your soul.

Love hurts

It rips the heart apart

As you willingly surrender

Your soul no longer yours.

Love bruises

Hit in hidden places

While you cover any marks

Your head tells you it’s okay.

Love scars

The slaps turn to beatings

And you lie broken on the floor

Your nose dripping blood.

Love destroys

Hope no longer present

So you shoot up to be numb

Your track marks show your pain.

Love kills

No sense of worth

Because you think you need him

Your body broken like your soul.

Love ends

Abuse not worth a life

So you escape his hell

Your heart still aches.

Love heals

Mending all wounds

Even if you never forget

Your scars will still slowly fade.

http://substanceforyou.com/health-consequences-eating-disorder/

Here's my newest blog post for Substance for You. Please take the time to read it and like/share it. It would mean the world to me.

http://www.mindfulnessmeditationinstitute.org/2012/07/12-qualities-of-an-enlightened-person/

I just wanted to share this link with you all. I really enjoyed it. I meditate daily as part of my recovery, so I just wanted to recommend some time of mindfulness. Whether it;s meditating, writing, mindful eating, etc. It is extremely helpful to my recovery so maybe it will help with yours.

her forever exhaustion written clearly on her once flawless face.

Back When She Was Beautiful: Part One

She was beautiful once. It was a long time ago. Before she sold her soul to the monster. The devil. It was back when her eyes sparkled with life and love. Before the light burnt out and the life was stolen from her. Stolen and given away to the pills. To the needle. To the tin foil and the pipes. To the street. She once strove for thinness, cursed with curves. But now she's too skinny. All ribs, gaunt, hollow face. Her porcelain skin once glowing, now pale and marked. The scars she sliced into her arm now match the scars on her heart and soul. Cuts that sliced deeply inside and out. The needle she's become a slave to punctures her skin, piercing her veins, leaving track marks down her neck. Down her mind. A complexion once clear is marked with blemishes, imperfections. Dark circles rim her dead eyes. Her forever exhaustion written clearly on her once flawless face. She thought dope would make her more stunning, perfect. She was wrong when she thought it would give her everything, back when she was beautiful.

i looked death in the face and made it out alive.

http://substanceforyou.com/from-struggle-to-success/

Here's a link to another article of mine. Please read and like/share it with anyone you know.

it's not thinness or fat, it's life or death.

Here is my most recent post for the Substance For You website. :)

The definition of eating disorders is a broad term that encompasses the many types of eating disorders, including bulimia and anorexia nervosa, binge eating disorder, atypical anorexia and eating disorders not otherwise specified (EDNOS). On their own eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illnesses and can result in serious health consequences, suicide, and death. That is to say, simply having only an eating disorder is extremely dangerous. They are even more dangerous when co-occurring with other mental illnesses.

Co-morbidity is defined as 'the presence of one or more additional disorders (or diseases) co-occurring with a primary disease or disorder'. Eating disorders have a high co-morbidity rate with other severe mental illnesses, such as depression, anxiety, obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Which means someone with an eating disorder is likely to suffer from other mental disorders along with whichever eating disorder they struggle with.

According to the National Eating Disorder Association (NEDA), substance abuse disorder has the highest co-morbidity rate along with eating disorders. NEDA states that nearly 50 percent of individuals with an eating disorder also abuse drugs and alcohol, which is a rate five times higher than the general population. This means that someone with an eating disorder of any type is five times more likely to develop an addiction than the average man or woman. Due to the fact that both eating disorders and addiction are correlated with higher instances of death, having both is extremely life-threatening and needs to be treated as soon as possible.

For me, I had my eating disorder long before my addiction came into the picture. I developed depression and anxiety as well at a very young age. I can't remember a time where I didn't feel some sort of depression or anxious feeling. I believe this along with extremely low self-esteem and a higher body weight, led to feelings of body dissatisfaction. This hatred for my body is the reason I went to extreme dieting to lose over 100 pounds in less than one year. This weight loss is also when my bulimia nervosa developed. It was so easy to fix any 'mistakes' I made in eating by purging anything I ate that was considered 'forbidden'. I no longer needed to worry about cheating on my diet because I had found this loophole in the system. I felt like I had discovered some secret ingredient to a perfect body and I continued this behaviour to this day, ignoring the negative effects it has had on my health.

That feeling of discovering something 'incredible' is almost the exact same feeling I had when I had my first line of Oxycontin. It was around five years after I developed bulimia that I started using opiates to numb any pain I felt. I dealt with a lot of death in a short span of time and drugs were my way to cope. I couldn't bear losing my grandma, dog, and dad all in a few months. I promised myself I would finish school to make my dad proud, at any cost. My freedom was that cost.

I started using in December of 2011 around exam time. I needed to be up studying for most of the night. Having been dating someone who was involved in the drug lifestyle, I knew all about Oxy's and how dangerous they were. I had seen up close the toll they took on people's lives. But for some reason, I didn't care. Or maybe I did care but I thought I was intelligent enought to trick the system and be just fine. Regardless of what I thought would happen, I knew two things. One was that they would help me stay awake studying. I knew that if I did a line here or there, my grades would sky rocket. And two, I knew I'd feel much better than I did at the time. I felt so alone and depressed, I think I was willing to try anything, no matter how bad it was for me.

For a time using worked wonders in my life. My grades improved immensely for a while. I would stay up rocked out of my mind studying and doing assignments all night and actually enjoying it. I would go to class feeling amazing. The drugs heightened everything and boring classes became these incredible lectures that I needed to hear. I no longer felt depressed. In fact, I felt pretty amazing. I remember my brother making a comment to my mom about how well I was doing with my dad's passing. I even recall laughing about that comment to myself in a sick way.

'Ha! If only they knew my secret!' I thought.

Not only did my mood and grades improve, my weight loss did too. Using pills made me feel somewhat full all the time. I felt absolutely no desire to eat anything. As long as I was high, I didn't need anything else at all. Sometimes I would even do too much and would be too sick to eat. Those moments of what I considered sickness was only a hint at was coming my way.

The first time I felt withdrawal I didn't know what it was. I woke up feeling sick, fidgety and sore. I couldn't keep anything down and I could not stay still for the life of me. My legs jumped around, completely restless. I didn't think anything of it because almost as soon as I got up, I was doing lines of Oxy. It took a while for me to connect the dots: if I use, that feeling goes away. If I was smart, I would have gotten out then before it was too late, but I didn't.

My addiction fed into my eating disorder for another three to four years. I would wake up, use, not eat, study, binge, purge, use, starve. Repeat. After a while though, the positive effects of using wore off. It took more and more to get high. More and more to feel normal. I had never felt anything like the sickness I felt when I didn't have any drugs. But my weight was extremely low, so I didn't care. I didn't care about living or dying, as long as I was thin and somewhat high, life was okay. I started missing more and more school and spending more and more money on dope. Things were starting to fall apart all ready. My grades went down to an all time low. I had to drop out of classes because I missed to many classes and had no idea what I was doing. My life was getting chaotic and out of control.

My dysfunctional relationship was getting more dysfunctional by the day. He was a drinker and my dealer (although he didn't know it at the time) and the more we abused substances together, the more erratic our relationship got. I wouldn't consider him abusive, but many would. I was okay with it though, because when I would get high, I would get mean. I'd even fight back when things got violent. And as much as I loved him, I needed him more. I completely started to use him because I knew no other way to get drugs. My eating disorder and addiction became more important than he and my family did. I didn't care about anyone. Not even myself. I wanted to punish myself for all the horrible things I had been doing by doing more and more.

