Diet Pills

I couldn’t write you a comprehensive list of all the diet pills and supplements I’ve taken over the years if you offered to pay me for it. Not because I’m not willing to share but because there have been so many I can’t remember them all.

For the past year or so I’ve been using, off and on, the same ones. I say “off and on” because technically, in treatment, I’m not supposed to be taking them. Or I’m at least supposed to be actively working at not taking them. Sometimes I do that. Sometimes I say fuck it as I pop em in my mouth.

Yes, I know diet pills are not regulated, or guaranteed to work, and are most likely harmful to my body, but, well, in the moment none of that matters to me. I feel that stopping taking them daily to only taking them when I have had a binge is a vast improvement and frankly, I can’t envision a life where I don’t have some occasionally. I don’t understand how not everybody has some stashed away.

A couple weeks ago I was at an essential oils party and one of the oils is for weight loss, hunger suppressant, stuff like that. There is also an option to buy a diet pill version and a shake powder.

Uh hello, a new diet pill? Why don’t you just pass that brochure on over here k?

I took a look at the blurb written about them, talked to the lady selling them, and boom! Ordered a bottle.

The stupid things are so not cheap, and I really can’t afford them. But the promise of a pill that will help suppress my appetite and make me skinny was too much to pass up.

I must have been feeling conflicted about it because I had a doc’s appointment last week and mentioned it to him. This is a shrink doc, not a body doc, I see him once every six weeks as part of my recovery program.

So yeah, he asked about my pill usage, and I told him, and then I mentioned how I bought a new one but hadn’t gotten it yet. He strongly suggested I cancel the order before I have the pills in my possession. I didn’t agree or disagree, just made some non-committal noise.

I honestly hadn’t thought I could cancel them, I’d given my word I was ordering them, I can’t go back on that, right?

I decided to let fate decide. The next day I texted the lady and asked if the order had gone in yet. She said no. I asked her to cancel my order as I had some unexpected expenses and couldn’t afford them – yes, I lied, deal with it. She asked if it would be ok to check with me in a month or so to see if I wanted them then. I said yes, mostly out of politeness, but I guess also so I don’t feel like the opportunity is lost to me forever.

I don’t know how I feel about cancelling the order. Money wise I feel relieved, I really can’t afford them. But the rest of me doesn’t feel happy about it. I guess I feel conflicted? I want the pills. I can give you a ton of arguments why I should have the pills. I honestly can’t give you one single argument for not having the pills except the shrink said to cancel the order. The decision was definitely not one made by me from a recovery mindset. I guess that doesn’t matter too much, as the result is the same, except it pisses me off that other people can buy these pills and try them, and what if these are the diet pills that really do work and I miss out on them, but I can’t buy them, all because of my eating disorder.

It doesn’t help that I’m having a horrible, and I mean horrible, body image day, and my stomach has been hurting every time I eat something for two days now, and I’m sliding down in to sadness – that is something that happens now and then. I can feel it happening but have no way to stop it, sigh. And apparently I am the equivalent of a pouty toddler because dammit, I want them *stomps foot*

Which, if I am being logical, is the perfect reason to not have them. I want them too much. And if I’m being honest I don’t need help suppressing my appetite, I barely have an appetite as-is *rolls eyes*

I still want them though…

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Grocery Shopping

Ok so can we talk about grocery shopping for a minute?

I hate it. I hate walking in to the grocery store and being surrounded by all that food. I feel like my brain shuts off and I literally become incapable of action.

I’ll stand at the entrance area to the produce section and just stare, I have no idea what way to go, which foods to aim for, what to buy, so I panic a bit and come to a dead stop. When I finally start moving I tend to walk as if I am wandering aimlessly, all casual like, nothin to see over here thanks, when in reality I know I will end up at the bananas, because they are the only fruit I buy – except frozen, I can buy frozen fruit for my protein smoothies. I will stare wistfully at the apples, and the grapes, and oh man do I stare at the peaches (when they are in season), but I can’t buy any of them. I may contemplate it, try to convince myself that sure I can eat an apple this week, and then I remember all the other times I tried, couldn’t bring myself to eat the apple, ended up composting it and cursing myself for wasting money. So I walk away.

