I think I've lost a little weight. Cool. My arms look smaller, and my waist looks smaller. My waist tends to be the place that I lose weight most quickly but it seems like my arms NEVER get smaller so that's awesome. I may not actually be losing any weight; perhaps it could just be my body dysmorphia getting a liiiittle bit better? Hopefully?

Sometimes I still look in the mirror and I'm totally disgusted and hate myself and can't believe such an adorable baby grew up to be a horribly hideous adult. But sometimes, and this is becoming more and more of an "often" rather than just a "sometimes," I think my body is beautiful, glorious, sexy... sometimes I look at myself and can't pick a single thing I'd change. And that's a good thing, a very good thing.

But I'm realizing how much my ED related to things OTHER than body image. Because dealing with my body issues has definitely, DEFINITELY helped me deal with it, but it certainly still exists... it just has so much to do with channeling my fears about everything into one outlet, and simplifying them.

What's been really bothersome to me is that the further I slip out of my eating disorder, the more I slip into other obsessive-compulsive behaviors. They're not to the extent that my ED was in terms of being bad for my health but I've already suffered a three day long total mental breakdown because of them and I hope these behaviors don't continue to grow more problematic. But, at least I'm not slowly killing myself from the inside anymore, so, woo.

Bleh, triggers are everywhere. Let's name some:

• Seeing bones. Any type of bones. Even bones on healthy people.
• Feeling full. At all.
• Feeling hungry. At all.
• Any mention of eating disorders whatsoever.
• Hearing anyone talk about being hungry or full or being nauseas. 
• If I ever skip a meal for lack of time
• If I lie down after having skipped a meal for lack of time, so I'm totally empty, so my stomach is sinking in more, then I become incredibly preoccupied with pushing on my ribs 
• EVERYTHING AAAARGH

The fuck, now I'm incredibly happy. So let's not say I'm depressed, let's say I'm volatile, and let's not say it's because there's something wrong with me, let's blame it all on my period. Yay for having period-having anatomy, the always-scapegoat. I'm too fucking tired to be on the internet, I just keep posting dumb stuff everywhere. I should just stop.

I've been eating so much oh my god
so much fruit
so many Amy's frozen stuffs because they were half off and my brother pays for groceries
the italics weren't intentional, i just hit a button by mistake and decided to go with it for rhetoric effect. well i don't think italics, bolds, underlines etc. count as 'rhetoric' but you know what i mean. my lack of capitalization is rhetoric effect. at least you think that, really it's cause my hands are too tired to hit the shift button. i have tests to study for tomorrow. goodnight..

Ugh. I live with my brother. Back story: My brother has always made me incredibly anxious. I can hardly ever touch anything he's touched, I can't sit where he sits, sometimes I can't walk in bare feet in the house because I know he has. I isolate myself in my room because it's the only "clean" place in the house. The plus side is that I don't pay to live here--that was the deal; he makes more money than he knows what to do with so he was going to get a big apartment anyway, and living with him would mean I get to go to the school I wanted to go to here. But honestly--I'd rather be working my ass off to live somewhere on my own than live here anymore. I have this problem specifically with my brother. It's always been this way and it's not this way with anyone else. I thought I could deal with it because I really wanted to go to school here but it turns out it's just gotten much, much worse. I really think I'm developing mild OCD and it's making me miserable. I have a major freak out essentially any time I come home and see how disgusting he's gotten the kitchen, and now I'm making it disgusting because I can't bear the thought of being in there long enough to even clean my own dishes and our fucking dishwasher sucks and he fucking stains the countertop every fucking day and I seriously could burn this whole fucking place down. So I create this little single-person utopia in my bedroom where everything is clean and nothing is out of place; I make my bed in extravagant ways, numerous blankets folded carefully in meticulous order; all my records, books, ordered by the right sizes, all of my soaps are lined up by size and the order in which I use them. And I use my many soaps in a special order. And when I'm actually OUT of the apartment, that's a whole different story. If I touch the staircase handles I'm okay but if I touch the escalator handles I hit my hands and shake them off trying to make it better and if the skin on my legs touches the seats of the bus or train I'm convinced I'm going to get a disease. So I walk to class, hitting my hands, shaking them off, feeling like a total lunatic. What fun.

