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.

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 feel like a super model who just skipped a meal.'

So I don't know if it's the Cymbalta that's making me so fucked in the head, or if it's this stupid break up or what. But everything I've read on the package says it's a possibility, and not to stop taking them until I see a doctor. I won't be able to see him until the 25th. Until then, at least I've got my mom watching me like a hawk...I could fucking punch her.

On the bright side of all this, I can't bring myself to eat anything. It's been days since I've had anything but drugs and booze (to the point of black out), and I've managed to get down to 138. I feel so shaky though, I thought I'd try to eat something, but my appetite is gone, I had a bite of this delicious pasta salad, and couldn't bring myself to eat anymore. Such a weird feeling, considering one bite usually results in a disgusting pig out. But I fucking love it. I'll take the suicidal bullshit to be thin any day of the week. It feels fucking fantastic.

Dying to be thin, how ironic. At least it's not false advertising.

Boys fucking suck, but at least one good thing came from it.

i wouldn't recommend sex, drugs or insanity for everyone, but they've always worked for me.

Guess what?
I went to bed fucked up.
I woke up in the middle of the night, and got more fucked up.
I went back to bed and passed out, cause I was too fucked up.
I woke up this morning, rolled out of bed and realized, I was still fucked up.

And honestly, I don't give a fuck.

In fact, as soon as I'm done this, I'll go get fucked up, then I'll get fucked, and then I'll do it all over again.

Oh yeah, I haven't eaten in like two days, and it feels so good, I almost don't even need to get fucked up.

But I will anyways.

 I feel like the modern Marylin. And that feels great.

P.S. Yeah this is crude, get over it.