Eventually my mom and ex-boyfriend gave me an ultimatum: get help or get out. So I checked myself into detox, paid for by both my mom and ex. I stayed for the five days in excruciating pain, planning the day I'd get out so I could get some more drugs. Finally the day came when I was released. My first stop was to pick up two new friends who were addicts too. This is when I first stuck a needle in my arm. I had gone through the progression of using, from snorting to smoking to injecting. I knew that moment that there was no going back. I was a full-blown junkie and there was nothing that could change that. Or so I thought.

I hid my use for a month or so before being kicked out by first my mom and then my ex. I had no place to go except my car. I ended up homeless and couch surfing for about five months in 2014. At this time, any money I got went into my veins so I had no time or way of eating. My weight sank to an new all time low. I looked so sick, and part of me loved it. I loved the harsh look of my bones and track marks. I wore them with pride. But as time went on like this, I sank in to a lower depression. I started to hate myself and my life even more. I felt so hopeless that I wanted to die. All I wished for was an accidental; overdose so I wouldn't have to face my horrible life anymore.

Finally I got my wish. The 'friends' I was staying with assaulted me and threw me out. Broken, battered and alone, I sought help form my mom. I hadn't spoken to her in months and just the sound of her voice made me cry. I realized then how much I missed my family, my friends.

I finally got help, went to treatment for my addiction and traumas, found a Women for Sobriety chapter in my city and never looked back. I knew that I had to get help for my eating disorder as well, however, otherwise I would relapse. They fed into each other immensely, so I needed to treat both or risk being back out on the streets. I am currently still in outpatient treatment for my bulimia and am almost 11 months sober. I honestly couldn't be happier. I know there is a long way to go still, but I can truly say it is worth it.

One thing I know is that if someone is struggling with one of these mental illnesses, they need to seek help. And if someone is suffering from both, or has a different co-occurring disorder, your life is in serious jeopardy. I urge everyone to get help, it may be tough, but it's treatment or death. The statistics prove that the choice is isn't thinness or fat, high or not. It is life or death.  

the clouds were gray and cold, when the girl came in from the rain.

Here is my newest poem about my addiction and drinking. Hope you enjoy it. 


The Darkness

The clouds were gray and cold
When the girl came in from the
Darkness and falling rain.

She pushed her hair from her face
And wiped away the raindrops below her eyes
With a killer smile, she ordered
'Vodka water, hold the water.'

She took a gulp, slammed her glass
No grimace, not a rookie
Another and another ordered
Slammed down.

She finished her eight
With a beautiful giggle
Voice full of life, saying
'I can't believe I came in crying'
Mood clearly changed.

She looked at me with red rimmed blues
And suddenly understanding came
Sparkling clarity, in dead eyes
Those raindrops were tears
Falling in the dark off her pretty face.

i think the most common cause of insomnia is simple, it's loneliness.

So the last week it has seemed almost impossible to fall asleep. And when I finally do, I end up waking up around six in the morning and then cannot fall back to sleep. It drives me crazy because by the end of the day I am absolutely exhausted, yet I can't seem to convince my mind to shut off and let me fall into that blissful state that is sleep. Sleep has always worsened my depression which is why I was prescribed sleeping pills and Xanax at such a young age.

But now since I'm sober, I don't have the option to take pills to just go into that wonderful land of dreams and nothingness. Well, I do have the option, but I have chosen not to take it because I know for a fact that it would completely ruin my sobriety and send me right back into the arms of my beloved Oxycontin. So every night it has been a struggle to get to that place where everything is perfect and calm and just is.

I don't know what to do. Not sleeping worsens every bad feeling I have. Every trigger, depressed though, craving, anxious thought, everything is exacerbated by my insomnia.

If I don't sleep soon, I think I'm going to lose my mind.

never let the things you want make you forget about the things that you have.

So I've been so busy these last few days/weeks so I haven't had as much time to write. Plus writing full time for someone else's blog has been time consuming, so with treatment, sobriety, starting at detox, I've been so swamped and have been neglecting my baby (this blog). So I thought I'd do a bit of an update to catch everyone up.

I started the Women for Sobriety meetings at detox last Tuesday. My friend who came said I did extremely well but I was so nervous I thought I bombed the whole thing. I was terrified that they would ask us not to come back. But I guess if she says I did well and they haven't said not to come, then I must have done something right. Who knows. There was only one girl there. I won't say much about her because I don't believe it's right to break confidentiality, but she made me feel so sad. I felt for her so badly, having been in similar circumstances last year. I was lucky, however, not to have to get into the sex trade for drugs. I know for  a fact though that if I had stayed out there, it would have come to that very quickly. I could already start to see it happening. She had nine children due to the sex trade industry. It was so hard to hear, but it made me so grateful for where I am now. Safe in my own bed, with no worries of getting money or drugs or being whored out by some abusive pimp.

On top of that, my writing for Substance for You has been going fabulous. Writing is the one thing I know for sure that I am good at, so I take immense pride in the things I write. Contributing to his blog is a huge milestone for me as it reaches a much broader audience. Plus it's my first time writing as me, not Jenna or Roxy. Just me, JORDYN. Yep, I said it. My real name is Jordyn and I'm a good writer. Hear that bitches (Jenna and Roxy I mean)? Your grip isn't so tight anymore.

As far as treatment goes, I've been doing much better. I've been doing my homework and doing my goals. Before I wasn't really trying to work on the goals I'd set, but the past two weeks I have completed them both perfectly. I'm really happy about this. It gives me hope that I can indeed, do this.

Hope all has been well in the blogger world. I've missed you all.

Much love, xx.

if you don't want to be possessed by something, don't obsess.

So I got asked to be a full-time guest blogger for the Substance for You website! My first two articles on eating disorders were so well taken that I was asked to keep writing them on an ongoing basis. I couldn't be more proud. Here is the one I just wrote on food rituals and rules. Let me know what you think!  Much love, xx.

One day I was out for lunch with some friends from a support group. I, as usual, ordered the healthiest thing on the menu (read: the lowest calorie dish on the menu) with salad as a starter. When my food arrived, steaming hot and smelling delicious, my mouth watered. It's been almost 24 hours without food. I had to starve myself for a whole day to be able to go out for lunch. My body is screaming at me in hunger. I look at the food in front of me with a sudden rush of panic. Thoughts swirl through my head:


“I can't eat this, it's too much food.”
“I don't know what's in it or how many calories there really are.”
“What if the chef used too much butter/dressing/oil/sauce?”


My friends have already started to dig into their equally delicious looking meals. They can see my hesitation and ask if something is wrong. I shake my head and pick up my fork. As I'm moving the fork towards my food, my mind is quickly doing its automatic analysis. It calculates calories, grams of fat, sugar, etc instantaneously. Then it tells me the best way to eat in a specific order: healthiest to most 'fattening'. This is the way I have been eating for many, many years. I eat only the healthiest thing first, then will move on to the next. I never take bites of different things. I always eat all of one thing before allowing myself to start on something else. I had been doing this so long that it came as a shock to me when someone pointed it out.


“Why aren't you eating your (insert food here)?”
“I haven't finished my salad yet.”
“Oh. Well can't you have some of both?”



Being asked those questions absolutely stunned me. I honestly had no idea that this was a strange behaviour. I especially didn't realize that it was an eating disorder behaviour. Of course I had heard of food rituals, but I didn't think I did anything that would be considered one. I knew I had food rules, but not rituals. This was a completely new concept for me to wrap my head around.


