Dear blog readers,
I am in the process of writing my autobiography for treatment. I have to read it aloud on Wednesday. I am wondering if you would be interested in me putting it up on my blog? It is pretty lengthy (we had to be fairly detailed). If yes, I'll have it up by Wednesday. If no, I'll continue to post my semi-daily updates as per usual.
Let me know <3
Fierce
Sunday, 3 June 2012
Saturday, 2 June 2012
Feeling impure
I feel impure.
Today I had regular root beer; not diet. I feel impure. For starters, it tasted gross - how much sugar do you really need in one drink?! What a waste of 160calories. For another thing...why would anybody willingly choose to poison their bodies with high sugar levels. Honestly I feel ill. I miss when my body felt clean. I felt happiest with my body when I was fasting. Restricting leaves you with a feeling of purity, white, clean. Fasting is heavenly. You feel on top of the world. You feel like you are in control and that you have the power to overcome anything. Right now I feel black, darkened. I feel that I have poisoned my body. I feel that I have ingested a toxic substance that my formerly pure body will now need to run on overdrive to metabolize and get rid of. I feel that my pancreas is crying as it secretes high insulin levels to bring my glucose levels back to homeostasis. I feel that my liver is erratically metabolizing the pesticide as best if can to cleanse and detoxify what I just orally consumed. I feel impure. I feel that my body is rotting from the inside out. I feel more disgusting than I have since I started treatment - all because I drank a regular soda. I vow to never drink regular soda again unless presented with a situation in which I have no option (say, for example, if it is part of a meal in treatment). I vow that I will always choose an alternative if there is one. Never again will I allow myself to feel so disgusting and so disgusted.
Fierce
Today I had regular root beer; not diet. I feel impure. For starters, it tasted gross - how much sugar do you really need in one drink?! What a waste of 160calories. For another thing...why would anybody willingly choose to poison their bodies with high sugar levels. Honestly I feel ill. I miss when my body felt clean. I felt happiest with my body when I was fasting. Restricting leaves you with a feeling of purity, white, clean. Fasting is heavenly. You feel on top of the world. You feel like you are in control and that you have the power to overcome anything. Right now I feel black, darkened. I feel that I have poisoned my body. I feel that I have ingested a toxic substance that my formerly pure body will now need to run on overdrive to metabolize and get rid of. I feel that my pancreas is crying as it secretes high insulin levels to bring my glucose levels back to homeostasis. I feel that my liver is erratically metabolizing the pesticide as best if can to cleanse and detoxify what I just orally consumed. I feel impure. I feel that my body is rotting from the inside out. I feel more disgusting than I have since I started treatment - all because I drank a regular soda. I vow to never drink regular soda again unless presented with a situation in which I have no option (say, for example, if it is part of a meal in treatment). I vow that I will always choose an alternative if there is one. Never again will I allow myself to feel so disgusting and so disgusted.
Fierce
Thursday, 31 May 2012
End of week two: treatment update
Thus ends week two!
So far, so good.
People's perception of treatment is so interesting. I don't think I have ever felt so alone in my thoughts. When I first told people I was going into treatment, everyone was so excited - not only were they excited I was going to be getting the help I allegedly needed, but they assumed that I, too, would be excited to go. It was rare that I confided to anybody that I really just didn't want to go. My objective is to lose weight people, not gain it. So going to treatment and the idea that I'd have to both gain weight AND talk about issues I didn't want to relive was not exactly an exciting endeavour.
Next, people started assuming that once I got into treatment everything would be 'okay'. Treatment is not a magical cure-all. I didn't walk through the doors of the treatment program and suddenly have high self-esteem and a will to live. This is not only outrageously ridiculous, but also sets me up for failure. I tried to speak to people about how I was feeling; alone, terrified, resistant to help - only to be answered with shocks of horror and surprise. What did I MEAN that I still thought I was fat?! What did I MEAN that I had difficulty eating?! Please, people. Wake up and smell the java. Treatment isn't a miracle cure, and I don't spontaneously become recovered just for showing up.
Now that week two has ended, I share with my fellow blog readers that I feel somewhat distraught and alone. Who can I talk to that will just accept how I am feeling? I don't want people to panic when I tell them I feel fat, or that I don't want to keep going with treatment. I don't want people to overreact when I tell them I just don't want to fucking do this anymore! Honestly, I just need an outlet. A non judgemental, open-minded outlet where I can think and express my innermost thoughts without fear of repercussion. Hence, why I keep this blog.
Do not be alarmed when I write in here that I miss calorie counting and weighing myself every day. Do not mind when I write that I slipped and bought diet pills, or that I binged. Do not overreact when I tell you that I cut when I had a fight with my Mom last night. Just listen; and hear that I need you to talk to.
Today in Self Expression through the Arts we did a short relaxation exercise, and then were given an assignment to do. We took a big piece of paper, folded it in half, and then wrote "Fat is" on one side and "Thin is" on the other. Then we were left to fill in the blanks. On the "Fat is" side, I wrote "How I see myself" and then proceeded to write things like stupid, worthless, weak, a failure, etc. On the "Thin is" side, I wrote "How I would like to see myself" and then decorated it with words like beautiful, successful, happy, perfect, flawless, brave, strong, etc. It really made me realize that my perceptions of fat and thin really have nothing to do with size, and everything to do with how I feel about myself.
My psychologist then told me that I can be both thin and beautiful, thin and successful, thin and brave, etc. She said that in my pursuit toward thinness I focused all of my attention on weightloss - so much so that I never allowed myself to grow and become anything like beautiful, successful, and brave. I want to be these things. I want to be thin AND everything else.
It was like a switch went off in my head. That's IT. That's the secret. I can lose weight AND be happy. I just need to stay grounded and focused.
And with that, I'm out.
Happy reading,
Fierce <3
So far, so good.
People's perception of treatment is so interesting. I don't think I have ever felt so alone in my thoughts. When I first told people I was going into treatment, everyone was so excited - not only were they excited I was going to be getting the help I allegedly needed, but they assumed that I, too, would be excited to go. It was rare that I confided to anybody that I really just didn't want to go. My objective is to lose weight people, not gain it. So going to treatment and the idea that I'd have to both gain weight AND talk about issues I didn't want to relive was not exactly an exciting endeavour.
