Desperate

I feel so desperate. I feel like time is running out and this effort to lose weight is in vain.

I read over my blog entries and it’s as if two different people are writing them. I see contradictions all the time (e.g. “I don’t have a problem” then “Wait, yes I do!”) One day I hate my life and the next I am saying I have it good. I wish I could just be honest with myself and my readers on how shit really is.

I do feel desperate. The more time passes where I don’t do anything about having a baby, the more I feel guilty. The more desperate I become to lose weight. The more desperate I become to lose weight, the more I restrict. The more I restrict, the more I overeat. The more I overeat, the more I starve in order to compensate. The more that cycle continues, the longer I stay stuck at 81 pounds.

81 pounds, BMI 15.8.

I read other people’s blogs and how they are losing weight quickly. Then I think of how much energy I spend restricting and realize how that makes me feel: like a loser, a failure, a wannabe, a poser, a bad anorectic.

I feel so dreadfully desperate to get down to 75 pounds because it’s like then I will be able to have a baby. I feel like once I have a kid (if I have a kid), I can no longer be anorexic. It’s like this is my last fucking shot to prove to myself I can make it to a BMI of 14. And the longer I take, the longer I stall on having a baby, and the worse it makes me feel.

I want to stop. I want to stop trying and actually start doing. I want my metabolism to kick in. I want the food cravings to no longer exist. I actually thought that if I fasted all week, at the end I would just finally give into recovery. That lasted 12 hours…

I feel defeated and angry. I am tired of trying to accomplish this, and yet at the same time I feel like I have to. I feel like I can’t give in. I feel like I have to be eating disordered or else there will be nothing for me.

I feel like it’s time to grow up now. I am reading a novel by Stephen King called 11/22/63. It’s about a guy who goes back in time to stop the assassination of JFK. The closer he gets to the day of the assassination, the more obstacles he must face. The past does not want to be changed and tries to make sure the guy cannot do it. I feel like that is my life. I have never been able to get passed 78 pounds…something always occurs and I give up.

I don’t want to give up but I do…

So with that said, I am going to surrender just a little bit more. I am going to try to write and read less. I am going to stop the ED forums. I am going to eat three meals a day, shooting for 750 calories a day or less. I am going to bring the scale home so I am able to weigh every morning after peeing and on an empty stomach. Instead of being this tortured soul who has an eating disorder I want to adapt this as my lifestyle…I want to stop being so fucking depressed and comparing myself to other ED girls online. My ultimate goal is to continue losing weight, but I can’t do that if I keep bingeing my ass off. So if I stop the triggering sites and eat at regular intervals, I should be able to fucking do this.

Maybe along the way I will devote more of myself to recovery (the more I go to meetings, the more I see that as a real possibility), but for now I am “playing things by ear.”

I just want this week to be over…I want the work transition to be done with, I want all the paperwoek finished, I want to be put on part-time, I want to eat cleanly, I want to be weightless and free.

Free of these burdens…free of myself.

Hatred

The more I eat normally over the weekend, the more hatred I build up for myself. I hate that I can’t go all day without eating. I hate that I can’t lose weight. I hate that I don’t have a BMI if 14. I hate that I don’t look emaciated. I hate that my husband sees me and is still able to say, “I love your curves.” I hate my large breasts, my hourglass figure, and outer thighs. I want them gone, and I hate how painfully slow this whole process is. I must not want thinness bad enough if I can’t even stick to 750 calories over the weekend.

It’s killing me not having a scale here at the house.

Yeserday’s food intake was awful, but to a normal person, probably alright. I had one small chicken breast for lunch and a handful of almonds. Then I had a bunch of peanut butter I used for making brownies, then for dinner I had a small turkey burger patty, some rice, and corn. Then of course, a brownie. The caloric intake also shot up because I had another sweet tea from McDonalds.

So I took laxatives. I know it doesn’t help me lose weight, but it empties out my system and makes my stomach super flat. I know its weird but I judge how well I did with food based on how flat or distended my stomach is at the end of the day.

I feel thinner, but I know it’s just a lie. I want to fast this week, but I haven’t made up my mind. It will just lead to more bingeing.

I’ve had on and off again chest pains all weekend. Don’t know if it’s ED related, stress related, or psychosomatic. But last time my chest felt this way, my tests were all normal, so I am not going to do anything about it. We are still paying off my last hospital bills.

Denial

So as you can see in my last post, I go into how my anorexia never affected anything at all. Well, after last night’s step study meeting, I came to a realization that that is a crock if shit.

One year ago a doctor told me to gain weight or she couldn’t help me conceive a child. Instead I lost weight, and I still can’t bear the thought of gaining weight in order to get pregnant. I just can’t do it. I’d say that’s affecting something huge — having a child is something I really want and this eating disorder is preventing that from happening at all because I don’t want to get fat.

Also, if it wasn’t for the restricting, I wouldn’t have went through such crazy measures to binge — hiding food, bringing food in my suitcase on trips, eating in the Safeway parking lot with my fingers, stealing food, eating until I felt pain and then some.

Restricting kept me permanently isolated and irritable, often keeping to myself both physically and emotionally from everyone around me. I spent hours at work looking up eating disorder related material, I spent my time alone in the bedroom when my step-kids were around, I couldn’t be physically intimate with my husband because I hated the thought of having sex.

So what has really changed? Not much. I still do practically everything above, just not to the same degree.

And all I could think about this morning was how much I wished I had brought the scale home so I could weigh myself. Yesterdays food consisted of 9 tortilla chips, 1/2 can tuna, 1 tbs. teriyaki sauce, 1 small hamburger patty, some lettuce, three pear slices, and a handful of almonds. However, I also had a sweet tea from McDonalds and those things set me back 280 calories! No regrets tho…that drink always is an orgasm in my mouth. So fuckin’ good!

Health Question

I’m posing this question to anyone who has ever compulsively ate or binged.

For years now I’ve noticed that after a binge, or after I’ve eaten compulsively (quickly), I get very, very sharp pains where my jaw meets my earlobes. Especially with crunchy foods like crackers or cereal. It lasts sporadically for a couple of minutes. This never occurs any other time, and I can go months or years without it ever occurring.

I’ve tried googling it, but I get back so many different things it’s hard to pinpoint an exact answer. Any help is much appreciated.

A Secret from Post Secret

I’ll let you all come up with your own thoughts and feelings.

EDIT: I DID NOT WRITE THIS POSTCARD. It’s from www.postsecret.com