Friday, February 13, 2009

they're numbers, just numbers, scoob

stepped on the scale this am. 161.4. & i smiled. i was happy because earlier this week the scale said 165. my heart is broken. i feel emotionally torn asunder. but the scale rewarded me (my eating disorder) with a loss. & was it me smiling or my eating disorder? right now, my eating disorder is loud & has more control than she should. so it was her smiling. it was me. it was both of us. i shimmied into my size 14 jeans, which hug my hips & thighs & are a tidge tighter than i want them to be. but the scale has me so close to being back in the 150's. & all the while as i pull the jeans up, button & zip them. i'm thinking as i look down at my flabby belly & thighs that if only i could get rid of that fat that is hanging out. i don't want hollywood perfection (do i? no, i don't think so). i just want to be able to look at myself naked without feeling shame for the abuse my body has taken over the years.

i ate breakfast. but that wasn't until 10:30am (i think it was then). i forced myself to eat yesterday. my sister came by after work. she is a godsend. if she would not have been here i may have skipped dinner. & even with her here, watching me, i only ate about 1/3 of a piece of pizza. i tried. i really tried to eat more but my stomach clenched & rolled & i couldn't eat more. i felt like i didn't deserve to eat. didn't deserve food. i had to punish myself because it was my fault (even though i know it's not true & E said it's not true & dev said E is a fucking idiot for giving up the best woman on earth----have i mentioned i love dev for being such a loyal friend?) so even though i know that this is all E's issue(s) & it's nothing i did my eating disorder doesn't care. it's something for her to grab, hang on to, something for her to hold up in my face to tell me "see, if you let ME control your life things will be better."

how starving myself &/or binging will make my life better i don't now. eating disorders are a strange beast. they're a combo of medical & mental health issue. technically i see a therapist & technically my claims are paid from my mh/sa benes on my health insurance (mh/sa benes= mental health/substance abuse benefits). a lot of it is in my head & my response to food. the way that i deal with, or don't deal with, my emotions. but it has a lot of medical repercussions that are not necessarily evident with other mental health issues. i have a doctor appointment tonight because i am very weak & sick. i haven't wanted to admit it to anyone, but physically i'm sort of back to where i was this past fall....& no it isn't all of a sudden since the break with E. it's been going on before that. i've also had dizzy episodes & near passing out. my chest hurts. & i missed my last period (& no, i'm not pregnant). i confessed all this last week in therapy & i've never seen ann or amy so shocked. so yeah, i had to promise them i'd go to the doctor.

i haven't even lost that much weight recently. or starved myself (too much) recently. so i don't know why i missed my period. i'm on the pill so it should be pretty regulated. i thought that kind of thing only happened to girls who weigh like 100 lbs or less. i told my mom all this & i could hear her tears over the phone. & her response was "in nazi concentration camps women stopped menstruating because of extreme malnutrition because they were starved." isn't it amazing that my cabinets & fridge are stuffed to capacity with food & yet i'm starving & malnourished?

it makes me feel insane amounts of guilt. that i live in the richest country in the world, in a comfortable suburban home, with enough income to buy food, i do buy food, & yet i can't deal with it in a natural way. i know there are children starving here in my own country, here in minnesota there are children & people without enough to eat & i look at a piece of pizza & retch & feel nothing but repulsion. & when that guilt settles in sometimes i binge. but often i feel that if i can't be grateful then i don't deserve to eat at all. & then i starve myself (restrict as they say at the emily program). & i swing between binging & restriction. sometimes in the same day.

i'm sitting here at my computer & as i type i can see the bones in my hand move & it's oddly hypnotizing to see that. & i look down & i can see my clavicles protruding from my skin. & the part of me that is ME can't believe what i'm doing to my body. & my eating disorder is oddly pleased by it all. & then the writer in me thinks i need to get out my camera & take some pictures for my memoir because a picture really does need to be put in sometimes to convey a message. & in the end all these different parts are all me & i need to put them together to go on. i know that i can always go back to my parents. i know that they will always pick me up & put the pieces back together & make everything ok, or as ok as they can, but i need to do this myself in order to really recover.

when i was at the emily program on wednesday waiting for my appointment i was looking through the interactive journal in their waiting room. it's there for anyone to write anything they want in it. i was reading it & there was something in there that i swear my sister could have written. it was about how this girl was proud of her sister for admitting her problems & getting help & going through therapy for her eating disorder. & even though her sister thinks she is weak that she is really a very strong person, stronger than she knows & she's an amazing woman that can beat this disease. of course that's a paraphrase. i really wanted to copy the page, or take a picture with my iphone (maybe i will next week). & yesterday night when rachel was here she patted me knee, looked at me & said "you're stronger than you know. you'll get through all of this. i know that you will." my sister is an amazing person. she'll never know how much she means to me & how glad i am to have her.

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