Did it again

There I went again, the sudden urge to throw up, heading upstairs, unthinking, no premeditation, merely impulse. It's odd how the concept of 'too much' can be skewed in such a way that a cup of cinnamon toast crunch is suddenly a huge amount of food that must be dispelled from the body. It was meant to be my late lunch or early dinner, but I couldn't bring myself to keep it down. Especially not after I was called skinny several times today by a family friend. The same woman also told me how beautiful I was, a compliment to which I looked away and made a noncommital response. I can't take compliments, and she told me that it was merely a fact and I need to practice saying, "Why, thank you!" She makes it sound so easy, but after years of being told I'm beautiful, I still have never found myself in agreement with people.

Tomorrow, we are making Easter brunch as well as an Easter dinner. I'm hoping to get away with not really eating it, but I don't honestly care about what my parents think anyway. I go back to school, am over 18, and frankly just don't care. My mom is always supportive of my lack of eating because she never suspects anything else could be wrong. I think she has this whole idea that no one in our family could possibly have a problem and sees everything through rose colored glasses. But just wait, give me a few more months of this twisting, downward spiral, and maybe her mind will be changed. I'm on a quest for complete starvation. I don't want to die...yet at least. Not until I'm thin, and then I just won't give a damn.

good friday

Mass today was depressing; Good Friday always is. But it's even worse when a friend dies the day before and you're sitting in church looking around and seeing the occasional classmate back from grade school who are clearly not enjoying their environment either. We give each other weak smiles or a slight hand gesture to signal the acknowledgement, but deep down all we can think is why? It doesn't make sense how such good people find themselves in a flaming aircraft heading straight for the ground because of sheer bad luck. The shock of it all has yet to wear off on me, and smiles just don't seem right.

As I continued my brooding and sullen thoughts at dinner, that feeling in my gut started again...the guilty one that tells me I've eaten too much. I felt almost frantic as I sat there, mentally fighting with myself on whether I should hurry upstairs and vomit. After a good ten minutes of battling, there was a winner. I headed up the stairs, turned on the sink, removed my jcrew sweater, and shoved two fingers down my throat. I had a sudden fear that maybe I gained weight, which I had in fact when I stepped on the scale. The logical side of my brain tells me that since I was fully clothed in pants, a shirt, and sweater, in addition to having drank several cups of water and diet pop in the past few hours, that it was not additional weight on my body. But I ignored that and pushed it aside.

What did I eat that made me so guilty? A salad. With fat free dressing. The whole thing was less than 300 calories, and I only ate half of it. But I can't tell how many calories I personally consumed because since salads have a variety of additives, you can't simply cut it in half and say, "there, 150 calories." What if I had more olives than the other half? See my dilemna? It's complicated. But that's all I've had today other than some sticks of gum and diet ginger ale. I'm full (or rather, not starving), hate this feeling, and am going to play tennis to hopefully burn it off.

Not an April Fool's Joke

They say that bad things happen in threes, and today they certainly did.

1) Caribou was out of northern lite cooler mix so I had to settle on a skinny iced latte, but I had really been looking forward to the espresso lite cooler all day.

2) I got lost on the highway (after incident #3)

3) A girl I've known since grade school AND her dad died in a plane crash today on their way to Chicago.

At first when I heard the news, I was stunned, and I called my mom. Then it occurred to me, what if this was some sick April Fool's joke? Some people have no sense, and I had to be sure. But it wasn't a joke; she's really gone. And although I haven't spoken to her since high school and although we haven't really been real "friends" since we were little, I cried. I never cry. But there I was on the highway (which is where I was when I found out), still with 90 minutes to go before I could be home. My throat and eyes are still dry, and I definitely looked like a mess. I couldn't help but wonder why such a great person could die in such a terrible accident. And not only her but her dad as well, leaving her mother and older sister with this incredible loss and pain that I cannot even begin to imagine. I was so furious with myself for crying because she deserves more than my mere tears, and I felt selfish for crying and feeling sorry for myself when there are many other people for whom this will have a greater impact. I blame my lack of eating and sleeping for my emotional instability.

When I got lost on the highway, my roommate called me to tell me the news of which I had already heard. She quickly learned I was lost from my frantic voice and unpleasant tone and started getting mad at me for being upset and getting mad at her...really? She had to make this about her?! I had just learned an hour prior that a girl I knew was dead and was lost on the highway wanting nothing more than getting home, and she was telling me not to yell at her. And despite my repeated attempts to explain to her that I was not, in fact, upset with her but the entire situation I was in, she still took everything personally. To put it simply, I was an emotional wreck after this phone conversation. Everyone reacts to a death differently, and I would NEVER assume someone was angry with me after a tragedy because that's pure selfishness.

The only positive side of this day was that I still had less than 250 calories (no emotional bingeing, thank god), but only lost 0.2 lbs from yesterday...tomorrow I had better lose more. And it's Good Friday, which is technically a fasting day for Catholics....legit excuse not to eat.

