Thin as a Dime

Climbing your ribcage.

Geez, you disapear for one measley month and your tumbalarity hits the floor. Come on guys, have some faith! You should have known I’d be back. I think I said only a million times that I was going to be away but I would be back… or maybe that was the other blog. Gah, to many creative outlets to figure out which one holds which thoughts.

I’m feeling a bit better after going to my real home. I think it was just comforting knowing its still there and that the entire city did not collapse in on itself in my absence. Its also good to know that there are so many people willing to take me in should I not be able to take it here in Melbourne much longer. Of course I wasn’t able to take it about 9 months ago but I really can’t bare to leave my Mum on her own (even if we’re in constant fight mode sometimes).

My only dissapointment on coming back (besides the obvious ‘coming back’ bit) was my missing scale. Gone, poof, zapped, uhmm…okay, I’m out of words but you know exactly what I mean. In some senses its good, neither me or Sam can cook so we were living off pizza and potato swirls for a good portion of my holiday and I was too paranoid to purge there (even though she knows about my bulemia). I’m sure the number would lead to wrist slashing. The bad part is I have to go see a doctor about medication for my depression, hence the pshycologists letter, but because I think he might weigh me I don’t want to go until I know what I weigh. I need to seemed collected when he tells me my life is over (weight wise). I may just assume the fetal position and begin crying when he tells me if I don’t go in there with a game face pre-prepared.

Although I’ve been pretty good food wise since I got back and I’ve been keeping up somewhat of a social life too. All I need now is a job and I’ll be somewhat “together”, what ever the hell that means anyway. I don’t think this state of semi-organisation will last long though… only until I start pinning for home again and become a growth on the couch until my mother sends me away.

“Welcome to the real world” She said to me.

I’m quite the fan of Mr. Mayer’s old stuff. I don’t know if he was always such an arrogant twat but, if he was, it doesn’t really shine through as obviously back in the day.

I hit a plateau- again! About every 3lbs or so I do. I did my usual weekend binge-purge (its just routine now I think) and am back to restricting again with a less than half a pound weight gain from the “routine”. Thats incredibly less than what I usually gain after the weekend (even though it disappears rather quickley) so I’m not as down about it as I would have been any other day of the week. Actually, I’m oddly at ease today despite any obvious reasons. I mean I’m not happy and I’m bored out my mind but usually I feel like there is this dark cloud following me but today the clouds more like a light mist and, yeah, I just feel centered today.

It could be because its now 5 mothertruckin’ days until I leave! Its feels so weird talking to my friends and being able to say “What do you want to do this weekend?” again. I missed that because, unfortunatley, living where I do now I don’t want to give alot of my time to these people but maybe thats because I know deep down I’m eventually going to move back home and I don’t want a reason to be upset about leaving here so I just don’t bother with the people. I sound like a complete cow- well I kinda am, sorry.

Oh, I read “He’s just not that into you”. When I got it I didn’t realise it was, like, a self help book of the comdic kind. I thought it was the plot of the movie (which I haven’t seen). It was hilerious though and I swear it could have been written by me. Which just proves I’m not pessimistic when it comes to relationships, I’m just rationale…realistic if you will. Or maybe I am pessimistic and this book is just the excuse I needed.

Accourding to the experts.

I just want to say that the criteria one needs to meet to be diagnosed with an eating disorder is ridiculous if you remember that an eating disorder is first and fore most a disease of the mind. You have to 15% under weight, on most ocassions, to be diagnosed with an eating disorder. This makes it so easy for someone with the problem to deny it to themselves it almost is laughable. I don’t know about anyone else but I would have been alot easier to help when I wasn’t 15% underweight, by the time I’d reached that stage I didn’t want anyone’s help. I was so far gone my mother’s crying couldn’t convince me to eat the tea spoon of oat meal she’d offer every morning.

