(no subject)
so, not too long ago, I posted to a couple groups (and possibly to this journal itself--I didn't check) under the heading "Fasting and Fat Acceptance." Or was it "Fat Acceptance and Fasting"?

Anyway, on one of the groups, I got a comment from someone that they didn't understand fat acceptance: after all, "why accept something that is so obviously unhealthy and easy to change?"

I said my piece, and she replied that, while she had no personal problem with fat people, it's delusional to think fat is healthy (no one's saying it's inherently healthy--no more than being thin) and to call fat acceptance a movement. Which I found very offensive, and told her so, along with my hopes that she continues to think over the issue and maybe come to a better understanding of what fat acceptance is about.

I wish I had linked her this article: http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2006/05/23/more-fat-politics/

I found it as I was going through all the articles linked to from this one: http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2010/09/07/fat-and-health-a-response/#more-18424, and it is a much more sophisticated, eloquent explanation of the politics of fatness than I was able to muster.

If you get a chance to read the more recent article, it is definitely worth going through the links, because there are a TON of amazing blog posts and articles to be found through it.

In other news: I'm staying with my boyfriend for a while in his dorm, at let me just say, the food here? The, you know, cafeteria food? IT'S FUCKING AWESOME. A couple days ago they were serving flatbread sandwiches with blackberry aioli, beef brisket, swiss cheese (or maybe something a bit fancier), field greens, and pickled red cabbage. Holy shit. The next day, three-meat pasta with gruyere and bechamel sauce, with a side of zucchini florentine. Today's brunch was a turkey bacon avocado panini with a side of vegetable orzo salad, and tiramisu-flavored gelato for dessert.

Plus, someone left a nearly full bottle of amaretto up for grabs, half of which I promptly poured into my own empty bottle and hauled up to the dorm.

Really, the only thing is that... well, for one thing, my black pants still dig in pretty badly when I sit (it's fine if I stand with decent posture), and for another, there are SO MANY thin, gorgeous girls here. WTF? I guess I just forgot what it's like to be around a crowd almost exclusively of 18-21 year olds. And I have no doubt that a wwwaaaayyy higher-than-average percentage of the population is vegan (not that you can't be fat and vegan... it's just harder), seeing as we're in pretty much the most liberal/progressive college anywhere (that I've ever heard of), in one of the most liberal/progressive cities in the nation.

You should be so lucky. I just can't wait 'til it gets cold so we can use the fireplace IN HIS ROOM. Yeah. Awesome.

(no subject)
8/30, 9 pm: 81 hours, or would be, had I not eaten yesterday and today. The good news: it is possible I haven’t knocked myself off the path toward ketosis. The bad news: I don’t really feel like I can say I’ve really kept fasting. Even so, I’m going to strive to either not eat or eat absolutely as little as possible at least until I get back to portland. Last night I had some chicken with a few bits of stuffing on it, some celery with a LOT of peanut butter, and a strawberry filled cookie (like a fig newton, but with strawberry) with milk. Because of the peanut butter and the milk, I’m going to estimate my intake at around a horrifying 700 cals. Truthfully, I think that I need to reset my count from 5 pm yesterday, because of the peanut butter and the cookie. Anyway, today I had about 1/4 cup each of green beans and rice-a-roni with chicken bits. That I will put at 200, although it may even be less. I’m pretty sure that there wouldn’t be enough carbs in that to set me back.

More good news is that although food tastes good and I could almost see myself bingeing, I’m not having that hard of a time not doing it. I ate today because dad asked me to have dinner with everyone. Rice-a-roni has about 320 cals per cup, so if I had 1/4 cup then that would be... 80 cals. Yeah, alright. So almost certainly less than 200. Good. Of course, I would also have eaten about 13g carbs, which is pretty high, but I’m thinking the added volume of the chicken maybe took it down a bit, and I hope that I’m overestimating the amount that I ate. Well, whatever, it is what it is.

It’s too bad I’m not just restricting right now. If I were aiming to restrict rather than to fast, I would feel pretty damn good. I wonder if I should just switch to indefinite hard restriction (>500), with fasting as convenient...? Numbers, numbers, oh!

Well, the internet says I probably burn around 2000 a day. Considering that my metabolism is probably lowered by restricting/fasting, I’m going to say it’s 1700. And if I burn 1200 a day (eating 500) then I would lose a pound every... um... 3500 divided by 1200 is a little under three... so about every three days. Now, if I burn 1700 a day, then it only takes about two days to lose a pound. So let’s say I’m eating about 2000 calories a week, TOPS. (Because I should not be eating the maximum, and I should not be eating every day). If I burn 1700 a day, that’s 11900 a week, which is 9900 once I subtract what I eat, and divided by 3500 is 2.8. So... I can expect to lose roughly 3 lbs a week if I eat no more than 2000 calories a week. And then, of course, if I were just fasting, I could lose 3.4 a week. So we’re talking about .6 lbs a week difference between fasting a hard restriction. But if you make if a month (4.3 weeks) then it’s 2.58 lbs difference, which.. still isn’t that much, is it? IS IT? I don’t know. Not like I could probably do it for a month... I mean, maybe I could... I don’t know... I just don’t know.

All’s I know is, I want to fit back into my black pants, VERY COMFORTABLY, by the time school starts. Semi-comfortably by the time I head home. It’s funny because last time I was here I was also trying to fit back into my black pants... only that pair was a good 4 sizes smaller than these ones are. Well, that’s alright. IT’S OKAY. Really. Gah.

Also, weird: my boyfriend has friended this journal. Hi, there, sweetling! But since I write first in my private journal, and don’t know if or when he keeps up with this one, I can still pretend nobody knows. Kind of. I guess I just want to let you know, Boyfriend, that even though I am vaguely aware that you might at some point read this, you’re getting the full version.

