I don't know what I'm doing

"I can't stop having an eating disorder, so I might as well let myself have one that helps me lose weight."

I have been completely unsuccessful in not binging. My weight is all over the place - I have stopped checking. I need to get myself together. I need to lose weight. I need to start keeping up with my appearance. I need to make time and stop letting myself get so depressed. I need to stop bringing work home with me. I need to stop throwing up meals. 

I need to focus on my list and let the other stressors of life fade away. I need to do the things that make me feel better - no matter what. 

New plans for life:

• Wear makeup on weekdays.
• Keep toes and nails done.
• Keep house clean.
• Get a haircut/dye job as soon as I get my money.
• Stick to my diet of under 1,000 cals per day.
• General Guidelines:
• B - Protein Shake and supplements - 160cals
• L - Crackers & cheese or cheese & melon - 250
• S1 - Healthy Cookie - 100
• D - Meat and veg - 250
• S2 - popcorn, frozen treat - 250
• Work out 3x per week min
• Bed time - 10pm. 
• Wake up - 5:30am.
• Smoke less, binge less, have more sex, don't take benzos, no fast food cheats, save your money, read more, do more art.
• Stop being a stupid fatass. 

I need to buckle down on my self-care. I need to stop coping in old, bad ways. I need to get more in touch with people and things that make me feel good. 

I'm grateful for the things in life that are pushing me harder to do better. I'm grateful for people pushing me to be better and not just think I'm better than them. But I do wish my friends would grow up a bit more. 

I hope this resolve I feel lasts.

Comfortably numb

Today was one of the fog clearing days. The day when I wake up and can't even remember how badly I felt several days before. Still not back to 100%, but not in the level of funk I was prior.

Work is ok right now. Family is ok. And the past 2 days I have eaten like a normal person and not a cow.

That's really all I want in life.

I want to have a better relationship with food. I'm tired of binging and purging and starving and dieting and crying and loathing food. I'm tired of even thinking about it. I think about food SO MUCH in my life, and I'm so fucking sick of it I could die.

I wish human beings didn't have to eat. I wish I never had to eat again. I wish hunger and digestion and all those processes were not present in the human experience. I wish I could pop a pill and get all my nutrition and calories and feel full with no concerns. I would never eat again if that was truly an option.

I think sometimes in my lowest moments I try to convince myself it is, but I know it's not.

My boss today acknowledged that my call-out on Monday was probably my mental health. I acknowledged back. We have a dance. We sing a song. She lets me hide in the shadows just a bit, but not too much. I feel like we support each other in some strange way, but I also know it doesn't run that deep. It just can't. And I don't think I really want it to if I'm honest with myself.

Ok brain stoppage = bedtime.

Good job today, world.

Reasons

I feel tense. On edge. Tired. Restless. 

I want to die all the time. The thought circles through my mind about 100 times an hour. "I want to die." Sometimes the thought is loud - deafening; other times it's soft and gentle and just a small passing whisper. But it's always there.

Persistent depressive disorder; with anxious distress. Bulimia nervosa. Binge eating disorder. Social phobia. Excoration. PTSD. Cyclothymic disorder. 

Like, what don't I have? The DSM is a description of my life. My functioning is poor. My mood is poor.

Normally I will have a reason to be depressed. Lately the entire world has a million reasons to be depressed. But I don't have any significant ones. Is the weight of COVID and the current political temperature of the country what's eating me? Am I unhappy in my job/marriage/family roles?

Maybe.. Maybe it's the stress of all of this. Or maybe I have just never functioned well. Maybe depression is a major issue that I have always had and the reasons are secondary. I'm sure they exacerbate it, but I'm not sure they even cause episodes of it.

It's easy to manage in restaurants - you call out, or see if you can get cut, someone else takes your shift, no one relies on you really, so not one notices or cares if you flake on your job here and there. It's never days upon days in bed - it's just a night here and there where you're sick/tired/busy and don't want to work. You can be unreliable, and no one asks why, because you are guaranteed more reliable than someone else that works there. And if you're not, you go one to a different place with the same issues and the same systems, and you find a place where whatever level you function at is what is expected. You make friends with your manager, and they cover for you. You tell yourself it's just because you hate working in restaurants so much - that's the root of this mood issue. Once you have a "real job" this won't be a problem anymore. That's the "reason."

But then comes graduate school. And you're still flaking. You're missing mandatory classes and emailing professors. Only the "reason" now is the fiance, the homelessness, the drama. Those were valid reasons, but were they really the only concern?