So I isolate. I spend entire days in this room, just trying to calm myself down. It doesn't help when I'm trying to eat normally that I'm afraid of the kitchen. I wake up in the morning and I am so physically anxious that I'm in more pain than I can bear and I stay home from school way too often because of it.This isn't so bad, comparatively, I mean I know it could be much worse. But I need to leave here before it gets that bad, because I know my inability to go to school some days will ultimately affect my grades negatively. I barely have any friends here (and by that I mean I have ONE friend here) because I can't even do anything after school for fear of... well, everything. I'd always like to come back to this room, the only safe, clean place.

Today I told my mom I wanted to leave. I can't tell  her all of this because I'm afraid she'll try and make me come home. And I don't want to come home, I just want to live closer to school, I just don't want to live with my brother anymore. I really, really don't know how to deal. I'm fucking miserable. I should be happy and I'm fucking miserable. I'm trying to eat. I'm trying not to cut. I'm trying not to binge or purge. I'm trying to push away the thoughts of suicide that are subtly popping back up. And I have literally no one to talk to about this, because I don't know how to tell anyone about it. So I guess I have to figure it out myself. First of all, I need to get a fucking job. I was giving myself a "break" this semester but, break's over. Since I don't have a car and fucking hate using the train/bus I'm going to have to apply to every fucking store within walking distance, which, luckily includes a bunch of grocery stores and restaurants, like there are 3 full shopping centers that I can walk to. So that's keeping me hopeful. This weekend I have a ton of studying to do but I think I'll go to one each day after school next week. So I'll get a job, start making some money, saving as much of it as humanly possible, work my ass off in school to keep my straight A's, actually GO to school, basically keep myself so busy I don't have time to think about germs and diseases and mold and filth. In the meantime I'm saving up money which could secure an apartment, trying to figure out cheap, safe places to live nearer to school, in places that also have places I could work within walking distance.

But this will have to occur in secret because I can't really tell anyone why I'm doing it. I just have to make it happen.

Okay, forget what I said about not eating enough today.
I just ate $7 wort of fruit salad.
REALLY?
That's a lot of fucking fruit salad. Like you know the kind you get at Publix? Like the medium sized ones? I just ate one of those. Actually, I inhaled it.
The bingey side of me needs to go AWAY.

I think my real motive for going raw again is so that when I do binge it's not really going to matter that much... I don't know. I wish I didn't have to over-think eating like I do.

Umm, maybe I haven't eaten enough today, maybe I won't eat enough today... when I was still deep in the midst of my ED, when I was on my period I used it as an excuse to let myself eat way more than usual... can I just reverse that now? I can give myself a break from eating because I'm crampy and I don't feel good and I want to lie in bed all day and getting up to get food would require getting out of bed? Good plan. Okay it's a terrible plan. Bah.

I'm starting to like and accept my body but goddamnit it's hard when I constantly see it as something different. And when I always see it as bigger than it is. I've found pictures of people and what size they are and I'll see women two sizes bigger than me but I'm like, what the fuck? I'm at least twice as big as them. Right? Right? The world is playing tricks on me. Or my eyes are. Even if I could always see myself as bigger than I am that would be okay, because then I could at least have ONE body image to accept. None of this "OMG I look so great today, oh my my, is that my waist? What a nice waist!" then "OMG I'M A SACK OF BLUBBER." But even if I could always see the sack of blubber at least I could learn to accept that without my eyes randomly deciding it'd be fun to get my hopes up. Blah. This doesn't make any sense, does it?

Cramps. Hurt. Pain. Ow. I need to study for history.

This is hard. I've decided to give up on recovery at least 3 times today, and each time convinced myself otherwise, grudgingly. I never realized how triggering, oh, EVERYTHING EVER is. And thank all of you so much for your support. Believe me I'd like nothing more than to slip back into this world, to be sick again, and who knows, I might be rejoining you soon. But I know I need to get better. Even though part of me feels like I never really hit "rock bottom" and that I need to do that before I can really recover. I guess doing this with thoughts that I'll certainly fail isn't a good idea. I still want to be emaciated. I still want to be skinny verging on death. I still want to live off of diet Coke and carrots. I want to be sick. But I know I can't be sick and happy. And I need to be happy right now. My mind is tired and really needs a break.