Food rituals are the compulsive behaviours surrounding eating. They can range from pretty normal to completely bizarre and everything in between. Food rituals are common with all eating disorders, including anorexia and bulimia nervosa, binge eating disorder and eating disorders not otherwise specified (EDNOS). If any food rituals are interrupted or not completed it can cause severe anxiety and may result to compensatory behaviours from the individual. Some examples of food rituals are weighing and measuring food (often repeatedly), cutting food into small pieces, using specific bowls and cutlery, eating in specific orders, and eating rigid amounts of calories.




I have many of those rituals and some that I didn't mention. One of my biggest food rituals is measuring food. This stems from the need to know exactly what I'm putting in my body. If I don't know exactly how much I'm eating it causes extreme stress and anxiety. This also occurs because of my need to know how many calories I am eating at all times. Since I also have a rigid calorie allowance, not knowing what I'm consuming can throw off more than just that meal. It can ruin my whole day. This ritual is problematic when going out to a restaurant or for fast food. On the rare occasions where I do decide to eat outside of my house, it often involves extreme research into the specific restaurant. I will check their online nutrition guides so that I know what to order ahead of time. I try to avoid the places that do not provide this information online, but sometimes it can't be avoided. When this occurs I will usually always purge everything I eat due to the fact that I don't know how many calories I have eaten or what the ingredients were. I can't risk eating more than I should have, so I'd rather be empty inside than to overeat.


While speaking about eating out, I was reminded about another food ritual. I avoid eating in front of people at all costs. This is a pretty common ritual with individuals with eating disorders as the fear and anxiety surrounding eating in front of other people is too unbearable. If I eat with someone else I barely even taste the food because I'm too preoccupied with concerns of whether or not they think I'm fat. I question if they're watching me eat or if they think I'm eating too much. I worry that if I eat too little they will discover my secret. I constantly observe what they eat, partially because I'm jealous that they can eat more than me, but also because it causes me stress to eat more than the other person at my table. Another big fear is not being able to purge while out in public. I often have done it in public, but the fear of getting caught is worrisome and shameful. Not being able to purge before the calories are absorbed is an even worse thought. Just losing that option is enough to make me stay at home instead of eating out with friends. I'd often rather be completely alone to binge on my own with nobody judging me except myself and my eating disorder.


Another strange food ritual I have that I wasn't aware was weird was disassembling food. Many things I eat I will take apart in order to see what's inside. It makes me feel safer to eat some things separately. This is most common when I eat sandwich like foods. I often order subs and then completely pick them apart when I get home. I will remove almost half the ingredients I ordered and eat them first before moving on to the rest of the sub. For example, I will order lots of pickles on my vegetarian sub and then take them off to eat on their own. Even if I don't take anything off my food, I check it to make sure there are the right amount of things on it, in the proper order and in tolerable quantities. I arrange my food in very specific ways, again, usually with sandwich like things. I think this goes back to eating things in a specific order. When the food is all in one item, I feel less anxiety when I can put the toppings on in a way that I feel safe. I know rationally that this makes absolutely no difference, but the panic it causes when I can't do this is overwhelming.


Many food rituals are the result of strict food rules that develop overtime when someone has an eating disorder. Many of the rules are not based scientifically but are passed along through misguided advice, family role models, or are just created by the individual themselves. Food rules are rigid and often dictate when a person can eat, what they can eat, where to eat, and how much to eat. These food rules become obsessive and all consuming. I personally believe that these are the obsessive thoughts that result in compulsive food behaviours, as with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.


Food rules surrounding when to eat “involve specifying certain times and situations where food can be eaten” (Bulimia Anorexia Nervosa Association). This can also include avoiding eating all together or only eating after a certain point. For me, my rules around when I can eat are very black and white. I try at all costs to avoid eating anything before dinnertime. After than I will allow myself one small meal. I will not binge before 10pm, but after that I usually binge and purge repeatedly. I often binge and purge three or four times per day. Although this is something I have been working on in
treatment, it is a hard cycle to break and continues to be a struggle. I have had this food rule for so long that it will take a long time to break it.



Food rules that involve what to eat usually stem from the idea that some foods are 'good', while others are 'bad' or 'forbidden'. Food that the eating disordered individual thinks is especially fattening or 'dangerous' will be avoided at all costs. This often includes carbohydrates, sweets, fats, or anything when the ingredients are not known (i.e. at a restaurant). I personally have a huge list of 'forbidden' foods including pizza, junk food, sweets, simple carbohydrates, non-diet pop, chips, etc. This is not to say that I don't eat them. Many people with eating disorders fail to avoid the food they label as 'bad' which then results in feelings of guilt and shame. Removing the labels can help the individual feel better when they do eat something. As the BANA dietitian says, “All foods fit.”


Lastly, food rules that surround how much to eat often involve limiting or eliminating the quantity of food groups or calories consumed. According to BANA, this is often under 800 calories which is literally starvation. The body can not sustain it's functioning at that level of restriction. I have always tried to stay below 800 calories, which was my 'magic number'. I heard that number as a child and it has stuck in my head ever since. If I fail to eat under 800 calories, I will try to stay under 500 the next day in order to make up for my 'mistake'. This type of restriction often leads to binging and purging because I get so hungry that I lose control. In order to stop this cycle, I must eat normally during the day so that starvation doesn't lead me to binging at night. It's something that is easier said than done, however.


Food rules and rituals are very detrimental to those suffering with an eating disorder. They create an extreme preoccupation with food and dieting. This level of obsession is time consuming and is emotionally draining. Rules and rituals also lead to hunger and physical deprivation, emotional deprivation and physiological deprivation. The mind and body cannot function with this level of disordered eating and restriction, which results in malnutrition and worsened mental health. Binge eating is also a result of some of the strict rules and rituals surrounding eating disorders. As mentioned before, extreme hunger often results in the loss of control that is a binge. The food rules can also lead to emotional distress, especially when they are broken. Because the food rules are already set up to fail, this leads to feelings of guilt, shame, worthlessness, uselessness and self-hatred. The person may feel weak for not having enough self-control, when in reality the rules are completely unrealistic.



The fear of weight gain may create these rules and rituals surrounding food and eating, but it is a completely unhealthy and sad way to have to live. Nobody should have to live a life that is all about dieting, thoughts of food, worries of being fat, or hating themselves. It is important to realize that the rules are not accurate and are based on irrational fears rather than science. Hopefully once someone can admit that the rules are faulty, they will be able to break the rules and start eating intuitively rather than in a strict, rigid way. It is not the individual who is the failure, however, it is the food rule itself. Structured, normal eating is the best way to combat these rules. Giving your body the nutrition it needs will heal your body and your mind in time. There is hope.

music plays the moments, pauses the memories, stops the pain and rewinds happiness.

I've always been a music lover. Music has always been a way for me to cope. I listen to songs that express my mood or that inspire me. I've always loved songs that are eating disorder related, as seen by older posts about Marianas Trench. The lead singer is bulimic but also  had a heroin addiction. So after my own addiction developed, their songs took on a whole new meaning for me. I could related to them in both ways and I felt like they were written for me, about me, or by me. Something about his lyrics really touched my soul.

I could so easily feel his pain, his struggles, his triumphs, his set backs, etc. Every single word was etched into my own heart and mind.

Now that I am sober (almost 11 months!!!!!), some music is hard for me to listen to. I've always loved rap about dope dealing as well as songs about being an addict or using drugs. So it's sort of hard to listen to the ones that almost promote using. But I can't seem to stop myself. I love the songs too much to change the channel when they come on. They get stuck in my head.