And then into professional gig number one. The "reason" then was pregnancy. The worst pregnancy everyone ever heard of. You poor thing, you're under so much stress - no wonder you can barely function. So, you make friends again with the manager. The same old tricks keep working. And then when the manager is gone and the pregnancy is over, your reason is the population. 

So it's on to professional gig number 2. The reason now? There's adjustment, a high productivity requirement, the world is fucking falling apart. 

But are these issues the things that cause my depression, or and I just fucking depressed and destined to be that way NO MATTER WHAT? How do I truly get this depression under control? I'm tired of it. And lately the more I acknowledge it, the more I feel like it's growing. 

Every breath I take discussing the issue out loud to people makes me feel good in some respects and worse in others. I can't fake it anymore, but I don't know how to treat it. I don't know what works to help it. I just know how to do a lot of things to make it worse. 

I wish I could follow my own advice.

Current efforts:

Stop smoking pot - it makes you feel depressed once you come down; it makes you EAT and get FAT, and even though when you're sober and tell yourself that you can smoke and not eat, you do NOT possess that ability as soon as smoke wisps stab your feeble little brain. You currently do not posses any self-control to limit eating when smoking or limit intensity of smoking once you start, so a period of abstinence is in order. This can be re-visited at a later date. Like in August.

Stop binging - like for real. You need to get this under control more than anything. It's the main thing that contributes to bad physical and mental health for you. You're fat af right now, and you need to just stop that. It doesn't have to get all crazy with restricting or dieting - just stop binging. 

Stop missing work - you cannot afford to get a new job. You already have the manager in your pocket. You're currently valuable but not invaluable. Don't fucking blow this, you idiot. Go to fucking work and do what you need to do and allow yourself to be a miserable fuck on the weekends or late at night. 

Work out more - you don't need more sleep. You need exercise. You enjoy it - you enjoy it while you're working out, you feel good the rest of the day, and if you stop fucking eating so much, it will help your disgusting body to look less disgusting. Just get up early and push yourself a little and stop talking yourself out of it. 

Think thin. It WILL make you feel better. And not much else is these days. 

Nothingness

I had a good stretch. 

I went almost a week with no binges or purges... Tonight I did both. It was an easy one with no concerns or potential spectators. 

I have been extremely emotional lately... On the verge of tears often. I don't know if it's the status of the world, debilitating self-hatred, significant depression, or continued SSRI withdrawals that's causing it. I have been trying to find ways to take care of myself, but I can't seem to find the time for it. I need a day of solitude and sadness, but there is no option for that without consequence. I have a family and job and husband and don't have the option to handle my moods like I once could with a complete breakdown that resulted in a nice bounce-back. These days, even when I have a breakdown, there is still someone who needs something from me, and I must produce. Too many people depend on me. 

 

I am not desperate enough yet to push the concern, but I fantasize about doing so relatively soon. My dream of spending the day in a hotel room sleeping whilst I pretend to go to work has not left me. I would trade anything I have for 24 hours of time to myself and a bottle of wine. I have a grandiose plan in the back recesses of my mind to send myself to a "convention for work" that entails me taking time off and escaping my family for a couple days, but COVID is ruining that for me. 

I'm tired of being depressed. Even if I took the time, it wouldn't fix it for long. And I would be back to this level of frustration maybe even just a few days later. And then what? 

I hate when it's like this over nothing... When I'm depressed with no real reason to be depressed. My job is ok. My relationship is ok. My friendships and finances and other things are all ok. The only major concern is my body, but I don't think I'll ever be ok with that... That concern I have become numb to. It doesn't sting like it used to. 

But there is perpetual depression that I always feel regardless of circumstance. I don't know why I was cursed with such a plight in life, but I wish I wasn't. I am always depressed. Even when things are ok, I am depressed. Even when I am happy, I think, "I could die, and I would be ok with that." Even medication does not alleviate this. 

I have never been afraid of death. I welcome it. I know many people suffer from a fear of death, but I don't think you should fear things that are inevitable - you will only torture yourself. I like to think I will die and there will be something better than this, but even if there is not, I would be ok with that. Even if it were nothingness, I would be content.

Some days I beg the universe for nothingness.

I always thought I would die tragically and before my time. Lately I do not want that, because I know the suffering it would cause for my children and husband. I have more people that would struggle to recover (or may never be able to do so) than I ever anticipated I would have. 