Part of me feels weird that so much of my motivation to overcome my ED depends on this boy. It's because I love him, and I want this to work. I don't want to be miserable and I don't want to make him miserable. I don't want all the shitty mental delusions that this ED brings to cause me to sabotage this relationship. Plus, he tells me I'm beautiful, and I believe him... well I 75% believe him. But what if this ends? Will all of this disappear? I know there's a chance, but I really don't think so. I think he's a very special person that made me realize that I'm a great, wonderful and in some ways very attractive person, and I don't think that thought will ever change if he goes away. But I don't think he's going to go away. I seriously laid everything out in front of him (well not the cutting, but he knows about the ED and my weird paranoid delusions, my obsession and dreamed-up monsters, the being suicidal, etc) and nothing scared him off. He even said that this was going to be hard. He knows I'm going to be difficult, and yet he hasn't been scared off. That's fucking amazing.

I guess this is a recovery blog now.

Oh goddamnit, I'm not going to fucking let this ruin me anymore. Never fucking again. Dear ED you will NOT ruin my self-confidence, you will NOT ruin my body and goddamnit you abso-fucking-lutely will not ruin my first relationship. You're making me fucking paranoid so I overthink things and then I can't be comfortable so I can't talk then I get boring and it gets awkward and the poor boy can never focus on anything and YOU you fucking shitty paranoia-inducing ED, YOU make me take it personally and you make me cry and want to starve myself. You tell me to puke and I do, painfully and violently because of fucking what? A fucking picture? FUCK YOU. You used to make me think there were monsters living in my body and that the only way to get rid of them was to starve them out. But I'm realizing more and more that the only fucking monster was you. So I'm going to get rid of YOU by being positive and being good to myself, by being accepting and patient and certainly not paranoid and I'm going to nourish my body with endless raw fruits and vegetables until I have the cleanest, purest, HEALTHIEST AND WELL-NOURISHED BODY EVER. God. This is such a fucking joke. Guys... I wasted so much time. I wasted so much fucking time on this fucking ED. No-fucking-more. I'm done. I'm done. I'm done. I'm done. I'm not going to let this ruin my life again.

I share a wall with my neighbors--my bathroom, their bedroom. I can hear them fuck and they can hear me puke. God-fucking-damnit. Today was supposed to be good.

I think I'm in love. I don't hate myself anymore. I fucking love myself. Or rather, I'm learning to. Someone loves me and I believe them, I don't try and talk them out of it, I don't question why they love me, why they care about me, why they can't get enough of talking to me or why they think I'm attractive. I don't question those things because I let him believe those things and I believe those things so it makes them true. He doesn't know about my disordered eating and I don't want him to know, not yet. Not until I lose a little more weight. I say "disordered eating" now because I don't really think I have an eating disorder anymore. I don't have it in me to hate myself enough to perpetuate this illness any longer. It faded away, enormously. But it's not GONE. It's now just a part of my life rather than being my whole life. But it's a big enough part that even when I'm writing about how in love I am, talk of the ED is still intertwined. It can't go away completely. But I want it gone. But only after I lose a little more weight. I'm triggered so easily it's ridiculous. Oh my god, it's fucking ridiculous. I just want to have this for a little while longer, isn't that okay? Isn't it okay that I'm not ready to give up just yet? It can't get that bad because now I love myself and I don't want to hurt myself anymore. But I need to do this just a little longer. Maybe a month, or two. Then I can recover, officially.

But I'm just so afraid that if I let myself do this again, if I let myself fall into this that I may fall too deeply and ruin this. Ana would kill every relationship I have if I let her. And I love this boy. And what fucking baffles me the most about all of this is that it's a healthy love. It's not obsessive and it's not poisonous. It is healthy, supportive, beautiful love. My first love. I'm in a very happy place, a very special time of my life and I don't even think I'll be able to realize the full scope of how epic it is for another few years. But I love being like this. I'm happy. I love myself. I fucking love myself. I love this boy. He loves me. But there's this little whisper of a voice that hisses don't eat...

So... I haven't been eating much lately because I've been too happy and excited. But the not eating, regardless of the reason, perpetuates itself, and it's starting to make me unhappy...

two apples salad diet coke phone sex no sleep everyone thinks you're crazy because you are.