I think I like them because they also give me this false boost in my confidence. I listen to them and remember my past when I was a somewhat big shot in the drug world. At least, behind scenes anyways. It takes me back to driving around selling or, more recently, buying. I just go right back to every single high moment where we'd drive around bumping music about drugs and just have a blast. It's like we glorified and intensified our use buy listening to songs about selling dope. So listening to them now it brings me back to those days when I thought I was so cool. It was like I had a secret that nobody else got to know. I felt special. It felt amazing to sort of know exactly what the songs where saying when most other people wouldn't make the connection. I felt like I was privy to top secret, cool kid information. And it almost gave me a bigger high than just being ripped did.

So I listen to them, I think, to try and acheive that same high again. I can't have the dope, but I can still have the songs about dope. And sometimes it does give me that same satisfaction. That same natural high.

But other times it's nothing more than a bad trigger. The music doesn't seem good enough and I want more. I think, this music would be better if I had some pills, coke, ice, whatever. And so starts a craving cycle.

I don't know if I should stop. Should I avoid any songs that make using seem like a dope thing to do (excuse the pun)? Or should I keep doing it. Sometimes I justify it by thinking that it's better to listen to the music than to actually go out and get high. I don't know. I'm so torn about this. I don't want to give it up. I feel like it's one of the last pieces I have of my addiction and I'm clinging on to them like they're my life.

Much love, xx.

sometimes you will never know the true value of a moment, until it becomes a memory.

So I've been looking through old Facebook pictures and I'm so shocked at many of them. I see them and instantly remember the exact time period in my life. I recall what I was doing, who I was with, and most importantly, how I felt. In so many of them I was almost too scared to post them because I honestly believed that I was so fat and gross.

Looking at them now it just makes me so sad for myself. I can see now how thin I really was. I was even borderline skinny. In one, you can especially see my collarbones sticking out like crazy.

See?!

It's so bizarre to me that in those moments I really, truly thought I was huge! It just shows how much bulimia really distorts your self-perception. I always knew it did, but to this degree is just shocking. It leaves me feeling a mixture of sadness and jealousy.

Sadness because I wish that I could have recognized how beautiful I was back then. Maybe things would have gone a little better. Maybe I wouldn't have turned to dope. Maybe I'd become eating disorder free. Maybe I'd be happy. Who knows. The possibilities are endless.

But at the same time, I look at these photos with such a strong sense of jealousy and anger. I think to myself, 'What an idiot! Didn't you see how good you had it?' and 'Wow, I'd die to be this weight again.'  I know this is extremely disordered thinking, but I can't help it. It just sort of causes this hatred for the weight I am now. It just makes me feel so giant. I don't even know how to deal with it. I don't want to delete the pictures, but I also can't let them get to me like this. It's unrealistic to ever think I can be my high school weight again.

I wish I could use it as a learning experience, but I'm not sure how. I know it shows how distorted my view is, so it should tell me that I'm not as fat as I think I am now. But you know how it is, eating disorders lie. Mirrors lie too. And Jenna's in my head telling me to starve myself until I'm that girl in the pictures again.

I just wish this was all over with. I wish I could just be normal and happy. In fact, I wish none of this ever happened, because I don't know how to overcome it.

defeat your enemies with your success.

So in recent posts I've mentioned those key players in my life last year. You know, the ones who took me in when I was homeless. The ones that taught me how to shoot up, the ones who stuck needles in my neck. The ones I considered my using family.

I haven't been able to keep them in my life, no matter how much I may miss them. As I've said before, we were bonded in our addictions, but not bonded in recovery. So in order to protect myself, I had to let them go. The best thing they did for me was kick my ass and leave me broken on the side of the road. Had they not  hurt me in that way, I'd still be out there using. Or more likely, dead in a ditch somewhere in this grim border city.

I was at the methadone clinic to see my addictions doctor. I ended up running into not just one, but three people I knew. One of them was my ex's mom. I had been told by him that she hated me. I was accused of stealing stuff from her car (which I swear on my dad's grave I didn't). So when she called me over and started talking to me I was so incredibly relieved. She even hugged me and invited me to come over at anytime to see her. I agreed. When she left, I sat down and almost had a complete breakdown. It just brought so many emotions to the surface. She used to consider me her daughter in law, that's how serious this relationship had been. We weren't married and didn't really want to be, but it was this love that you only get one time. So I just didn't know how to feel. I missed him, I missed her. I was happy to see her, but sad that she was in the same position as before. I was happy she was getting sober, but saddened that she had to work a minimum wage job now that his dad has passed away. I managed to keep it together, but just barely.

Just as I was calming down, Trelaine, that slut-faced bitch that slammed my head into the ground walks in. I was just overwhelmed with anger and fear. I didn't know what she would do to me if she recognized me. Lucky for me, I don't think she really did. But just as I thought she had left, Dan, the guy I had been sort of seeing strolls in too. He walked passed me so many times and didn't even look at me! I know there's absolutely no way he wouldn't recognize me unless he was so rocked out of his mind that he didn't recognize anyone. But then it got worse. Trelaine came back and started talking to him. Last summer they barely knew each other, but that had clearly changed.

Finally, as I was  waiting for my meds, Dan stood directly beside me. I didn't say a word. As much as I wanted to ream him out, I also didn't need the drama. He's such a scumbag to me that I couldn't even be bothered. I'd have defended myself if I needed to, but I wasn't going to start anything. It's just not me, But then I felt her behind me and suddenly she was laughing. He turned as asked what was so funny, and then finally his eyes fell onto me slightly. That's when I knew...they were laughing at me.

I left as soon as I had my script in my hands and just got the hell out of there. I was such an emotional wreck. Angered at them, pitying them, missing them, hating them, etc. I was so upset that they laughed at me. I did nothing to them. In fact, I drove them around for months and shared dope with them! I even slept with that douche bag. Which is the only regret I have sexually. I don't regret anything like that, except him. It was the biggest mistake of my life.

But then I got home and was telling my mom about it. Suddenly. as I was telling her I had this huge realization. Why should I care if they were laughing at me?! In all reality, if I was a bad person, it would be me laughing at them. They're the ones still out there using, hustling, lying, hurting and struggling every single day. And although my life isn't close to perfect, I have way more than they do. So since I'm not the horrible person they may think I am, I can't laugh at them. It's just not my nature. I no longer care that they laughed or if they like me or not. And I wouldn't ever wish ill on them.

This has just been such a lesson in gratitude. It took them being hurtful towards me for me to realize that in terms of things to be happy and grateful for, I have an abundance when they have none. So I will continue on with my own life, wishing well for them, but not caring so much about the things they may or may not do to me.

twice the taste, half the calories.

Here is the second piece I wrote for the Substance for You website! It's based on living life with 'Mia' (bulimia). Normally I would call her Jenna (which is what I've named my bulimia identity) but for this piece, I wanted it to be easily understood and since bulimia is often refered to as Mia, I figured it'd be more straightforward than calling her Jenna like I usually do. I hope you like it! Let me know.

Spending My Life With Mia

I'd like to introduce you to my best friend, support, love and life, Mia. I met her over nine years ago when I was 14 years old. She came to me in a time of need and scooped me up in her arms, whispering, “Everything will be okay.” In that moment, I instantly trusted her with my life, my well-being. For a while, she kept her promise to me. She told me when to eat, or rather, when not to eat. She told me how often to exercise to achieve that perfect, skinny body I was yearning for. And when I slipped up and stuffed my 'fat' face, she taught me just how to fix it, teaching me to purge. “Twice the taste, half the calories,” she said. I didn't know then that she wasn't the friend I thought she was. She was helping me. She was the one that was responsible for all of the pounds of fat that were falling off my body. She was my source of strength, control, will-power, and happiness. She was the only one who understood my desire for a stick-thin frame.

