31 December 2008
26 December 2008
21 December 2008
16 December 2008
I do think of the starving children. I traveled to Haiti to help children and others on a medical mission - against doctor's orders. But it didn't stop me from starving myself - I gave most of my food away on that trip - and it didn't stop me from feeling guilty.
If I could give all the food I haven't eaten while anorexic, I would. But comments like these are not helpful.
Neither are these comments: Just eat. (Gee, I hadn't thought of that! Let me just grab that doughnut and scarf it down and I'll be all better), I'd love to be anorexic - for a little bit (Really? You mean I can turn it on and off? and Be careful what you wish for - I use to wish I would be really thin - And now I am!), You actually ate something? (Well, even anorexics eat something; if I didn't eat at all, I would already be dead), I didn't think you would want to be invited because it involves food (Yes, I just like be left out of fun things with friends because I have an eating disorder), and my all time favorite (from a relative, no less) - You just need to pull yourself together!
15 December 2008
14 December 2008
12 December 2008
11 December 2008
Tuesday was a hectic day, with my mother-in-law having surgery and my eating schedule being disrupted. I panicked after eating dinner at 7:30 at night, broke into hysterical tears and cried over and over - I don't want this in my life anymore, I don't want to be anorexic. This was after adding up all my calories and seeing I went over my self-imposed limit of 1,000.
Then Wednesday, the voice (the bitch!) in my head kept saying 'you're fat, you're fat.' I bought a pack of laxatives and swallowed them before I could change my mind. You see, it was punishment for trying to eat normal.
Now I feel like shit - bloated after an evening and morning of diarrhea, tired from little sleep.
But I must continue to hope I will get better - the alternative is death.
07 December 2008
06 December 2008
05 December 2008
So when did food become the enemy?
I look at my plate each morning, noon and night and think - I must eat, because in order to live, I need food. But when I hear people talk about the pleasure of eating, of the joy of creating a new recipe, I just don't get it. I think, why bother? It's all the same, anyway, and I just want to shovel in the bare minimum and get it over with.
No more not eating for me. No more skipping meals or weaseling out of breakfast or eating half a sandwich and giving the other half away (like I did many times in Haiti). But to eat for fun? No way; that just doesn't make any sense to me.
So why am I writing about this very private matter in this very public forum? Because at some point in life, silence must be broken in order for healing to take place. And this is a start.
But eating for pleasure? That's going to take a very long time.