Can't Sleep

I must say, if anyone needs to stay awake for several days, they should just stop eating because a lack of food quickly yields insomnia.  I've known this for a long time, but I just thought I'd mention it again anyway.  Here I am, in the darkness of my room, trying to figure out ways to fall asleep and stay that way...and clearly failing.

Today (or technically yesterday since it's 2am), I had some strawberries, lettuce with fat free italian dressing, and a scoop of ice cream.  I don't know my calorie count, but I was under 1000 cals.  Normally I shoot for about 500 or less, but when I'm at my parents house I tend to binge so I've raised it slightly to prevent such a catastrophe.  One of my new plans to keep myself occupied has been laying out at the pool because I can drink diet coke all day long and never eat when I'm in a swimsuit...never even tempted.  I've always been that way, which was probably why the summer I was a lifeguard was hell.  That was also the summer my eating disorder started.  I would be on duty for 8 hours sometimes and never touch an ounce of food.  It's a good thing no children started drowning because I'd probably have been too weak to save them.  I remember that was also when my friends started noticing me getting skinnier (according to them), but I only remember feeling ridiculously fat even though I wasn't.

I'd also like to mention that finding a swimsuit the other day?  Practically impossible.  For one thing, most of them are already gone since it's so late in the season, but the other problem is that I have rather large boobs and a bubble butt.  And of course, since those two items are the main things covered in a swimsuit, that makes it difficult to shop for one.  Most of the bikinis were triangles or strapless, and I really needed a halter for the support.  It took several hours before I was able to get one!  It's decent looking, black and white polka dots, and the bottoms are slightly loose (which I like) so there's no muffin topness going on.  If only my upper region would shrink again...scratch that, if only my entire body would shrink!!!!!

Finally

I FINALLY laid out at the pool for the first time all summer.  I confess that I'm one of those naturally tan people, so my form of paleness is really just an olive complexion.  Normally, that would be fine, but I don't like looking like I am a lemon when it's summer.  My tanline is basically nonexistent, but hopefully after a few days I will be much darker.

I am getting a new swimsuit tomorrow because somehow my upper region has expanded despite my weight loss...I blame my mother for my late development because she has a rather large chest.  I shouldn't complain, but I don't like this excess fat.  Oh well, at least the rest of me is shrinking (albeit slowly).

And if you are curious, today's intake:  lots of coffee, sugar free redbull, 1 pickle spear, 1 french fry, part of a lean cuisine, and some blueberries.  No idea how many calories, but I calculated it to be less than 400.

Lightening the Mood

Okay, okay, after going through my increasingly disturbing posts of late, I decided that I should probably try to lighten the mood despite the raging thoughts in my mind at present.  My mom called me this morning to tell me how I needed to be social because it's necessary to life, and I tried to make noises of affirmation even though I fail to see why friends are essential to living.  Because they aren't.

BUT I'm going to write something more uplifting...like how I've lost some weight!  I refuse to weigh myself for a while longer because then I won't be prone to bingeing.  Also, I'm debating getting a new swimsuit form Target today.  I only have two swimsuits (which I get is more than I need), but one of them is too small on top since my chest has gotten bigger over the past five years...plus the color is fading.  I figure it's time for a new suit then, even if I might never wear it.

I still don't know what I'm doing for the holiday weekend, but I'e been watching a lot of Wimbledon.  Can I just say that Rafael Nadal is soooo adorable?  If you've never heard of him, google him.  His little personality quirks though are just so friggin cute.

Anyway, I'm going to figure out how to occupy myself for the next few days until I can go back to work on Wednesday.  I'm bummed they don't need my help until then because of the holiday since it was such a great way for me to distract myself.  And since I'm no longer sleeping...well, that just adds even more hours to my already boring days...Geez, I'm supposed to be uplifting...

Hope

How long will it take me to die?

The question plagues my mind every second of every day, with every shaky breath I take, with every weak beat from my slowing heart, with every pain I feel come unbidden and unexplained.  I can feel my body deteriorating despite the youthfulness of my features and the few years that have passed since the beginning of my meager existence.  I can’t help but wonder how long I am mean to live.  What plan could I possibly have laid out for myself and what could I possibly be meant to fulfill other than causing further misery to those around me.