Don’t even ask about how long I stare at things like avocados, it is ridiculous.

Then I walk past all the aisles, I buy almost nothing from an aisle (except tea and diet coke), but I stare down them like they hold great mysterious things, not scary foods I will never buy and don’t even want to walk past. Over to the yoghurt, that I stare at, and then walk away from. I eventually reach the milk, that I will buy as I put some in my tea.

If I am feeling strong I will walk out through the bakery section, eyeballing all those various pastries and cakes and feeling proud that I am not buying any of them, even though I want them all.

The entire time I tend to have a hand in my jacket pocket, clenched, or if my arms are crossed than one hand is gripping the opposite arm for dear life. Body language! I’m sure a shrink would have a field day watching the body language of a person with an eating disorder when they are in a grocery store.

I hate that I can literally become so paralyzed and overwhelmed that I can’t move, or make a decision. I can stare at a bag of salad for ages, completely indecisive about whether I should risk buying it or not. The questions I ponder, the list of pros and cons I mentally go through, as I stare at each different food, it takes forever, and is depressing, and since I can never figure out the answer to the problem of if I should buy the item or not, I end up not buying it.

At times, the regret and sadness I feel when walking away from something is super real. But I can’t find a good enough reason to buy the item, or even believe that if I were to buy it I’d be able to eat it. And if I’m not going to be able to eat it then why bother wasting the money?

I’ve tried variations on grocery shopping, buy everything all at once, buy only a couple things at a time, go with a list, wing it and see what I feel like buying, none of it helps.

I inevitably end up with the same items. Milk, bananas (though those are becoming increasingly harder to buy lately), tea, diet coke, boneless skinless chicken breast, frozen veggies, frozen fruit, eggs, and lately some cheese.

I’ve been trying to eat cereal, and sometimes I can. Lucky for me it lasts a long time in the cupboard lol I’ve bought crackers for meal support, they always go stale before I finish the box so I compost them but I’ve bought them twice now, which for me is impressive because I hadn’t bought crackers for more years than I can remember until needing them the other month for meal support. I don’t like seeing them in my cupboard though, and when I bought them I felt like I was doing something wrong, like people would be judging me for having them in my basket.

Other people seem to find grocery shopping fun, or at least not immobilizing. I wonder what that must be like?

About Thursday

I am writing this a day after Thursday, in the hopes of getting past, or over, or at least somehow in the process of dealing with, the shock of the 5 year anniversary. (Yesterday’s post)

Thursday was an odd day.

I had a binge. A huge binge. Larger than I have had in a long time. It wasn’t as big as it could have been. I had other food I was also going to eat but somehow managed to talk myself out of it.

Then I was horrifically full so didn’t eat for um, 8.5 hours or so.

I wasn’t going to eat again at all that day but I had practice and I am trying to stick with the whole “eat before and after working out or engaging in a physical activity” rule. sigh. I hate that rule.

Obviously I didn’t eat right before practice, what with all the food that was still in my stomach digesting – which side note, despite very much wanting to I did not take any laxatives or diet pills to rush the food out of me – a miracle if ever there was one.

I’d like to take some credit for that but I only refrained because I know that the side effects from those pills would have hit when I was at practice and oh wow would that not be good.

So…no pills…but lots of food in the tummy…

Then I went to practice, had a decent workout, and when it was all done wanted ice cream. What the fuck?! *rolls eyes* My brain was all “you already fucked up today, if ever there is gonna be a day to eat the ice cream it is today!” but it was also saying “sure you ate a tonne earlier but you just finished practice so you burned a bunch of that off which means you have room to eat more”

I would like to point out that both those arguments are flawed, and yet, both feel so valid.

The whole drive home I was arguing with myself if I was going to get ice cream. If I wasn’t going to get it did I want to stop somewhere else and pick up something ready made to eat for dinner? Did I want to just grab the McFlurry and be done with it? Did I want to make something to eat at home? Or should I just not eat?

Don’t you love how I go from eating ice cream to eating nothing, like middle options don’t count or something.