(no subject)
8/29, 9:30AM: 57.5 hours down! 446.5 to go!

Today’s going to be a bit tougher than the last couple... I’m already getting phantom smells (cheese toast, in particular), so I’m thinking of lighting this honeysuckle candle. Hopefully it doesn’t smell too sweet and make me want something like that.

Excitement! Someone’s coming to see about Dad’s motorcycle. When he sells it, he’s going to give me money for rent and school. He’s selling it for 2000, so I hope to get at least 500-600. Ideally he would give me like 1000, but you know, he’s got his own expenses to consider. Anyway, at least once he gets some money I won’t feel bad about asking him for stuff. Like to take me to costco to get some cases of vitaminwater and smartwater, hehehe. He said after the dude leaves he’s going to make oatmeal... last night he made some kind of casserole with chicken and stuffing. I feel super guilty for not eating it, because I know how I feel when I make food and one (or more) of the people I made it for don’t eat it. I mean, I guess I could maybe just even tell him I’m on a fast, but I’m not sure how he’ll take it. Ahh... yeah, I’m having a pretty guilty-feeling morning. Basically anytime my dad seems really happy or excited about something I feel terrible. Also other times, but yeah.

Daaammn I’m cold! It is cooling down, you know, but... hey, you know what? That’s a fucking heater at the foot of the bed. I could just, um, turn it on, ha. Okay.

Yeah... I’m also thinking that even though the third day usually gets a faster over the ‘hunger hump,’ I might have a slightly longer struggle. I just have the impression that that is the case because I started fasting much more abruptly and from a much higher weight (by probably 50-60 lbs) than last time. But I don’t remember any of my reading that supports this. The only thing I know to support this idea is that every body is different. Um... oh, I got dizzy when I got out of bed today, but that’s alright. I was disappointed with last summer’s fast when I didn’t experience any kind of dizziness or weakness, but I’m not sure what it signifies ezackly.

So... I was reviewing my lj entries from last summer’s fast, and it looks like... it looks like I had some mild carb cravings on the third day, which I took care of with a fair amount of heavily-splendaed hot tea... I think I also watched Iron Man as a distraction. Yeah... hmm... yeah.

Now here’s something interesting: last year, when I broke my fast, I immediately began to binge for several days in a row. This year that’s not going to happen. For one thing, it hurts like a motherfucker. For another, when my boyfriend said something about vegan cooking being gross, I took it as a challenge (I’m actually not vegan though), so I bet him (I didn’t actually bet him anything) I could follow a vegan diet for all of fall term. That’s from Sept. 20th-Dec 11th. That’s really not that long a time, and I figure after that maybe I’ll try just being vegetarian. I’m sorry, but I love my dairy.

I was thinking of actually following the recommendations when I break my fast of sticking to juices and raw foods and, with the help of stuff like soups and hot cereals, gradually working up to other stuff. Yeah, for like... well, if I reach my goal then I will start having calories again just before school starts, and I figure I’ll do like two days on liquids/semi-liquids (soup is okay, or very watered/non-dairy-milked-down hot cereal, or pureed fruits/veggies, that sort of thing), then do some solid, raw foods for another three to five days, and then move into whatever my regular vegan diet will be. I want to know what are some good sources of protein for the first few days...? If I can still be fairly low carb for as long as possible when I’m eating again, that would be ideal. I know nuts and tofu and beans have decent protein. I need a blender, I think, so I can make tofu smoothies ^_^ that would be a pleasant snack/meal.

Fiber wraps, of course, and sprouts, and garlic sauce. Hummus, sriracha, avocados. Almond cheese, lentil soup, almond milk.

The only thing is that I will have to check back on my favorite safe foods to see how many of them are actually vegan. The fiber wraps, for example, and 0-cal strawberry syrup. I’m not really too concerned about eating natural or whole foods (I mean, like the syrup or diet soda... but I would still prefer my bread not to have corn syrup, you know?). Chemicals aren’t animal products, anyway. Obviously I won’t be having any of my 40cal hot dogs for a while, hahaha... ah, well, this should be fun. I intend to do a lot more cooking, and even some baking.

The thing is, if I really stick to it, it might just be too much of a pain in the ass to bother, and I end up not only eating less calorie-dense foods, but less of those overall. Awesome. I hope everything works out!

NOTE: I may make an exception for my birthday and Thanksgiving. Depending on how I feel. Siiiighhh I just want to get through this fast. I was thinking that if I felt up to it I would go indefinitely (or until it’s ‘complete’--fasting experts say that once the body is done detoxing and has run out of body to eat, hunger will return and the tongue will clear of its coating... ew) but I was reading how even though in ketosis the amount of protein the body consumes from itself is 5% of what it burns it would still make a person very weak to fast for a long time without actually eating any protein. And the weaker your muscles get on a fast the more easily you put back on weight, and you have a higher percentage of fat than before. So I should look out. I’m also going to try to be more diligent about walking to the PCC shuttle. That is a good goal. Light activity, three times a week? It may not be as much as is recommended, but it’s something. I’ll need some less water-vulnerable shoes and a backpack that won’t soak my books.

In a few days I will put on my black jeans and see what they do. I will be very sad if the waistband is still quite tight. We’ll see.

In other news, The... um... The... um... My Boyfriend's computer is fucked up, so now I can only talk to him over facebook mobile, and it is very unfortunate, and I haven't talked to him in like 10 hours... no wait, he just sent me a message! Also I was sleeping for some of those, haha. I guess it's a little pathetic, but whatever, fuck it.

Uh-oh... breakfast is served...

(no subject)
Man, I am a little stuck. Not all in a bad way. I'm stuck between between fat-hate and fat-acceptance. Frankly, I think the fact that I wear short shorts and minidresses and think other fat women look good in them too (to a point, but I'm working also on differentiating between "not attractive to me" and "not acceptable") and I do think I'm good-looking (whenever I see a girl who looks like me, I always think she's pretty) puts me pretty far ahead of where most of us are in terms of body acceptance.

