Bulimia is a horrible addiction of the mind, body and soul.

I wonder how much longer my heart will struggle to beat and I wonder why I can't care.

Tired

I've been tired lately. Not the kind of tired that is remedied with a good night's sleep, the kind of tired that shows in my posture and my face and my mannerisms.

I think I use tired to numb. I float around from meeting to task to desk to school to meeting. Too busy for appointments, too tired to care.

I want to be numb. When I have something I love to keep me wanting to feel, I don't seek out the tired. It's when I have myself and work, and that's it, that I can't sit with myself without wanting to be anywhere else. 

Just justify

Why yes, I'm walking 1.5 miles each way to campus to teach today. The traffic on North Decatur makes it much slower to drive of course, and I'm reviewing my lecture on the way.

Why no, you haven't seen me eat anything but coffee today. I'll eat on the way! See... here's an apple.

Dark circles under the eyes? That's allergies like everyone else, certainly not starvation, bulimia, or sleepless nightmare nights.

Just justify. It works. But for how long?

Tis the season

for relapse.

At least I have my wits about me enough to contact my therapist and dietitian again. I had been taking a little break from treatment, other than my psychiatrist who gives me meds to mix with booze. But it's time to get back onboard.

This time last year, I was so enthusiastic about getting over these god damn disorders and now I crave their high. I found nothing in sobriety or partial recovery that compares to the feeling I have right now. A mixture of hangover and starvation and empty that makes my brain go numb, staving off the overwhelming loneliness, hopelessness, and fucking boredom.

I need a challenge or major source of stimulation or I'm going to lose it soon. Right now it's drinking to blackout with strangers who make me feel beautiful and fun, but who I don't give a dick about. That'll last me until I get the DUI dangling 2 centimeters from my fucked up head.

Fingers crossed my therapist responds to my email and takes me back...

"Good days"

I have been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, anxiety, and depression. It's so interesting, and equally devastating I suppose, that I define recovery from these demons based on a set of criteria that are appealing to me.

For example, I feel recovered on days:

1. I kill my 6-mile run.
2. I sneak in another 2-4 miles throughout the day.
3. I do not purge, because I do not binge.
4. I stick to my strictly defined food allowances that I estimate provide around 1600 calories.
5. I achieve something that resembles a good mood and, now that I consider it, bears a strong resemblance to a starvation high.

This is what happens when we choose our own rules and definitions for recovery. I won't even begin to list what happens the next day...

Prozac

In the spirit of celebrating recovery, I'd like to give a shout out to my 6-month anniversary with Prozac. Our first months together have been full of surprises, mostly not good as of late, ups and downs with a strong inclination towards down, and extremely volatile, bordering on unstable. So, Prozac, consider this a break up call.

But really, while I'm notoriously quick to make excuses, I'm honestly questioning my emotional and physical wel-being after the past six months. Everything seemed to prove dramatically during the first month of treatment and even in the real world after, but I think I was too quick to attribute changes to the Prozac, instead of giving myself some credit.

Now, as I'm starting to seriously struggle, the benefits I once assumed were directly related to meds, have disappeared. Instead, I've adopted a case of crippling depression and anxiety. Mostly anxiety. I'd like to think it's just a result of 6 months of sobriety, a transient stage that soon will pass. Instead, I'm forced to face physical evidence including blood pressure high enough to qualify me for pre-hypertension, severe mood swings causing ends of precious relationships, and a complete ack of care about anything at all, including any progress I've made in eating, drinking, and exercising.

I've read several memoirs recently about young women with eating disorders exacerbated by co-occurring mental disorders like borderline personality disorder or bipolar disorder. I've also always wondered if my issues, particularly my fondness of exhausting routines, may stem from obsessive compulsive disorder. Medications management of these disorders is NOT Prozac, and I'm wondering if some of my recent symptoms could be related to misdiagnoses.

I still remember questioning my initial diagnosis of depression because while I do feel sad, lost, and hopeless sometimes, these emotions are rarely overwhelming. Instead, my physical reactions to certain situations (for example, shaking when I'm forced to face foods I'm not comfortable with or feeling my chest tighten if my schedule changes to impact my planned exercise) indicate anxiety.

Fortunately, I have an upcoming appointment with my psychiatrist (who is about my age and seems way uncomfortable around me... I don't bite dude, and definitely not you). I'm going to compile some evidence documenting my recent even further decent into madness, that may coincide with the Prozac and see what happens.

Anyone out there have any particularly good luck with meds? Please help...

Getting back on track

It's amazing how easily an intelligent brain can outsmart itself. It's easy to think pushing breakfast back by 15 minutes, skipping a snack, or switching up a standard lunch to rice cake snacks ain't no thangs. Until... breakfast isn't until noon at work, 2 or 3pm on the weekends, snacks between snacks are nonexistent, and everything is the same as the exact routine you had before. Except for one thing when the scale comes back out, just to see.

It's placed back in hiding - immediately - on account of holy shit, that number. Many miles every day. Before and after work, during any free time, in storms, when tired, while working. Not running? Walk everywhere and bike distances that are too far to walk. Coffee all the damn time. Food is consumed under two terms: 1) once you're hungry enough to feel dizziness upon standing or 2) a guaranteed ability to purge after. And since purging is okay again, might as well binge sometimes too, right?

The headaches are back. More crippling than the worst hangover you've ever had. There's a really painful mouth sore from either eating popcorn at record speed or purging those same pieces whole.

Shaking all the time. Trying to shake all the time. But you're still sober. And in a normal weight range. So basically.... treatment could never be an option, not even outpatients since you'll be the healthiest, most normal weight girl there. You've failed not only at recovery, but also being the best at eating disorder.