20 July 2012


I feel so much sorrow about what has happened in Colorado. I'm not really sure how to process it. I wish I could take back everything that has happened, or at least breathe life back into the victims and hold close those who are injured.

I ask, "Why?"
There is no answer.

All I know is that we need to hold each other close, tell those around us that we love and value them. Tell them what they really mean to us. Because it really, truly could be too late someday.

I keep thinking that there is truly evil in our world. Evil beyond our comprehension. I ask God, but there really is no answer. I picture Jesus crying, heartbroken over what his children do to each other. The Inquisition. Slavery. Armenia. The Holocaust. Stalinism. My Lai. Columbine. 9/11. And so on...

Why is that these and other events like them stand out in our collective memory? Because as painful as it is, we can never forget. We can never forget that evil walks in our world.

I offer up prayers for understanding and healing. That is all I can do.

Self-Hatred and Eating Disorders | Surviving ED

Self-Hatred and Eating Disorders | Surviving ED

11 July 2012

I choose....Life

And what did being thin bring me?
Not a damn thing.
Except depression.
A racing heart.
Shattered relationships.
Lost dreams.
And almost...death.

I choose Life.
Screw being a size zero.

After starving myself for days, I went to pick up a prescription.
I was terrified of going out because there is food everywhere.
And all I have thought of for days is FOOD.
Even the soap at Meijer — plum-scented.  — seemed luscious.
I could taste the plum, juice trailing down my chin.
I was afraid I would drink the soap out of desperation.
My mind has been screaming FOOD.

I've been reading Portia de Rossi's Unbearable Lightness, and she wrote about food.
I wanted to jump through the book and eat.
Even the egg whites sounded good.
I don't even like egg whites!
She described portioning out a small amount of sugar-free yogurt.

I shook my head.

Then I ate a cereal bar — crumb by crumb.
A crumb fell on the floor, and before my cat could get it, I pounced on it.
It was mine, damn it!

It was 8:30 p.m. and the pharmacy closed at 9.
Did I dare go?
The pharmacy at Meijer is on the opposite side of the food section, so I thought I would be safe.
Then came the plum-flavored scented soap.
And black cherry...and pomegranate.
Why does everything come back to food???

Then I cried in the parking lot, remember life before.
How engaged I was.
How unafraid I felt.
What had happened?

I drove to a restaurant.
Talked to myself for ten minutes.
Yes. No. Life. Anorexia. Thinness. Food...Turkey burger...a crisp Coke...

I went in, full of fear.
I ordered a virgin pina colada (I can't have alcohol, because I'm a recovering alcoholic.)
Cold, creamy.
Coconut with a hint of pineapple.
I haven't even had WATER for days.
No wonder I feel so depressed!!!

The turkey burger came.
I was very afraid.
I sucked down the first half.

And imagine...I didn't gain 3456908955442 pounds.
My thighs didn't expand.
I could think again.

Recovery is still hard.
But I have to choose life.
Every day.

09 July 2012

You know...

You know, anorexia is not really about being thin. Thin is incidental. It is about control. And self-hatred.

It's about hating oneself so badly you want to hurt.
The pain of hunger.
The pain of emptiness.
The pain of knowing you are lost.

And where am I? Where did I go? So quickly...

07 July 2012


I'm so confused right now. I'm hearing about size zero or two on the ED blogsphere, and now I'm thinking I'm fat. Before I was happy with my new figure — about 125 pounds and a size seven/small. But now...is that way too fat??? 

I remember when I became sick with hypoparathyroidism in 2008. I was about 130 pounds. Then I dropped to about 105, and a lot of people told me how good I looked, how "slim." Then came anorexia. And hell. And I quickly dropped into the low nineties.

Five years later, I feel like I am finally embracing recovery. It has been hard — I have struggled with anorexia, alcoholism, and drug abuse; I almost died this past fall. Mixing tranquilizers with alcohol. Not eating. Not caring if I lived or died.

And now? I want to be more than just my damn size!!! Recovery has opened a new life for me. A life of books and friends and family. A real life. I am more engaging, more connected to people. I think less  about starving. About drinking. About my size. I am able to think better, and write better.

Or at least I did until this week.

It is funny. The less I eat, the more I think I don't deserve to eat. I spent yesterday with my family, and I was able to relax and finally eat a meal after almost a week. Then I come home, and I fight with myself internally.

I am so frightened right now. I am forty-seven, and I feel this is my last chance at recovery. My body can't handle much more.

If I fail this time, I believe it will kill me.