It's so strange... it really makes me rethink my whole conception of eating disorders. I mean, what is my motivation if I'm not ashamed of my fat? The truth is, I still am, of course, but... it's different. I mean, I look in the mirror, naked, and I like what I see. I'm not bothered by the size or the fat but by the stretch marks and pimples, and even those I'm not really concerned about.

And it's interesting. I've been spending a lot of time of fat fashion blogs and fat acceptance blogs, and I never realized how much evidence exists that would effectively counter any anti-fat argument. I mean, it's not too hard to blow down "it's gross/ugly" (actually it's a bit harder to argue against an illogical argument, since clearly the rules are different) but it often comes down to, "but it's unhealthy" or "it's wasteful."

Now, on wastefulness, okay, you may have a point. Especially the whole beef thing... But let's keep things in perspective. Most fat people overeat. Fine. But let's look at the average American lifestyle. Overconsumption is the norm, not just with food. I'd dare most anti-fat arguers to show me how the lifestyle of a fat person is significantly more wasteful than that of a non-fat person, all factors counted. C'mon, let's just make it a law that all fat people have to recycle and compost. That should offset the damage.

There is also the issue of 'costing the health system more money.' Really? Our health system is incredibly fucked. I think we have bigger fish to fry than whether fat people cost it more money. I mean, fuck, if you get diabetes from a high-sugar diet, yeah, you're probably overweight. But if you're overweight from a balanced diet (which is totally possible--anyone up for avocados?) not only are you most likely healthy, you are also most likely better off than a thin person eating small amounts of junk food. And, hell, I wouldn't be as fat as I am if I were more active. That's part of how I gained back so much weight. But even at my LW I was still technically overweight, you know, and the fact that I rely on public transportation (when I can afford it--I often end up walking) means that I am more active anyway than a person of any size who drives (and doesn't work out, which only about 30% of americans do, and you can be sure that they aren't the ONLY thin people in the country).

So, to review:

1) Ugly
2) Wasteful
3) Expensive

1) Fuck you
-It's pretty impressive how wide and varied people's tastes are. It's also pretty impressive how powerful an influence society can have on someone's developing taste.
-There have been vastly different standards and valuations of beauty throughout time and culture. for example, in japan, when the kimono was still the most common mode of dress, a woman's shape was ideally straight so as not to interfere with the cyclindrical shape of the kimono. large breasts were undesirable. or ancient greece, where a woman was ideally somewhat plump, and again had modestly-sized breasts, rather widely spaced. And in some cultures today, such as in Mauritania, fatness is the ideal, with young girls pressured to gain weight to be attractive.
-Basically, there is no body form which is innately and universally more beautiful than others. If you think otherwise, you are full of shit.
2) Not too bad in the grand scheme of things, really
-easily offset by easy conservation actions like recycling and reducing beef intake
-creates a harmful stereotype which extends to those who are fat for reasons other than overeating
3) Again, in the grand scheme of things, this is not the thing to be concerned about
-we should be focusing on preventative care so that health problems, including those that do correlate with obesity don't get worse
-creates a harmful stereotype which extends to those who are fat and HEALTHY, or whose health problems are not correlated with obesity

Alright? There are a few more points I'd maybe like to make, a few crinkly parts I'd like to straighten out, but that's what about that for the time being.

After all of that, which I sincerely believe, I still would rather be thin. Kind of. It's like... It's so hard! I want to be truly accepting of all bodies and most lifestyles (I'm not sure I can be really open to a rockin' pederasty habit) but I still want to conform in some ways. I want that feeling that I could have almost anyone I want (sure, I could have a few that I want, and no matter what I look like I can't win everyone, but...), and to do that I have to play their game. But is it really that important? My current boyfriend thinks I'm cute and sexy, and I almost believe he really thinks that. I mean, I do believe it, like 90% of the way, which feels so good. And food, oh, it's so delicious!

And then... well, the feeling that comes from not eating... the clean feeling, the power, the control... The triumph of pants so loose the waistband is scrunched by my belt... The peaceful trance of endless calculations... The pride of bandaged feet and endorphin nausea, and knowing nobody I know could have kept up with me... Yes, it feels good to do something well. It feels good to succeed. It feels good, in a perverse way, when I let it slip that I haven't eaten in 5 days and I'm set for at least 5 more, to see their shocked faces. And it angers me so much that through all of this effort, I have still never been thin.

I want proof. I want to show them what I can do. It really burns me up inside, I mean, I feel like I've got a stomach full of hot coal, when I go out and I know that, whatever anyone might think of me, attractive or ugly, confident or uppity ("inappropriate"), too fat or just right, they would never imagine what I can do. What I have done. What I have put myself through. Is it time to give up? To cut my losses, get over it, be happy how I am?

Maybe. Maybe it's time to stop caring whether people know I've struggled. I mean, that's an element of it, isn't it? "I may be fat, but it's not like I haven't tried!" Yeah, there's definitely that. And of course, that old old old motivation of wanting to show what pain I have to the world. That's why I started cutting, isn't it? And doing drugs? But it always becomes about more than that. In the end, it turns back in on me, and I end up hiding it like everything else.

And what pain do I really have? Am I inwardly tortured? Do I have a dark secret? I don't know. I don't like to think of myself that way. I don't like to identify that way. I am someone with relatively poor coping skills, maybe. A little bit of wonky brain chemistry, perhaps. Some problems in childhood? Some parental alcoholism, maybe a pervy babysitter, maybe a drunken half-rape here and there, some evil stepmothers and a gone daddy. I know, I know, I'm understating, right?

