Puberty Round 2

Recovery is so hard. My BDD and ED thoughts are so ingrained. I decided this year to take the plunge. The plunge being MinnieMaude’s Guidelines for eating disorders. It’s taking me so long to get into this because it is so counterintuitive. The protocol seems gluttonous and lazy. You’d think this would be easy! Gluttony and laziness sounds awesome! Couch. Cookies. Stretchy Pants. YES! A thousand times YES!! But no.

I don’t have a problem eating mountains of buttery broccoli, brussel sprouts, nuts, full fat coconut milk, chicken, beef. Bring it. Zero guilt. I don’t care about the calories aside from hitting my daily minimum. But rice or quinoa? Anything more than ¾ cups every few days and I feel anxious. A cookie or piece of bread requires an inner monologue and most the time I end up deciding that I can just do without. Starchy foods like potatoes, rice, or quinoa are in the gray area, to be eaten sparingly. Cookies and bread are “bad” and to be avoided.

I hadn’t really considered this to be disordered. I just think, “I eat healthy. What’s the big deal? Isn’t this how I should be eating?” And, if I’m being honest (which is what this blog is all about) I still think this. I’m trying to change my thinking. I’m trying to eat with my will. I want to be able to have a cookie and enjoy it with no monologues and guilt. I don’t know how yet, and I’m realizing that avoiding these “bad” foods is not helping me to fully recover. I’m still holding onto this safety net of “good” and “bad” so that I’ll know my boundaries. I am relying on rules to eat, like I have been since I got myself into this mess of ED.

I suppose the “bad” foods are trigger foods. They are the foods that always led into a binge. The ones that make me feel out of control.  I don’t know how to see one cookie as one cookie. I think it will lead to an entire box and snowball into pizza and more cookies. Of course, I also associate these foods with being flabby. I think that if I eat healthy foods than I will be less big and less flabby than if I eat “unhealthy” or “bad” foods.

My waist it at its biggest right now and I’m afraid of expanding even more. When I think of what I’d like to have for lunch I am aware of my muffin top and go for the broccoli, rice or “gray area” foods are out of the question. When I think back on my week I feel like a slothy walrus because I haven’t been exercising. My default brain setting are set to, “Eat healthier and exercise.” Minniemaud says, no. And so I’m antsy and fidgeting. My mind races a million miles an hour bouncing back and forth between my default setting and these guidelines, and am I doing the Right Thing?

I do know that what I’ve been doing isn’t quite right and I’m desperate for recovery. I want so badly to be healthy so I’ll try anything even if it means getting bigger right now. I’m having the hardest time accepting my size. And a big part of me is still doing this to lose weight eventually. I want both. I want health and I want smooth curves (as opposes to lumps and rolls). I’m trying but it’s like puberty all over again. My body is changing and I’m confused and uncomfortable, and my clothes aren’t helping. 


I hate everything!

It’s been 9 months of recovery. It’s been difficult but I’ve managed. I’ve kept my eyes on the prize. Health. That’s all I wanted. When I saw health, my prize that I’m working so hard towards, I didn’t see a fat frowny faced girl but a lean and fit girl with glowing skin and a light in her eyes.  When I look in the mirror I see a fat frowny faced girl and lately I just want to cut myself off from the world so I can cry and exercise and restrict and count until the numbers are back into my comfort zone. Until my jeans fit and arms don’t do the doubley wave. When that happens everything will be okay.

My moms birthday was Wednesday. I stayed after and talked with her. That was a mistake. I told her about my eating disorder. It started at 20 and I will be 28 in just a few weeks. She was sad for me but at the end of the day she thinks that I am so smart and I have the will to get through anything. Thanks for the support. She doesn’t seem to think it’s real, like it’s just a phase.

I asked her about when she used to through up. She said she couldn’t even guess at how long she did it. She said that she stopped when she was in a good relationship. 18 years she’s been with him. “Was it hard? Were you always trying to stop? Did you promise yourself every time it was the last time?” Questions out of curiosity and frustration. How can she just not remember? How can she act like it was some arbitrary thing she did and doesn’t do anymore. She finally said that she knows were I’m going through. She’s full of shit.

My cousins wedding last month threw a chink in my recovery armor and now my brain is melting and my eyes are leaking. I broke down and bought a scale today. I had to know. And now I know. 168 pounds. I’ve gained over 30 pounds. How am I going to lose all this?! This is why I never gave “recovery” any real effort! My worst fears have come true.