Next, people started assuming that once I got into treatment everything would be 'okay'. Treatment is not a magical cure-all. I didn't walk through the doors of the treatment program and suddenly have high self-esteem and a will to live. This is not only outrageously ridiculous, but also sets me up for failure. I tried to speak to people about how I was feeling; alone, terrified, resistant to help - only to be answered with shocks of horror and surprise. What did I MEAN that I still thought I was fat?! What did I MEAN that I had difficulty eating?! Please, people. Wake up and smell the java. Treatment isn't a miracle cure, and I don't spontaneously become recovered just for showing up.
Now that week two has ended, I share with my fellow blog readers that I feel somewhat distraught and alone. Who can I talk to that will just accept how I am feeling? I don't want people to panic when I tell them I feel fat, or that I don't want to keep going with treatment. I don't want people to overreact when I tell them I just don't want to fucking do this anymore! Honestly, I just need an outlet. A non judgemental, open-minded outlet where I can think and express my innermost thoughts without fear of repercussion. Hence, why I keep this blog.
Do not be alarmed when I write in here that I miss calorie counting and weighing myself every day. Do not mind when I write that I slipped and bought diet pills, or that I binged. Do not overreact when I tell you that I cut when I had a fight with my Mom last night. Just listen; and hear that I need you to talk to.
Today in Self Expression through the Arts we did a short relaxation exercise, and then were given an assignment to do. We took a big piece of paper, folded it in half, and then wrote "Fat is" on one side and "Thin is" on the other. Then we were left to fill in the blanks. On the "Fat is" side, I wrote "How I see myself" and then proceeded to write things like stupid, worthless, weak, a failure, etc. On the "Thin is" side, I wrote "How I would like to see myself" and then decorated it with words like beautiful, successful, happy, perfect, flawless, brave, strong, etc. It really made me realize that my perceptions of fat and thin really have nothing to do with size, and everything to do with how I feel about myself.
My psychologist then told me that I can be both thin and beautiful, thin and successful, thin and brave, etc. She said that in my pursuit toward thinness I focused all of my attention on weightloss - so much so that I never allowed myself to grow and become anything like beautiful, successful, and brave. I want to be these things. I want to be thin AND everything else.
It was like a switch went off in my head. That's IT. That's the secret. I can lose weight AND be happy. I just need to stay grounded and focused.
And with that, I'm out.
Happy reading,
Fierce <3
Wednesday, 30 May 2012
My treatment mantra
The one thing I want to remember while I am in treatment is that I am there for me. Yesterday there was a lot of fighting between the other co-patients and I. The short version of the story is that one of the girls was caught purging after lunch, and another girl brought it up in a group therapy. A huge fight between all of us ensued. I need to remember to stay focused. I need to remember that while treatment and group therapy can serve as a microcosm of the real world, I am truly not there to make friends. I am not there to be liked by others, and I need to focus on my own story and where I would like to go from there. I am there for me.
Monday, 28 May 2012
Thus starts week two
I'm not a big cryer. There is something about crying that I don't like - maybe it is because it makes me feel vulnerable; maybe it is because it makes me feel soft. But I don't like crying.
When I was in treatment in 2010 it took me five weeks before I caved and finally let go of all my walls and all of my pride and actually cried. I remember my co-patients coming up to me and hugging me and congratulating me on freeing myself - I had allowed myself to be vulnerable - I had allowed myself to cry.
Two year later it didn't take me five weeks until I cried. I cried today. Today, on the first day of week two I cried. It was a deep cry, an agonizing cry that made me mourn for the little girl inside of me who was treated with disregard; who was used for the sake of pleasuring someone else. During Mindfulness group we were practicing relaxation and deep breathing. We had barely begun when I was solidly hit with overwhelming an overwhelming flashback. It stole my breath, as though I had been punched in the gut; the wind completely knocked out of me. I bolted from the therapy room and left all of my co-patients behind. Gasping for a breath of fresh air I started repeating, "I'm not there anymore. I'm not there anymore. I'm not there anymore." until I reached the stairwell and started climbing stairs alternating between counting and repeating "I'm not there anymore". When I reached the top floor I descended again, then ascended in an attempt to calm the thrashing thoughts in my head, the ones that could feel him using me, touching me, breaking apart my child soul into thousands of pieces. "1-2-3-4-5-I'm not there anymore -6-7-8-9-10-I'm not there anymore-1-2-3-4-5...". When I reached the top of the building I leaned against the wall and measured my heart rate...152 beats per minute. My heart was wildly racing and I was having chest pain. I slowly allowed my breath to wash over me and soothe me...I wasn't there anymore, in the past, and his hands weren't touching me. Finally I walked back to the therapy room and the psychologist talked to me. I told her I felt guilty and embarrassed for reacting the way that I did, and silently the tears started to slide down my face. I was crying. I was allowing myself to feel vulnerable.
I feel that I made a breakthrough today. I'm not a child anymore...I'm not there anymore. But I can be here now, in the present. I can think, feel, laugh, cry...I can simultaneously be strong and vulnerable, not sacrificing one for the other.
I am Fierce.
-Fierce
When I was in treatment in 2010 it took me five weeks before I caved and finally let go of all my walls and all of my pride and actually cried. I remember my co-patients coming up to me and hugging me and congratulating me on freeing myself - I had allowed myself to be vulnerable - I had allowed myself to cry.