But then, am I? Am I understating? I feel like those are all things to be gotten over. Things which I refuse to give power by acknowledging what power, if any, they have. I refuse to identify as a victim. And, I always think of this dream I had, where I was somebody else and I went through bad things and came out the other end and was being interviewed and I said something like to the effect that it is more crippling to be thought by society as somehow broken than it is to have the actual experiences. For me, anyway, that's something.

And then, well, here's the other thing, and please don't think I'm getting too big for my britches (no pun intended) because I'm not super egotistical: maybe I'm just too smart for my own good. I mean, maybe I just think too much. But I can't help it. If I don't think about things, then I have this terrible boiling feeling inside that comes from ignoring important questions.

I really need to sort things out, but I'm beginning to think that it's impossible. Or maybe it would more accurately describe my feelings to say that I think it may be infinite. I can constantly sort things out, but I can only reach a certain point before I look back and see that the things I first sorted have fallen into a new sort of disarray and, looking forward, the expanse of unexplored, chaotic territory stretches on and on.

I don't know. But I feel okay right now. The Boy is wonderful. I feel amazing with him. He doesn't like to be called The Boy, because that's what his mother calls him, so I'll be thinking of a new thing to call him.

My hard drive crashed and I lost everything. I'm out of money. I missed my psychiatrist appointment so I'm running out of adderall. I have a box full of old moldy dishes from my room to wash. I'm sleeping on a deflated inflatable bed. My father's kidney transplant has finally failed and he's back on dialysis, and I don't know how I'm going to get to visit him this summer. I dropped my classes after the drop deadline, leaving me with two W's for Summer, and I still have two Incompletes from Spring (the work for which I have to completely restart because what I'd had done was lost in the crash). I'll have to appeal my financial aid for the third term in a row. I have mysterious, chronic hives, which I've had for a couple months now and show no sign of abating. I have a lump in my ankle, but I don't think it's serious.

But I got this guy, and he's smart and beautiful and tall, and maybe he's not the quickest wit with jokes or super-knowledgeable about post-punk or all the subgenres of metal, but it doesn't actually matter, I found out, because we can have real conversations and great sex and I'm sure I haven't felt quite like this before.

(no subject)
so... ah, okay, so, I want to just be clear that from here on out, when I say The Boy, I mean The New Boy. I guess I could call my ex The Old Boy, but I'm not going to. He's... um... let's call him The Guy? Maybe?

Anyway, so, I went over to The Boy's house Tuesday, and I just got home (Friday afternoon...). Ahh... he's pretty lovely. It's nice being around him.

I had a tummy ache this morning because all I ate yesterday was deep-fried foods and an ice cream float, ack! But, what with all the sexin' going on, I don't think I did toooooo much damage. I don't know. It's hard to keep my head in the game (the game being my ed) but since when is NOT being obsessed with weight and calories and self-loathing a bad thing? This is really my ideal state--where I'm basically distracted from all the parts of my ED, including the binges. I am just living.

Spending time with The Boy... hanging out with The Guy... Doing school stuff... yeah, it's good. The only thing that's got me down is the itching. This hives stuff... man, I'm back on prednisone, but it's not as effective as before. When I took it before the hives went totally away, the whole time (until the dose got under 40 mg)... but this time around I do still get itches here and there, and it's a lot worse at night. But still, it's a hell of a lot better than before.

Shit, I really shouldn't be writing here right now. I should be doing my philosophy of religion work! Okay, doing it, doing it!

(TGFA--thank god for adderall)

(no subject)
Wow, it's been a while... It always goes that way, though, doesn't it? Ah ah ah... What is going on now?

Well, it would seem that bodyperfect has finally withered away. Frankly I'm not too sad. People (coughmodscough) were getting really bitchy and cliquey, despite pretensions to the contrary.

What is new with me? I am at what I think of as my "standard HW" of around 250. It might actually be more like 235 right now. I can't tell, it's been pretty erratic and my scale ran out of batteries months ago. I've just been seeing the doctor a lot for this weird hives-y rash-y thing. What I mean by 'standard HW' is that it's a weight I've sort of lived at before, more than once, as opposed to my all-time HW, which was around 270-280. Frankly, right now I am wayyyyy too close to the all-time HW for comfort. It's strange, isn't it, how for so many people like us 20 lbs seems at once tremendous and insignificant? Like, we gain five pounds and it's the end of the world, but at the same time it's almost nothing. 20 lbs, what's that, a couple months of hard restriction? A few weeks if you throw in exercise and maybe some fasting? Pshaw.

But that's the kind of thinking that got me into this mess. Barely more than a year ago, I was at my all-time LW of 162.2. I hadn't eaten in days; I went to a diner with my boyfriend at the time and had a big thing of french toast. And it was all downhill from there. I remember it so vividly. Michael Jackson had just died. We spent the next few days housesitting for his mom, bingeing on liquor and fast food. I didn't stop. I kept gaining and gaining... I got up to 192 by that September. I went back, restricted for a while, got down to what, 178? In October? But since then it has been up and up. I thought "I'll just let the holidays go by, and then it'll be okay."

How stupid. I can't believe I let this happen. The first ten pounds, sure, I was disappointed. But my clothes still fit me, and it was nothing I couldn't fix in two or three weeks. And now... now I am almost back where I started. To think how thin I could be by now! Ach! I could weigh almost any goal I've ever set for myself. But I failed.

Well, fine. The only good thing is that I'm dating someone new, and he would appear to like bigger girls. If we're together long enough for him to see me lose it, I hope he doesn't mind. I don't think he will, too much. He would probably be more concerned for my health and happiness. Haha, and, he's studying psychoanalysis. That's a real kick in the rubber parts, huh?

Anyway, I don't know. I feel... motivated in a strange way... In a somewhat different way than before. I don't feel like I want to look at thinspo. In fact, I've been kind of avoiding it. I guess I'm afraid of what I might do if I feel any worse. Maybe if I were still under 200... then, maybe, because it wouldn't feel so hopeless.

