“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”

Winston Churchill

I FEEL…. Like a seal-walrus-whale-hippo today. I WANT….TO RUN. I never thought I would have the desire to run again in my life but I want to run. I feel absolutely horrible about myself and my body. I swear theres buldges hanging from my pants and my belly is lopped over resting on my legs when I sit. These feelings have been tormenting me all morning. I want to pull a Forest Gump and just go running cuz I “felt like runnnnnnin.” Across the USA, down the street, home…somewhere. I want to run away from it all. Running releases my feelings and allows me to relinquish all this self-hate. Low-and-behold, it also will take me on a ritual spin back into ED zone(as if I am not already there) and force me to do it everyday, slowly increases my increments. GEEZ I don’t flipping deserve this torment I am SO ANGRY and infuriated! I feel weak but powerful. I feel like a fat blob who simply is going to blow up into some binge-eater who cannot control herself around food. Biggest fear- right there. Something, anything has to justify my eating- I hate that. Sometimes I can fight it and sometimes I win, but no always and it royally BLOWS. I cannot simply just “eat because it’s meal time or snack because it is snack time.” Doesn’t happen- I can tell myself it WILL happen and build up great big determined goals of doing it, but alas, I don’t get hungry so it does not happen. I think I have been hungry once in like the past two months. Eating does not seem essential or necessary. I am not hungry, so why eat. “eat when hungry stop when full…” yeah, that is exactly what got me here in the first place. I feel like a greedy enivous ashamed sloth when I eat. Like I am literally committing one of the seven deadly sins. Thinking about eating makes me pissed off because I know I feel “better” in a distracted weird sorta disordered way when I don’t eat. I have no coping mechanism for ANYTHING besides skipping on food. But what the hell am I in need of coping for??? GRR I dunno I just feel HUGE. It is so safe and comforting for me NOT to eat, but I DO NOT AND WILL NOT let myself go back “there.” That damned distorted ugly depressing life sucks. I cant figure out what is left, where my life is ever going to go and what I want out of it. What if I put my all into recovery and I hate the person I turn out to be? How am I EVER EVER going to be ok with my body if I already hate it now? How will I ever get dressed and look in the mirror(at least to check my fly to be up) and see a beautiful adult? I see a child right now. A worthless unsuccessful chubby-licious child. I have been in and out of college for God knows how long… 6 years…and I have nothing, not a DAMNED thing to show for it. I have been recovering for what 5 years, and not a DAMNED thing to show for it. Ive been running in and out of comfort zones, rituals and mini relapses forever, like my whole life it seems. Why can’t I seem to frikin GET ON with my life? Maybe because I have no idea in HELL what that entails. Where am I getting on to? What am I doing?

Okay, so I have a job. A job as an accountant that I am good at. Just yesterday I was talking to my BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD on the phone that I had been isolating myself from because I relapsed and feel like a complete failure. I told her my mini goals I had achieved and how no on understands this disease, and my small accomplishments feel like Mt Rushmore worthy incidents. I explained to her I swear up and down, night and day that I surely will not fit into my bride’s maid dress in May for her wedding I am in. I also told her I had not counted or tallied anything since I re-started. I musta spoke to soon. This morning I was entering hours for equipment in the accounting system and low-and-behold, equipment hours used in the past week started resembling calories in certain food. 75 hours? Small apple. ¼ cup dry oats. 315 hours? ½ chicken breast with skin. 115 hours? Hefty serving of yogurt. 80 hours? ½ cup low fat cottage cheese. WHAT THE FUCK!??!?! I am sooooo incredibly livid and humiliated at the same time. My head is screaming at me to retreat back to my eating disorder, that this simply doesn’t work for me, I’m different from everyone else and I need to live in my ED to function from day to day.

I have never, ever felt as alone as I do sitting here typing right now. This is so hard. To top it off, I swear I must be making this harder on myself than it really is, but I FIGHT these thoughts and I choose (most of the time) the right choice. But then it gets harder, self hate thoughts get louder and I want to scream, as loud as I can and just start bawling my eyes out. This sounds so incredibly illogical, and I am so sorry for such a downer post, but these highs and lows and great days followed by bottom-of-the-jar days suck. I thought for sure I would be on a positive streak this week. I feel like there’s a sand glass timer sitting at the pearly gates, just waiting for me to really royally fuck something up. I WANT RECOVERY. I WANT IT NOW. I am stubborn and impatient and I do not deal well with feelings in general. Having a million tossed and turned in my head night and day is crucially hard! I tell myself I WILL MAKE IT THROUGH all this shit recovery deals with, but why why why the hell is it so hard? WHY DO I HAVE THIS SELF HATE? Why do I feel like a whale? Walking down the hall at work just a minute ago, my mind pops this image of me at 300lbs lookin like the Michelin woman squeezing through the hallway.

Irrational: contrary to or lacking in reason or logic, unable to think logically, lacking the normal ability to think clearly, especially because of shock or injury to the brain.

That is what this all is and I can’t keep pretending to put on this happy fat face to everyone around me. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I need. I do not want sympathy and I do not want anyone to feel sorry for me. I do not take nicely to kindling and sympathy- at all. This is MY own fault for not fighting these feeling ands thoughts. I cannot seem to HAULT and stop them from entering my head though. I feel hopeless but I refuse to give up hope. I know I can be more than this.

A plan: I need to start mapping out my day in a sort of structured, sane sorta fashion. I am going to print a weekly schedule on my computer and write down basics of meals I will plan and will eat. Each will have a check mark for a completed task with a reward for myself at the end of the week (eye brow wax, tanning, shirt…etc). Maybe this is what it takes. I have to bribe myself into getting anything accomplished. That sounds SO CHILDISH, but maybe, just maybe it will work.

And for the record, I won’t and can’t go running. My knees simply do not function nor have the ability to run or walk any distance. Hell, if I wear most of my favorite shoes(heels) for an extended period I swear my knee swell up to the size of pumpkins and everything about bending them hurts….THANK YOU ANOREXIA FOR F#*$&@)ING UP MY BONES.