I adored Mia, I thought she was this beautiful entity that chose me, seeing something special in me. I thought she saw my potential, my beauty, hidden behind those extra 100 pounds. I thought she was the definition of perfection and when she promised me that I would be just like her, I was taken. She knew she had me. And for a time, she was everything I had hoped for. But her kind advice and support quickly turned to malicious hatred and criticism. Not a day went by where she didn't have some sort of complaint. Even if I only had one apple for the whole day, Mia would call me a “fat, careless pig.” She would insult me until I was metaphorically on the ground begging for help. And then she would tell me to go to the gym until I burnt the apple and the some, off. I would always comply. It didn't matter what her demand was, I would do anything to absolve myself from the food crimes I had committed. I would do anything to change her hatred back into praise. I was like a battered woman, making excuses for Mia no matter how horribly she treated me. She would kick me while I was down and I would run back to her crying and begging for forgiveness. Sometimes she'd finally praise me after I had run for hours, purged all that I ate and restricted all day. She'd promise that she'd stop being so harsh, but by the next meal, she'd be back to her evil, hateful self.

On a particularly bad day, Mia was her usual alluring, charmingly evil self. As she did most days, she demanded I get on the scale. I complied, the need to know my weight now imprinted on my mind. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the verbal abuse that was about to come my way. I knew I shouldn't have eaten that cereal last night. I stepped on, eyes closed. Mia beckoned me to open them, to look at the number that was taunting me from the scale. I gathered my courage and finally took a peak. In my mind I was ecstatic. I had lost XX pounds! “ Mia will be so happy”, I told myself. But I was wrong. Almost instantly she started in on me with harsh words and insults. She knew my weak spots, my insecurities and used them to her advantage. Our argument looked something like this:

“You really think XX pounds is good enough? Are you kidding me? You're pathetic.”

I'm sorry, I'll try harder. But at least I lost, right?

“You will try harder. You think you can just sit on your fat ass? That's not enough. You can't eat at all today. Not one calorie will enter that fat, ugly mouth of yours!”

You're right, I can't afford to eat today.

“You don't deserve to eat. Not today, or ever. No wonder nobody at school wants to be your friend. I wouldn't want to be friends with a weak, humongous worthless person like you!”

I'm sorry, I should have listened to you.

“If you can't follow simple instructions or simply control yourself, you don't deserve to be here. I think maybe you should just kill yourself. Nobody would even care.”

Maybe I will. I didn't meant to let you down. I let everyone down.

“No you won't. We both know you're to weak and pathetic to go through with it. You're nothing but a fat coward! I think you deserve a slower, more painful death. Much like the one I have planned for you.”

But I don't want to die, not really!

“Then why did you want me to stay? Didn't you know that bulimia is a death sentence? Idiot.”

At the time, I truly didn't know that Mia would kill me. She seemed so kind and caring in the beginning. She seemed like a miracle solution for perfection. It was that day that I knew she would never, ever be happy. I had achieved my goal weight, in fact, I had lost more than my goal weight. I worked out almost constantly and starved myself. But no matter what I did, Mia wasn't happy. She wanted more and more. She wanted lower numbers, more workouts, lower measurements, smaller sizes. She wanted me to waste away to nothing.

And all the while, she was taking up residence in my head. Slowly pushing my own identity out so that she could take over my body. The more she beat me down, the more I felt I needed her, so I let her in more and more. Each day was a cycle of weighing, starving, exercising, binging, purging, weighing, binging, purging, weighing, starving. I weighed myself more than 20 times a day. I weighed after every meal, binge, purge, workout or just when ever I 'felt fat.' My world revolved around numbers and calories, sizes and measurements. I spent hours upon hours in front of the mirror examining my body. I would pinch the fat, suck in my stomach, turn from side to side. I would stare and pick apart at my flaws. No matter how much I lost, my reflection always appeared huge. Mia had entered my mind and distorted my eye sight and self-perceptions. I turned to measuring tapes to try and figure out what I looked like, but they never seemed to match up. I literally had no idea what I looked like.

And to this day, I still can't decipher what I look like. I couldn't tell you if I weight 300 pounds or 90 pounds. But it really doesn't matter. I was just as sick at my highest weight as I was at my lowest. Bulimia, and eating disorders in general, do not discriminate. They will take all races, ages, genders and most importantly, shapes and sizes as their victims. Eating disorders will attack their victims slowly, withering them away to nothing.

Over time Mia became apart of me. I was no longer Jordyn, the loving daughter, intelligent student, talented equestrian. I was only on the sidelines while Mia took over my identity. I became nothing but my eating disorder. Every lie, manipulation, binge, purge, starvation was Mia's doing. I no longer knew who I was, what I liked doing, or who I wanted to become. All I knew was that I needed to be skinny. I only cared about numbers, food, and weight. Nothing else mattered.

Mia slowly isolated me from my friends, family, boyfriend and hobbies. School and horseback riding lost importance for me in comparison to bulimia. It was all I knew anymore. Thinking about not having Mia anymore sent me into a complete panic. Without her I literally would be nobody.

At least, I thought I would be nobody. It took nine years, millions of weigh-ins, binges, purges and calories burnt, but I have finally realized that Mia is only out to hurt and kill me. I still fear losing her, but I no longer want to live my days obsessed with weight and appearance. I might miss Mia a bit, but I won't miss the endless, exhausting cycle of starving, binging and purging. I won't miss the sore throats, the hair loss, the depression or the pain. I know now that I can be more than my bulimia. I know that I don't need Mia. I just need me.  

the road to success comes from hard work, determination and sacrifice.

I'm SO excited today! I don't think I've felt this good in a long, long time. I feel almost manic. If I didn't have good, exciting news, I'd be a bit worried about myself. Especially since I was put on a new mood stabilizer called Abilify.

Anyway, I had the meeting with the detox program coordinator today. And everything went very well! In fact, I start hosting the Women For Sobriety meetings there tomorrow! I couldn't believe it. I thought for sure that he would have to think everything over and then get back to me. So the fact that he said 'can we start this week?' was just a lovely shock.

I'm so thrilled about it and have been getting myself ready for tomorrow. I want to host the meeting as best as I can because I know that the other women in WFS are counting on me to spread the message in a professional, proficient manner. Plus, I feel that if I screw up, it could cost someone their sobriety. I need to really make sure I do well, but also not to get too much involved with each person. I know that the statistics for recovery are grim, so I can't expect that they will all get and stay sober. But I'm definitely going to keep my optimistic attitude and hope. I know that all it takes is someone to believe in you to make you believe in yourself. And then from there, recovery can seem like a possibility. I've taken this job on to help other women in need. So that's exactly what I'm going to do.

I just feel so great about it. I'm just so proud of myself. I can't believe it.
Wish me luck!

Much love, xx.

writing is the whispering of the soul.

http://substanceforyou.com/a-personal-perspective-on-bulimia/


My piece on bulimia was published! I am so incredibly proud and happy! I've been getting such positive feedback too, I couldn't be more excited. I feel that it is helping to raise an understanding and awareness about eating disorders.

