Tag Archives: alone

Two Days So Far

Two days in a row I have binged and then taken various pills to try to mitigate the damage. sigh.

I wish I could throw-up, I’ve tried so many times to purge that way but I can almost never seem to manage it. So instead I over exercise, and take pills that hurt my stomach but are supposed to rush the food outta me, and I take laxatives just in case the other pills don’t help, and then I restrict way more than normal for however long after that I can manage.

And oh yeah, during all this I hate myself, and isolate myself, and can’t focus on anything because I am so overwhelmed by the thoughts in my head.

I went for a long walk tonight after my first binge of the day. Partly to try to burn some calories, partly because I like to walk as it lets me think and not think all at once, partly because I enjoy listening to music while walking, and partly because it was finally dark out so I could go outside – after a binge I prefer to exercise, or do anything really, in the dark because while I am horrible to look at on a normal day, after a binge I feel especially hideous and can’t stand the thought of people looking at me. I’m judging myself enough thanks very much, I don’t need others doing it also.

I only walked 8km (5 miles). I should have walked for longer but all of a sudden, while walking, I got super tired, and my legs were feeling heavy, and I realized that I didn’t think I could finish the distance I had planned, so I cut the walk short. Lame I know. I should have pushed myself to go farther, but I caved.

Normally after a walk I don’t have any muscle pain or aches, things you get after a real workout, cause it is just a walk, but since I got back my legs ache. As if they got a real workout, but again, it was just a walk, so I don’t know what’s going on with them. My lower back is kinda sore also, but I’ve put some heat on it and I’m assuming by tomorrow it’ll be fine. Legs too, I’m assuming by tomorrow they will be fine also.

I must be getting out of shape to have such a simple thing as walking noticeably affect how my body feels. I’ve been taking part in a fitness challenge, in the last 7 days I have had 6 workouts. I guess I should up that since my body seems to be getting weaker and I’m trying to make it stronger. Well, thinner and stronger, which I am aware are goals that are at odds with each other.

It used to be something I spoke with my counsellor about but since I don’t have him anymore I guess it is just something I will speak to myself about. Or not think about at all. Ah yes, one more unsolved issue to have floating around my brain, awesome.

It has now been 2 weeks without him. I’ve stopped talking about him to anybody that knew about him because I don’t want to seem like some obsessed crazy person. I don’t know how to explain what I feel in regards to him. It isn’t like a crush, or when you break up with a boyfriend, or even when a friendship ends, but it is similar enough to some of the emotions that come up in those situations that I feel a bit like I do when I’ve been dealing with the end of a relationship.

And I’m kinda mad at him that he gave me hope. In his own odd way. When I said I was upset cause I’d never see him again an stuff he gave me this reassuring, compassionate, expression, and said I don’t know that, and I’ll have him around helping me for a while, and stuff like that. As if he is going to magically reappear in my world somehow. But he isn’t. And I have to acknowledge and deal with that. He isn’t going to reappear at my program and be my one-on-one counsellor again. He isn’t going to pop up somewhere else in my world and become a friend. He’s just a person that I spoke with for a short time that I’ll never see again. And that is messing with me. Usually people you tell private, important stuff to, are people you will see again, people you can contact, people you know. But now, I’ll never see him again, he’s probably already forgotten I exist, I’m spiraling from losing him as part of my support team, and I’m never gonna know what happens to him. Does he get a great job? Does he do amazing things? Does he have a happy life? I dunno. And I never will know, because it isn’t my place to know that about him, but I had this false sense of friendship because of our talks together and I feel a loss that I will never know those things about him.

I sometimes make up stupid scenarios in my head about running in to him. At one of my sports team’s competitions, or just when I’m out doing something. He told me in our last session that if he ever sees me, due to ethical stuff, the most he is allowed to do is nod, he can’t come say hi, I would have to initiate contact. And we can never be friends, unless, maybe I am better from what he used to counsel me about, and he sorta stretched the ethical rules. So even if I did run in to him, and say hi, it would never go beyond that superficial quick convo before we both went on our way.

I don’t want you to think I’m wanting to date him or something, I don’t, that isn’t what this is about. It’s just, I think he is someone who would be cool to have as a friend, not for the counselling stuff, but because he’s funny, and in to fitness, and has a relateable way about him. And I think that if somehow we had met in real life, not in a counselling session, maybe we could have been friends. I mean sure, I know we never would have met, our lives don’t cross paths anywhere and even if they did he’d never glance my way, but it is just this feeling I have.