It's not hopeless! I did it before! I can do it again, and do it better! Why, when I did it before I didn't know half the stuff about how to lose weight that I do now! And now I have an adderall prescription! And I'm back in school, and on school days I hardly eat if at all.

You know, I'm gonna do this. It's gonna be great. My appetite has already been fading. It is great. The hunger, the hollow pain, the little high every time I stand up. It feels so good.

I broke up with The Boy, you know, a couple months ago. Maybe even a few months ago. I don't quite recall. But later, we were talking... he said that it was hard "watching you torture yourself," when I wasn't eating, and then it sometimes seeming like I really didn't care as I binged and gained. He doesn't understand. When I'm fasting or restricting, it's not torture.

I think that's something that's really hard for a lot of people to grasp. I guess a long, long, long time ago I didn't understand either. But it feels so good to not eat. I never feel unhappy when I am on a diet. I never feel deprived or eager to go back to eating. It is just the opposite. I fear going back to eating. I feel so proud of myself for resisting cravings, for drinking water, for walking instead of taking the bus. Whatever some might consider physical discomfort in the feeling of hunger, that's the feeling of success. It feels good. It feels actually pleasurable. The feeling of food, though... it feels dirty and wrong. When I am full I feel like a worthless failure. Sometimes I even want to die. It is real torture to shovel bite after bite of junk food into my mouth and every moment I am screaming "stop! don't do this! no! stop!" in my head, and my belly gets full and begins to hurt, and I know what I am doing to myself, and I see the fat on me, and I feel parts of me jiggle that have no business jiggling, and I finish the whole thing, and I go back for seconds, all the while on the inside I am screaming and crying and I don't know why I do this.

However, there is an exception. Every so often, I can get into a mode where I think of food as nourishment. Each bite I take, I feel good to give myself energy and nutrients. But this is rare, and I have no business thinking that way so long as I have fat stores and a good stock of vitamins. That is all the energy and nutrients I need.

I need water. I have been very dehydrated lately. I have been drinking some water, but not enough. It's sunny out. It's 7 am. I have not been to sleep. I should sleep.

I really wanted to wear a bathing suit this summer. I really wanted to wear shorts. I was so looking forward to clothes. But now nothing will fit me. I'm a plus-size again, and there's nothing for me. I am very upset. It is hard to express how upset I am. I am angry at myself, at others, and very sad and very lonely.

This is it. I am going to sleep now, and when I wake up, breakfast, and then I will go to class, and then I will come home, and I won't eat, and tomorrow I'll have a very small breakfast, and I will meet with The New Boy ("The Boy" in future posts) for a film (which will be extra credit for my women in art class), and then we will go to a restaurant. He says I'm beautiful, and cute, and sexy. When he says it, I can almost believe it. I can almost believe he means it. Almost.

(no subject)
Lookee, I came back! I'm fucking FAT AS SHIT but it's cool coz I just moved back into a place of my own and already (it was only day before last) I'm remembering how easy it is not to eat when there aren't two fridges filled with frozen junk food. Today I had a 'sunrise' calzone (it's like... pineapple and green peppers and mozzarella and feta, I think?) from bellagio's and a diet coke. Of course, a calzone is basically a whole pizza folded in half, but whatever, that's all I've had. Plus a handful of stale kettle corn.

Anyway, I'm excited to see just how quickly the pounds will fall away (hint: very). I know it. Besides that, The Boy and I talked about breaking up at the end of the term, which is just a couple weeks away. Not that I want to break up (it's more on the complicated side) but I have a feeling that it would be good for me in terms of weight-loss.

It's obvious to me now that food/weight obsession has a lot to do with stress for me. It's a maladaptive coping skill. Because moving is always stressful, and I'm not sure I'm going to pass my math class, and if I don't pass math then I don't get financial aid for spring term, and that would SUCK and ughhhh... And I'm stressed just from being so fat... It's so bad that I finally just broke down and bought new pants, and they're size 16. I don't like that one little bit. No no no...

Oh well, oh well. I'm cold and I'm trying to convince myself that it's because I'm behaving myself and not because this is a tiny basement room (which is not even legally a bedroom and while there is a window there are bars over it, which means I'd better get a screwdriver if I want a hope in hell of escaping in case of fire).

In other news, I told The Boy how I felt about The Other Boy, and I told The Other Boy how I felt about him. He says he's "very flattered" which might not sound so good but honestly I feel somehow a little closer or more comfortable around him now. Besides that, he's going to take French with me again next term, so that's good, right? Especially if The Boy and I really do actually officially break up. Not that I have any kind of plot to capture The Other Boy, just that I want to still be friends with him and stuff... You know...

ahh ahh ahh I'm going to do some kind of planning and some kind of looking at pictures... even though after so many years it's starting to get old.

I don't know what else to do.

PS: Who else loves it when David Bowie goes, "You're not alone!" and feels like he's giving them a wonderful warm glittery hug?

(no subject)
so... okay, it's been a while. First thing's first: The Other Boy. I've had my... seventh? eighth? no, seventh dream about him. We're in the same French class this term and it's killing me, but it's wonderful, too. Ahh my heart just goes all flutterful-like. Um... let's see... okay, so in the most recent one I was on the couch, and The Boy came and lay down on top of me, kind of off to the one side, then The Other Boy was standing near me, but he was like 60 lbs heavier than he is now, and he lay down on me as well, and I was like, "Oh, no! this isn't how I imagined it!" and then I accepted it, and I was okay with it, that he was now chubby. It really made me think, you know, when I woke up. How much do I like him for his looks? Quite a bit, I guess. I think he's extremely attractive, but I'd still like him if he were not as good-looking. Before that, the dream was we were wandering around with a group of people, and we took a detour, and went through this art gallery, and all this other stuff... anyway, at some point we were sitting together and he kept putting his hand on my knee and I was all excited about it, but I was also kind of nervous and wanting him to stop because my boyfriend was right there with us. Umm before that... let's see... okay, fat dream, knee dream, car dream, leaning on bed dream, alice dream, glass dream, kiss dream, that's all? Yeah, so I had a dream where we were in the car and I was sitting between him and The Boy and he put his arm around me and pulled me closer, and before that I had a dream where I was sitting in the middle again and I was trying not to lean on him but I did lean on him... and yeah. I've described almost all my dreams about The Other Boy in this journal.

