So here is where I am stuck…maybe I am confused, or hell maybe I am just fine and this is party of recovery I am not sure. I sat down with my mom and dad yesterday before my usual Sunday evening EDA meetings. They asked how the meeting from last week went and I said good, because I mean it did. Then they said ‘how are you doing? What are you changing? What is changing?”


Time-out…if there is one thing I HATE it is being asked this question. No one understands what is hard for me. No one knows that half the battle has NOTHING to do with food it has to do with my not secluding myself, not isolating and calming down my stress and anxiety levels. So I simply replied ‘I don’t know what do you want to know?’ to get a ‘what has changed in your eating?’ I told them I hate that discussion simply because what is a ginormous hugmungo deal to me is not anything to a normal person. I feel stupid voicing ANY accomplishments to them because I feel like an ant in a huge world that simply just sucks. But, fuck it; they wanted to know so I went on to tell them. I told them how I have been adding fruit in my daily day with berries, strawberries, and peaches now that they are in season. I get a ‘look’ and my mom is like ‘why are you sticking to low carb fruits?’ and I just blew up I was like ‘do you fucking see why I don’t tell you anything? Me eating fruit after shunning everything about carbs and eating meat ONLY for OVER a year and now being able to have balance in my meals and eat fruit. THIS IS A HUGE FUCKING DEAL TO ME!!!!” I was so furious because fruit for me, girl who wouldn’t touch a carb if it was the last thing on earth to eat…now eating them… JESSSSSZZZZZZUUZZZZZ peets, it is a PROCESS, I have no desire to eat a fucking apple, but I don’t mind other fruits. I like to put berries in my cottage cheese or yogurt; it’s good and brings a natural sweetness.

Anyways, fuck it whatever. It was topped off when my dad said ‘I wanna know when you’re eating macaroni-and-cheese with hotdogs’…ARE TYOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?! You’ll be waiting a hellofa long time so get comfortable because I am NOT EATING WHEAT, not touching processed food. I flippin eat primal, period. I am NOT changing that. I feel good, and I am getting over my obnoxious fear of carbohydrates. I realize they are needed, I realize they are more so needed for an underweight, hormonally unbalanced, and female as myself.


Low and behold though, during this conversation my mom did spark a few mind-provoking thoughts:


*Anorexia is only as powerful and meaningful as I make it.

*Naming anorexia gives it identity and puts it on a pedestal it does not deserve.

*I over think to the point I am keeping occupied by myself eventually leading to the pity potty

*My thoughts are what I become. I am only as powerful as the thoughts I let myself have.

*I starved myself for 6 years, I need to be patient and realize food is not going to ‘feel’ good in 2 months after 6 starvation years. I am impatient with this, very impatient


In the grand scheme of things, it is not real. Anorexia is not real. . I cannot see it. I can see this screen I am typing at. I cannot see anorexia. My thoughts of self hate and rush from starving are not real. Yes, I really get a rush, but bottom line, I chose to do that. I make the choices I do because- well, this sounds stupid but I am fucking bored. It’s like GIVE ME SOMETHING TO DO. I have nothing to occupy my time. I have no friends, I have no social life. Anorexia gives me something to occupy my time with, something to do, and something to think about. So when I surrendered to my higher power in step 3 and now 4, it’s going from I have an eating disorder and God, I am giving it to you to now I have nothing. This makes me fucking bored. I need something to do, something to think about. I have no idea what to do. I get lost in life because I don’t know where to go, what to pursue. I am empty. I am lonely. I am lost. I am confused. This all has not a damned thing to do with food. I have no problem eating. But it comes down to when I have nothing to do, no one to talk to, and a need for a calm control, I do make this imaginary friend out of anorexia. I make it real then. I starve because hell, it gives me something to do, a way to feel good, fulfilled. But I do it because I have nothing else to do!!!!

I NEED STUFF TO DO. Set dates, make plans, volunteer. I have got to do something. I have no idea how to at the age of 24 when everyone is flippin married, buying houses and popping babies out of them how to make friends. You don’t just ‘go out’ at 24, I will be age shocked by a bunch of tenny-tots who are using fake ID’s to get into bars. I am going to try and sign up for volunteer and charity work at church. It’ll give me something to do. There is a cheerleading camp in the town my parents live in July 28-30. I am going to go and try to sign up to help, for free, just to get busy with something. There is also a big competitive cheerleading squad in the area that practices at a gym which is relatively close to my house (maybe like 20 mins). They are really good. I plan to go and see if I can help because that is where my passion is. I love the dancing, the choreography, and damnit, I have no problem admitting I was fucking good at it when I was at it. Dancing and choreography have always come incredibly simple to me. My eyes light up when I think and talk about making up routines. I love it.

My life is not exactly challenging, my job I get done and do it well but I have no desire or passion in it. I mean its accounting- I enter numbers and post spreadsheets for 8 hours a day. Anorexia is ONLY REAL to me. I make it real, by living with it, giving it a name, an identity. I am telling myself now that it is not real, my thoughts are real thoughts, but the disease means nothing to me, it is NOT real. I only choose these thoughts, let myself starve, and try to get the rebellious rush haha-in-your-face childlike nonsense and get away with something because I am bored/lost/confused. I am only getting a rush of look-at-me-now from myself. In the end, I am only hurting myself. No one trusts me when it comes to food. My parents told me they trust me with their lives, with anything in the whole world, but everything food & ED related they take with a grain of salt. I understand, I lost their trust. My challenge should be to get it back, do well and be like haha in your face look at me now I am healthy. I just cant seem to find that spirit in this though. It is not at all as intriguing and rush-like as starving.