Slightly drunk, sitting on my knees wavering back and forth, watching him clean up the dog shit off the carpet, it was then that I realized, he was too good for me.

If there was ever a competition for who has the worst choice in men, I’d probably come in top ten, somewhere under Charles Manson’s wives, Hitler’s wife, and those cliché women from those Lifetime movies.

Ever since High School, my chose in men was much to be desired. The hot football player with a temper who would smack me for sassing. A drunk who also fell into drugs, but was there when I needed him, except that he drugged me and took advantage of me.

Ok, maybe he isn’t “too good” for me. Honestly though, I just don’t think I am in a place where I can accept someone’s compassion and thoughtfulness towards me.

While my eating disorder is currently like a sedated lion. I’m hesitant that at any moment it may wake up, pissed at the world and I must be on my toes, ready.

So, I don’t want to throw a relationship into the middle of that right now.

We had our first “fight”, even though we are friends. (Everybody knows we are a couple, except us). He asked if I wanted to go hiking on Saturday, I said “sure, just text me”.

Saturday came, I took the dog to the park, went running, met up with a girlfriend for breakfast. By that point he had texted me, but I was enjoying time with my friend.

It ended up getting blown out of proportion, him feeling “disrespected”, “shitty”, etc. I took some time to breathe, and responded the following morning. It was expressed by me, that while I heard what he was saying, and I apologized for not answering my phone, it was also not fair to me to be guilt tripped when no actual plans were made.

There was more, but isn’t worth it. Work has been slightly awkward since we are coworkers, but that is just another reason I’ve made it clear that I don’t want to date him.


“What purpose does the eating disorder serve for you?”

During one of my last sessions I was asked a question that left me silent, which isn’t easy to do. I stopped, unsure of how to answer, put in a few seconds of deep thought that I could muster and just said, “I don’t know.” So, here I am to answer the question that has been continuously repeated in my head, “What purpose does the eating disorder serve for you?”

My first response wanted to be, “I guess the cliché, ‘control’ aspect in my life. I don’t know.” Thinking longer, deeper, on this question, I believe it is more than that.

The rational side of me knows there shouldn’t be guilt, shame, embarrassment, attached to eating food, regardless of what it is. What makes one food “better” than the other? Why is it acceptable to eat a salad, but cringe at the word “pasta”?

At twenty two years old, I pretty much have control over every aspect of my life, and the small things I may not have control over, I am learning to cope with, or just let go of if they aren’t important or detrimental. So why am I still struggling over food and why does it continue to control me through all of these years?

– One main reason is that this has been my “go-to” for years, my coping mechanism, what I leaned on in times of anxiety, stress, fear, loneliness, etc (yay feelings- talking about them are my favorite…..). It was also a major way to punish myself. When I wasn’t self-harming as a way to punish myself for my parents’ rocky marriage, and my failures, I was throwing up. These two practically became routine.

– The next would be consistency. Growing up I had two step dads, never met my real father, moved several times, from the north to the south, and went to every school in my county. My parents liked to drink, and I was constantly on guard of how mom was feeling. If she had drank too much and was raging that day, or was still in the loopy “lovey-dovey” stage. I knew one thing though. Being in control and having that consistent crutch to make me temporarily “feel-better” was always there.

– I wanted to be better. A Honor roll. I did sports. Went to our local university in middle school because of my science project to present it. Full scholarship. I wanted to be thinner. Wanted to be skinny. I mocked the cheerleaders, but was slightly jealous because I never had the confidence to try out, even though I would have made the team, I was friends with all of the girls. I was extremely popular in my own way. I was the athletic one, who knew everybody, made friends with anybody and never got in trouble. I so badly wanted my mom to stop drinking, wanted her to appreciate the fact that I worked, went to high school, was part of the Honor Society, Interact, Student Government, the play, and did sports. She never came to any of my games. I thought if only I was thinner, prettier, she would like me better.

At some point in my life it became more than just a “behavior”, it became a lifestyle. Restricting, running, purging, became a lifestyle. Unfortunately one that I am falling back into, which stings to even admit. I want to have my life together, be strong, be recovered, but why do I continue to fall back on something that does not serve me any good?

