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|  Story of the year: I haven't been posting regularly
I suppose I'm sorry, if you happen to be a habitual reader
I doubt you are; I don't see how anyone could read this nonsense on the regular
But in any event
It really has been hard for me lately
All I can think about is going home
I have no energy
I have no passion
I guess I can't find the motivation to care
It might have something to do with the fact that the therapist I've been seeing has basically stabbed me in the back
Health services lured me in in September, saying it would only be for 3 sessions and group therapy
And here it is, 8 sessions later
Nevertheless, for the first time in my life, I was completely honest in therapy
I told myself that I had moved past my issues (ha.)
That I was doing things differently this time
I guess I considered it a mark of my progress, or growth, or maturity or something
My therapist has lots of freckles and friendly green eyes
She's tall and she thanks me for being so open
She compliments my style and says she "values me a person"
I felt safe in her office, like I could be honest
I let my guard down
My first mistake.
She's been pressuring me to have a medical consultation for two weeks
At first, she said she was concerned because I eat one meal a day and purge it
She said that it was important to know where I stand, medically, for my "well-being" and "quality of life"
Now, she's changed her tune.
I hadn't scheduled the consultation when we met Monday,
Not because of my genuine terror of being weighed, poked and prodded at
No, because I'm too busy, you know, being a college student and tearing my hair out because it's finals week
She was clearly annoyed that I hadn't
She that the "Team" won't know what to do about further treatment until I have the consult
Woah. Wait. Back up.
What "team?" And when, for that matter, did I agree to further treatment?
My father's voice started playing in my head:
"Caroline, you just couldn't keep your big fucking mouth shut.
This is the most important thing in your life and you're letting them take it away.
How could you be such a stupid fucking idiot?
When will you ever learn?"
I don't know why the eating disorder personified itself in my father's voice
Sure, I've heard his voice before when I've fucked up
But never with respect to my eating disorder
It's always my voice berating me, calling me fat, worthless, out of control
There is something about my father's voice that sounds like I'm a child again and I've overstepped the boundaries
I felt sobs clawing their way out of my chest, but I refused to cry in front of her
I refused to be vulnerable anymore, to be taken advantage of once again
She had taken all of my honesty and reported it back to some faceless "team"
And was now using it to sucker me into recovery
I was lied to, I was exploited
And worst of all, this is my fault
All of this is my own fucking fault
What was I thinking?
For years, I've bent over backwards to protect this eating disorder
I have looked my mother dead in the eye and lied to her, over and over again
I have thrown up, repeatedly, in public bathrooms to cover my tracks
Smiled when I felt like I was dying so no one would suspect
I have stolen food, thrown food away, obsessed over it, denied myself it
Rearranged my entire existence to accommodate this illness
And in approximately 8 weeks, I undid it all
When I say I've told this woman everything, I literally mean everything
Every gritty, disgusting detail about my behaviours and thought process
Why? Besides the fact that I'm an idiot?
Because I didn't possibly see how this could come back to bite me in the ass
I went into this voluntarily, so surely they can't force me to do anything, right?
Wrong.
She called me the next day to see if I'd arranged the appointment
I told her flat out that I didn't want anything to do with any of this anymore
She asked, "So you're discontinuing treatment?"
I said, "I suppose so."