I would really appreciate if you guys went to the site and shared the link via twitter/facebook or even if you just pass it along on here! I just believe that it can help our cause and will spread the message about what eating disorders can do to someone. I would really appreciate if you did.

On another note, I meet with the program coordinator of my local detox tomorrow to discuss Women for Sobriety meetings. I'm super nervous but also excited to convey my message to him. I just know that it will do some good for the women in detox and will at least make that one day a positive day for them. And it will give them another option for meetings.

I will check back in tomorrow with news on how it went. Wish me luck!

her ability to break free growing, repairing the cracks in her soul.

This is a poem I have been writing off and on for years. I would always put it down, only to forget about and come across it again months later. I finally found it again and decided to finish it. I finally had the ending. I think writing it in the midst of bulimia and addiction, I could only write the beginning and middle. But now in recovery, I was able to see the finish line. Enjoy.

'ABC Poem'

She was Free

She was alone
Afraid to breath, to bleed
Ripped apart by their stares
Whispers and laughter erupts.

She was aware
Her innocence taken, broken
Each lie shredding the truth
The unveiling of her secret
Revealing of her soul.

She was accused
Blamed for the unthinkable, unbearable
Harsh comments bringing shame
Destroying the stability of her mind
Frustration bubbles over.

She was blamed
Told that she was despicable, deserving
Screams portraying her worthlessness
Shattering any remaining hope
Falling to her knees.

She was battered
Torn to bits by beatings, betrayals
Brutal remarks scar her skin
Searing pain into her soul
Shrieks rupture eardrums.

She was broken
Snapped in half by evil, enemies
Every bash breaking her spirit
Shattering her bones and strength
Tears slide down cheeks.

She was captured
Spirit shackled in rope, reined
Controlling her thoughts and will
Destroying all independence
Silent surrender palpable.

She was compared
Viewed against others prettiness, perfection
Never good enough, a failure
Crumbling her torn esteem
Head slumped in shame.

She was capable
Overcoming the impossible, indescribable.
Her ability to break free growing
Repairing the cracks in her soul
Becoming whole.

dad, your guiding hand on my shoulder will remain with me forever.

Today is Father's Day.

Ever since my dad passed away in 2011, I have spent these days alone. My dad was never a big gift guy, but I know he appreciated knowing we loved him. I never told my dad that I loved him nearly enough. I regret that I didn't tell him every single day.  Because now I don't have the option of hugging his big belly and holding on forever.

I miss my dad so much it hurts. This is my first sober Father's Day, so maybe I'm feeling overly emotional because I don't have anything to numb the pain. I had the option of going to my cousins to have dinner with my aunt (his sister) and uncle, cousins and their kids. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Some of it was eating disorder related. I had such panic about eating in front of them now that they know I have bulimia. But I think a bigger part of it was I couldn't bear to watch them celebrate this day with smiles. My cousin is double my age and still has his father. I know that shouldn't bother me. But it does. It makes me so incredibly angry and jealous. Why should he get his dad when me and my younger brother lost ours so young? It's not fair. And I don't think I could have hidden my resentment today. So I didn't go.

Instead I'm sitting here alone wishing I could get high. It doesn't help that the only person I really have to talk to is drunk. It's not easy to be around people who are intoxicated when all you want is to obliterate your feelings and sink into that  magical place between reality and dreamland. I would spend all day hanging in the middle, suspended on a cozy web of bliss, peace, and safety. Stuck in the place where nothing matters but the drugs pumping through your veins with each beat of your slowed, relaxed heart. So I'm angry and not speaking to her now.

I wish I could say that I want to get over it and be happy. I wish I could say I think my dad would be proud of how far I've come. But I feel like those would be lies. Today I don't feel like changing my negative thoughts or trying to be positive person in recovery. Today I just feel like sitting alone wishing my dad was here. And there's nothing in the world that can change that.

I love you dad. I miss you like crazy. Happy Father's Day. You will always be my king, my heart, my dad.

it takes a lot of courage to show your dreams to someone else.

Here is my first bulimia post for the blog site (Substance for You) that asked me to write. I'm pretty confident that it's good, but I'm still nervous that he won't like it. So let me know what you think! It's long so sorry for the timely read. The next one will be coming soon. 



Childhood is supposed to be a time for bike rides, camping trips, school work, friends, birthday parties and happy memories. For most, this is the case. Many people can look back on their childhood and smile as they remember the carefree playing that only children do. For many though, childhood memories are tinged with sadness, anxiety, and painful memories. My personal childhood memories consist of arguments, my mother's relapses, pressure to do well, bullying and criticism. Children are not supposed to feel shame if they aren't a perfect in every way. They are not supposed to feel like they aren't good enough simply because of their weight or appearance. The sad truth is, I, along with many other children, felt exactly this way.

Unfortunately, our society is one that encourages thinness, beauty, and physical attractiveness over tons of other valuable qualities. To many women (and men), dieting to achieve that 'perfect' goal weight is more important than being healthy role models for their children. In fact, dieting is promoted so much that the majority of girls and women are on a diet numerous times during their lifespan. According to the National Eating Disorder Information Center (NEDIC), more than half of young girls (1/3 of boys) engage in unhealthy eating behaviors ranging from fasting and purging, to laxative/diuretic use. NEDIC also states that approximately 1.5% of teenage girls go on to develop a severe eating disorder. So in a society surrounded by beauty campaigns, emaciated models, and diet ads, I don't think the question should be 'How do girls/boys develop eating disorders?' but should be 'How do girls/boys not develop eating disorders?'

Being someone who has struggled with bulimia nervosa for nine years (about half of my life), I can't tell you how to prevent an eating disorder. But I can tell you some of the reasons I personally believe led to my eating disorder so long ago. Like so many things do, I truly believe it started in my early childhood years.

 One of the most common memories I had of my parents were the obsessive, extreme diets they would both try in order to lose weight. My family was either stuffing their faces or barely eating at all. So from the very beginning, I never had healthy eating role models. This led to my childhood obesity. By the time I was in grade eight I weighed over 250 pounds. My parents would voice their concern about my weight to me very often. I know now that they were concerned about my health, as well as the risk of me being bullied. They were right, but at the time these comments always just made me feel ashamed of myself. I started comparing my huge body to the tiny frames of my friends. Finally, the summer before high-school, I decided I would lose weight. I wanted, no, needed, to be skinny for grade nine. So I did all that I knew to do-diet. I basically starved myself for a year and overexercised until I reached my goal weight, losing over 100 pounds. But somewhere along the line, my goal weight became smaller and smaller. No matter what weight I reached, I still saw that 250 pound girl staring back at me in the mirror.

The first time I purged was before going to the gym to see my personal trainer. I was 14. She did weekly weigh ins and I lived for the praise she would give me when I lost huge amounts of weight. But before I went, I slipped up badly. I had been starving myself for so long that sometimes I would break and just completely lose control. I would binge to the point of extreme fullness. After doing this, I suddenly felt guilt and fear. I knew the number on the scale would go up. I could not let her see that I had been so 'weak'. So I did what I thought would be a one time, harmless act. I threw it all up, cleaned up and went to see her. I don't remember what the scale said that day, but I do know that purging became an everyday thing. At it's worst, I would purge 4-5 times per day at least.