So, what does my eating disorder serve for me? It is a constant reminder of how I believe I could be better. It is still a way to punish myself for food that I deem “unacceptable” to be eaten. It continues to be my go-to in times of stress and disappointment, and consistently shows it’s ugly face in vulnerable times. My fear is also my identity. What will I do when my life isn’t rapidly revolving around the thought of my thighs and love handles. Constantly consumed with the mere thought of eating and calories. Who will I be? I am jealous of the women who have self-esteem and confidence. I wish I didn’t care what so much about what others think, or be so critical towards myself and my body. It is the constant comparison between me and somebody else, being jealous and envious that I can’t look like them. The comparing has got to stop as well, it is nothing but harmful.

Trust the Process!!


People Not My Age

Ever since I can remember I have gotten along with the elderly and the very young. People my own age? Not so much.

Halloween night approached. I sat on my bed watching my favorite movie ever, My Cousin Vinny, drinking green tea and knitting. Somewhere between, “What are you, a fucking world traveler?!” and “It’s me or them, you’re getting fucked one way or the other.” I received a text from an old friend:

"Hey, a bunch of us
are getting together
tonight for Halloween
if you wanna come party." 

I read the message and thought about it for a few minutes. Finally I decided, “I am a college student, legally allowed to drink, on Halloween night, when did I become 60?” So I came up with a costume, grabbed a 6 pack and headed to his house, unsure of exactly where he had moved to.

Long story short, I got lost, he didn’t answer his phone, I hated what I was wearing. An hour later, I was home, with a six pack, watching NetFlix, hating my life, body, self, and enjoying an Angry Orchard.

Pity Party-1
Me- 0

The next morning I jumped up, ran to the mirror and did an immediate body check. I have an irrational fear that eating or drinking will cause a massive explosion and I will swell and immediately have gained 20 lbs over night. To my disgust and excitement, my ribs were still visibly protruding, and yet my gut was still there, pudgy bastard. My family was going out of town for my grandmother’s funeral. The beloved devil step-child offered to stay behind and watch the animals and the house. I hate my step-dad’s side of the family anyway. So, I packed a bag, and headed to my house which would have long been empty of parental units and siblings.

I took the dog on a run, bought a vest, and got back to the house and scrubbed, and scrubbed. I wanted to keep busy. The thought of being a loser, not fitting in, the fact that my eating disorder is fucking with so many aspects of my life. To say the least, the bathrooms in my parent’s house is spotless, along with the kitchen.

I distinctly remember all of the years I hated bringing in firewood, the jabs in my arms, going outside in the cold to go grab it, getting flakes of wood everywhere. My step dad, I was positive, found such joy in giving me this task. It seemed like forever ago. I took care of the chickens, fed them, gave them hay, water, collected eggs. I made homemade bread. Carried in a plethora of wood and made a fire. Then, I sat on the couch, enjoyed my steaming tea, my cabin socks.

I realized how much I loved it all. The dogs sitting with me, the quiet of everything, the loudest thing being the crackling of the fire. Enjoying my tea.

I’d rather play board games with kids, or sip tea with the elderly.

I’m not a partier. That just isn’t me. I mentally can’t consume all of those calories. I’ll take my fire-starting, bread making, dog walking, chicken feeding days anytime.

Being in a bad place.

I have been in a bit of a rough spot lately. Everything is just quickly going downhill. School is getting the best of me, work is draining me.  The other night I was in such a depressed mood, I hadn’t eaten, I took laxatives, hydroxycut, and had a drink. Then two. Three. Four. I’m not really sure. My tolerance is so bad anyway from not eating that I get so woozy. I remember feeling very sick, but from the laxatives mostly, I remember being hunched over the toilet, fingers down throat, as red wine came pouring out of my face as I was thinking, “Oh forgive me. Shit. Forgive me.”

Forgive me. I began to think. I hadn’t done anything. Was I asking for forgiveness because I had eaten earlier that day? Was I asking forgiveness because I knew I had consumed too much alcohol. I wasn’t really sure. I feel like I am in such a dark place right now. I don’t want to die, but this isn’t living, but at least dead you don’t have all of this to worry about.

My boss isn’t going to give me two days off for Fall Break because of the possibility that I might be missing a bit of work in December, going to residential treatment, which is none of her damn business anyway. Which I personally believe is unfair. I didn’t even have to tell her to begin with, then she is going to try and hold that against me when I’m not even sure.

