Thursday, January 27, 2011


Today I told my boyfriend that I wished we could live together.

He said that yea, it could happen. Granted, this is no means concrete. We're both looking for work now, and I'm (hopefully) going to school in the fall, but don't know where yet. He even said he'd be willing to go with me to San Diego if I ended up there. (SD is two hours south of us in LA.) I'm a happy girl today.

For once, the numbers on the scale at the end of the night don't mean as much.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011


Today, I drank milk for the first time, in what is probably years.

Growing up, I'd come home from swim lessons during the summer and drink half gallons in one sitting – I loved it so much. Now, I live with the sorry excuse of almond milk, which I don't even like. This afternoon, I poured myself half a teacup. I'm not sure why I felt so daring. After I drank a couple mouthfuls, I poured the rest down the drain. I didn't know whether I should kill myself or pat myself on the back. I walked to and fro from the kitchen to the bathroom about ten times, holding my head in my hand and pondering whether or not I should purge for the fourth time today or try and keep it down.

Well, I kept it down and I didn't end up killing myself over it. I guess I will try and pat myself on the back instead.

Sunday, January 16, 2011


I drove home from my boyfriend's house last night in tears.

And it had nothing to do with my boyfriend or my day. We had a pretty good day and things went as usual. But for some reason when I was driving home, I felt it. I felt the too-much-fat everywhere. I'm not sure if it's because I delayed my fourth dose of meds of the day for a couple of hours or because the idea of food was invading my thoughts at 2 AM.

I felt something like a mixed episode coming on (which is super rare these days), and drove recklessly home to binge, cut, purge, and over-medicate. I kept wondering, "Is this all it takes?" Do I only have to forget my meds for something like three hours to begin to lose my sanity?

If that's the case, helllooooo old me.

Friday, January 7, 2011

A pretty good, thorough, and empathetic look at bipolar disorder:

Wednesday, January 5, 2011


I'm depressed.

Yea, okay, I know you know that. But this time I'm actually depressed! But depressed, to me, usually means feeling like my soul is being sucked into a hellhole of torture, followed by major bingeing and purging, and cutting, and drug abusing, and etc. So, generally I have mixed episodes where yes, I am depressed, but I also feel like i could bash my head in. Actually, one time I did try to bash my head into a concrete wall. Thankfully, my ex-bf prevented me.

This past week or so I've been thinking how the current cocktail of meds seem to be particularly effective. Usually my two weeks of PMSing are two weeks of madness. Three months ago, I was arrested. Two months ago, I ended up in the hospital. Since then, when the PMS gets me down, I find myself laying in bed quietly. It's like the kind of depression they write about in books. What?!? I don't know if I should have be glad or sad. I guess if anything, I'm safer.