Two year later it didn't take me five weeks until I cried. I cried today. Today, on the first day of week two I cried. It was a deep cry, an agonizing cry that made me mourn for the little girl inside of me who was treated with disregard; who was used for the sake of pleasuring someone else. During Mindfulness group we were practicing relaxation and deep breathing. We had barely begun when I was solidly hit with overwhelming an overwhelming flashback. It stole my breath, as though I had been punched in the gut; the wind completely knocked out of me. I bolted from the therapy room and left all of my co-patients behind. Gasping for a breath of fresh air I started repeating, "I'm not there anymore. I'm not there anymore. I'm not there anymore." until I reached the stairwell and started climbing stairs alternating between counting and repeating "I'm not there anymore". When I reached the top floor I descended again, then ascended in an attempt to calm the thrashing thoughts in my head, the ones that could feel him using me, touching me, breaking apart my child soul into thousands of pieces. "1-2-3-4-5-I'm not there anymore -6-7-8-9-10-I'm not there anymore-1-2-3-4-5...". When I reached the top of the building I leaned against the wall and measured my heart rate...152 beats per minute. My heart was wildly racing and I was having chest pain. I slowly allowed my breath to wash over me and soothe me...I wasn't there anymore, in the past, and his hands weren't touching me. Finally I walked back to the therapy room and the psychologist talked to me. I told her I felt guilty and embarrassed for reacting the way that I did, and silently the tears started to slide down my face. I was crying. I was allowing myself to feel vulnerable.
I feel that I made a breakthrough today. I'm not a child anymore...I'm not there anymore. But I can be here now, in the present. I can think, feel, laugh, cry...I can simultaneously be strong and vulnerable, not sacrificing one for the other.
I am Fierce.
-Fierce
Sunday, 27 May 2012
Welcome to my blog
Hello dear blog readers!
Welcome to my blog. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I do writing it. Some of you knew me from my other blog: fiercewarrior.wordpress.com. I have now moved to this site, and hope to stay here for good!
I am known as Fierce. I am 24 years old and have been battling my way through mental illness since the age of 11. This blog serves to document my journey through life and the challenges that I face with having mental illnesses. Having said that, I don't like to consider myself a statistic - a person who struggles with mental illness and therefore falls under a specific diagnosis or category. I consider myself a unique and individual person. I am Fierce. I am not my mental illnesses (although sometimes it feels as though I am). For those of you who don't want to take the time to read through the very long blog postings I carried over from my wordpress blog - the short version is that I struggle with chronic depression, generalized anxiety disorder, post traumatic stress disorder, bulimia nervosa, borderline personality disorder, and self injury.
Please feel welcome to follow me on twitter: fierce_warrior.
At present moment I am in treatment for bulimia. I am addicted to diet pills, laxatives, restriction, and exercise. I have completed my first week in a treatment program and tomorrow starts week two.
Please look around my blog, follow me whenever, and post comments or questions!
Happy reading,
Fierce <3
Welcome to my blog. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I do writing it. Some of you knew me from my other blog: fiercewarrior.wordpress.com. I have now moved to this site, and hope to stay here for good!
I am known as Fierce. I am 24 years old and have been battling my way through mental illness since the age of 11. This blog serves to document my journey through life and the challenges that I face with having mental illnesses. Having said that, I don't like to consider myself a statistic - a person who struggles with mental illness and therefore falls under a specific diagnosis or category. I consider myself a unique and individual person. I am Fierce. I am not my mental illnesses (although sometimes it feels as though I am). For those of you who don't want to take the time to read through the very long blog postings I carried over from my wordpress blog - the short version is that I struggle with chronic depression, generalized anxiety disorder, post traumatic stress disorder, bulimia nervosa, borderline personality disorder, and self injury.
Please feel welcome to follow me on twitter: fierce_warrior.
At present moment I am in treatment for bulimia. I am addicted to diet pills, laxatives, restriction, and exercise. I have completed my first week in a treatment program and tomorrow starts week two.
Please look around my blog, follow me whenever, and post comments or questions!
Happy reading,
Fierce <3
An old blog: part 8
I have survived day two!
Today was a good day, I might even classify it as fun. Wednesdays seem to be medical days, so we started off this morning with individual meetings with our dietitians. I had my height taken (somehow I shrunk since the last time I was in this program…how is that even possible?!), and then my dietitian recorded my weight. I was so nervous. For some reason I had it in my head that if I weighed too much I was going to be discharged. That didn’t happen, obviously! Then my dietitian and I talked about how my first night went, how I felt about my first day, and how I struggled with my evening snack. She told me I was doing a great job, and was then sent to see my nurse practitioner and my psychiatrist. We had a really good therapy session. I talked a lot about my struggles with being back in the program and how I find even a 1500cal/day menu to be excessive. I discussed my anxiety about moving up to 1800cal/day (which starts on Monday), and got my prescription for domperidone (a medication that helps alleviate the feeling of fullness). My nurse practitioner was really happy with my progress thus far (even though I’ve been there for only 48 hours!). My psychiatrist noted that my positive attitude will really get me far in the program, and that if I continue to work for the rest of my time as I have worked on the first day, I will truly be successful. YES!
Then I went to the laboratory to get my blood work drawn. Not that much fun, but my phlebotomist was so good! Barely felt it at all. I then had to head to the first group therapy of the day. Group therapy went really well. I am starting to get more comfortable in the group setting, although I am still struggling to find my place a little bit.
Lunch was anxiety inducing, but actually pretty tasty. Eating is hard. Really hard. You know the whole bit where people tell you to just eat? Yeah, hard. I really tried to launch myself into conversation though, to distract from the whole calorie consuming activity. This is no easy task when pictures of thinspo are jetting through your mind and you are wondering how many calories are in every bite, and how anyone possibly eats 1500 calories in a day! But alas, I made it through my mac ‘n cheese.
After lunch we were sent to work on some projects with our psychologists. I will admit that this is not my favourite activity. A bit boring, and the psychologist has an irritating tendency to just repeat everything you say. For example:
Me: I was really upset when Bobby talked back to me.
Psychologist: It sounds like you were really upset when Bobby talked back to you.
Umm yeah…I just said that? Ha, anyway. So that’s pretty annoying.
The other patients and I had the afternoon off so we played a lot of yahtzee (sp?). We were sitting outside because it was a gorgeous day, and then all of a sudden a bird took a shit on my shoulder. It was soo gross! So we had to go inside so I could get changed and cleaned. Eww.
Next was dinner, and then we were all done for the day. It was a good day!