Whats more disturbing is, of the 70 million people in the world with eating disorders, 10-20% of them are going to die and the majority from suicide. So that’s about 7-14 million people who are going to die because of a mental disease that you can be told you don’t actually have because you don’t physically “fit in”. Which is ironic since I’m quite sure there are one or more people out there with eating disorders who feel like they don’t physically “fit in” in the normal sense of the word either. So you don’t really “fit in” anywhere do you now? Thats really enough to drive the best of us to commit suicide. Are minds are killing us but someone with an clipboard and a scale can turn to us and say “sorry, you’re only 10% underweight- better luck next time”.

Which also has to make you wonder, how many people are dead right now because of un-diagnosed eating disorders? Or more specifically, how many people are dead right now who were told they didn’t have an eating disorder? I’m telling you right now, if you’re starving your self or purging you can be 60lbs or 200lbs but you still have an eating disorder no matter what your doctor tells you. I’m sick and tired of the term “wannarexic” being used when I girl is “technically” over weight. I’ll have you know that more recovered anorexics end up over weight than you can poke a stick at (unfortuntley one of the top 10 reasons I refuse to recover).

I’ve actually lost track of where I was going with this, which is unfortunate because I think I was really onto something, but basically I think that they need to seriously consider changing the criteria for diagnosing someone with an eating disorders. Considering “early detection” is considered the best way to beat just about every illness they sure have made it hard for it to be detected early and pretty damn easy for it to be denied by even the person who has it. Its just so…illogical for a mental disease to be defined by the physical symptoms.

Red lips and finger tips.

Firstly, my title has just reminded me to get some more red nail polish.

Soooo…its Friday, Friday night for me but possibly not for you. I do love Friday’s, especially if I’ve had a good week which, by the way, I have. Well except finding out I have severe clinical depression but I guess that’s just a small “hump” in my week.

I’ve sailed through my “less than 500 calorie a day” week even with my Mum in the house the entire time because she’s flue stricken. My weight loss is starting to slow again and I’m not quite so bold to start a fast when I’m only 8 days away from my flight. Depending on my weight tomorrow I might bump Saturday and Sunday up to something like 600-800 calories but that’s only if I’m at a weight I’m okay with tomorrow. Not that I’m “okay” with anyway weight I am but you get what I mean- if I feel safe to add on up to another 300 calories then I may very well do so. I can not keep jeopordising my metabolism when I’m so close to flying out.

I’ve been avoiding my friends like the plague the past couple of weeks- perhaps a month, I haven’t really been keeping track. They’ve noticed more than me. I’ve sworn to do something with them before I leave but honestley I’d really rather not but for some reason you can’t just say that to people. I hear its rude, go figure. They’re thinking movies, I’m thinking let me sleep. I don’t know, I’m just a terrible friend but thats just a lesson to anyone thinking of “becoming” anorexic/bullemic. Your social life will not improve it will slowly deteriate and then poof!- all gone. Thats when things get really bad too because there is no one around to keep you on that fading line called “normal”.

It can’t hurt that much…

I really wish people would stop throwing problems out there for reactions. It seems these days everyone has some deep dark secret that leaves them suicidal and self loathing but not so suicidal and self loathing that they can’t share it with the world.

I’ve seen it time and time again. Groups of people sitting around bitching about their lives, trying to out do each other. Someone’s step-dad hid their hair straightener, some whore is calling them a slut, their boyfriend/girlfriend hates them because one boob/ball is bigger than the other. You’re depressed, you’re suicidal, you can’t eat infront of people, you want us to bow down to you and your horrible life because you are superior. Then they all turn to me, waiting for me to join in. I say nothing, my life is perfect. I say “Poor you” and give them a shoulder to cry on.

Maybe its wrong of me, infact it is wrong of me, but I find it hard to believe these people when they’re talking about all their problems (that apparently near disable them) with just about anyone who’ll listen. Obviously people cope diffrently but it just seems kind of…obnoxious. This is probably why I dislike people so very much. Its very hard to see the good in people when you think they’re getting joy out of being miserable.