If you read a few of my past posts, I said that while being accident prone, I fell and busted my ass. Well, they think it is a hairline fracture, and if so, I was told not to go running because it could get worse. Um, I run whenever I damn well please. A class average for a biology test was a 40… I began to cry in my next class because I was so upset. He is new, he isn’t curving it, we only have 3 tests the whole semester. During the next class I just lost it, I began to bawl. My professor knows me as the cheery, happy, laughing girl who socializes with everyone. She thought I was laughing, when she leaned over my shoulder she realized I was crying and felt so bad for me. My leg cramps are becoming more frequent, and if they aren’t locking up they are numb and tingly. Last but not least, I just feel very foggy, my vision, my thinking. I’m not sure if I am dehydrated, even though my pee looks fine, or an electrolyte imbalance, or what it is. My best friend asked me last night when the last time I had my period was, I honestly wasn’t sure, and told her I couldn’t remember, even though I have plenty of damn body fat.

I just feel very depressed lately. I hate myself, hate my life. Don’t think I’m going to go to treatment. My boss can get off of her high horse. I’d drop out of school and become a stripper, but I don’t even have the body for that.

There Is A Good Chance I Didn’t Eat

I had almost like a realization today. 
I spend a lot of my time sassing people and telling them, “I EAT!” “I DO EAT!” “I ATE!” 
Something like eating should go without saying.
If I have to say it, stress it, reiterate it so many times during the day to make a point, then chances are, I probably am not eating. 
If it is to the point that the people around me during the day have to make a point to say something, then I’m probably not eating.
If my boss has to check and see if I ate, I probably am not eating. 
My potential boyfriend messages me after the gym to see if I ate. 
He pushes food on me, she pushes food on me, they want me to eat.
All of these people don’t see me eat. 
Yet, I will swear and stand by the fact, “I did eat! I do eat!” 
Smokers don’t have to tell you they smoke, you know.
My sister doesn’t have to tell me she showered, I just know.
An alcoholic doesn’t have to tell you they are sober, you know. 
If I have to reiterate the fact that “I ate!” When these people have been around me all day.
There is a good chance that I didn’t eat. 

Well, That Was Different. (Date Follow-Up)

For years I have been the good girl. Yes, during highschool I got slightly involved in the party scene, but it was mainly so I could hang out with my friends. I am majoring in science and work all the time, I don’t have time to do sports, let alone try and party.
Well, tonight was different. As you guys read earlier I was getting ready for a date with one of my friends. Someone from work invited me to go to a pub and listen to some music… fair enough to say, I’m fairly tipsy/drunk-ish. Damn I’ve become a light weight…. anyway….yeah, different.
We went to a small little place for dinner, which was good, and I actually ate a little bit. I was impressed with myself. Then we wandered the small, cute streets for a bit until the music began. I got coffee, and we wandered up and down the streets. We made it back to the pub, where the music was beginning and the customer from work was there (the one who invited me). Granted, I am pretty sure that he invited me because he was interested, but I wasn’t going by myself and was a good excuse for a date.
So, here I was, at the bar scene with one guy on a date, who was now talking to the other guy who was interested in me…. what a predicament…. here I was, sitting here, awkwardly, at a bar. Let’s call guy #1 my “date guy” and guy #2 “interested guy”. Well, guy #2 offered to buy me a drink…. I honestly wasn’t sure what the unspoken “rules” on this topic was, but when he offered guy #1 a drink too, I said ok. When guy #1 ran to his car, guy #2 started asking me questions about #1 (to see if we were related/dating/etc). So, guy #2 is older, more mature, bought me a couple drinks. Guy #1 bought me dinner and a couple drinks… damn I sound like a slut, but I swear, this isn’t me!!!
I’m sitting here, while two guys are offering to buy me drinks.
I always pictured this kind of thing in the movies… girl goes to bar, guys buy here drinks, story fairytale bullshit. This was so weird though. I partially enjoyed it, and partially felt guilty. What would other people think if they saw me here? Is it wrong to let guys buy me drinks? And for the love of God, How many CALORIES are in this glass of wine?!?!
So, C, if you are reading this… I kept down something other than fruit and veggies… as long as old fermented grapes count…. (I mean, I ONLY puked twice today).
It was flattering and stressful, all at the same time.
Guy #1 has PTSD from the military
Guy #2 is older and is from out of state
WTF is wrong with me?!?!
I want to be skinny, smaller boobs, happy with myself. Instead, I am drunk, so damn tired, and can’t manage to go one day without puking my guts up… yay me.