Until tomorrow,
Fierce
Today was a good day, I might even classify it as fun. Wednesdays seem to be medical days, so we started off this morning with individual meetings with our dietitians. I had my height taken (somehow I shrunk since the last time I was in this program…how is that even possible?!), and then my dietitian recorded my weight. I was so nervous. For some reason I had it in my head that if I weighed too much I was going to be discharged. That didn’t happen, obviously! Then my dietitian and I talked about how my first night went, how I felt about my first day, and how I struggled with my evening snack. She told me I was doing a great job, and was then sent to see my nurse practitioner and my psychiatrist. We had a really good therapy session. I talked a lot about my struggles with being back in the program and how I find even a 1500cal/day menu to be excessive. I discussed my anxiety about moving up to 1800cal/day (which starts on Monday), and got my prescription for domperidone (a medication that helps alleviate the feeling of fullness). My nurse practitioner was really happy with my progress thus far (even though I’ve been there for only 48 hours!). My psychiatrist noted that my positive attitude will really get me far in the program, and that if I continue to work for the rest of my time as I have worked on the first day, I will truly be successful. YES!
Then I went to the laboratory to get my blood work drawn. Not that much fun, but my phlebotomist was so good! Barely felt it at all. I then had to head to the first group therapy of the day. Group therapy went really well. I am starting to get more comfortable in the group setting, although I am still struggling to find my place a little bit.
Lunch was anxiety inducing, but actually pretty tasty. Eating is hard. Really hard. You know the whole bit where people tell you to just eat? Yeah, hard. I really tried to launch myself into conversation though, to distract from the whole calorie consuming activity. This is no easy task when pictures of thinspo are jetting through your mind and you are wondering how many calories are in every bite, and how anyone possibly eats 1500 calories in a day! But alas, I made it through my mac ‘n cheese.
After lunch we were sent to work on some projects with our psychologists. I will admit that this is not my favourite activity. A bit boring, and the psychologist has an irritating tendency to just repeat everything you say. For example:
Me: I was really upset when Bobby talked back to me.
Psychologist: It sounds like you were really upset when Bobby talked back to you.
Umm yeah…I just said that? Ha, anyway. So that’s pretty annoying.
The other patients and I had the afternoon off so we played a lot of yahtzee (sp?). We were sitting outside because it was a gorgeous day, and then all of a sudden a bird took a shit on my shoulder. It was soo gross! So we had to go inside so I could get changed and cleaned. Eww.
Next was dinner, and then we were all done for the day. It was a good day!
Until tomorrow,
Fierce
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I survived my first day of treatment.
The day was overall pretty good, but I will admit that by the end of the day I was crying in my bed. Lunch was hard. Dinner was harder. And overall the day was overwhelming and a bit stressful.
But I survived. Part of me doesn’t want to recover. But there is another part of me that wonders what it would be like if I gave myself a real chance to beat the eating disorder and live a full, happy life. Something tells me that I can do it. Something tells me that I can live this wonderful, happy life that I dream about. But there is also that eating disorder voice that screams at me that I am so undeserving of happiness and that I will be sentenced to a life of fatness if I permit myself to recover.
My brain hurts. Off to bed now. Tomorrow is day 2.
-Fierce
The day was overall pretty good, but I will admit that by the end of the day I was crying in my bed. Lunch was hard. Dinner was harder. And overall the day was overwhelming and a bit stressful.
But I survived. Part of me doesn’t want to recover. But there is another part of me that wonders what it would be like if I gave myself a real chance to beat the eating disorder and live a full, happy life. Something tells me that I can do it. Something tells me that I can live this wonderful, happy life that I dream about. But there is also that eating disorder voice that screams at me that I am so undeserving of happiness and that I will be sentenced to a life of fatness if I permit myself to recover.
My brain hurts. Off to bed now. Tomorrow is day 2.
-Fierce
The countdown is on.
I had my last fast in the last few days. I’m ready, but not ready. I want it to be Tuesday. I want to get the first day over with. I want to go there and establish myself, and find out what is in store for me.
Maybe I will learn to be genuinely happy. There is a huge flip-flop in my sentiments about treatment. Yesterday I was scared shitless about going. Today I am still scared, but trying to accustom myself to life without an eating disorder. I can’t do this. This is my time. Right?
I have received an overwhelming amount of love and support from people who have found out that I am going to treatment. Between my #EDtwitfam, my friends, and my family, everyone is psyched up and rooting for me. It is a good feeling. I just hope that I don’t fail along the way. I am going to try and keep in mind that this is my journey. I might fail. I might relapse. But this opportunity is mine and I get to decide what I do with it.
Here’s hoping for a healthier, happier future.
-Fierce
I had my last fast in the last few days. I’m ready, but not ready. I want it to be Tuesday. I want to get the first day over with. I want to go there and establish myself, and find out what is in store for me.
Maybe I will learn to be genuinely happy. There is a huge flip-flop in my sentiments about treatment. Yesterday I was scared shitless about going. Today I am still scared, but trying to accustom myself to life without an eating disorder. I can’t do this. This is my time. Right?
I have received an overwhelming amount of love and support from people who have found out that I am going to treatment. Between my #EDtwitfam, my friends, and my family, everyone is psyched up and rooting for me. It is a good feeling. I just hope that I don’t fail along the way. I am going to try and keep in mind that this is my journey. I might fail. I might relapse. But this opportunity is mine and I get to decide what I do with it.
Here’s hoping for a healthier, happier future.
-Fierce
As positive as I am trying to be about recovery, the reality is
that I’m downright depressed about miserable about it. I do not want to
get better. I do not want to get fat. I do not want to relinquish any
control I have over my life. I do not want to eat. I do not want to work
through the shit that has gone on in my life.
When I was going through a binge/purge cycle, I couldn’t wait to get into treatment. I wanted to get in immediately. But as I stopped bingeing and purging, and I started restricting and losing weight, my desire to go to treatment has reduced significantly. Finally, I am being successful. I have lost almost 30lbs. That was hard WORK. It is not easy to lose weight, but I did it. I finally succeeded at something. And now I have to give that up.
Everyone around me is so happy that I am going to treatment. I wish I shared in this joy, but the fact is that I just don’t. I feel like a part of me is dying. I feel like I am about to lose something very valuable. I feel a great sense of loss. I know I have repeatedly said that I hate having an eating disorder, but in moments like right now, I do not want to have any part in recovery.
