My Best Friend is more important than Ed

Words can’t express it. Pictures don’t show it. Stories and memories barely begin to cover it.

My best friend and I have been friends for over 13 years. Meeting around fourth grade and now currently being college graduates. We were never that stereotypical prepubescent whiny, petty, girl drama indulging type. It was the two of us, that was all that mattered. While other girls were getting in trouble for popping others’ bra straps and all the girls had to stay after class; the two of us were excused to go back to gym. We have never “broken up” or gotten into a blow out fight, and I mean never, I feel like that is impossible.

Yeah, we get annoyed sometimes, but give us fifteen minutes and we will be laughing. I have been part of her family for as long as I can remember, and as the years of friendship increased, so did my status as family. We’ve sneezed on each other, slept in the same bed, cried together, become increasingly intoxicated together, and get incredibly pissed off/enraged and defensive when the other is hurt.

Over our friendship we went to space camp in Alabama together, played sports together, I moved to a different school where our softball teams became rivals (she was a pitcher, pegged me in the leg when I went up to bat- glorious moment), we talked on the phone nearly everyday since we were still too young to have a cell phone and her mom would drop her off at my house. She was there for me, and I was there for her, when we could drive we would spend the weekends together and meet up. Then, when my home life began to go even more downhill her parents gave me a room. I moved in with my best friend. We all went on family vacations together to Florida a few times, then on a cruise. I spent many holidays with them and she was there when I met my biological father for the first time.

At this point, we worked together, went to school together, and lived together.

You know how they say don’t work/live with your best friend if you want to keep the friendship?

Well, as you have probably realized, we aren’t your average friends. We just became even closer. Without even having to exchange any words or utterances we knew what the other was thinking. With just a look, we knew. To the outsider, some of our conversations were so vague they were unfollowable.

“Oh, you mean at that thing where we saw her?”

“Yeah, but not that time, the time before that.”

“Wait, when I drove or you?

“You drove, but you let me drive to that other place afterwards.”

Instantaneously we both knew the situation, time, place, person. Our thoughts and half sentences didn’t have to make sense to anyone else because we understood.

She supported me going into residential treatment when my eating disorder was getting the best of me and there seemed to be no other option. She drove me there, helped me with my room, and came to visit more often than my own mother.

After college graduation she moved about 9 hours away. It has been difficult, but we still talk, or text, everyday. We still have our verbal banter back and forth when our life is rough. After about 4 months of not seeing each other we had had enough. Our half way mark was West Virginia. We decided on a random town, a random date, and were setting this in stone so that we could see each other.

Weeks leading up to the trip I was thrilled, life was going well. Work was uneventful, I didn’t seem to be going from 0 to 10, emotion wise, at the drop of a hat, neurofeedback was going well, I was killing my meal plan and recovery was looking bright.

While with her, we had an amazing time. We met up, hiked and walked around, decided to have pizza and beer for dinner (this in itself was absolutely terrifying, I knew that my best friend would support me, never judge, and would cheer me on) we split a pizza, did more hiking, were there for some gulley fest, went to a wine festival. It was an amazing time, and we had missed each other so badly. Without even skipping a beat our half uttered, half put together thoughts and sentences were right back in normal conversations. We had never realized how sporadic and even jumbled our thoughts were sometimes because we had become so accustomed to having the other one around all the time.

When our trip came to an end I tried so hard not to cry, and succeeded in avoiding this emotion. Eating became so difficult, and I was conflicted and torn. I had an amazing time, but I wouldn’t see my best friend again until Christmas, this thought was unbearable. I got home finally after the drive and laid down on my bed, unable to talk myself into eating. The next morning I got up and went to work as usual, didn’t pack any food, had no intention of eating. Ed was royally kicking my ass. Telling me everything from “You need to restrict since you ate that shit over the weekend.” To “You do realize that T (therapist and most amazing women ever) doesn’t even like you. It is just her job to care. It’s more like babysitting than anything else.”

T found out I wasn’t eating and checked in on me. I tried to ignore the messages but that wasn’t happening. Wednesday I went to neurofeedback with a lot of push from T, because Ed sure as hell didn’t want me to do anything that could even possibly help or lead to me getting better. So, after coaxing, and some tough love from T, I showed up. I went to OP Thursday and struggled as well, but I am trying to get back on track with not only eating, but also “emotional regulation”

whatever that is…. 😉

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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.