Sometimes I seem hell bent on taking everyone down with me.  I don’t mean to, and I do my best to make sure that the circle around myself is as small and far away as possible.  I cannot fathom any reason for others to desire my presence of body or mind.  Perhaps the reason for this lack of understanding the is the simple fact that I, if I were in their shoes, would not seek my company.  I try to separate myself from my own being with such force that I do not recognize the face I see in the mirror.  There is a strange barrier between my mind and body, and as I stare at my reflection I find that I cannot come to terms with the idea nor the comprehension that the person before me is truly me.  It’s an odd feeling, I suppose, but one so familiar and so ingrained in my soul that I can think in no other way. 

The face, as it stares back at me, is not unpleasant.  If I looked with an unbiased perspective, perhaps I would even term it beautiful.  But alas, I cannot do such a thing.  I shun those who deem my poor being worthy of a compliment, desperately trying and failing to understand what it is they see.  Am I so delusional that I picture someone else in the glass?  Is my mind so distorted?  Or is it theirs that requires help because they are the ones who warp their idea of beauty so much that I could possible fit in it?

I know that I’m a troubled soul.  I’m caught between reality and illusion, and I can’t seem to find a firm grasp on the world.  I can’t face the concept that I’m truly alive, always seeking death as assurance because then I might feel something.  I feel as though I want to be separate from my body so that I can watch how it interacts with people around it, in a futile attempt to discover the meaning of my life.  As I am now, I fail to see how I have any purpose at all in this world, and I can’t recognize that my death would have any significant impact on any one being.  A few individuals may weep slightly at my passing, but I am convinced that is because they feel that is what is required of them.  It is an ingrained response to a death, an instinct, what is expected, but not a genuine emotional response.

I still live in the hope that one day I will finally realize what is worth living for or what I am seeking that my life is currently without.  I am devoid of whatever motivates others to continue on with their existing; I am just a black hole sucking in whatever life form chooses to come to close.  Flinching at the touch of others, running from any emotional response, hiding from feelings or needs of the body—anything to confirm that I am a living, breathing, human being.  I shun that fact with the hopes that I can overcome this barrier of being contained in a body.  I just want to float up in the sky with my disturbed thoughts and twisted ideals.

I can’t tell if this is who I am or who I’m trying to be.  I can no longer distinguish between the façade and what is real.  When I laugh, I wonder if I am truly laughing or merely pretending.  It often sounds like a hollow, chilling, eerie sound to me because I know that I am not actually happy.  The sound that escapes my throat does so out of necessity in order to prevent odd looks I would receive if I chose to remain stoic.  I smile to act as though a person has amused me or said something that requires such an upturn of the lips, but inside my mind is merely turning its wheels trying to think of the correct way to respond.  It requires a great amount of energy from my body, and when I am too exhausted or mentally weary…that is when people ask if something is wrong.  Sometimes I find more strength within my caffeine laden being to shake my head and grin, assuring them not to worry.  ‘I just need more coffee,’ I say.  But really, I need someone to shake me.  I need someone to tell me everything will be alright.  I need someone to love me for being me. 

For as insane as my mind has grown and as shattered as I have become, there is still a small part of me…a tiny part still hoping.

Perhaps I have not lost it all.

Tension

I ignored my mom's phone call today.  I've only spoken with her twice over the past week and a half, which is uncharacteristic for me given that I used to call her once or twice per day.  But after my birthday weekend and the mess that it created, my relationship with my mom has felt somewhat strained.  I still love her, obviously, but I just don't want to talk to her.  I called on Monday, but it was rather awkward.  We just haven't been up to our usual banter, and I'm worried it will never be the same.  I understand that she seems to think that if I just apologize and lose 10 pounds that I will be my usual, cheerful self.  The problem with that notion, however, is that 1) I'm not a naturally cheerful person anymore but just pretend to be because I know that will make other people happy, 2) losing 10 pounds will make me happy for a day before I feel the need to lose another 10, and 3) I'm depressed and an apology will not suddenly change anything.  The fact of the matter is that I have been doing a damn good job of keeping things from my family (and friends), and I always smile and laugh when I'm around them.  But my smile isn't real and the laugh is strained...only I know that, though.  I just plaster on the smile and use the little energy I have left to pretend like everything is okay.  It's rather exhausting sometimes.