I don't know if they can make me do anything without the medical consult
But basically, the claws are out
No more Ms. Honesty-and-Openness
I have been through too much for these people to march into my life
And start rearranging shit in the name of my "well-being"
Although I'm devastated because I truly thought my therapist cared about me
This experience has proven to me, once and for all, that people in the mental health field,
Especially with respect to eating disorders,
Could really give a rat's ass about your "well-being" or "quality of life"
They want you to get "better" their way
They want you to conform to their graphs and studies and books
They think they know everything about you before you say a word because they have a shiny degree
But in reality, they don't know anything
And they can't help you because it will never ever ever get better
And it will never be okay again
They'll fatten you up and hand you some worksheets about coping strategies and send you on your way
As long as you're a "healthy" weight (aka a cow), they'll pat you on your head and give you a gold fucking star
They don't give a flying fuck how much emotional anguish you're in
Oh yes, they'll listen and look all sympathetic, but they can't do a thing to help and it doesn't matter one bit
Everything's peaches and cream as long as insurance sends them a nice cheque at the end of the week
As far as I'm concerned, their all liars and thieves
They smile as they lie right to your face because they're nearly as good at this game as you are
I swear to you on my grandmother's grave I will never trust another one of them again
I have learned to live with my eating disorder so far, and I'll make it work until I can't anymore
And there is not a damn thing anyone can do about it
xxtake care
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| "I've been doing well lately" or "The ambivalence game"
(This will more than likely be a mind-numbingly boring personal uodate. You've been warned...)
But before I do anything, I must thank you from the depths of my heart for reading my "Wannarexia" entry
Sure, I've written a few entries where I wax philosophical on various eating-disorders related topics
But this was by far the largest response I've ever received
You should know that I am terrified of being alone
As I said in the entry, the main reason I write this blog is my hope that by sharing my experiences, I can convince myself that I'm not alone in this
There have been many times when I've felt that way in the year or so that I've kept this blog
But a few days ago was an extraordinary rediscovery of that assurance
So thank you for reading, commenting, recommending, and subscribing
I will come to count on you more than you know
On to my personal update
I think I've been doing well
But I'm not sure
There comes the point in your cognisance of your eating disorder when you must choose
You hear the eating disorder voice making the same demands it always has
But now, it echos
Recognition of your "problem" causes that voice and those commands to echo in your head
You can hear them loud and clear for the first time
You hear the voice telling you to starve and binge and throw up as it shrilly reverberates off the inside of your malnourished skull
And you think, "Well that's never happened before."
What I mean in plain English is this:
Along side my ED voice, there's another one
A rational one that functions as a narrator or a sports commentator
When the eating disorder says, "Eat and die, sniveling bitch,"
The commentator says, "Well that's terrible! That's just terrible and not healthy at all."
Suddenly, you don't know who to listen to
And that is terrifying, because you've been listening to the eating disorder for ages
Who would dare call its absolute power into question?
Your good common sense, that's who
And lately, I haven't been listening to my good common sense at all
I can hear it, chanting along beside the eating disorder, judging every single action
But I'm not listening.
Last weekend, I pilfered a few of my overweight friend's diet pills
Extremely, extremely powerful prescription diet pills
I saw them sitting there in the pill bottle, saw my bloated tummy
It was too much to bear
I took them
Sunday afternoon, I took one along with an Adderall
I went out for a cigarette with my friends, thinking it was just another, ordinary diet pill
Exactly ten minutes later, I was crumpled over my bathroom sink
Involuntarily puking up blue water and bile
I was dizzy and lightheaded all day, but I wasn't even the least bit hungry
For dinner, I had tea and San Pellegrino while my friends ate sandwiches and fries
I didn't feel envious at all
I thought, "This is a miracle drug!"
Monday, I did the same thing, minus the Adderall
But by Tuesday, the hunger pangs started to kick in
But the thing was, after 48 hours on tea and mineral water, I wasn't hungry at all
My stomach was folding itself into an origami crane and pain shooting out in muffled rumbles
But I couldn't think of a thing that I actually wanted to eat
In the end, I couldn't take the hunger pangs
I resolved to eat
I got the sandwich and fries I'd denied myself the day before, came back to my room to dig in
I got through half the sandwich and fries before I couldn't take another bite
That was plain absurd
Usually, I'd polish that off and be comfortably full, maybe with a little space to spare
But that night, I couldn't get through it
And just like that, the switch went off in my head
After a few weeks of not purging on a regular basis
I went into the bathroom and threw it all up
Thus, how I've gotten on this week
I haven't taken another pill since Wednesday
They're amphetamines, stimulants, so I can't get to sleep on them
None the less, after 2 days on water and 5 of eating once a day and purging
I've shifted 6 lbs this week, making my CW 130.4
The lowest I've been since September
Instead of realising that I'm backsliding something fierce into my illness
I danced like a moron in the bathroom as soon as I saw the numbers flash onto the scales
I thought, "I've done it.