All I can think about is how I’m gonna lose this. It’s been on my mind since the wedding in July. I bought a scale because I have to do something about this. I have to know where my body is at. I’ve been racking my brain but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to lose weight for my body anymore. I think I’ve been eating somewhere between 1500-1800 calories, so eating less only means starvation. So…eat more? This is weird.

I’m so confused. I don’t want to be fat. I don’t want to have an active eating disorder. I need to do something but I don’t know what. If I keep on going the way I have…how much bigger will I get? I’m scared.  I can’t get any bigger. Any bigger and I will be shopping in the plus sized section. I want to hide from the world and exercise and restrict until I’m not fat anymore.

ED was a different kind of misery and I refuse to go back, especially after 9 months and 40 pounds of effort I put into this. I don’t know how exactly I’m going to do it, but damnit I will lose this weight and I will be healthy.


I need a hug.

Earlier today I thought, “Wow, I’m doing really well. I feel good.” For the past two weeks I haven’t been counting calories, just eating as I usually do and snacking when I’m hungry. I’ve also been doing yoga twice a week in a class that challenges me just the right amount. I’ve even been sore, which I love.  Cut to after my midday shower (it’s the weekend-don’t judge!) where I got proverbially bitch-slapped by my clothes. Have I gotten bigger? WTF?

My body is so confusing now that I’ve tampered with it throughout my ED driven years. It’s just not a matter of simple math anymore now, is it? It’s not like I can just eat healthy and exercise moderately and my body will shed those unwanted pounds.

I’m so impatient. I’m like violet from Willy Wonka, “I WANT IT NOW!” I feel like I’ve put in the time and now I should be seeing the benefits. Except, I haven’t really put in the time. The last binge/purge happened 6ish months ago but my intake was and sometimes may still be where a dieters is. There have been nights where I’ve drank too much, how much damage has that done? And am I see the benefits? Yes, I am. I’m not the same as I was 6 months ago. My mood is generally better. I have more energy to do things, and am less and less anxious about it. I doubt anybody can see a change in my body size-larger or smaller.

There is a general improvement since really putting effort into recovery but all that shit is out the window when I wiggle into some pants and my chub is spilling over the waist. I want to restrict to 1200 calories a day. “That’s healthy, right?” I think to myself, “I’ve been overeating, really. I mean I’m short, I don’t really need 1700-1900 calories. No wonder my pants are tight!”

Lucky for me I have a lifeline. The wifey texts me through all the shit. Sometimes just texting it out, I can already count the ways she is going to tell me I’m being absurd.

When my clothes don’t fit I need to find something that does and move on. My body size isn’t important, my health is. That’s ED talking. I’m working towards being healthy. I have to tell myself these types of things constantly because it’s not where my mind goes off the bat. It’s only been 6 months, it is good but it takes longer to heal me (3 years they say). I can’t wait for the day when my mind goes to healthy right away and I don’t have to talk myself off the ED/self-hating ledge.

I can’t wait for the day where my mind doesn’t even bother because my body is already there. 

Somebody prescribe me some Xanax

There is something you guys don’t know about me. I’m a thug. At least that is what it looked like last month when I got pulled over for speeding, expired registration and tinted windows. Truth be told, I was speeding but so where all of the 10 cars around me! I was just going with the flow of traffic. And my tags are up to date. I had to get a smog check this year and with the sickness and all the OT I ended up getting it done on the last day possible and so my tags were in the mail. And I was hung over. It was a shitty morning.

Another 10 foot wave happened in the work flow and I put in 29 hours of OT. Exhaustion. I looked at my ticket after the wave. I hadn’t gotten anything in the mail and it had been 3 weeks. Three days had gone by since the court date, I read the back of the ticket and freaked. the. fuck. out. Did missing the court date mean that there was now a warrant out for my arrest? I was a delinquent? ME? I really am a thug.

It was like the floor fell away beneath me. So I did what any thug would do, I called my mom. I wanted her to tell me to calm down. The court date is no big deal, I just missed my opportunity to fight against the ticket, and that I will get something in the mail that would advise me on how to handle the ticket. She didn’t. I believe her words were, “Oh. Shit.” So I stepped up the freak out a couple notches and tried to convince myself that it will be okay. That I can take care of this and everything will be fine. Except for my bank out. My bank account was sure to be in a state of sad, sad sadness.

