Monday, May 30, 2011


Due to the reasons I wrote about in my last entry, I've lost a couple of pounds. I'm still at my heaviest, but I'm the lightest I've been in TWO months. It's the most "success" I've had since I began gaining uncontrollably after my last hospitalization.

*Deep sigh.* *Seriously deep sigh.* Half of me is quite triggered by this and wants to keep on restricting and lose, lose, lose. (Okay, maybe more like 87% of me.) The other part of me from two entries ago is disappearing quickly, the longer I keep myself from recovery.

The question is how. How do I recover? I've never contemplated the idea of recovery until a month or so ago. I don't have a regular therapist right now, nonetheless one that specializes in EDs. Yes, it's mostly my responsibility to recover. And it's definitely my choice. And that's all well and fine, but I need someone to guide me. I am too deep in this addiction to pull myself out of this one all by myself. The voices are too strong. Addiction controls your thoughts, confuses you. Sooner or later, you don't know which way is up or down or sideways or inside out. Sooner or later, the persistence of the addiction disguises itself as stability and tricks you into its arms.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011


I apologize for not having written for a while. I've finally finished coursework for my MA! So I've been busy finishing up my last semester! Onto my PhD in the fall! I do have my thesis to complete, something I've been struggling with for a whole year now. But I feel more confident about it now than I have previously.

For the most part, I've been doing well. Since the last post, I've increased my Seroquel which has definitely helped me stabilize my mood. I should cut the Depakote first instead of the Seroquel. I went backwards. I have no idea why I did that since Seroquel has never done me wrong. So now I'm completely off the Depakote and back on 600 mg of Seroquel and feel pretty balanced. My erratic mood has definitely gone (I'm sure my boyfriend is very excited about that.). My relationship is great, I'm excited about where I am in my academic career.

The only unfortunate thing was this past Sunday when my mom made a comment about my weight. I'm at my highest right now. It wasn't anything more severe than usual. But somehow I think it was the emotional straw that broke the camel's back. I usually feel like shit for an hour then get over it. But this time.... I slept over at my boyfriend's after slamming the door in my mom's face. I cried for a couple hours -- both out of feeling intensely hurt and feeling extremely guilty about getting upset with my mom.

Well, since then my appetite has really diminished. I've been restricting a lot, though not quite intentionally. It's the kind of absence of desire of food that one has when depressed. Which is sort of how I feel I guess. I feel highly uncomfortable living at home right now. And my mom (having noticed me eating less, and knowing why I was upset on Sunday) just walked in, and said, "So, are you on a diet now?" Ugh. My parents don't know about my ED, but I don't know. I don't even know what to say. I just feel crushed. I've been eating very minimally in front of her since then. And now I think I should not eat at all around her.

Monday, May 2, 2011


I have some things to say that are very difficult. I have decided to attempt recovery from my ED as well as go back on one of my meds. I've held onto my ED like a sack of heroin, and not once entertained the idea of giving it up till now.

I had a very rough weekend. I totally broke down while I was hanging out with my boyfriend on Friday. About what, I don't even know. The amalgamation of fear, sadness, and anger become too much for me to retain inside myself and continue suffering quietly. In other words, I had an mixed episode. I became the me I was before I went on meds. My world crumbled, my sense of self -- utterly chaotic. It wasn't an argument as much as it was me freaking out, and then my bf freaking out about me freaking out, and me getting even more freaked out because I thought he would leave me any second -- unable to bear the burden and the monster that I was.

Anyways, long story short, after a close call (to heading back into the hospital) I am doing better with the higher dosage of Seroquel though I still feel a little bruised from that night. The day after, I got to thinking about myself and my relationship. I had two options. I could go on being my stubborn self and have my way but not gain a damn thing. Yes, I'd keep my ED, I'd keep my cutting, I'd have my fancy stolen things. But I would lose my bf, lose me, lose my chance to live. Or, I could try and get better. Yes, it will be horrifyingly scary for a couple of months, maybe even years, but I will end up with me in the end. I will have a life not governed by fear.

I am on day 2 and it is hard.

The actual act of eating is hard. I have chosen to trust my mind and body about when I should eat and when I should not. Eating "normally" and listening to my body is hard. It is hard because it tells me things I don't want to hear: "I am hurt," My heart is breaking," "I am scared," "I am so fucking lost." It is also hard because there will be the initial weight gain as you eat regular meals and keep all your food down. Already, thoughts of giving up cloud my mind. My ED whispers to me to b/p just one more time. I think about giving up and purging and fasting to thinness. But I am going to stick with this. I need to have faith in myself and in my body.