It’s stupid. I know it is stupid. But it is how I feel.

I think all these feelings floating in me, about this, are manifesting in binges, and restricting, and self-harming, and other not healthy coping skills. I also have sunk in to a “don’t care” mentality and skipped meal support today. I also would have skipped drop-in but I got convinced to go by a friend. I feel like, without him there helping me, I can’t do this on my own, so why try. Why put in the effort when all I’m going to do is fail? Seems like a waste of time to me.

I miss him. I miss our sessions together. But I’m not supposed to miss him, so this is just one more thing I am alone in dealing with. And the person who would normally help me deal is him, but obviously he can’t help with this, and I don’t know how to deal with this, so I’m engaging in damaging behaviours and I don’t really care about the hurt I am doing to my body because really, what does it matter?



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.

Being An Island

I’ve always prided myself in my being an emotional island. Sure I rely on other people for things at times, it is the nature of society, we all do. You don’t see me out there farming or refining oil so I can have food or gas for my car do you? But in a lot of ways I have kept myself apart.


I give the illusion of being connected to people, and places, and groups, but in reality none of those people know me all that well, they just don’t realize it because I am the funny one, the one that keeps others entertained, the low maintenance one that I am sure is completely forgotten once I am not in the room.

My keeping myself apart is a learned behaviour, one that is so ingrained I don’t know any other way of being. There have been times over the years where I let someone in a little bit, and it always comes back to bite me on the ass, reminding me why I don’t get close to people in the first place.

Well, looks like I needed to relearn that lesson, sigh.

I already wrote about how my counsellor leaving has messed me up, it would seem the fallout from him leaving is wider spread than even I would have predicted.

Having to come to terms with his leaving has made me realize how much I have come to rely on him and our sessions. He is the only human being on the entire planet I have ever spoken to about deep shit, and our sessions together were a touchstone for me each week. I knew if something really fucked up happened I could speak to him about it when I saw him. I knew if I was depressed, confused, mad, whatever, I could talk to him about it. And somehow, along the way, while having someone to talk to still confused me, I also came to rely on it and look forward to it.

What a stupid, idiotic, fucked up, move that was.

I am so mad at myself for forgetting all the hard learned lessons that taught me relying or counting on someone is a bad bad bad idea.

So now, here I am, going through this freakin emotional upset (which is so foreign to me I don’t even know where to start with processing it) when I know better and should never have let myself get this attached.

While ruminating on all this I realized that to a lesser extent I am relying on the groups I attend through my recovery program. The weekly drop-in, the meal support, I rely on them as other touchstones for my week, places I can go and be around other people with similar problems. Sometimes I get support from those groups, sometimes they leave me angry, or sad, or not feeling anything at all, regardless of how they leave me feeling I keep going back. I think I rely on the structure of them, to some degree I rely on the people running them, and the others that attend the groups.

I seem to have turned in to one big soft suck who relies on all sorts of people and groups to function during the week.

And that shit has to stop. Now.

With my counsellor leaving I am feeling lost, alone, like I can’t deal with this shit on my own and I’m gonna flounder as soon as our last session ends. So how much worse will it be when I time out of the program? When all of a sudden all the groups, and support, and structure is out of my life?

If I can’t deal with losing one person, I’m royally fucked when I lose them all.

That isn’t acceptable.

So I’m pulling back. I’m pulling back and creating distance because it is better for me to do it, better for me to be the strong one who backs away and maintains some level of self-respect, than for them to all leave first and me feel lost, and sad, and unable to cope. I need to be able to be on my own again when this program is done. I need to be able to handle shit, and move on, and how am I supposed to believe in my own ability to take care of things on my own if I am busy wallowing in depression because I am now on my own?

So I’m stepping back. Distancing myself emotionally from the whole thing. Putting the walls back up.

It is safer, and smarter, and better to do this before I’m even done in the program so its not a big deal when I leave.

What sucks is, I hadn’t realized how much I was relying on the program, and now that I’m stepping back emotionally I worry that what if I have become so weak from relying on it that I can’t handle shit on my own anymore? And why does going back behind my wall make me feel almost desperate, like someone who had a brief taste of freedom and is now being put back in a cell?