Ever since I found out that I would be going to treatment I have been veiled in a dark cloak of depression. I am not sleeping, and I am crying all of the time. Thoughts of suicide and self harm have returned with a vengeance. I desperately wanted to cut tonight. Instead I went to the piercing place down the road and got my navel pierced. Thoughts of suicide are constant. I think about the people I love and the people who love me, and I start to believe that they would be better off without me.
I see myself as an irritating nuisance. I only ever talk about my eating disorder. It is boring, bothersome and really a burden on the people who love me.
I do not want to go to treatment. I do not want to become healthy. I do not want to give my eating disorder up god damn it! I want to stay just as I am, and continue losing weight.
Fuck this shit. Just fuck this whole god damn fucking thing.
Fierce
When I was going through a binge/purge cycle, I couldn’t wait to get into treatment. I wanted to get in immediately. But as I stopped bingeing and purging, and I started restricting and losing weight, my desire to go to treatment has reduced significantly. Finally, I am being successful. I have lost almost 30lbs. That was hard WORK. It is not easy to lose weight, but I did it. I finally succeeded at something. And now I have to give that up.
Everyone around me is so happy that I am going to treatment. I wish I shared in this joy, but the fact is that I just don’t. I feel like a part of me is dying. I feel like I am about to lose something very valuable. I feel a great sense of loss. I know I have repeatedly said that I hate having an eating disorder, but in moments like right now, I do not want to have any part in recovery.
Ever since I found out that I would be going to treatment I have been veiled in a dark cloak of depression. I am not sleeping, and I am crying all of the time. Thoughts of suicide and self harm have returned with a vengeance. I desperately wanted to cut tonight. Instead I went to the piercing place down the road and got my navel pierced. Thoughts of suicide are constant. I think about the people I love and the people who love me, and I start to believe that they would be better off without me.
I see myself as an irritating nuisance. I only ever talk about my eating disorder. It is boring, bothersome and really a burden on the people who love me.
I do not want to go to treatment. I do not want to become healthy. I do not want to give my eating disorder up god damn it! I want to stay just as I am, and continue losing weight.
Fuck this shit. Just fuck this whole god damn fucking thing.
Fierce
Okay team, this is it. I’m going to treatment in FOUR DAYS.
Scary business. Yesterday was AWFUL. I don’t think I have ever cried so much. Okay maybe I have. But I haven’t cried like that in a while. I was told I was going to treatment yesterday. So in four days I’ll be walking through the door of the treatment centre and changing my life forever.
I have so so many people fighting for me. I feel beyond blessed to have so much support. I feel strong, stronger than I ever have. I am still scared. I have to go back and face a lot of my demons but this is my time. People finally will be able to get to know the real ME. I won’t be afraid to be me anymore. I want to be set free. God damn it, I am ready.
No more diet pills. No more cutting. No more drugs. No more bingeing. No more purging. No more restricting. No more alcohol. .. .. Okay, maybe there will still be alcohol. But appropriately! No more alcohol for breakfast. No more calorie counting. THINK about all of the possibilities.
I am ready to be free. I am ready to be happy.
Get ready world. Julia is about to be set free.
-Fierce
Scary business. Yesterday was AWFUL. I don’t think I have ever cried so much. Okay maybe I have. But I haven’t cried like that in a while. I was told I was going to treatment yesterday. So in four days I’ll be walking through the door of the treatment centre and changing my life forever.
I have so so many people fighting for me. I feel beyond blessed to have so much support. I feel strong, stronger than I ever have. I am still scared. I have to go back and face a lot of my demons but this is my time. People finally will be able to get to know the real ME. I won’t be afraid to be me anymore. I want to be set free. God damn it, I am ready.
No more diet pills. No more cutting. No more drugs. No more bingeing. No more purging. No more restricting. No more alcohol. .. .. Okay, maybe there will still be alcohol. But appropriately! No more alcohol for breakfast. No more calorie counting. THINK about all of the possibilities.
I am ready to be free. I am ready to be happy.
Get ready world. Julia is about to be set free.
-Fierce
I’m sober.
I thought I’d start this blog posting with that because in so many of my last posts I’ve been either drunk or high. Not this morning though. Nope, this morning I am sober.
Yesterday I was told that I might be entering treatment next week. My time has come I guess. There are two spots opening up at the treatment centre and I am third on the waiting list, so one of those two spots might be mine.
I am terrified. Who am I without an eating disorder? What will I do, or think of, if I am not busy immersed in my eating disorder? Having an eating disorder is truly a fulltime job. I realized as I woke up this morning that I have everything to gain by going to treatment…and while I do have some things to lose I honestly think that I have everything to gain by attempting recovery.
I don’t want to recover. It is scary, and intimidating, and it means giving up the thing that I feel identifies who I am. I don’t want to leave my comfort zone. Nobody asks to have an eating disorder and they truly make eating disordered people miserable, but wow – treatment and recovery are a scary place. I am going to have to truly let go of all of my past hurts and move forward with life. I am going to be happy – truly happy. As weird or stupid as it sounds, I’m scared to be happy. I don’t believe I deserve happiness. I don’t believe that I deserve to recover. I don’t believe I am skinny enough to enter treatment.
But if I remove myself from thinking about ‘the scary’, I acknowledge that there are definitely some pros on recovering.
1) I can continue my master’s degree. I’m currently on a leave of absence (have been such end of February, beginning of March) because I couldn’t do school while being sick with this eating disorder.
2) I can be well for my brother’s wedding next year (the one that I am close to).
3) I can wear anything I want, whenever I want and not care about how my clothes are fitting, or whether everything I am wearing makes me look fat.
4) I can laugh again. Genuinely laugh.
5) I can participate in social outings with my friends or family without feeling like isolating or withdrawing, and joining in on eating what they will be eating.
6) I can stop worrying about my throat when it bleeds from purging. I can stop worrying about ruining my bowels from laxative abuse. I can stop experiencing pain in my muscles from lactic acid buildup or electrolyte imbalances from purging. I can stop having heart palpitations. My heart abnormality may go away and the muscles of my heart may strengthen. I can stop experiencing chest pain and tachycardia. I can stop having a high blood pressure. I can stop feeling dizzy. I can stand up without blacking out. I can stop being a prime candidate to experiencing a heart attack.