I'm back in control."
I'm absolutely and utterly ambivalent about this and it's so strange
I've re-read some of my old posts, and this is a common cycle I've been through:
Shoot up ten pounds, lose fifteen, gain two or three, lose five
And every other time, it was cut and dry:
I was ecstatic to lose and miserable to gain
Well, yes, that may be true now
I'm happy I've lost, yet I don't know how I feel about slipping back into the behaviours
I abhor the idea of "recovery" but I often find myself become disillusioned with the eating disorder
It's a feeling that sounds like, "Is this all?"
I guess I just have to lose the weight once and for all
I have to find the perfect weight where I feel comfortable
Then I can escape this redundant cycle and maybe develop a life beyond all the superficial qualifications that I've fulfilled for the sake of fulfilling
Thanksgiving's coming up
I would like to be at least 127.5 by then
Even if I'm not, I know how the day will go:
Binge, purge, repeat
I can't wait to go home, though
There's something so comforting about the thought off being in my own bed
It's a comfort that cushions the horrifying fact that I've already planned my first binge for when I get home
It's a comfort that murmurs
It'sokayIt'sokayIt'sokay
Even though I know it's not
I hope you'll be good to yourself this week
Be good to yourself the best way you know how
xxtake care
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| I have a serious problem with "Wannarexia"
Just a little while ago I read an extremely compelling post
It was written by nonemorepessimistic, an anorectic finding her way to recovery
I really encourage you to read it
It's one of the gutsiest, most brutally honest things I've ever read
What I appreciate most about this post, even above it's honesty,
Is how the author doesn't labour the point of the life and death consequences of eating disorders that most people know all too well
She certainly does speak about them
But what I was most moved by was her effective depiction of the painful,
Often mortifying everyday tortures associated with them
The side-effects precious few speak of because they're simply too disgusting and simply too embarrassing
An example:
"Constant diarrhea. Yup, almost every day I sit on the can for twenty minutes and squirt liquid shit from my ass. Since my diet consists mostly of liquids, water-based fruits and soup, I rarely have a solid bowel movement. The hemorrhoids that result are absolutely wonderful too, let me tell you. You're not a true anorexic until you've had to bend over in agony, squirting Aloe spray on your anus in a frantic effort to sooth the diarrhea-induce[d] burning you've been suffering from for the last two weeks." For me, this scenario was all too familiar
During the peak of my laxative addiction, when I was downing 20-30 pills per sitting,
The agony and anguish of laxative abuse was complimented only by the agony and anguish of the hemorrhoids that often followed
The force of so much liquid waste rushing out at once irritated the surrounding area
It was a horribly painful and thoroughly humiliating ordeal
But, of course, it didn't deter me from engaging in the behaviour
No, no, even after the hemorrhoids and many other painful, dangerous side effects
I continued to abuse laxatives
Just as I continue, brazenly, on in this idiotic, self-destructive quest for my ideal weight
The thing is, I'm aware of my own contradictory existence as someone who suffers from an eating disorder
And someone who maintains a personal blog that chronicles the illness
I post my intake, sometimes
I post photos most people would consider "thinspo"
I post all the eating disordered thoughts flinging around in my head nearly word for word
I know my behaviour is hazardous
I know my disbelief in the concept of "health" is pessimistic and perhaps even an excuse for not pursuing it
And I can say "Do as I say, not as I do" until I'm blue in the face
But I know that my words could influence someone out there somewhere to try these dangerous behaviours
That's not the reason I write, though
Not for sympathy or attention or to set anyone on this path to self-decimation
I write because I hope there are people out there that can hear me
So that they can know and I can know that I'm not alone in this
No one in my life, save for my Support Group, which meets only once a week,
Can understand this complete and utter lunacy
And that's why so many eating disorders sufferers turn to the internet...