I never felt trapped by how I was before, I felt strong for being able to be apart from others. But sometimes I feel sad about going back to how I was, even though it is the smarter choice. I’m not sure why I feel this way, but I’m sure it’ll go away over time.


New Bones

Last week I noticed that the rib bones on the top part of my chest (above my breasts) are more visible. I don’t know when exactly that happened, it isn’t an area I focus on a lot, and I never thought I was fat there before but now that I can clearly see the bones there I wonder how I didn’t notice I had extra fat there.

Was I oblivious?

I think it is more that my collarbones are fairly prominent and I’m more concerned about the extra fat on my abdominal area and thighs. Gotta prioritize ya know?

So yeah…I’ve been losing more weight, yay! and gained new bones, yay! and I have massive amounts of fear that I will screw this up and lose them, boo!

Lose them…like they will fall out of my body or something *rolls eyes* Losing them would be having them once again hidden under dreaded fat. But seriously, why couldn’t the fat have come off other areas first? sigh.

For days after I noticed the new bones I was happy, I wished I had someone to share this new development with but not like there is anybody to tell. So I stayed quiet about it and hugged the news to myself, using it to boost my mood when I started to get a bit down. I also used it as motivation for restricting even more and helping to bolster my will power when tempted to eat.

Pretty fucked up huh?

I didn’t think it was all that noticeable to other people, I generally wear not high neck tops but not low ones either, so the area is covered up for the most part but something odd happened. I went to work and three different managers took time to sit down with me, give me some serious eye contact, and ask if I was ok.

Strange huh?

There is one person who knows a bit of what I go through, she doesn’t understand and keeps telling me to “just eat already!” but someone who knows a little bit is better then not having anybody, I guess…I’m not really sure…but in theory it is better. So yeah, she is a friend at work and I got paranoid that she ratted me out to management but I asked her about it and she swears she didn’t. She thinks they sat me down to talk because my initial weight loss was a “wow, how awesome” kind of thing but has gone too far and is now a “she’s getting too skinny” kind of thing. I don’t believe her, she is definitely exaggerating because I am nowhere near skinny enough to look like someone who anyone should worry about. I still have too much fat on me in too many places. But the timing sure was odd.

My initial happiness about the new chest bones has faded. I’m still happy about them, and I look at them in the mirror every day to make sure they aren’t getting hidden under fat again, but life gets in the way and other things have over ridden the happy emotions I got after first noticing the bones.

A friend died, and I’m not handling it well. I’m binge eating like crazy, which is making me more paranoid about losing the bones, which drives me to take more diet pills and laxatives, which gives me abdominal pain, which leads me to not eat because of the pain, which leads to me feeling too many emotions and stuffing my face to squash the emotions, which starts the cycle up all over again.

It sucks.

I was watching an old tv show on YouTube, it is about teens who go to a ranch for therapy instead of detention. It is from the late 80s or early 90s I think. I’ve been binge watching it and there was an episode where a girl has an eating disorder and also is super athletic and she had a heart attack because of an electrolyte imbalance and being near starved to death…though the actress they cast doesn’t look at all anorexic…but since you can’t always tell from looking at a person maybe that is why they cast her…ok not the point…

It got me wondering thought, about health side effects from eating disorders. I always think that the negative health stuff only happens to anorexics who are super under weight. I’m not gonna have electrolyte issues, or heart attacks, or whatever else might happen because there is still too much fat on me. I haven’t reached that level of danger. But maybe that is wrong? I dunno. I know I get chest pains, and sometimes shortness of breath from activities that shouldn’t cause me to be short of breath, but that is a far cry from actual heart issues.

I should probably ask my case worker at our next meeting but I think it is gonna be bad enough having to admit I started using my pills again. I can’t see a conversation that organically grows from that admission to “can I have heart issues even though I’m still so fat?”. It was bad enough the other week when I hadda talk to her about my self-harm action. *rolls eyes*

Something I don’t get about her, she hasn’t yelled at me yet. I keep waiting for her to get exasperated, or mad, or just plain yell or order me to do or not do something, but she always talks to me in a calm, patient, voice. Its weird.

This post is kinda all over the place. But so is my brain right now so I guess the post is a good reflection of the inside of my head.