7) I can enjoy exercise for the adrenaline and workout as opposed to compulsively exercising for loss of calories.
8) I won’t be married to my scale. The scale will no longer define whether or not I have had a bad day. I will no longer take my worth in a metal contraption.
9) I can have a real relationship with my boyfriend. One where we don’t spend all of our time talking about my illness and how much it upsets him. One where I can feel comfortable being naked. One where he doesn’t tell me he wants me to gain weight. One where we can laugh and play and cry and be okay, without believing that everything that has gone wrong has been my fault.
10) I won’t just be getting my life back, I will actually just be living. Living as opposed to simply alive.
11) I can save money from not buying drugs, alcohol, diet pills, and laxatives.
12) My hair will grow back faster. I have short hair because I donated it to make wigs for children with cancer. Eating and recovery will allow it to grow back faster.
13) I will no longer use cutting as a means to self soothe.
14)
15)
And the list I am sure goes on. I have everything to gain by going to treatment. The first step will actually be walking through the treatment centre doors.
To be continued…
-Fierce
I thought I’d start this blog posting with that because in so many of my last posts I’ve been either drunk or high. Not this morning though. Nope, this morning I am sober.
Yesterday I was told that I might be entering treatment next week. My time has come I guess. There are two spots opening up at the treatment centre and I am third on the waiting list, so one of those two spots might be mine.
I am terrified. Who am I without an eating disorder? What will I do, or think of, if I am not busy immersed in my eating disorder? Having an eating disorder is truly a fulltime job. I realized as I woke up this morning that I have everything to gain by going to treatment…and while I do have some things to lose I honestly think that I have everything to gain by attempting recovery.
I don’t want to recover. It is scary, and intimidating, and it means giving up the thing that I feel identifies who I am. I don’t want to leave my comfort zone. Nobody asks to have an eating disorder and they truly make eating disordered people miserable, but wow – treatment and recovery are a scary place. I am going to have to truly let go of all of my past hurts and move forward with life. I am going to be happy – truly happy. As weird or stupid as it sounds, I’m scared to be happy. I don’t believe I deserve happiness. I don’t believe that I deserve to recover. I don’t believe I am skinny enough to enter treatment.
But if I remove myself from thinking about ‘the scary’, I acknowledge that there are definitely some pros on recovering.
1) I can continue my master’s degree. I’m currently on a leave of absence (have been such end of February, beginning of March) because I couldn’t do school while being sick with this eating disorder.
2) I can be well for my brother’s wedding next year (the one that I am close to).
3) I can wear anything I want, whenever I want and not care about how my clothes are fitting, or whether everything I am wearing makes me look fat.
4) I can laugh again. Genuinely laugh.
5) I can participate in social outings with my friends or family without feeling like isolating or withdrawing, and joining in on eating what they will be eating.
6) I can stop worrying about my throat when it bleeds from purging. I can stop worrying about ruining my bowels from laxative abuse. I can stop experiencing pain in my muscles from lactic acid buildup or electrolyte imbalances from purging. I can stop having heart palpitations. My heart abnormality may go away and the muscles of my heart may strengthen. I can stop experiencing chest pain and tachycardia. I can stop having a high blood pressure. I can stop feeling dizzy. I can stand up without blacking out. I can stop being a prime candidate to experiencing a heart attack.
7) I can enjoy exercise for the adrenaline and workout as opposed to compulsively exercising for loss of calories.
8) I won’t be married to my scale. The scale will no longer define whether or not I have had a bad day. I will no longer take my worth in a metal contraption.
9) I can have a real relationship with my boyfriend. One where we don’t spend all of our time talking about my illness and how much it upsets him. One where I can feel comfortable being naked. One where he doesn’t tell me he wants me to gain weight. One where we can laugh and play and cry and be okay, without believing that everything that has gone wrong has been my fault.
10) I won’t just be getting my life back, I will actually just be living. Living as opposed to simply alive.
11) I can save money from not buying drugs, alcohol, diet pills, and laxatives.
12) My hair will grow back faster. I have short hair because I donated it to make wigs for children with cancer. Eating and recovery will allow it to grow back faster.
13) I will no longer use cutting as a means to self soothe.
14)
15)
And the list I am sure goes on. I have everything to gain by going to treatment. The first step will actually be walking through the treatment centre doors.
To be continued…
-Fierce
My time has almost come to enter treatment.
As I write this blog I am SERIOUSLY drunk. So drunk. I can’t see straight or think straight. I’m just going to write down all my thoughts and hope for the best.
Today I had pre-treatment. Wooh, the room is spinning. I am soo drunk. Anyways, today I had pre-treatment. I found out that next week I might be getting into treatment. I am so scared. I don’t want to do this. I am not even skinny yet. There are two spot opening up in the treatment centre on Tuesday and I am third on the list, meaning, if one of the two people ahead of me refuse treatment, I am going to be called in. I will say yes. I have to say yes. My sister is going through chemotherapy (she has cancer) and if we both made a promise; we would do anything we could to stay healthy. I wish now that I hadn’t made that promise. Stupid promise. I DO NOT DESERVE HELP. I DESERVE TO DIE.
I want to kill myself. Worse, now than ever. I deserve a cruel, painful death. I am disgusting and I am fat. I am not worthy of life. Today I faked crying in group therapy. They totally believed me. I am worthless, disgusting. Who FAKES crying?! Useless fucking piece of vile overweight shit.
Anyways. I am drunk, as I said.
If I have to start treament on Monday, so be it. I start and complete treatment. I move across the country, and then I plan on relapsing. Fuck that, I’m not going to spend the rest of my life being fat. No fucking way. I am setting myself up for failure, I know. But there is no fucking way I am going to let myself recover. Just leave me the fuck alone. LEAVE ME ALONE.
Okay, rant done.
Forever and always striving to be thin,
Fierce
As I write this blog I am SERIOUSLY drunk. So drunk. I can’t see straight or think straight. I’m just going to write down all my thoughts and hope for the best.