Or maybe I’m even a little jealous that I’m not able to just stand on a podium and declare everything thats wrong with me. I’m not saying my problems are worse than anyone elses but they are to me because my problem affect me. Its very sad if you can’t eat infront of people, I’m sorry for you but that doesn’t affect me and the way I live my life and frankly I have other things to thinks about.

If I stood on the podium what would I say? “Hi, I have an eating disorder, I’m clinically depressed, I have social anxiety, in the last 3 years I’ve tried to kill myself 2 times, I cut myself, I cry over little things like glasses breaking but when I find out my grandma is dying- nothing, I have perfected the art of regurgitation, I can eat more calories in a day than you can in a week but I can also make a days worth of calories spread out over a week, in my life I’ve lived in at least 12 houses, my dad- where ever he is -is a drug addict, and for what ever reason I’ve blocked out large chunks of my life, like the supposed 2 years my Mum spent crying but hey, seriously, I’m really sorry everyone calls you a slut.”

There are other things too that I didn’t put there for fear someone I actually know will find this blog. There are things in my life that I know happened but deny it, I deny things to myself that I literally will never talk about, I won’t even write it down because it didn’t happen but it haunts me all the same.

Maybe I don’t tell people because I know that these aren’t things that words can fix. A 40 minute lunch break at school is not going to make everything okay, a 17 year old can not council me. The best they can do is try and soothe me by comparing my problems to one of there’s and from what they’ve already shared I really don’t think they have anything thats going to come up to par.

Confidence is nothing like modesty.

Confidence is one thing I’ve been able to hide behind most of my life. Its a good a defense as any. I’m not an honestly confident person but I’ve seen it enough to know how to replicate it. The trip to faking confidence is saying you’re confident, act like an egomaniac and no one has any reason to doubt you. It doesn’t help you win any popularity contests but I’ve never had a problem with that because I’m not so much a people person.

In my life there has only been one person to call me up on my sherade and thats my aunt. A person with actual confidence and maybe thats why she was able to tell because, seriously, who these days has real confidence? I remember it quiet clearly, I was speachless when she said it and I’m glad the people around us were talking so much they couldn’t hear the comment. She told me she knows I pretend to be confident so people won’t ask and I said “Ask about what?” and she shrugged and said “Thats what I’d like to know, what don’t you have to be confident about?” Its a fair question really- its a fair question to ask anybody with paralysing insecurities.

If we’re all painfully aware that everyone has hang ups then why do we consider our selves any less important than those people? Why do we, somehow, get landed with the very worst hangups? We’re all diffrent, unique if you will, its something we’re reminded of every moment of everyday and yet for some reason we have it in our heads we’re all meant to look this one way. This is a truth for everyone out there, not just people with eating disorders.

I personally can not think of a worse fate than looking like me but I’ve been told more than a handful of times how “lucky” I am to look like me, to be tall, to be “slim”, to have blue eyes, long fingers, shapley legs. I see myself like this- gangly, pudgy and soft, small eyes, bony/wrinkly fingers and jiggly scarred legs. Even in our best qualities we find fault. Confidence is not something we’re really taught at a young age- being modest and humble is something forced onto us that by the time the life lesson of confidence comes around we’re too brain washed to use it, instead we mix being humble and confident together and begin focusing our attention on making other people see their beauty, to embrace their bodies.

I wonder if the cycle were turned on its head and we were taught to brag about our good parts from a young age, when people don’t really care if you think you have the best legs in the state, and taught to be humble later on when being reserved and modest is sometimes very valuable that, maybe, alot more people would be better adjusted and more accepting of their bodies.

In my head this whole rant makes sense but I guess thats up to everyone who reads it. I just think we’re taught some things too late in life, things like how to love yourself (excuse the cliche). Besides that- down 1.1lbs today and finished my eating with 421 calories.