My heart was beating out of my chest and I started crying (like a thug). I felt out of control and lost. I made a pitstop for a pack of cigarettes and chain smoked two while I feverishly read all I could on my current situation. I read up and came to the consensus that I’ll probably be okay. That date is not mandatory for people in my situation. The cigarettes helped me to numb my feelings and be somewhat rational. I was texting the wifey and she told me what I had wanted my mom to tell me.

I still felt numb. I poured a glass of wine and ate dinner. The glass of wine took me over an hour to drink because I started painting after I ate. Do you know what is missing? A binge and purge. The initial ticket didn’t send me into a tailspin but surely this episode was. It’s happened in the past. Last time, I got shit faced in Vegas and lost my iPhone. Tailspin. 

I call this progress. The last time I was doing well in terms of bulimia, but I was severely restricting. Not this time. Thanks to eating quality foods my brain chemistry is much more stable. Bingeing and purging was only a passing thought that was quickly dismissed. I didn’t want to eat or throw up. With the thought came the feeling of the NomVom aftermath the spiral of misery what would suck me in and none of it seemed the least bit desirable. Dismissed. 

I had planned on going out to Burbank for the weekend and see my friend while I was near. I would be lying if I said I didn’t think of how it would affect me for the weekend. I thought of how I didn’t want my friend to see my face all puffed up. I thought of how I didn’t want Burbank to see my body so bloated. My vanity worked in my best interest in this case.

I’m better-improved-but there is still so much that needs improvement. I’m still having a hard time with keeping my calories high. Well, to me they are high. I eat between 1400 and 1800. Apparently, this is in the dieting zone, not the normal one. I thought I was in the normal zone! I’m 5’3″ and I sit at a desk all day! I’m lazy! Sure, I do zwow about 3 times a week, that is what? 45 minutes of exercise a week? Pathetic.  I’m terrified of eating more than I am. I already feel big and fat. I’m afraid that eating 1800 to 2000 calories everyday will make me a Goodyear blimp. 

I gave up coffee for Lent. For what? I’m not religious. I do it to prove to myself that I can. I gobbled up all the chocolate in the office for the first two weeks. The next two I took up to putting creamer in my Chai Tea and snacking on peanuts. I feel like I’m missing something. I want my coffee back.

I’m going to raise my calorie intake. And I’m not happy about it.

The storm has passed.

This past week…I feel like I just survived a storm. We got this rush project that was very large and it landed on my desk. I put in 11 and a half hours of OT! YAY! That’s a lot of extra dollars you guys! I’m generally happy about OT because I’m a money grubber. This week I was unhappily happy. Money kept me going. I have a lot of determination. 

Grumblecake reason #1: My cousin asked me to do a collage for her engagement party and I said yes. She asked two weeks prior but that doesn’t matter because Procrastinating is my shit! I procrastinated the fuck out of that collage! I mentally set aside the 2 days before the party to get that collage handled. And then work ambushed on those two days with Extra Dollars Potential. What to do? What to do!? 

Make money. Make money money money. Kinda.

Grumblecake reason #2: I was sick. Remember last entry I was all McWhinerton? Yup. I would have stayed home if it weren’t for that project. And then there is the stress of being under the gun times two. It was heavy y’all. I meant to work in the morning and party-engagement style-at night but I woke up with that “I HATE EVERYTHING” feeling but lower cased and whiney because I just burrowed further into my bed. I managed to get up and get dressed for the party. I would have rather stayed home wearing sweatpants and a pouty face with a thermometer hanging out of my mouth like buckwheat for effect.

I managed to get the collage done and the project for work in the nick of time. (“Nick of time?” Where does that come from?! What does that even mean!?) After that stupid project was turned in I went home and slept for 14 hours straight. And then I woke up this morning and it was the last day to get my car smogged. Stupid DMV. My car passed. All is well.

I finally feel like I can breathe again. Bacteria pills seem to be helping the shituation. I think I’m over the sickness. The project and collage are done. My car is smogged. I can breathe.

But there is still one problem. I’m fat. I am pretty sure I gained weight when upping the intake. I want to cut it back down again where I was comfortable but I’ll keep on. It would make this so much easier if I wasn’t seeing Burbank this weekend. All “Hey, I’m a fat fuck. You like?” and he’s gonna be all *poochie face* “Eh,” but on the inside because he’s too nice to call me a Fat Fuck to my fat face.  But there is nothing that I can do about this. Even if I exercised and starved I’m still not gonna lose 15 pounds in 2 days. So…it is what it is. I’m trying to remind myself of the big picture but I keep looking at the mirror and thinking “damn I’m big.”