I remember when I was about 12 years old driving by the scene of a terrible car accident. A body was laying on the pavement covered in a white sheet with blood seeping through the fabric over the person's face. I heard later around town that it was a woman in her 30's who lost control of her car. A true accident, but looking back as an adult, I wonder if it was purposeful. As a child, the only thing I truly questioned in that moment is why body sheets are white when it so clearly shows blood, and why they don't use black sheets? The women's child was in the vehicle and survived, but she did not. Her husband was left alone with the baby and no wife in an instant. Years later I would sit in a classroom at community college listening to a guest speaker who was a highway patrol officer say that to see a car accident makes you believe in fate and that we all have a time to die. He said that it takes two people leaving their respective places and getting into their vehicles in such a precisely timed manner that even a second's difference in time determines someone's life or death. I thought of the bloody sheet and felt a nagging in the pit of my stomach. 

I remember in both of those moments thinking ahead to my own life and if I were to die that way. I always imagined it would be something like that - sudden and abrupt and tragic. People would be shocked and dismayed that someone like me could die like that - I seemed so pleasant, and everyone knows pleasant people are supposed to live long lives and die of old age. But, now... I don't think that is my fate. I think I carry too much weight to die in that way. I believe God and the universe and all the forces of the cosmos truly do not give us more than we can handle. And though I think my husband is strong in many ways, I know he is not strong enough for that. I know I will not meet such an end because that would be more than he could handle, and we are tied in the universe in a way that will keep me here with or without my consent.

So, now I have no vision. No image of how I will die or when. But I have a sneaking suspicion that my life will be a long one. And that thought makes me feel the tiniest bit exhausted. 

B&P as usual

5 days of sticking to calories and no issues. Until tonight...

Tonight I'm allowing myself a purge. I didn't do what I consider a big binge, but it was still too much. I need to purge. Timer is running on it.

Work has been tough lately. I feel tired. I feel emotional. I fight back tears a lot and don't make effort where and when I know I should sometimes. It feels like the hours drag by slowly, and I feel guilty for wanting to escape. I guess no matter what kind of work you do or how much you love your job, work is still work.

I've been having a lot of financial issues lately also. I struggle to know what is ok and not ok to spend on. I want to shop my issues away. I want to smoke them away.

I want to smoke every moment, but I can't afford it, I know it makes me eat and depressed in large amounts, and I know I should have clean pee for work. But some days I just want to say FUCK that.

Purge complete. Throat is sore. But it was effortless for the most part. It feels like success.

E is coming to visit soon. I'm thrilled. My best friend is coming to visit. I wish we could drink together. I miss drinking. I wish I had a day alone to drink. I wish I had a day alone for anything. I have not had a quiet day alone in a million years. I would do anything for just a little freedom. I wanted the husband around more, but this shit lately is ridiculous.

Better me

SSRI withdrawals are basically over. Finally. I'm still having moments where I get dizzy or brain zaps, but it's only a couple times a day instead of a couple hundred. I'm at two weeks of side-effects... I don't ever want to go through this again, tbh. It makes me question SSRI use in the future... I didn't have issues with Prozac and would probably take that postpartum if needed, but this shit was a nightmare. I came off all my meds at once this time - SSRI and benzos for anxiety. I also stopped smoking weed like 2-3 days ago, and that was rough... I think it was helping me not to fucking lose in the last two weeks, but I can't risk my career/life over pot... I need to keep my pee clean, and right now I'm not in that category.

I have begun a new weight loss regimen. I was able to go a couple weeks with minimal binging, had a day I basically didn't eat due to stomach concerns (probably also from SSRI withdrawal), and then decided I needed to really hone down on my weight loss.

I have developed the following efforts:

• Stop binging.
• Only weigh in weekly on Mondays.
• Track calories.
• Keep calories under 1,000 per day (I've been averaging 850 daily).
• Eat a minimum of 4x per day timed out 3 hours apart.

Lately it's been an apple and green tea for breakfast, veg and lean meat for lunch, veg and lean meat for dinner, and snacks of fruit, high fiber or protein stuff. I only eat like one carb per day and like no sugar.

I'm hungry as I type this... I drank some water.

I COULD allow myself another 100 cals right now, but I get scared at night to allow myself to eat. I un-do myself at night the most often. That's when the binge monster comes out... I have kept the binge foods out of the house right now aside from a box of honey buns. Those I placed in the pantry so high up I would need a step ladder to get them so that if I have the urge, I have to put in effort that allows me to think about how fat of a cow I am that I would pull it out to climb up and get them. I have zero ability to resist them. I could literally fantasize about them, and I wish I had not bought them, but my kids love them... I think also it's a bit of a test for me to see if I can handle it. I should not be testing myself, but I also kind of want to.