In the end I went home, with the fairly solid plan of not eating because I was definitely over my calories for the day so my body doesn’t need any more food in it. If it is hungry from practice, which it shouldn’t be, then it can feed itself from the food I already put in it.

After my shower though I remembered a talk with my one-on-one counsellor and how we talked about post-workout nutrition and how it is important.

Ugh. Sometimes I hate when those talks pop back up in my head because they make it harder to convince myself restricting is the right choice and some days I really want to restrict because oh my god all the food in me from earlier!! Ack! But, I know he is right, and I am wrong, so I remembered what we talked about. I remembered about fueling my body, and taking care of it, and how if I don’t give it what it needs post-workout than tomorrow will be harder, and my workout tomorrow will be harder, and I’ll be more prone to injury and exhaustion, and well, I kept remembering a lot of stuff.

Eventually all that remembering kicked my ass in to gear and I made something to eat. And not even my normal food, which would have been a protein smoothie bowl or an egg with some toast.

Nope. I went out of my comfort zone by so freakin much. I have no idea why, it just felt like the night to try…to be honest I think because I still felt like such a screw up from my earlier binge that I figured if I’m gonna eat something higher calorie than my normal post practice meal I might as well go completely off plan. So, not the best reasoning for why to try something new but whatever.

I cooked a beef burger patty, and topped it with cheese, because oh yeah, apparently I eat cheese sometimes now! How the fuck did that happen?!  (I’m gonna get so fat…no! no, in moderation it might be ok…right?) Aaaaaand I made these things, I don’t know what to call them, they are like tater tots but made of broccoli and cheese.

I bought them I don’t even know how long ago and they have been in my freezer ever since. I’ve been too scared to try them because (1) what if I don’t like them and I’m stuck with them or (2) even worse, what if I like them and eat them too often, or too many at a time, and do I really want to risk having yet one more food that I know about, and like, that I have to put on my “not allowed” list, cause you know that is where most foods end up. sigh.

Food stuff is so hard.

So yeah, the package said 6 was a serving, so I cooked 6 of them.

That means I ate a burger patty with some cheese melted on top and 6 broccoli & cheese tot things.

Can that be any farther from something I am comfortable eating?

And omg, later I ate 10 crackers so I got my freakin grain component.

What has come over me…

Oh, and one last thing for the day, our drop-in group on Monday is cancelled cause of the holiday so I actually reached out to the friends I made in group that I hang with sometimes and asked if any of them would be interested in chilling that day, sort of our own group thing, so we don’t miss that Monday connection we usually have. And two of them have said yes! I thought for sure they’d be all “omg do we not see enough of you already, back the fuck off woman!” but no, they actually seem happy with the idea. Not everyone has responded yet so some of them may be all “back the fuck off”, but not all of them are…I’m assuming it is more the need to stick to routine and take care of their own recovery than any actual desire to hang out with me but that’s ok, shrug, I can deal with that.

I’m trying to tally the day, in a recovery positive way, and here is what I have:

Bad Shit:

I had a binge

Good Shit:

I stopped the binge before it got even worse than it was.

I didn’t take any pills etc. to purge after the binge.

I didn’t bail on my practice and avoid humanity because of my binge.

I initially restricted after the binge due to being sooooo full but after practice I made and cooked a meal.

The meal I cooked had all 4 food groups, contained red meat (something I never eat), contained a completely new to me food, had cheese, and I willingly ate a serving of carbs.

I didn’t purge the dinner I made.

I reached out to friends to make arrangements to help us all have support on a day when I knew we would be lacking it.

So, it would seem the Good tally is winning, wouldn’t you say?

Now, I will be the first to admit I could be very wrong here. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten the post practice dinner because of how much I consumed earlier. I don’t know all the new rules, and I get confused a lot about what to do, what is the right decision, and I most likely made the wrong one here. But even if it is wrong, I made a decision, and I stuck with it, no matter what the consequences were. And at the end of the day I guess that is the best I can do.