I was supposed to work today but I called in sick. I had abdominal pains so it was a legit reason for calling, but during the day I realized I was acting odd…sorta numb, sad, depressed. I wanted to eat everything and anything but I wasn’t hungry, in fact the abdominal pain I had made eating rather unpleasant. I think it is a reaction to finding out about my friend dying…I was told yesterday and lemme tell ya, after I was told, the rest of my day did not go well. I was all over the place emotionally, mostly mad, but with burst of overwhelming sadness thrown in there for good measure. I just couldn’t face people today.

I’m so mad. Mad that he is dead. Mad that I’m going to have to deal with people at work talking about it for the next week. Mad I didn’t get to say goodbye. Mad that I let myself get attached.

Just. Mad.

That anger is driving pretty much everything I am doing right now. It drove me to eat two desserts today that I definitely didn’t need, or even want. It is currently driving me to not eat anything more until tomorrow as punishment for eating the desserts. It is why I keep punching the wall. Why I took my diet pills today, I wanted the stomach pain they would give me.

I feel like I deserve the pain. My inability to control my eating today means I earned pain, and punishment. I feel like I am being torn apart inside and it makes me want to scream that no one who sees me can tell. Is it because people don’t really look at people any longer or because I am that good at hiding what is really going on inside me. Does it matter which reason it is? Not really. The result is the same.

I hurt. I don’t mean the pain from the pills. I mean me, my heart, it hurts. My body hurts from how I treat it, my heart hurts because I was stupid enough to let it get attached to some people and one of them is now dead.

Death. It is so fucking final. I hate that I’ll never hear his voice anymore. I hate that no one will ever call me the nickname he called me. I hate that we’ll never joke around, and I’ll never read anymore stories that he wrote, I hate that we’ll never talk movies or books or stuff happening in the world. I hate that he is gone, and I especially hate that I am so fucking selfish that I keep thinking that his being gone means I am even more alone.





Lately I have been confused, confused about my body, how I look to others, how I look to myself, how my body feels…just confused! I don’t like it…

Last weekend I got asked by someone at work who I never thought ever really looked at me if I had lost weight. I said yes, I had lost 10 pounds, and he congratulated me, said he thought I looked smaller, and congrats. I thanked him, said I still had far to go but at least it was a start and I was surprised he said anything because nobody else had noticed. Then the convo went on to other things.

For the rest of that day I was all “this is working, this is great, good job me!” Not only did I know I had lost weight (scale and clothes have told me so) but others were seeing the change, which is awesome!

But while I have the reinforcement from him, and how my pants are fitting, and the number on the scale I swear to god I look like I am getting fatter.

What. The. Fuck.

My stomach is more poofy, it is disgusting. It’s not bloated, that is different, there is a feeling that comes with being bloated, there is no bloated feeling, just a disgusting, fat, stomach area that isn’t going away.

I am terrified I have gained weight.

As I wrote yesterday I have been having trouble lately with my restricting, I’m not full on binge eating but I’ll over eat on say Monday, then restrict Tuesday, then over eat Wednesday, then restrict for Thursday, Friday and Saturday, then over eat Sunday…it is some messed up cycle I can’t seem to break out of. Though, as I also wrote yesterday, I am determined to break out of it and will be re-committing to restricting asap.

The way my stomach feels, and how i look in the mirror, and just in general how I feel has me absolutely certain all that over eating has made me gain back the entire ten pounds I had lost and probably gained more on top of that, and that is such a depressing thought.

I can’t bring myself to step on the scale, I am too scared. If the number is higher then it was last time, which I am sure it will be, I don’t know what I will do, and I know it won’t be smaller than what it was last time because of those stupid over eating sessions so what is the point of stepping on it and getting so upset I cry? sigh.

My pants are still fitting looser, which I am taking as confirmation that the weight I gained back has gone directly to my midsection rather than my ass which is where I seemed to be initially losing it from.

I don’t know what to do.

I mean obviously I am going back to restricting asap but this extra fat on my midsection, I don’t know what to do about it. When I lose weight my body tends to lose it off my midsection last, which sucks, and now I have even more there! More! Arg!

Does this mean that every time I over eat the weight I gain will be immediately put on to my stomach? That sucks. Why can’t it go to my boobs or something? ­čśë

stop eating 2

Help That Is So Close But So Far

My last post was about how I had been fooling myself, slipping in to my old ways, letting myself fall back in to the comforting embrace of my whacked out eating habits.