Umm what else? Oh, my boyfriend's younger brother came out to me today! That was very exciting. I wasn't surprised, but I felt very honored. Err he also said that he wanted to puke because he'd eaten too much, and I felt like it was a hinting of ed-ness, but I didn't want to push it.

God, this is how people get stuck! I want to still be friends with The Boy, and his family, and The Other Boy. I want to be romantically involved with The Other Boy, but if that were to happen (oh, magic, please!) could I still have good relationships with the others? Ahhhhahhahh... since The Brother told me that he's gay (and furry?) I was really tempted to talk to him about my Boy Conflict, but I decided not to. It's his fucking brother! and also mine's a secret, his isn't.

anyway, I got really drunk last night and puked, but I decided to be proactively sick, you know, since I knew I'd puke anyway I just shoved my fingers down my throat when I started getting nauseous instead of waiting and waiting. It was pretty gross, though. The sight of my hand covered in gooey brown chunky vomit is enough, for now, to keep me from purging as a habit. Yuckkkk. But now I really know I am capable of it, and it's simultaneously worrying and comforting.

The Boy just got back from rehearsal, so I guess I'll end it there.

(no subject)
So, well, thank goodness for the "just me" setting. Not that anybody could read this anyway ("obvs") so I don't know why I'm writing as though there were a larger audience. I do plan on making a more public post, though, because I really feel like I want someone to listen to me. (note: this has been opened to the public because certain situations have changed so that it feels safer now than before.)

The reason I'm writing here is because I can't find a way to password my "causes" document, which is the "well, whatever" that I have here on Scott's computer. So I don't feel comfortable writing about certain things (like how I feel about Steven). And also on LJ I don't want to use people's names.

So... I got all emotional. I just started by mentioning to Scott that sometimes I get annoyed when I think that he is being wasteful. I said that I don't know if maybe it's just that I'm jealous that for most of my life I haven't been as privileged as him, or if it's a non-envy emotion that just has to do with my upbringing. Either way I think it probably comes from not having money and things.

But talking about it, it kind of led to a/the larger issue, which is that I don't feel like we have really ever had a serious discussion. Like, a heart-to-heart sort of thing. Because whenever things get too serious, I feel like he just doesn't want to talk about it. Which is true, he said so himself, and I understand. I get that way too. Just, it's like... I don't have a lot of people to talk to. There's him, my mom, my dad, and Dan. And I feel like the person I most want to talk to is my dad (I mean, in addition/second to--depending on the issue--Scott) because he's, hmm... more understanding? More open? I trust him more. I trust him more than my mom.

I guess since this is just for me, I can ramble on about whatever I fucking want to. Okay.

So why do I trust him more than my mom? Or maybe a better way to put it is, why don't I feel okay about telling my mom certain things? I ended up telling her about the episodes of despair and about Steven.

And so I don't forget, I'm going to go into that just a bit. The episodes of despair: it hasn't really happened for the past... three days? Counting today (although it's actually 4 am, but I'm counting days as the periods between sleeping). But what had been happening, for ummm let's see... I was at my mom's Monday night... but when was before that? Saturday night? Because I went back to see Venture Bros/Metalocalypse. Yep. So Saturday, the 5th of December, I was at my mom's. And we got stoned and went to sleep, and I had this moment where I just felt so incredibly distant and alone. Like there was no one in the entire world who could possibly help me, could understand me, could comfort me. I don't know what it was that I wanted help/understanding/comfort about. Lots of things, I guess. ED-NOS and Steven, probably mostly.

But then--looking at this calendar I guess it was only like 3 or 4 days--I just kept having these 20-60 minute times where I just felt that darkness. That utterly black pit, where I feel that everything is meaningless and I am totally hopeless and completely alone. I want to die when I feel that way, but I know it's only a temporary feeling, so I bear it. I don't remember having felt that bad, although I probably have before, when I was at my lowest, which I think was when I dropped out of school the first time.

Anyway, so I told my mom about that and about how I feel about Steven. And I didn't want to.

(Quick reminder: also, I was just thinking when I had a smoke that maybe some of my ED problems, like feeling miserably fat, could just be channeling my emotional distress about other issues into something more controllable or something like that. Something I can't/just won't share with anyone else. Or something?)

But I did. She was drunk and stoned; I was stoned. I had to tell someone. But even though it felt better to have told someone who knows me in real life, it also created a new anxiety. Because... because why? Because it's my mom. I guess I have similar feelings about telling my mom things and telling Scott things. I don't really trust them to understand. Or maybe I don't really trust them to not let it change how they think about me? Well, I guess I do worry about my mom using it against me in a certain way. Not that she does it intentionally. Maybe she doesn't do it at all. Maybe it's just that when I am vulnerable and I tell someone something like that, I feel like them knowing that part of me makes me weaker. Like, uh... hm... That them knowing these sensitive issues that I am dealing with, well... I guess what I just said, lets them know me.

So then, why don't I want them to know me? Why do I want to have this distance? I have to acknowledge that my relationships with both my mom and my boyfriend are probably just this side of codependent/dysfunctional. Especially with my mom. Maybe it's that, with my mom I have been trying to separate myself from her, and with Scott I don't want to become attached in the first place.