(I feel I should point out I wrote that last paragraph like it is no big deal but I was freaking out. Totally and absolutely freaking out about having eaten that dinner, having the food in my tummy, taking in even more calories. I have been doing so well lately with not eating too much and Thursday totally blew that out of the water. So ya know, panic, in spades. But I still didn’t go for the pills, or for a late night run, instead I drank some water and went to bed. Please let that be a sign of progress cause if it isn’t then this internal drama sooooo isn’t worth it! Just sayin’)

5 Years

I had a whole other post planned but when I logged in and checked my notifications I saw a thing from WordPress congratulating me on starting this blog 5 years ago.

5 years.

Five fucking years.

I know I have had an eating disorder for way longer than that, and hell, 5 years ago when I started this blog I wasn’t even willing to admit that I had one, the closest I would say was I have issues with food, so I guess progress has been made.

But seeing that congratulatory message about having this blog for 5 years somehow really brought to my awareness that I have had this for a long fucking time and that really sucks.

Seeing that number makes me incredibly sad, and distraught. My heart started pounding, I felt dread, and fear (I think it was fear), my breathing got more shallow, my temperature spiked. There were some massive physical reactions to seeing that number. There was also definite panic.

Why was there panic? That I don’t understand.

My thoughts are scattered, and I’m aware that I’m doing things I do when I’m freaking out or about to freak out. My eyes keep scanning the room, avoiding looking at my monitor, I have a strong urge to get up and run, or do something physical, maybe punch something. I want to hide from the information, or at least get far away from it.

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know why I need to do anything. Why I feel the need to do anything.

I just know that I went from feeling tired but wanting to write a quick post about something from today to panicked and needing to escape.

Like there is any actual escape from what is inside my own head? *rolls eyes*

Stupid Decisions

Today I am exhausted. I didn’t sleep well, I’m stressing about a bunch of things, and there is that whole little thing of not eating enough. Combined, those three things, plus a bunch of other things I’m probably not even aware of, have left me exhausted.

Unfortunately for me Mondays are a busy day for me. I work 7am-2pm, then speed to my group that runs from 3pm-5pm, then have an hour break before my 6pm group that ends at 7pm then I speed to practice where I am an hour late and coach makes sure I am aware what an inconvenience it is that I show up late on Mondays.

Yeah, Mondays kinda suck.

They suck more when I am tired.

I’ve been working on limiting my workouts to a more normal number, which isn’t easy cause coach is pushing us to workout even more, and harder. And I get that, she wants us in shape, but holy fuck from practices and selected by her workouts alone that is 7 workouts a week and that isn’t including the workouts we are responsible for on our own. In total she’d have me working out 12 times a week.

I get tired just thinking about it.

Part of me wants to rise to the challenge, push myself to do it, show myself, and her, and everyone, that I am strong enough, dedicated enough, capable enough, to do this.

Part of me knows I’ll burn out.

So today I didn’t want to go to practice. It was pouring rain, cold, windy, I was tired, hadn’t really eaten all that much for the last couple weeks or so, I was already struggling to function, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to survive at practice.

I did a thing I rarely do, I texted I wasn’t coming to practice.

I hate myself for doing it even while acknowledging I would not have survived practice. Well, ok, that is being dramatic, I would have survived but I wouldn’t have performed well, and it would have taken so much out of me I wouldn’t have been able to function afterwards. Which might have been ok except I have an early morning work meeting tomorrow and a photo shoot this coming Thursday that I can’t be sick or wiped for. Photoshop can only do so much ya know?

The very rare times I don’t go to practice I also restrict my eating, obviously. I mean, if I’m not going to work out then I can’t eat anything.

I didn’t do that.

I picked up something to eat on the way home from group because I knew I didn’t have the energy to cook anything and I was so cold and so desperately wanted something warm.

When I got home I ate. I ate an amount of food that to me is so large I don’t know how my stomach fit it all, but to a normal person was a normal amount. And what was weird was even after I was done, and I didn’t feel hungry anymore, if anything I felt overly stuffed and in pain and sickly, I wanted to keep eating. Not from hunger. Not even from emotional distress (I don’t think), but because it is habit. If I eat the amount that I ate then I must be about to binge because I never eat that much in one sitting, so it is like my body was prepped and wondering why I wasn’t still stuffing my face. Also, I was still cold, and I think I partially wanted to keep eating because of being cold. Which doesn’t actually make sense, but it is how I felt at the time so I’m going with it.