My bulimia quickly crept into my head and took up permanent residence in my mind. As I've struggled with this mental illness, it has become clear to me that the symptoms have little to do with the actual weight or food. They're simply symptoms that are an indication of severe core issues with self-esteem and mental health. At 18 I was diagnosed with depression, social anxiety and generalized anxiety disorder, but I had felt that way as long as I can remember. These feelings of extreme anxiety over everything and anything, especially social situations had a huge impact on the way my weight made me feel. No matter who I was with, I was always self-conscious, comparing myself to others in every way possible. As my bulimia progressed, all I thought about was whether or not I was smaller than other people. I'd worry everyday that people would stare at my 'fat' body. My depression resulted in feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness and suicidal idealizations. Depression exacerbated my eating disorder by removing what was left of my low self-worth, self-esteem, and hope for a happy life. All of my mental illnesses combined together to make me feel that I was only of any value if I was X number of pounds.

The sad thing is though, your eating disorder is never happy. It doesn't matter how much you lose, bulimia always wants more. It lures its victims in with promises that being thin will make your depression and anxiety go away. It promises happiness, but in reality buries you deeper into the depths of depression. It slowly takes over your mind and before you know it, you're no longer in control. Every action, thought, emotion is eating disorder related. Your mind suddenly revolves around numbers. Numbers on the scale, numbers of calories, numbers of sit-ups. Numbers, numbers, and more numbers swirl through your mind every second. Thoughts of food are all consuming as you go through a cycle of starvation to binging and purging. Your eating disorder tells you that it's okay to steal food, because you've been so good all week, you deserve to have a treat. Until you have it, then your mind is completely overwhelmed with guilt, shame and self-hatred. Or it convinces you that four hours of exercise is fine because, exercise is healthy. And when you can't do it, you feel like a weak, pathetic, failure, which furthers your bond with bulimia and its 'perfection.'

You start to believe that it's your only friend, support, and only sense of strength and control. You start to rely on your eating disorder to get you through the day. It becomes your way to cope with the overwhelming feelings of depression, worthlessness, pain, anger, etc. It helps you cope with the things you can't control as it gives you a false sense of power over your life. The reality is though, that the more you feel in control, the less control you truly have over your eating disorder. Every single aspect of your life becomes a false sense of reality. An illusion. You can no longer trust the image in the mirror, the food labels, the scales. You can't trust anything but your bulimia. Any attempt at help from others is now viewed as an attack on your eating disorder. This is when your mindset allows lies and manipulation into the list of things that are morally acceptable. You need your eating disorder so badly that you'd do and say anything to protect it. However, you'd also do anything to prevent any protection for yourself. You feel worthless while you think your eating disorder is worth any amount of manipulation, arguing, sneaking, etc. You feel your eating disorder is worth your life.

My bulimia, I believe, is a result of both genetic and environmental factors. I was prone to mental illness and then the lack of  healthy role models, the constant arguing of my parents, my mother's alcoholism, and the pressure to be perfect in every way led to the feelings of depression and anxiety. I never felt good enough. I ended up turning to food as a way to deal with the anxiety of my unstable external life. This binge eating as a child led to my obesity, which further worsened my esteem and mental illnesses, which resulted in the diet that started my bulimia. Further praise and pressure to do well maintained my disorder over time. I have now struggled with my eating disorder for nine years. Eating disordered individuals are prone to a high risk of co-morbidity with other mental illnesses. It's unsure whether or not they came first or were the result of an eating disorder. For me, some of my mental illnesses were the underlying core issues.  However, my addiction to opiates came afterwards and only added fuel to the fire. I now had two unhealthy ways to cope with the traumas in my life. My addiction also helped me to curb my appetite, further exacerbating my bulimia.

It wasn't until I got sober in August 2014 that I realized that I needed to do something about my bulimia or I would risk relapsing, or worse, dying from my disease. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any other mental illness. Hearing that fact resulted in a huge wake up call. I am now in outpatient treatment with a local organization called the Bulimia Anorexia Nervosa Association (BANA). I would love to tell you that now my life is great and that I am free from the vice like grip of bulimia. But that would be a lie. Eating disorders, like addiction, are life long illnesses that you can never cure. They both will be with me for the rest of my life. Unlike addiction, however, abstinence from food is not an option. Everyone has to eat, so the struggle in recovery is learning to have a healthy relationship with food. Individuals in recovery must learn to eat in a healthy moderation. We must learn to accept our bodies the way they are and to learn better coping skills for all our emotions. We can no longer numb or hide from emotions like we had in the past.

My recovery will be a long, uphill road. But I am optimistic. I was strong enough to overcome addiction, traumatic relationships, death, and hardship, so I am confident in my ability to beat this too. It won't be easy, but hopefully one day I will be able to say that it was completely worth it.

 Thank you for taking the time to read my story and some of the things that led to my bulimia. If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, I urge you to get the help you need before it's too late.

as a writer, you ask yourself to dream while awake.

I've been asked to write a blog post for this cool website about addiction and recovery. I asked to write a piece on addiction, but when the owner found out about my bulimia, he said he'd love some on eating disorders. So I promised him two different ones. One will be about 'One day in the life of Bulimia' and another is how they develop, the mindset when you have one, and the mental health issues that can lead to one. I'm pretty exicted, but also incredibly nervous.

 This will be me writing as me. Not writing as Jenna or Roxy, which are my ED and addiction identities, as you know. I feel safe being Roxy-an addict, or Jenna-the bulimic. It's been so long since I've written as my own person. I feel a bit exposed. But at the same time, it is a huge honour to be able to write these. I feel like I'll be speaking on behalf of every single one of us. Telling my story and yours. Because when it comes down to it, we may be on different sides, but we're still on the same coin that is eating disorders.

I don't even know where to start. There are so many ideas swirling around in my head. So many thoughts and emotions I want to share with readers. So many facts and stats about eating disorders. I don't even know how they'll all fit into two 1500 word posts. I need to set some time aside, write all my ideas down and come up with a rough draft. It's not like my blog here where I just get an idea, do a bit of research, find a quote that suits my idea, and then just start writing and letting the words fall as they may. This one has to be much more structured, accurate, and well-written. I'll have a broader audience with very intelligent respected people who have written before me. So I need this to be amazing.

Then again, maybe I shouldn't be so worried and obsessed. I feel like thinking to much into might just set me up for failure. I'll be so nervous that I won't be writing at my A-game. I think the best move will be to write for you. I do it almost everyday. I respect each of you even more than the other people on this site. And I trust you with my secrets. I know none of you will judge. So if I write it for you guys, then I think it'll be true perfection: where my honesty, passion, and flaws make the writing imperfectly perfect. I feel like I'll connect better to the audience if I think the audience will be my follows and readers here.

So thank-you for being my role models, supports, inspirations, and audience. I appreciate you all so much, even if my fan base isn't huge. I care for each of you in a profound way that can only be understood by others with these awful disorders. We're connected by our ED's and recovery in a way that is unfathomable to others. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Much love, xx.

P.S. I will share the posts I write for this site as soon as they're finished!

be the change you wish to see in the world.

In recent posts I had been talking about Women for Sobriety and volunteering to host meetings for the women at my local detox. At the time the program coordinator had not yet replied to my two attempts at contacting him. I was frustrated and a bit let down. I was worried that he was an adamant 12 step sort of guy and didn't want WFS coming in.

 Now don't think I'm putting the 12 steps down, I'm absolutely not. They help many people get and stay sober. So if it works for someone, great. I feel each individual has the choice to do whatever the feel keeps them sober. I'm just saying that many people do not know anything other than AA/NA/CA. There are some (not all) 12 steppers that think that the only thing that works is NA/AA and won't be open or willing to try or learn about other options. I personally never could connect to NA. I really tried to because many experts praise and recommend 12 step meetings, sponsors, etc. But in the end, it was not for me. There were some things I liked, but many more things I didn't. I gave it a long, honest try and it just wasn't helping. Sometimes I'd even come home feeling worse than I did before.