What's wrong with having an attachment to someone? Let's talk about Mom first. Being attached is painful. When she has problems, I take those on; they become my problems. But since I'm not her, I can only take on what she tells me. And more and more I realize that she is not/has not been honest with me. At the moment, I wonder if it's for the same reasons I keep things hidden from her. I don't know. Or maybe she worries that if I know everything, I won't respect her or I won't love her. That's not the case.

Hey, maybe that's it for me. I'm worried that if I let people know what's really inside me, they won't respect/love me. They will reject me.

Writing this, I've been avoiding saying anything about a fear of rejection. It just seems so common, even cliche. And it's illogical. First of all, why would people who love and care about me reject me? Scott and I have not exchanged "I love you"s. I am about 96% certain that he does love me, though. I'm pretty sure that if I said, "do you love me?" he would say yes. I almost asked him that a little while ago. But I won't.

Well, what about Mom? She will love me always, I'm sure. But respect? Is that the issue? Do I want my mom to respect me? Of course I do. Am I afraid that if I let her know who I really am, she won't respect me?

And/or, could it be that if I let people get close enough to really be able to understand me, I will be forced to understand things about myself that I don't want to face? I mean, I don't know... I'm sure there are some/a lot of things within me that I am blind to. Ways that I function that are dysfunctional, but also that are... maybe coping mechanisms? Or things that are not compatible with my as-of-now identity? When truth clashes with identity, it is extremely painful. I think that's what caused me so much trouble in rehab. I was so angry. I guess, if this hypothesis is correct, that I was resentful that the way I was living, the person I had tried so hard to be/convince myself that I was, was being torn apart. Maybe I was scared. Of course I was scared. I don't know what's more terrifying than not knowing who you are.

I can't tell if I'm getting any closer to the root of things or if I'm getting distracted. But I guess I'll just keep on with whatever.

In that weird and brief deep-ish discussion with Steven, he asked if I'm "an honest person," explaining that what he meant was that I seem like I am fairly true to myself in my interactions with people, and that part of it would be/is acting the same way around various groups.

In ways I am. I mean, I try to be myself around everybody, not changing my persona depending on the group, that sort of thing. But I don't know that I'm truly truly myself around anybody. I don't know if anybody really is. Maybe. Well, like, there's no way of knowing to what extent people can understand each other's perspectives. So there's no evidence and no way to be sure if someone can totally understand someone else. Like, "can you ever really ~know~ anybody?" That sort of thing. You probably can't ever know another person like you know yourself. At least not with human communication the way it is. Maybe someday we'll evolve or develop technology that lets us completely enter someone else's psyche and understand them from their own point of view.

ANYWAY that is ~definitely~ getting away from the point.

I was meaning to get to this: I think there are things I have that sound like really personal information, but which are really just things that I have detached enough from that I can keep my defenses up without letting people know that I don't want them to get too close. And just the fact/idea that I don't want people to get too close is so frustrating, because I do want closeness. I crave a relationship where I can totally let go of the wall I have.

Having a "wall" is another thing that I don't like to consider having because it seems too common or cliche or trite, something like that. But it is very likely the truth.

Well, what now? Okay. Why do I have a wall against the people with whom I should be closest, be most able to share my innermost self with? FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.


I don't know! I can figure it out, though, which I kind of feel like means that on some level I ~do~ know. right?

Ahhh... you know, with my dad I feel like, I don't have to explain to him everything, I don't need him to know everything I feel about everything that's going on in my life. That whatever it is that I feel, it doesn't matter to him why that is--I mean, it matters insofar as he wants to help me, and he wants to understand--because the most important thing is for him to just be there. I feel like any emotion I want/need to express is okay with him. He's there for me. He's not going to judge me.

And maybe that's a thing, too. I'm afraid that people are going to judge me for being too emotional. For not being in control of myself. I don't know where that fear comes from (but I'm sure as shit going to think about that one). Maybe it's something like, if I'm not in control of my emotions, somebody else is going to manipulate them. That's probably a big thing!

I mean, like I said, I don't think my mom does it on purpose, but she can and has definitely manipulated my emotions. I understand. I probably do things like that, too. Because if other people's emotions and actions can affect my emotions and actions, one way to ensure that I am in control of myself is to also be in control of others.

And I guess it's classic psychology to think that control is a big issue of mine because of my mom's alcoholism when I was little, and her bad relationships, and my having been sexually abused. All these things that I had no control over whatsoever. And so the more I can control my life, the safer I am.

So... maybe I keep a certain distance from others because I feel like the closer I am to them/they are to me the less in-control I am. But didn't they teach us that other people can't really control how we feel, anyway? Still, they definitely influence it. Like, it's pretty hard not to feel hurt when somebody rejects you. It's totally possible to get through it and get over it. And I guess it's healthy to feel those emotional reactions, as long as I handle them in a healthy way.


In what ways have I felt rejected by my mother? I'm sure that when I was little and she was drinking heavily I felt that she valued her addiction more than me. I was too young to remember it clearly. But I do remember her telling me that when she first came out of treatment, it took me a long time before she could go someplace without me getting anxious about where she was going and for how long. And, in her dysfunctional serial monogamies, I know I have felt like she cared more about her partner than she did me. Why else would she stay with someone I hated so much? But, it's also fair to say that I probably felt jealous. And she probably at least partially discounted my dislike and mistrust of these women to that. Still, that doesn't change too much that I had felt that way.

Also, she used to go on a lot about how she feels like she's been a bad parent. And that just gives me the feeling that I am so fucked up. Like, why would my mom feel like she's let me down so badly if I weren't a total mess, and a disappointment? If she is disappointed in herself as a parent, what does that say about me, if children are so massively influenced by their upbringing? I know I've had problems, and I think that she felt that way partly because she does like who I am and so she feels guilty about ways that she could have been but wasn't a more available parent, and partly because she feels responsible for issues like drugs and cutting and depression. I want so badly for her not to feel that way, for her to know that the past is the past and that everyone makes mistakes, and that so much of the good in me is because of the parent she was and is.