This post is about that elusive beast called help.

I already wrote about how I tried talking to someone and they shut me down and said go see someone else, you can read about that wonderful experience here.

Since that experience I decided screw it, obviously professional help isn’t something I am getting and really, I’m not all that bad so I don’t really need help, I’m fine on my own. I don’t know if I do need help and am lying to myself about it or if I really don’t, I don’t think I’m a good judge for this decision lol but regardless of if I am right or wrong it isn’t happening.

Doesn’t stop me from googling though!

I found this service, provided by the city health care services, free of charge, it is various types of clinics, inpatient, outpatient and residential treatments for people with a wide range of eating disorders.

One of them intrigues me, it is outpatient (there is an inpatient program but I wouldn’t do that), it, I dunno, there is stuff quickly summarizing it on the site I saw and it felt right…yes, I am aware that sounds stupid. I’m probably nowhere near bad off enough to be accepted in to their program, but it has me thinking.

Thinking about help. About what having help might entail. About if I really need help or am fine. About if there is any point to it, shrug.

Thing is, to qualify for this program you have to be referred by your doctor. I have a doctor but I don’t see her often and she has noooooo idea I have any food issues. I don’t want to tell her. I don’t know her well enough to know what her response might be. What if she doesn’t believe me? What if she takes one look at me and says I am too fat to have an eating disorder? What if she laughs at me, or tells me no one can help me, or does any of the other horrible things that are bouncing around in my head?

I can’t stand the idea of telling her so that I can then request she refer me to this program, which means I will never get in to the program because I need her to refer me.

Not a good cycle to be in.

I suppose I could contact the info line for the program and lie, say I don’t have a doctor, and is there anything I can do to get around that referral requirement but I don’t know that starting out treatment of any kind by saying a big fat lie is a good thing to do…might set a bad vibe ya know?

I dunno…I’m probably not going to call them, they probably can’t help me anyways so I am writing this for absolutely no reason except it has been on my mind since I found the website a couple weeks ago and I wanted to mention it to someone and obviously that someone is you.


Big Boned

I’ve heard people say “I’m big boned” not in reference to me but in reference to themselves. These weren’t large people, they were normal sized, they just thought they had a larger skeletal frame. To be honest it isn’t something I think about often, the size of my bones I mean.

This evening though a complete stranger told me they could tell I was from where I am from because I am a “big boned girl” and apparently women from my province are big boned.

What the actual fuck?!?!

For starters, that doesn’t even make sense. You can’t tell where someone is from based on their body build, not in my country anyways, it’s not like everyone in Alberta looks one way and everyone in BC looks another way. We’re a freakin immigrant country, we all look different!

Despite what he said not making sense it still really bothered me…I write that as past tense but it is bothering me still, as in this very moment, when it’s been more than ten hours since he said that to me.

Apparently I look big boned.

I still don’t know how to respond to that. I didn’t have a response when he said it to me either, well, I had one in my head but I was at work so I had to be professional and therefore couldn’t say what I was thinking, or punch him which to be honest was what I wanted to do most.

Not like there is ever a good time to have a jackass make a super rude and inappropriate comment on my body to me but this was told to me as I was, for once, feeling fairly ok with how I was looking. I have lost 5.5 pounds, which I know isn’t a lot but it is a start, and I had been thinking all day about how I am on my way to my goal weight and how I was going to make some sort of visual thing to track my weight loss…something like this…

weight jars

I was trying to be positive about my weight loss and thinking about how much more I am going to lose, and how my clothes will fit better, then eventually need to be replaced, how I’ll feel so much better about myself and so much more. Basically I was riding the happy train and feeling a bit better about myself and then this guy came in to my world and I came crashing down. Down to where I was brutally reminded I have a long way to go, a lot of weight to lose, how I may be feeling better inside about how I am doing but on the outside I still look the same, how I am an object that men I have never met feel they can comment on, how I’m still so fat and it is all my fault because I have crap ass eating habits and alternate between restricting and binge eating and my punishment is this.

This body.

This treatment from strangers.

This misery.

I hate that man but I hate myself more for looking the way I do and giving that man something to comment on.

hate myself