Today I had pre-treatment. Wooh, the room is spinning. I am soo drunk. Anyways, today I had pre-treatment. I found out that next week I might be getting into treatment. I am so scared. I don’t want to do this. I am not even skinny yet. There are two spot opening up in the treatment centre on Tuesday and I am third on the list, meaning, if one of the two people ahead of me refuse treatment, I am going to be called in. I will say yes. I have to say yes. My sister is going through chemotherapy (she has cancer) and if we both made a promise; we would do anything we could to stay healthy. I wish now that I hadn’t made that promise. Stupid promise. I DO NOT DESERVE HELP. I DESERVE TO DIE.
I want to kill myself. Worse, now than ever. I deserve a cruel, painful death. I am disgusting and I am fat. I am not worthy of life. Today I faked crying in group therapy. They totally believed me. I am worthless, disgusting. Who FAKES crying?! Useless fucking piece of vile overweight shit.
Anyways. I am drunk, as I said.
If I have to start treament on Monday, so be it. I start and complete treatment. I move across the country, and then I plan on relapsing. Fuck that, I’m not going to spend the rest of my life being fat. No fucking way. I am setting myself up for failure, I know. But there is no fucking way I am going to let myself recover. Just leave me the fuck alone. LEAVE ME ALONE.
Okay, rant done.
Forever and always striving to be thin,
Fierce
Okay so you know how in pre-treatment/readiness we have to write a
journal every week? We aren’t allowed to write how we really feel (i.e.
I am a fat fucking whale who deserves to be harpooned off a coast
somewhere), we have to write from an already recovered voice. So here is
mine:
“Dear Journal,
Can you believe we are in week 4/5 already? Crazy! I’m in a silly mood. Let’s get serious. Last week I had a major meltdown. BUT instead of hitting the shiny red panic button, I talked to God instead. And you want to know what He told me? He said, “Let it go. Let yourself go. It doesn’t matter how you do your hair or how much you weigh. I love you. I am God the Father and I LOVE YOU”. Yup, so there it is. God loves me. The Creator of the whole fricken universe wants me to know I’m loved. Okay cool. So where do we go from here? Plow forward, I say! This week I challenged myself by putting CREAM and SUGAR in my coffee. I also ate at a restaurant. I also didn’t count calories for a day. Baby steps Julia! You’ve got this. One day at a time. Hold your head up high chickie!
-Your inner psyche”
Okay so that is what my social worker is going to read tomorrow. It’s cool. I used to be pretty spiritual. Of course I didn’t actually talk to God. What actually happened is that I was high and thought I was talking to God. It was a cool experience because what I said actually happened, but it was under the influence of drugs. Don’t do drugs and alcohol. Anyways, yes, God. I used to be pretty spiritual and God used to be my rock. I waiver a lot with that. Whether I want Him back in my life or not. More God-talk to come. I’m in touch with a priest right now actually, and we are working through some of my spiritual barriers. Woopah!
Okay so there are my thoughts for the day.
Oh and by the way, just because I ate at a restaurant and had cream and sugar…yeah, it just means that I fasted the rest of the time so I’m still losing weight. Yup, down 27.5lbs since January. Winnning.
Fierce
“Dear Journal,
Can you believe we are in week 4/5 already? Crazy! I’m in a silly mood. Let’s get serious. Last week I had a major meltdown. BUT instead of hitting the shiny red panic button, I talked to God instead. And you want to know what He told me? He said, “Let it go. Let yourself go. It doesn’t matter how you do your hair or how much you weigh. I love you. I am God the Father and I LOVE YOU”. Yup, so there it is. God loves me. The Creator of the whole fricken universe wants me to know I’m loved. Okay cool. So where do we go from here? Plow forward, I say! This week I challenged myself by putting CREAM and SUGAR in my coffee. I also ate at a restaurant. I also didn’t count calories for a day. Baby steps Julia! You’ve got this. One day at a time. Hold your head up high chickie!
-Your inner psyche”
Okay so that is what my social worker is going to read tomorrow. It’s cool. I used to be pretty spiritual. Of course I didn’t actually talk to God. What actually happened is that I was high and thought I was talking to God. It was a cool experience because what I said actually happened, but it was under the influence of drugs. Don’t do drugs and alcohol. Anyways, yes, God. I used to be pretty spiritual and God used to be my rock. I waiver a lot with that. Whether I want Him back in my life or not. More God-talk to come. I’m in touch with a priest right now actually, and we are working through some of my spiritual barriers. Woopah!
Okay so there are my thoughts for the day.
Oh and by the way, just because I ate at a restaurant and had cream and sugar…yeah, it just means that I fasted the rest of the time so I’m still losing weight. Yup, down 27.5lbs since January. Winnning.
Fierce
I love when I’ve been drinking, or when I’ve taken DXM because it
feels like there is a shell around me and I can be alone with my
thoughts.
I have a lot of thoughts today. Yesterday my brother’s (not the one who sexually assaulted me) girlfriend asked me how I was doing with the weekly pre-treatment groups. I decided to be honest with her and told her that things are not moving forward because I don’t want them to. I told her that I don’t know who I am without an eating disorder. I told her that I haven’t really committed myself to getting better.
And then it hit me.
Part of me just doesn’t want to get better. I know people think I look all ghastly and sick like, but I don’t see it. I need to be skinny. I don’t want treatment because I want to be thin. I don’t want treatment because life is actually okay living like I am right now. Of course, tomorrow will come and I might say, “I can’t live like this anymore!”, but today, in this moment, I am happy not eating. I am happy not bingeing. I want to run into a field and twirl around in circles until I fall over and then lie in the sunshine.
I talked with a very good friend (we’ll call her Marianne) about what I should do about my situation with my brother (the one who sexually assaulted me). She very patiently and lovingly talked with me the other day about how complicated everything is and whether or not I should tell my Mom. After thinking about it for a few days, the answer is still the same…no, I won’t tell her. But now I know I have come to this decision because of a well thought out rationale, and not because of a knee-jerk reflex. I won’t tell her. There is no need for her to know and honestly it isn’t up to me to tell her. Marianne and I talked for a long time and she asked a lot of questions and I realized that this isn’t simply about me telling my mom and me healing. Marianne enabled me realize that we are dealing with people’s lives here. My life. My Mom’s life. Both my brother’s lives. My sister in law’s life. My brother’s fiance. My father’s life.