In the past 2 weeks my apartment has gotten messy and I have to go clean it. And I need to exercise so I’m not as weeblesque.

And the world keeps turning

My body is infuriating. My period is 16 days late (best test ever to fail: pregnancy test). I was full of shit for about 2 weeks. I gained weight. Acne is taking over my face. Rashes are happening all over my body. Fever blisters are bubbling up on my lip. It’s all embarrassing and awful. I want to stay in bed and cry until it’s all over; until my body calms the fuck down and starts functioning like a healthy human body. I want the world to stop until I’m healthy.

I’m trying so hard. Am I doing everything wrong? I have no idea. All I want to do is cry. All I can do is try. I won’t give up. Giving up will make everything worse.

I’m upping my intake which I think might help the lack of period situation. And boost my metabolism which will help with all muffin that is going on in my top. And thunder that’s raging in my thighs. And bulgy that’s going on in my hips. I’m starting to take probiotics and L-Glutamine which, so far, are improving my shituation. I’m also hoping this will improve my acne as long as I keep my diet clear of gluten, dairy and…alcohol. Eating more may also help the rashes. From getting more fat? I’m guessing/hoping. I have no idea. The fever blisters…are a matter of time. I just keep my lip slathered with carmex and abreva.

Time. My cousins engagement party is this saturday. And I’m gonna have grossness on my lip all front and center and look at me! So embarrassing. This party also makes it difficult to increase my intake because I’ve been drilling “less calories is better” into my head since forever. I’m afraid that I’ll gained 20 lbs by the time of the party. 


Massa Recovery! I am your Grasshopper.

Along with eating more calories. Which I am still struggling with. I don’t even want to count my calories today cuz I’m pretty sure they will not be sufficient. Since this ED weaseled it’s way into my life eventually taking over I have become more and more secluded. Which is saying something since I have never been Ms. Popular Butterfly. Things began to change last year and now it seems they are gaining momentum.

ED definitely makes for a moody brood (and moody cocks too but that’s another story). I’ve noticed that my moods are way better these days, more stable. It makes it easier to socialize even when I’m not feeling super social it’s way easier to fake it now a days. I’m communicating more with my friends and family and, naturally, this leads to “let’s get together!” It’s also easier to not eat shitty foods because of my skin but I’m still a lush. Cheers! 

Speaking of Cheers and socializing. I was butterflying on New Years Eve and I met a guy. We’ve been texting since and the occasional phone call. He is suppose to come out on Saturday. And then he text and said his friends were getting together on Sunday and would I look to come too. So now we’re basically spending the weekend together. I guess. I don’t know if Sunday is in lieu of Saturday. I hope not but you know I over think and try and think of all the possibilities! Ever. In the world. I’m actually looking forward to hanging out with him and seeing how things go.

But then…not. My body is a mess. I have “eliminated” in a week and a half. I’m full of shit. And I’m 10 days late on my period. There is a small chance. I’m hoping that it’ll show up during the weekend. The wifey poses the possibility of my calorie intake not being sufficient and that is what is throwing things off. Let us hope. And pray. And do rain dances and shit cuz HOLY HELL. And the worst part about all this shituation is-oh wait…is not actually the worst part. Whatever! The problem is my fatness! I’m bloated as fuck! My belly protrudes like I’m 10 and a half months pregnant with shit baby! And the rest of me is complying with chub and bloat.

I know it’s not the worst part. Not really. My weight shouldn’t matter. My ED addled mind is screaming! RESTRIIIIIIICT!!! EXERCIIIIIIIISE!!! And then there is recovery, logical, stern and calm. Recovery is in it for the long run. It sees the big picture. ED means being alone. ED smothers me into solitude. If I want the life that I want (with people in it!) then I’m going to have to suck it up and focus on being healthy. I’m going to have to try and get past the fact that I’m big and soft and try to look the best that I can get big and soft to look. And then forget about it and be thereThere as in, “in the moment.” (I listen and retain Wifey!)

Things are going well over all. I feel like I’m on the right track. My cousin is moving to Oklahoma to be with a guy. She feels stuck and needs a change and this man is offering her what she wants, and so she’s taking a chance. I’m happy for her. I was reflecting on our conversation later on while I was arts and crafting it up in my apartment and I thought again how I’m good. Sure, I wish I had more friends and I wish my body weren’t so fucked up and more money would be nice! But I’m so grateful for what I do have. My apartment. My relationships with family and friends. My relationship with my MOM (she drove me fucking insane before I moved out). My job. When I was caught up in ED these parts of my life were just…there, ignored and collecting proverbial dust. Now all these aspects in my life are improving and I attribute this to the lack of ED clogging up my brain space. Just imagine when ED is gone! GONE! GAAAAAWWNE!!!!!!