Anyway, I've lost a few pounds over the past few days and have been refusing to step on the scale for a while.  I'm kind of hoping that ignoring the scale might help me prevent some binges.  Also, I'm falling back into my "muffin a day" philosophy.  I have such an extraordinary sweet tooth and depriving myself of sweet things only wreaks havoc on my life.  I actually did a great job losing 15 pounds in December (and kept that off) by getting a muffin or slice of pumpkin bread or something from a coffee shop (often Starbucks) and nibbling on that over the day.  My caloric intake would vary, but it was generally under 500 depending on the sweet.  It kept me from craving other sweets since I wasn't being deprived.  So!  Here I am in Caribou, drinking black iced coffee, and picking at a blueberry muffin like a mouse.  I can stretch this little guy out for several hours...I probably won't finish it for another 5 hours or so.  Next time I might settle for a pumpkin muffie from Panera...that was what I wanted in the first place but since I arrived around lunch time, it was too crowded.  I like the solitude.

Fast maybe?

Today I have work until 10pm tonight, and a lot of it will be working at an event.  That means that I probably just won't be eaten, which would be amaaazing!  I don't want to bring any food with me because, I don't know, intentionally bringing something is just against my morale.  So I'm about to finish getting dressed for the day, going to go buy a large coffee (maybe with an extra shot of espresso), and get to work!

Wish me luck! :)

Distracted

I'm not entirely sure what has been preoccupying my mind lately, but my posts have been sketchily added at best.  I need to get back in the groove and post daily again!  You would think that since I'm living on my own now with nothing better to do with my time that I would be posting constantly...apparently not.  Weird because I'm really not doing anything else productive.

I haven't weighed myself in several days because I'm scared to.  I know I've lost a few pounds in the past few days, but since last week I binged terribly (without purging much, mind you), I gained weight.  Also, my mom is still convinced that my only problem is wanting to lose 10 lbs, which will be fixed once the weight comes off.  She fully supports my efforts.  I know better than her, however, because I am fully aware than 10 lbs will not be enough.  Neither will 20, nor 30, nor 40...I'm depressed and while losing weight makes me feel a quick sense of accomplishment and self worth, it is only a fleeting sensation.  It disappears as quickly as it occurs.  I think my mom is also convinced that I am just a bitch and was being plain rude last weekend when I refused to go out for my birthday.  I didn't want to hurt my friends' feelings, but I just couldn't muster the strength nor the courage to face the public eye.  I couldn't drag myself out of my own little shell to smile at other people with a fake laugh and fake happiness and fake energy that everyone else seems to think is the real me.  They don't see me staring at the wall, huddled in the darkness of my room, which is how I spent the majority of my hours.  They think it's uncharacteristic and "not like me," but that's how I've been for years...I'm just good at hiding it behind a smile that means nothing.

I can't help but wonder how long this will last.  I think I'm going on five years now, and it's kind of a lonely existence.  I have no real interest in anything, to be honest, and nothing captivates my attention for a very long period of time.  Not even people.  Perhaps I really am crazy; sometimes I think so.  My mom wants me to see someone, like a counselor or something, but I don't know that I want to do that.  I don't think she understands the extent of my problem here.  I can tell that I'm falling deeper into my own misery, trying to make myself intentionally more miserable, because that's what I feel I deserve.  Monday I actually had the will and strength (or weakness, depending on how you see it) to drink a bottle of ipecac that I bought three years ago and never opened.  I never thought I would actually do it, and let me just mention, that while it's definitely possibility I would do it again, it is not a pleasant experience.  Sure, vomiting and getting rid of the contents of your stomach is nice, but dry heaving and feeling as thought your stomach is going to come up through your mouth?  Not so pleasant.  And I drank it before going to work...so they let me off early as I clearly could not function.

That night, I didn't go to bed for some reason.  I stayed up all night and then went to bed early the following night, sleeping for 15 hours.  And last night?  Yeah, didn't go to bed again.  I enjoy the quiet solitude that the middle of the night brings to my peace of mind, and I just sit, listening to music, and drawing, willing the day to be delayed as long as possible.  You see, if you're awake, time is slower, but if you sleep, then you wake up to the dreaded day in a snap.  I try to delay life as long as possible, and therefore, I am afraid to sleep.  Anyone else feel like that?