The only thing in the aforementioned post I disagreed with was this concept of "wannarexics"
That term has never, never, never sat right with me
Besides the fact that it's utterly preposterous in it's conception
(What kind of fool would want a life-threatening mental illness?)
My problem lies in this notion of separating out the "true" sufferers from the "poseurs"
We all know that anorexia is not a private club
There is nothing glamourous or desirable about it
But what I also know is this:
The weight-loss, purging addictions, laxative [ab]use, over-exercising, food obsession
These are all symptoms of the problem, and not the problem itself
After a lot of time spent in hospital and therapy sessions and just plain living life
I can now say with near certainty that my eating disorder was borne of the unmitigated anxiety that I've experienced since childhood
I'll tell you something else:
When I first began engaging in the behaviours, I was a part of the pro-ana community
And I feared, worse than anything, being accused of being a "wannarexic"
Even then, I knew that I wasn't well
I knew that something was majorly, majorly wrong in my life
The behaviours simply were a way to manage the constant terror, to distract myself
But to be called a "wannarexic" would completely devalue my experience
To be a "wannarexic," to me, was to be accused of having no inner struggle
To be vapid and shallow and to want to lose 10 lbs for the prom
I did [and still do] want to lose weight, of course
But not to be considered more attractive
I was never under the misconception that it would solve all of my problems
To me, thinness symbolised a state of mind: complete serenity and control
It symbolised a miracle; the miraculous act of disappearing
(Roll away the rock from Christ's borrowed tomb... where could he have gone?)
For me, it symbolised needlessness, blamelessness and purity
But this realisation has sharpened over time
At that point, one of the most immediate reasons I could think of to continue dropping weight was to make it impossible for me to be called a "wannarexic"
I knew I was suffering
In my mind, I just needed an emaciated body to make that suffering meaningful
The point of this massively long entry is simply this:
For me, the term and concept of "wannarexic" does more harm than good
It has become a discriminatory term
And in my case, it was a factor in hastening me along toward a full-blown eating disorder
To call someone a "wannarexic" is to devalue their experiences
It is to say, "I know what it is to suffer, and you do not,"
"My suffering is real and yours is imagined,"
"I live it and you long for it,"
I know that ignorance runs rampant in our society and there are probably a good number of people out there who want to "catch" an eating disorder for a month
Or those who think that once you pitch down the rabbit hole, you can leave Wonderland whenever you want to
But I'm also of the opinion that most "wannarexics" are already ill
Anyone who finds refuge in food, dieting and weight-loss is already on their way to disordered eating
Even if they don't have the proper language to articulate it
We jump all over these "wannarexics" for using terms like "ana" and "mia"
For wanting tips and tricks
We want so badly to scream at them and shake them
But before I had an eating disorder, I didn't know anything about eating disorders
"Ana" and "mia" seemed like adequate terms
Even now, when I've read umpteen books on the topic
When I commonly refer to "anorectics" as such, rather than "anorexics"
When I've educated myself thoroughly on my illness, still,
Occasionally, "ana" and "mia" are sufficient to convey what i mean
So many of us who have been through it all
Been diagnosed, been in and out of hospital and rehab and therapy
We're all screaming in our various ways for these "wannarexics" to go back
They're so close to health, in our minds, so close to normalcy that they could make it back if they just turn around now...