The only thing I have been less successful with is exercise right now... I'm finding it hard to get up in the morning and accomplish that or really push myself to do it. I think I have been a little sick, but I know it's something I need to get in there sooner rather than later.

I don't want to look like Gin. She is doing Keto and looks strangely deflated because of her weightloss being just from food and not working out. I think it's a terrible look, and I don't want to follow suit. A lot of people I know who are doing Keto look deflated.

I decided that after I lose 10lbs I am going to allow myself a cheat meal on a Monday evening. Then I at least can put that thought in my head when I feel like I REALLY want to eat a meal. Eating only about 200-300 calories in a sitting does not feel satisfying, but feeling unsatisfied is going to happen regardless - either physically or emotionally, and I prefer the physical at this time. I'm so TIRED of being fat I could kill myself.

I had a moment this weekend where I realized I don't want to be that girl that when people see old photos can't believe how good she looked and get a wave of pity that washes over them for her. I want to STAY hot, not just have been that way in the past. Like my mom. She was one of those hot women who let having kids ruin her beauty. Then the outer beauty fading became the inner beauty fading, and I don't think she ever got it back. She hates her life and body and is miserable, and I do not want to feel that way. I've felt that way for like 2 years now, but I am not going to stay like this.

I feel like I'm adjusting to work recently. It's been hard, and there have been a lot of adjustments. I have called out a lot, and I KNOW the only reason it's ok is because my boss protects me. She and I have a strange friendship where I feel like she kind of idolizes me... It feels like high school. And I have used it to my advantage and do not intend to let it slip away. But I need a stretch of not calling out for a few months before someone else notices who outranks her and I get fired.

I need my mental and physical health to improve and to stop fucking whining about it in the interim.

I got a laptop to journal

I feel inadequate. I feel like I'm failing. I feel like there is an insane amount of pressure on me to be ok right now, but I'm not ok. Not even a little. Not at all. I'm all over the place. I'm not adjusting to the new world that I live in quickly enough. I talk about myself too much. I do too much and in the wrong direction.

I've said those word before here.

I want to function better, and I of all people should know how to achieve that.

I stopped my meds. The Vybriid was not helping and it was making me fat. Legit fat. I felt hungry every second of the day and gained about ten pounds in a month. I tapered for a week and stopped, and now I feel like garbage. I've been having SSRI withdrawals like a motherfucker for like 5 days now. I can feel improvement with it, but holy shit it was bad a couple days ago.

I haven't binged in about a week, and that is insanely good progress for me at this point. I have been trying just to accomplish that and nothing more. Just don't binge. It is easy at this moment, and I hope it will stay that way.

I felt like shit today. I ate breakfast, but then not lunch and threw up dinner. Partly because I felt ill and partly just because I had a rough day and let myself. I have been good with not purging lately, but I gave myself permission today. I wonder when in my life I'll stop throwing up my food when I'm stressed out.

Will I ever?

I remember being a kid and watching a made for TV movie about a bulimic rich housewife. I vividly recall a scene where she gets a blueberry pie out of her fridge and there, with the fridge door open, binges on the pie. She makes her hand into a scoop and proceeds to shove it in as fast as she can. That was one of the first moments in my life that I had awareness of what bulimia was. I don't recall my emotional reaction to it, but I remember thinking it was sad that someone that age would not have a better way to manage. To still be going back to Mia for comfort as a grown-ass woman and not a 20-something or teen seems desperate. It seems lame and sad and pathetic.

I feel like I am on the cusp of being here in life. I can relate. I know the appeal of eating in front of the fridge hidden from others and then purging it all up in secrecy too. It's a completely isolated moment in a world that feels like everyone is looking at you or to your for something. It's like being on your own planet. It's not meant to be shared or understood.

The dysfunctional way to manage feelings of desperation are to give in to them. Mia feeds desperation with the regurgitate food of her victims.

I like being alone. I long for it sometimes. But the moments I have where I am are so few these days. The whole world is isolated from one another right now, but my world has become more populated. And everyone is acting badly. I had a moment where I longed so deeply for a day to myself. A day where I didn't have to talk to a single person. Just one day is all I really want, but I would be completely happy if it were more than that. But my world stops working if I don't talk.

I always have to talk. And often I do it too much. I fill empty silences. I ramble. I catch myself talking about myself too much, but I can't stop doing it. I am not even discussing a real thing sometimes but I can't seem to shut my goddamn mouth in those moments. I hate it.

I hate myself. Always historically. but it's especially true right now.

I need to do better.