FML

So this woman came to the café where I work today to order what we call a “frozen buckeye.” It’s like a frapuccino from Starbucks but with chocolate and peanut butter…delicious but incredibly fattening. Not to mention, it’s probably our most complicated drink (not that it’s hard to make but still). As I took her money at the register, she looked at me and said, “Oh my god, you look just like my niece.” Obviously, this made me uncomfortable and I stammered, “Oh really?” The woman continued, “Oh, yes, the eyes, the smile, everything, except,” and she paused. And here’s the real kicker, “She’s a very small frame, petite.”

Excuse me?!

So I was inadvertently called fat today. Maybe some girls wouldn’t take this so hard, but I was not amused. I smiled, of course, and continued to make her drink, but inwardly I was seething. I could kind of tell she was looking for the right words to say after she had already put her foot in her mouth, but the nerve of some people! Anyway, fortunately, I lost another two pounds from yesterday, so I currently stand at 147 lbs…need a lot of improvement clearly. Today, I have had a little bit of skim milk (less than half a cup, so 40 calories max?), some raw veggies (50 calories max), yellow mustard (0 calories), and half a small green apple (40 calories max)…bringing me to 130 calories at the most. Also, I had three diet pills, so I’m hoping all those calories will be sufficiently burned off. And tomorrow I have three 2hour classes, between which I will be drinking black coffee, water, and diet pop, before I drive home for Easter weekend. And I’m totally bringing home my scale under the guise of “comparing it with the scale at home” so my roommate doesn’t think I’m nuts.

Sorry for the rant…I’m bored at work and procrastinating my required reading for a poli sci class.

Musings

As classes have started up again (as of this morning, for me), I have once again began my usual daily musings and disturbing passages in my makeshift journal. It helps distract me, and although I almost never read over them again, it is a good outlet. And, of course, when they're particularly interesting instead of me complaining about how much food I have eaten (which is always, including fasting days...somehow I find something to complain about), I will post them in italics like I am today. But first, I would like to say that I lost 4 lbs from yesterday, and while I am thrilled, it worries me because I know I won't lose yet another 4 lbs tomorrow. I wish I would, though, because I would feel so much better. But as we know, one goal turns into another, and in the end, it's never enough.

It's long, please enjoy:

Life fascinates me sometimes. How it can be so grand for one and the greatest pain for another. It is so odd how we are all born into different worlds with different face, changed personalities, and our own perspective. How are we thrust into the separate bodies, do we choose where to place our minds, and are we forever caged in these shells of humanity? I believe in God; I'm Catholic, after all. But these wonders of the world never cease to confuse me still, and perhaps they are curious thoughts that whose answers we are not meant to know. Or perhaps there is no reason at all, although I can't imagine God not having an objective or reason behind anything He does.

I also wanted to take the time to reflect on some potentially disturbing revelations that I had when I bought a word search the other day in the airport. I realized that when I was young, I used to play a game with myself. I would hold my breath until I had found a certain number of words in the puzzle (in a row, of course). I don't remember ever failing, to be honest, but I do remember my vision blurring and eyes straining to see the letters, the burning in my lungs that were begging for air, and my limbs growing slightly weak with the sudden lack of oxygen. But I didn't relent because deep down I knew there would be worse consequences if I failed...what those consequences were and who would issue the punishment, I don't know. But none of it seemed strange to me. I frequently played these mind games of life and death. If I didn't make up it up the stairs before someone walked into the kitchen or if I didn't finish a math problem before a commercial was over, etc, then I would die. And I never failed at my personal competitions because I didn't want to die yet. I would idly think, "How would I explain my death? I failed to type a sentence before the minute was up? Would they understand?" The fact that I would logically never die this way did not occur to me. The fact that I was being irrational was irrelevant and did not cross my mind. I convinced myself it was true, and I never told a soul.

Perhaps that would have been the first clue that I have something wrong with me. This gambling of my life and unique form of control that I inwardly displayed without fail. I forget about these things until some random thing reminds me, such as buying the word search. This never ending competition with myself and acting like life is a game. I don't know if I'll ever come to terms with reality. And even as I sit on this windowsill, writing these thoughts kept hidden from anyone I know, I still don't know if what I do is normal or if I really am out of my mind.

Deep Thoughts Long Overdue

It has been too long since I have left a deep post, so here it is. My thoughts as of a few hours ago as I sat in bed, writing in my journal:

Emotions are funny things saved for the weak hearted and those who are too naive to learn to control them. They're pointless and trivial aspects of humanity that I strive daily to rise above. I grow closer and closer every day to overcoming this unnecessary piece of my existence, gradually succeeding in overcoming something that only impedes my surreal path through life. I see no reason to care for anything; excitement and passion are mere emotions, both unnecessary and irrelevant. They show a sense of need, and neediness never fails to irritate me.

I am not weak. I do not need food or sustenance like other, weak willed people. I do not allow the rumble of my belly to rule my life. In fact, I rarely eat because I am hungry. When I eat, it is because I demonstrate a moment of weakness, a moment of folly, a moment of succumbing to humanity, a moment that I despise beyond all others. However, I know that I will be stronger; I will perfect. I will be the model of discipline, the epitome of self control, just give me time. All I will need is water and the pills that offer me all the nutrition I need. I do not fear dying because I have nothing to hold on to. And those people who disillusion themselves to believe that something is worthwhile or that love actually exists are merely trying to escape reality.