This isn’t me sitting down with my mom and saying, ‘Mom there is something I need to tell you. ——– sexually assaulted me.’ and then her knowing and me moving forward. It is so much more complicated than that. Because even though my brother did these horrible nasty things to me…he is my brother and my family. I don’t want his life to be ruined. What is done is done. I just want to move forward. So I don’t want to take revenge on him and destroy his life. Because when my raging alcoholic father was smashing dishes in the kitchen and pointing broken glass at us, my oldest brother took care of us. He isn’t a horrible person, but he did do horrible things. I’m not excusing his behaviour, but I do have compassion for him. He looked out for us and took care of my other siblings and I.
I’m all over the place again, but I better close this now because it is already pretty long…
…
More to come…
Fierce
I have a lot of thoughts today. Yesterday my brother’s (not the one who sexually assaulted me) girlfriend asked me how I was doing with the weekly pre-treatment groups. I decided to be honest with her and told her that things are not moving forward because I don’t want them to. I told her that I don’t know who I am without an eating disorder. I told her that I haven’t really committed myself to getting better.
And then it hit me.
Part of me just doesn’t want to get better. I know people think I look all ghastly and sick like, but I don’t see it. I need to be skinny. I don’t want treatment because I want to be thin. I don’t want treatment because life is actually okay living like I am right now. Of course, tomorrow will come and I might say, “I can’t live like this anymore!”, but today, in this moment, I am happy not eating. I am happy not bingeing. I want to run into a field and twirl around in circles until I fall over and then lie in the sunshine.
I talked with a very good friend (we’ll call her Marianne) about what I should do about my situation with my brother (the one who sexually assaulted me). She very patiently and lovingly talked with me the other day about how complicated everything is and whether or not I should tell my Mom. After thinking about it for a few days, the answer is still the same…no, I won’t tell her. But now I know I have come to this decision because of a well thought out rationale, and not because of a knee-jerk reflex. I won’t tell her. There is no need for her to know and honestly it isn’t up to me to tell her. Marianne and I talked for a long time and she asked a lot of questions and I realized that this isn’t simply about me telling my mom and me healing. Marianne enabled me realize that we are dealing with people’s lives here. My life. My Mom’s life. Both my brother’s lives. My sister in law’s life. My brother’s fiance. My father’s life.
This isn’t me sitting down with my mom and saying, ‘Mom there is something I need to tell you. ——– sexually assaulted me.’ and then her knowing and me moving forward. It is so much more complicated than that. Because even though my brother did these horrible nasty things to me…he is my brother and my family. I don’t want his life to be ruined. What is done is done. I just want to move forward. So I don’t want to take revenge on him and destroy his life. Because when my raging alcoholic father was smashing dishes in the kitchen and pointing broken glass at us, my oldest brother took care of us. He isn’t a horrible person, but he did do horrible things. I’m not excusing his behaviour, but I do have compassion for him. He looked out for us and took care of my other siblings and I.
I’m all over the place again, but I better close this now because it is already pretty long…
…
More to come…
Fierce
I’m confused as hell and here is why. I am a whale. Seriously, I
am a beached whale I am so so fat. Oh and I’m high. High and fat. But
here is an excerpt of the conversation I had with my sort-of boyfriend
(let’s call him Paul) tonight whilst skyping:
Fierce: yumm
Fierce: you are sexy
Paul: I dont need to be told that
Paul: So are you, though
Paul: I think your weight gain when i saw you that February night had much to do with what happened
Fierce: really?
Paul: Really.. You were too thin when i met you, I really liked you alot but physical attraction wasnt so good… Then i saw you with a healthy weight, i thiught.. Emotional, physical, all there lets do this
Fierce: honestly i had no idea
Fierce: and probably too, when i was at a healthy weight i was more confident…and seriously confidence is sexy
Paul: You really pretty in the face, but healthy weight is very important
Fierce: you’re not going to think im physically attractive atm, i’ve lost a lot of weight
Paul: If there are hips, im good…
If not, well lines have been crossed id accept you just about any way you are at this point
Paul: But id be happy if you gained some weight by then
Fierce: im so lucky to have you in my life. because you are so honest and you dont bullshit things and i love that. And i love that you accept me as i am but that you still have an opinion. Im going to get all whole and healed, you’ll see. we all have our own downfalls and my physical insecurities are mine, but it is a work in progress.
Is he really saying he wants me to gain weight?! I don’t understand how anyone would want to date me. I am so fat as it is, and then for him to want me to gain more?! Sounds bloody ludicrous. He is a sweetheart but WHAT?!
Confused,
Fierce
Fierce: yumm
Fierce: you are sexy
Paul: I dont need to be told that
Paul: So are you, though
Paul: I think your weight gain when i saw you that February night had much to do with what happened
Fierce: really?
Paul: Really.. You were too thin when i met you, I really liked you alot but physical attraction wasnt so good… Then i saw you with a healthy weight, i thiught.. Emotional, physical, all there lets do this
Fierce: honestly i had no idea
Fierce: and probably too, when i was at a healthy weight i was more confident…and seriously confidence is sexy
Paul: You really pretty in the face, but healthy weight is very important
Fierce: you’re not going to think im physically attractive atm, i’ve lost a lot of weight
Paul: If there are hips, im good…
If not, well lines have been crossed id accept you just about any way you are at this point
Paul: But id be happy if you gained some weight by then
Fierce: im so lucky to have you in my life. because you are so honest and you dont bullshit things and i love that. And i love that you accept me as i am but that you still have an opinion. Im going to get all whole and healed, you’ll see.
we all have our own downfalls and my physical insecurities are mine, but it is a work in progress.Is he really saying he wants me to gain weight?! I don’t understand how anyone would want to date me. I am so fat as it is, and then for him to want me to gain more?! Sounds bloody ludicrous. He is a sweetheart but WHAT?!
Confused,
Fierce
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