I didn’t eat anything else. I did have over the course of the rest of the evening three cups of tea, which did nothing to help the sickly gross feeling in my stomach.

I didn’t take any of my supplements, or diet pills, or laxatives, and that is bothering me. The least I should have done was taken pills to get this food out of me faster, but they all make me bloat, sometimes for days, and like I already said, I have a photo shoot on Thursday and I can’t do that bloated.

So I’m sitting here, hours after I ate all that food, laundry finally done, yawning, I should be headed to the shower and then bed, but all I can do is focus on how my stomach feels. I am scared to shower because I will see how distended my stomach is from having food in it. I am also so tired that I am too tired to get ready for bed. Does that happen to anyone else or just me? I have been known to have a nap on my living room chair in order to get enough energy together to get up and go to bed. Somehow I feel that isn’t quite normal…

I’m mad at myself for skipping practice. I’m mad at myself for eating when I didn’t go to practice. I’m mad at myself for not taking any pills after eating to mitigate the damage from eating. And above all that anger is the super focused power of my brain constantly reminding me of how my stomach feels.

Seriously, how do non eating disordered people eat like this? It’s disgusting.

What’s really fucked up is if I told this to my group, or my one on one counsellor, or any of the people at recovery, they’d probably say not going to practice and eating dinner are signs of recovery or some stupid thing. But all those actions accomplished for me was to make me feel weak and lacking in willpower.

I feel like recovery should have a tag line:

Recovery, where every decision you make will feel wrong and you’ll wonder if you’ll ever not feel like a weak idiot!

MIA

My boobs are shrinking.

Apologies, that wasn’t a very grown-up way of writing that, let’s try again…

My breasts appear to be shrinking. Again. At this rate they will disappear altogether!

Why oh why can’t the fat from oh I don’t know, my stomach, or back, or thighs, or ass, go first? Whyyyyy the boobs?

Its just not fair I tell ya!

I’ve been working out more, and my workouts focus mostly on cardio, back, shoulders, and arms. As a result I have decent definition in my arms and shoulders. My back needs work, lots of work, and my cardio endurance is slowly getting better. However, none of that working out is translating into a slimmer, better looking me.

My chest is bonier, which wasn’t planned but I’m fine with, but my boobs are disappearing, which I’m not all that ok with to be honest. I mean, if you tell me to get them back I have to start eating again then I’ll just deal with them being smaller, but it would be nice if all that work on my pecs translated in to perkier boobs, not disappearing ones. *rolls eyes*

When I was getting dressed for work today I swear I saw myself get fatter in the mirror as I was seeing if my outfit was ok.

I wish I was exaggerating with that but I swear, as I took a look at my body from the side I’m positive my abdominal and ass area got thicker.

Is that even possible? I don’t think it is, except I experienced it…I had already changed my outfit three times and didn’t have time to change again so I had to go to work in what I was wearing and I felt ginormous. Like the fattest of all the fat people. And yet two people complimented how I looked and my figure. Don’t they see how disgusting and fat I am? How I still have so much work to do to look even halfway decent? How I am obviously a person with no willpower who eats too much?

I hate what I look like. I hate how I feel in my own body. I hate this. This fucked up, can’t even tell what I look like in an outfit, way of being.

I hate that I am so mad and upset about other things and the only way I know how to express my level of upset is by taking it out on my own body.

I’ve started taking my diet pills and supplements again, I just bought some new ones cause why the fuck not? I’ve been restricting, and not my regular levels of under eating but actual restricting. I’ve been scalding myself but have so far managed to not outright burn myself. I’ve been taking part in activities that cause me body pain and low levels of harm because again, why not? I’ve already decided to pull out of a couple different social functions that I said I’d go to and not say yes to anything new that pops up, because who needs people? And to pull back from my recovery program, because why have a support system?

In all ways I can fuck with myself I am, and while part of me doesn’t really care, part of me is reveling in the pain and harm I am bringing upon myself, because I deserve it. I deserve the pain, the depression, the total and complete belief that I am alone and unworthy of anything else.

Self-destruction is my only way of dealing with things, and it is something I do well. I guess my boobs are just the first casualty of this newest battle.