Resolution Parlay

I’m bulimic, right? So, I am all too familiar with “too many calories.” I feared recovery because of my appetite. I was afraid that I would become a fat hippo like I was before I got obsessed with dieting (which led to full blown bulimia). I got to the point where I couldn’t go more than a day sans vom. And “feeling full” was sounding more and more like something of fairy tales.

Last year my new years resolution was to work on getting healthy. Obviously, getting rid of my ED was the largest part of that. This year the resolution is the same only this year is a bit different. This year I have momentum. I survived the hardest part of the year-the holidays. Getting through those obstacles gives me hope. I even had pie (PIE!) and it didn’t derail me! 

That’s not to say I’m invincible. I’m still scared. Terrified. But hopeful.

Lately my problem is not eating enough. The mirror and my muffin top taunt me and fuck with my head. And, of course, the damage that ed has done to me-constipation. I feel fat and huge. I’m eating what feels like a lot of food and my calories are in this weird middle ground of too low for recovery and too high to be ED acceptable. Eating more feels like a chore. I’m stuffed and I’ve had 1334 calories.

How is this my problem?! Not too long ago I was consuming thousands in a sitting! No exaggeration. Granted, I probably digested only a fraction but good lawrd could I pack it in! These days I’m grumbling my ass to the kitchen for seconds after determining that my calorie intake is insufficient. It’s weird to be complaining about eating more.

I eat out of fear and hope. Hopeful for a better life. And I fear what restricting calories does. I hate feeling ravenous and insatiable and eating everything and then regretting it and vomming. That’s what gets me to eat more food. I can’t be the me that I want to be with ED. The holidays gave me a taste of better and I’m hungry for more.

Last year I also made moving out a resolution. Nailed it. This year I’m working on continuing to decorate. After getting a bonus I went a little nuts and bought a lot of things for my apartment (and some other indulgences). It felt good. Well…until I saw my credit card balance. But you know what? Fuck it. It feels good to come home to a place that is decorated. It feels comfortable. It feels…right.

My cousins came over and had lots of nice things to say about it. Of course, I feared the worst. I feared critical eyes and judgement. There was none of that. I’m so self conscious that I analyze the shit out of comments trying to find the hidden judgement. I couldn’t find it. And upon further thought I realized, I like my apartment. I like the things that I chose for it, it’s me and I’m proud of it.

Surviving the Holidays

Remember Thanksgiving when I opted out on all the goodies? Not so with Christmas. Not so. My aunt makes homemade apple pie! And homemade pumpkin pie! And my little cousin made cookies. Yup. Delicious. That pie was straight of the oven you guys! Warm! YES! I had a slice of each and ate a cookie for good sugar high measure. I considered puking it. Mostly because I can and so why not save myself the calories and sugar? Because it’s not healthy that’s why! Because I feel guilty and like shit when I puke! Because I’ve NOT been puking. Because one episode could result in catastrophe.

And so, I did not puke. Please applause for me. Thank you! I’m amazing.

But it’s not just Christmas, is it? That’s the holiday but it is a full month and a half of festivities and stress. So much stress. Stress of buying christmas gifts, food, dressing up, tolerating certain family members, social anxieties and did I mention buying christmas gifts? My mom and I had margaritas to celebrate the OVERness of Christmas because we stress the fuck out trying to find the right gifts for people. And we both wait until the last minute so that we can really feel the pressure of the Christmas deadline. That’s right, raising the stakes! So in the 3 days that I stressed over getting 6 people gifts I wanted to drown my sorrows away in a bottle of wine in lieu of dinner. I didn’t. I’m afraid to drink by myself. Alcoholism. It’s a slippery slope.

There is also tamale day. I passed with flying colors! Granted I was flying drunk but really I think I get all the more credit for not Nomming Out while I’m boozing. And there was the Christmas Luncheon at PF Changs for the office. Flying colors. It is getting easier for me to pass on the junk. The paleo-ish diet that I follow suits me well. It keeps me satiated. Satiated. This word was nonexistent last year before I started it. On Paleo I feel sane. I can eat and be done eating. UNHEARD OF RIGHT?!