I was so, so fortunate to discover Women for Sobriety and to attend a meeting. I was even more lucky that we had a local meeting in my small, shitty city. Those meetings, the 13 affirmations, and the women both in my group and online have totally helped me save my life. They made me see how much I have to offer, how much good I am and have, and how much I had in my life. I always left feeling just absolutely wonderful, positive, strong, and filled with this incredible refreshing energy to get through the week and any problem. They even are supporting my treatment for my bulimia. The women there just ooze positivity, health, recovery, intelligence and compassion. They're every quality I respect and hope to be.

Now, before I finally got sober and found WFS I was in detox. While I was there they hosted one or two 12 step meetings per week. When I got out, I went straight back out to use and stuck a needle in my arm for the first time. I'm not saying that the 12 step meeting wasn't helpful. It was. But it also wasn't what I needed for my recovery, especially at that time. Since finding WFS I often ponder this and wonder, 'If there had been a Women for Sobriety meeting, would I have stayed sober?' I may not have, but there's also the chance I could have prevented that whole summer downfall. There's no point in dwelling on the past. There's nothing I can change about my story. But, I can change this for someone else in the future. So this is why I want to host a meeting there so badly. I'm extremely passionate about raising awareness for other meeting/treatment options. Especially for women.

One of my issues was that I rarely felt comfortable sharing every part of my story in a group full of mostly men. There are many women who feel the same. So I think it's important that there is an all women option where they can discuss traumas, abuse, rape, etc. with only women. They need a place where they will be met with understanding, empathy and will be safe. Women for Sobriety is that place. And of course anybody is more than welcome to attend  both WFS and NA/AA/CA. I don't want to encourage people not to attend those meetings, I simply just want to show women and others that there is another option for them out there (there is Men for Sobriety too, by the way).

Anyway, I'm extremely happy because I finally heard back from the program coordinator. He wants to set up a meeting with me to discuss things. I'm feeling hopeful. The woman who forwarded my message to him said that they're lucky to have 'such a wonderful opportunity.' I know it wouldn't hurt to have us come in, and would certainly do some good. Not only for the women in detox, but for me as well. Plus, there has recently been more requests for WFS meeting information. I'm excited to talk with him and discuss the benefits of this. I want this so badly it hurts. I'm going to start preparing so that when I go I'll be fully ready to answer any questions, concerns, etc. Our detox needs this. Women need this. And it thrills me to be the one to finally start this awareness movement. It just makes me feel proud. It will make my recovery so much more fulfilled to be able to help others and give back.

This has totally brought me out of my down mood. So today, I'm celebrating this success.

Much love, xx.

an over-indulgence of anything, even something as pure as water, can intoxicate.

So it is clear to see that I am one who lives for over-indulgence. I've done it with food, drugs, booze, sleep, drama, fun, danger, etc. I've even over-indulged in love. And the more I grow, the more I see that love was the most dangerous intoxicant of them all. Even dope isn't as dangerous as love was to me.

Most would say that my last relationship was abusive. And in many ways, it probably was. So why is it that I can't see that? Why do I still think that he's the one that got away? The one that I was meant to be with had I not blown it and chosen drugs over him? I don't know if I'll ever fully understand.

When I got sober, we hadn't spoken in months. Just before I went into rehab, I sent him a message letting him know I was safe, clean and getting help. I called him the night before. He was with a girl. it made me absolutely furious. I wanted to go and slit her throat. I know, that sounds just plain horrid, scary, and messed up of me. But I'm only being honest, that was my first thought. Obviously I would never do it. After he hung up because of her protesting, I broke down into uncontrollable tears. Thinking, 'I couldn't go to rehab now! I need to be home so that I can convince him to come back to me. I can't be away, what if he messages me and wants me back and I'm not there to get it?' I wished I hadn't called. I knew it would hurt me, but I didn't care. I wanted the pain over nothing. I wanted to drown in that love induced pain and hurt.

I ended up going to treatment and sort of put it in the back of my mind. I knew that if I thought about the truth, it would rip me wide open and I couldn't handle that. I talked about every other trauma in my life except that. When my counselor asked me if there's anything unresolved with my ex, I lied and said no. Saying no and having her believe me was the best acting performance of my life. Just being asked about him brought me to the verge of tears and a massive breakdown. How I managed a smile and a 'no' with my throat closing, choking on a sob is beyond me. I guess years of fake smiles and manipulation paid off. Or ripped me off, if you think about it.

It was something I needed to deal with and didn't. So after rehab, I just kept him in the back of my mind, never letting him come to the front. Once and a while thoughts would slip in and I'd lose it. I couldn't listen to love songs, break up songs, or any songs we both liked. I'd go insane. Anywhere I went reminded me of him. Even some shows were off limits. It was like if I didn't think about it, the pain and reality wouldn't be there. I even banned myself from facebook. I was scared to have messages from him. Or worse, none at all.

So one day, something came over me. I felt this crazy urge to read my facebook, to get it over with. The not knowing and keeping it locked away would cause knots in my stomach almost everyday. I needed to check. Needless to say, there were messages. But not what I thought. They were sad messages, messages of love, and pain and hurt. He still loved me. He doesn't love her. I replied, months after they had been sent and told him what had happened with me, how I was, and how I felt. I told him that I wanted to keep our promise. We always swore that we would always be in each other's lives regardless of anything that happened.

I decided that I couldn't lose him again. It would kill me. Months of ignoring it had somehow let me sort of come to terms with another girl being there. Don't get me wrong, I still hate her and have awful pangs of jealousy here and there, but I was somewhat okay with that fact. I knew I'd rather have him as a friend than not to have him at all. So again, I chose to indulge in that love induced pain.
It's like I can't stand not having things, especially in excess. It was more scary to me to just let him go and learn to be okay alone that to have him but not be able to be his girl again. I'd rather be hurt in unimaginable ways to keep him, than to feel nothing and let it go.

And let me tell you, it hurts. It hurts almost daily, but I can't stop. I can't stop smothering myself in love, hate, pain, and tears. I will indulge in it as long as I can. Bad for me or not. I mean, nothing bad for me has never stopped me before. If anything, those 'bad things' encouraged me. They only made it more intoxicating. Like the thrill of doing something illegal and getting away with it.

So even though he caused pain and still does so, I will not let him go. I need him in my life. I don't care how other people viewed our relationship. I loved him in ways most people can't imagine. And he loved me. We fought hard, but we loved harder. That's just who we were. And I wouldn't change it for the world.

But why do I do these things? Why can't I just be okay with normal amounts? Will I always be doomed to be a gluttonous person who can't do anything in moderation? I suppose not, because I seem to only be able to function in extremes. I can do things in all or nothing ways. Never anything in between. With drugs it was do it all or don't do any. Same with love, booze, sleep, whatever. I guess I just think in very black and white terms. I don't know if I'll ever learn to enjoy the grey areas of life.

Much love, xx.

 The two of us on vacation. He'd kill me if he knew I shared this!

He may be bad for me, but I don't know if I could say no. I should say no. I should run the other way. But with my track record of over-indulgence, no isn't often a word I use.

This is sort of true, but at the same time, being his everything and doing anything for him made me feel bright and shiny. And I was his everything too. So it wasn't one sided.

I don't know if this one is true, but I hope it is. Either with someone else, or him. As long as it's true.