What does that have to do with defense and fear of rejection, though? Well, if I don't tell her about my problems then she doesn't have to hurt over them. I feel guilty when I feel like she feels guilty. Fuck guilt. FUCK IT.

Alright, I have been focusing a lot on Mom. But there's way more to it.

Like, okay, this is still to do with my mom, but: I feel like she will analyze things differently when she knows certain things. For instance, I didn't want to tell her about how I feel about Steven because I feel like when Scott is over there's this secret and she'll be looking at us from that perspective.

Well, fine. But that is not as good an explanation for not telling Scott things. I mean, it's fairly obvious why I don't want to tell him about Steven. That's not something I feel is an unreasonable desire, to not tell my boyfriend that I am... okay, I'll say "in love"--in love--with his best friend. But what about the despair? And other stuff? Like, a long long time ago (okay, like 6 or 7 months ago) I wanted to talk about our relationship. What is it? What boundaries do we want to set? What are the rules? But he didn't say much, and I could tell it was something he really didn't feel like talking about. So I said we could put it off, and it never happened. I don't like that.

When I am unhappy, he tries to cheer me up. It's really sweet, and at the same time I sometimes resent it, because I feel like a part of why he does that is because he doesn't want to talk about emotions and stuff. Which I guess I can't blame him... I mean, it's not like I'm exactly forthcoming all the time. Maybe he's got a problem similar to mine. I don't know. It would make a certain amount of sense.

I don't even know where to go from here. I've run out of energy to write or think about this stuff. So, here's what's left:

I need to get out of here for a while. Spend a few days away from Scott. At LEAST 3 days, if not a full week. Maybe it will help me clear my head. Yeah, I bet it will. I wish I could just spend a little while completely alone. I know, I tend to isolate when I'm not doing well. I can't really tell if I'm trying to isolate in order to avoid my troubles or in order to figure them out, maybe even begin to resolve some of them.

And, I'm thinking just now that... Well, maybe I should just grit my teeth and put the truth out there. I mean, what I'm ready to at the moment. I don't feel like talking about ed-nos or Steven.

I'm tired. I'm cold. I want a cigarette but it's well below freezing. Oh well.

I feel a little numb right now. Emotionally/mentally. Isn't it funny now numbness feels so much more similar to melancholy than it does to contentment? I mean, it should be neutral, right? So I guess it's not true numbness. It's more like... hmm... just shutting down or closing myself off. Refusing to or maybe even becoming incapable of acknowledging emotions.

Smoking and sleeping, those are my priorities.

I wish I could cry to someone. Not alone. I think I am a very very lonely person. I think that loneliness is a really big deal for me.

But I'll address that later. Soon, but later. I hope. I really should.

(no subject)
so, I had another dream about The Other Boy. This time, he and I and The Boy were sitting on the end of a bed. I was in the middle. Either The Other Boy was looking at a book or I was, but I was leaning over so we could both look at it, and I was trying not to actually touch him, because, you know, not only do I have a boyfriend but also The Boy is ~there~... But I kept leaning closer and closer to him, and farther from The Boy, and then I felt this pressure on my temple and I realized it was because I was resting my head on his shoulder. And I thought, you know, I'd been leaning there for a little while before I realized, and so The Boy probably already noticed, and The Other Boy doesn't seem to mind, so I just relaxed against him. I felt happy and comfortable and a little anxious, too.

Actually, The Other Boy came over last night, and he and I and The Boy went out to a bar. I ended up having a couple double scotch-and-sodas and getting wayyyy more drunk than I've been since probably before the term started.

Aaand, what else? Before that, I picked at some 'asian helper' but I just had NO appetite, even if I weren't trying to restrict. So I was chewing and chewing and chewing and I couldn't swallow. Sometimes that happens because I'm scared to swallow, but this time I think it was only a little bit that and mostly because I'd been drinking coffee all day. Which reminds me, I need to go pick up my ritalin refill. Actually, I've got an appointment at the end of the month to see about switching to Adderall.

Anyway, before that... okay, there was the coffee... what did I have for breakfast? Oh! I had 2 eggs scrambled with 4 tbsp of crumbled bacon and 1/3 cup of shredded cheese, fried in cooking spray. So, I counted that meal up to be about 470. Did I have milk? Ummm.... I don't think so. I think I just had coffee. And in my coffee I put whole milk and splenda. I'd say I had about 1/4 cup of milk in each cup. I had 4-6 cups, which I'll call 6, times... how many? Oh, 40 each makes 240. And four shots of liquor is 400, so... I guess I had about 1110 cals yesterday. That's pretty good, actually. I don't mind.

Now, today I'm on my second cup of coffee, which has 5 tsp in the first and 4 tsp in the second of dry creamer, which comes to 90 cals. A banana nut muffin is about 800 and the cream cheese... probably about 2 tbsp, so... like 102? Call it 100. So I've got what I'll call 1000 calories under my belt (no pun intended, really, I promise) right now. You know what that means. No more today.

Well, except coffee and alcohol. Oh, I need to take my vitamins.

Something good about both smoking cigarettes AND the collllld weather is that when I go outside I kind of jog in place while I smoke. Now that's 7 minutes, and I smoke 5-10 a day (if I'm not drinking/on stimulants). I don't always jog the whole 7 minutes, though... I do kind of this thing like I'm walking in place but only moving my knees and leaving my feet on the ground. Anyway, let's say a combination of that and jogging in place is roughly equivalent to 35 minutes a day of... okay, I'm going to finish my calculations in my private journal, this is getting silly.

Numbers and calculators, wooooo!!


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