I suppose what I've gleaned most from my experience with this illness
Is that we all must find our own ways to health
I wonder, honestly, if someone had tried to persuade me out of engaging in the eating disordered behaviours
If they had shown me a crystal ball filled with all the suffering I've gone through and have yet to go through
I wonder if I would have just stopped
I truly think the answer is no, I wouldn't have
Because there is no "just stop"
Even when you're at it's doorstep, separating yourself from the behaviour is difficult because by that point
You've tried it, you know it works
You've found salvation
I've been on both sides of the spectrum
I understand how it feels to struggle with an eating disorder for a number of months
And I also understands how it feels to struggle with an eating disorder for a number of years
Berating and discriminating against "wannarexics" can have nearly the same adverse effects as thinspiration
It's just another set of standards to compare oneself against, to measure one's progress
The diagnosis becomes something to work towards
The diagnosis becomes validation for the pain you've endured even before the eating disorder
But being diagnosed doesn't make my struggle any more valid than that of someone who hasn't been
I refuse to wear it like a Ms. America sash and lord it over those who don't have it
Because in reality, the diagnosis is not a validation, but a confirmation
It confirms what you knew all along: something is profoundly fucked up
And what's worse, that what you've been using to cope with it is only making it worse
Do I expect longtime sufferers to dole out "Tips&Tricks" and swap pro-ana sites with those in the early stages of an eating disorder?
Absolutely not.Do I have all the answers for how one should handle the situation?
Absolutely not.
What I can tell you that scare-tactics and loaded terms like "wannarexic" won't fix a thing
They'll probably make it worse
For me, I'm really in no position to preach
I am actively eating disordered with no foreseeable recovery plans
I can't tell a soul what to do
All I can do is share my experiences and hope that helps, somehow
xxtake care
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| I've been re-reading Marya Hornbacher's "Wasted"
If you know anything about me,
It might be my compulsive reading of eating disorder novels,
Published case studies, memoirs, mental diagnostic books and even "self-help" books
Out of all the books I've read on the topic
"Wasted" persists to be my favourite
What I like most about Hornbacher's memior
Is that it documents all the different phases of her struggle
From childhood, adolescence and young adulthood
It reminds me of my own eating disorder
How the behaviour has metamorphosed and twisted itself deeper into my being
Like vines twisted around a pole
I've been meeting with a therapist on campus
When she met me, I know how I must've seemed
A past eating disorder sufferer who had seen the error of her ways
Who was on her way to "health" and just needed extra support
Who was maybe just back-sliding
And whom a few weeks of therapy would cure up like that
Unfortunately, as she has found out, that's not the case
I'm sliding father and farther back into my eating disorder
I tried to explain to her how my eating disorder has phases
Some milder, so to speak, than others
I tried to explain to her that this was the calm before the storm
That I could feel it in my bones
Feel them pushing their way through the weight I've accumulated over the last 2 months
Wanting to be revealed again
I know I'm back on the unhealthy path
ED thoughts consume my mind
I find myself lying, effortlessly, again
"Forgetting" to eat meals
Today, I sunk pretty low
Under the influence of many substances
I proceeded to swipe a few of my obese best friend's Phentermine pills
Extremely powerful prescription diet pills reserved,
Usually, for the extremely overweight and medically at risk
I read a review for them on a pro-ana blog that stated:
"Phentermine also known as the obesity drug, slimming pill or anorexic drug is a strong appetite suppressant. Chemically, it is an amphetamine or a stimulant usually given to people who are obese and opposed to cosmetic weight loss. This pill has gotten so popular that people who are not obese and celebrities are taking this drug to lose weight quickly. This is a strong drug that can make the average user very, very skinny in a short period of time."
Exactly what I'm after
My therapist is also urging me to have a medical examination
To ensure my eating disordered behaviour isn't marring me too bad
I plan to schedule the appointment for after Thanksgiving
In the meantime, however, I need to lose 10 lbs
ASAP
CW: 136.6
This is unacceptable.
GW by the end of Nov: 126.6
I know I haven't been posting regularly
[I came down with a case of swine-flu... I don't want to talk about it]
But I have been reading and attempting to support regularly
And now I'm back
I have a mission, a goal, a deadline
I'm back on track and there is no excuse
I will be thin, thinner, thinnest
 xxtake care
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