I eat pretty much the same things all the time. When I’m eating like this my face is pretty clear and I sleep at night. I’ve learned that gluten, dairy, and alcohol = pimples. And lots of carbs and sugar = up all night peeing. It sucks but it actually works in my favor. Because I’m vain. And I like to sleep at night. And toilet paper can get expensive. Knowing this makes it easier to pass on the junk. It’s no longer “that’ll make me fat,” it’s confusing to think this way. There are so many conflicting diets and trying to recover from ED and the whole food thing is a confusing and frustrating. Now I think of food in terms of my face and it makes it easier to say no when there are pimples and redness on the line.

Except with alcohol. Slippery Slope.

The fact that alcohol fucks with my insulin issues (Dr. Google & Wifey) and also causes redness and little pimples is The Worst because I FUCKING LOVE IT. Tipsy Times are Good Times. And Good TImes eases stress. So, in other words, it’s practically medicinal. It helps with my social anxieties, shyness and it makes me Happy Pants. And the Tipsy Times are gonna keep on coming. I have Tipsy Time Events happening like every weekend for the next month or so. It’s medicinal. 2013 is going to be a healthy year.

It is sort of daunting. I still feel the pressure of ED. Mother fucking muffin tops get me down. I want to lose weight. I try to forget that alcohol has calories and focus on the fun but it’s still there in the background like a creepy stalker person lurking on the outskirts. I keep trying to stay focused on being healthy and let that weigh in heavily on my decision making. This shit is hard but my mind is a much easier place to be now compared to when I’m caught up in the NomVom cloud.

These efforty efforts are so efforty!

Fixing the ED addled body is the hardest job in the world. IN THE WORLD. It’s harder than a rubix cube. It’s harder than finding Waldo. And it takes longer than a day. (I have a problem with this in particular.) Apparently it takes about 1,095 days for the body to recover. And that’s a ballpark figure. There is all kinds of plusses and minuses on those days. Climbing Everest would be easier than this. Ordering pizza and b/ping the entire thing would be a lot easier than this. But you know who is up for the challenge? This girl. The fixy challenge, i’ve conquered the pizza more times than I’d like to admit.


I’m putting so much effort into getting healthy. Except seeing doctors because I’m too cheap and I don’t want to step on a scale. I think a scale may send me downward on an Emotional ED Spiral and in the fast lane cuz I’m a veteran. Dr. Google and me. I’m a doctor. That’s right. I have a doctorates in the studies of I’m Rightism, it takes a special kind of person to achieve this achievement. I’m thpeshal.


I am amazed at all the self inflicted damage that has been happening to my body. And it’s only half ignorant. I knew shit was going down, maybe, I just didn’t want to believe it. I’m astonished at how “it won’t happen to me” happened to me. And now I’m trying to climb out of this hole I’ve dug. I can’t even say with certainty that I won’t slip, that I won’t spiral. The minute I think I can say I’m probably a step away from the fall. I say that because that’s what has happened. I’ve had lots of streaks of “healthy” over the years and then I fall back to one.


Sometimes it feels like these streaks are trickery, a false victory meant give the illusion of control and build confidence that I can beat this. And then I think, “Well, I can dabble. Just this once. I already know I’m over it. I can control it. Just this once…” BAM! Face plant. As much as I am proud of all the minutes in a row that I put into recovering, I am equally scared of it.


I feel different about it this time. Although I want to binge and purge sometimes, I don’t feel like I’m teetering on the edge like I have in the past. A lot of this has to do with living on my own. When I lived with my mom it was different. She could through a wrench in my routine at anytime. It felt claustrophobic living with my mom. When I have a rough day now I have my own space. I have solitude. I have routine. I have only healthy food. No naughty temptations taunting me. Nothing to send me flying over the handle (i.e. surprise temptations, surprise guests…surprises).


It’s still very frustrating that I’m in the early stages of recovery. Bulimia is all about instant gratification followed immediately with [somewhat relievey] punishment. But this, this recovery thing is all about slow and steady and barrel rolling. Cuz y’know if you try to get out of the barrel roll too soon it fucks up the show and you have to jump off the train all over again. Or something. FUCK TRAIN JUMPING! LET’S BARREL ROLL Y’ALL! YES!! I digress. The time it takes to recover can be maddening, I am constantly reminding myself of the horrors of ED, to frighten, to humble.


It makes me want to cry what I’ve done to myself. All the damage that needs to be fixed is so uncomfortable and overwhelming. Everyday I am questioning and grasping for answers. “Dr. Google what is happening?” “Dr. Google how can I fix this?” What? Walk like an Egyptian and rub an avocado on my elbow facing East? Seems legit.

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