It's been a week since I posted and I feel like a failure for more than just my absence from writing.
I've failed to stick to my diet. I've failed to stop purging. I've failed to be perfect.
Baby steps, I try to remind myself. Baby steps. In the grand scheme of things, I've spent less money on binge foods, purged fewer times and fewer days during the week and consumed less on average. Still, it's not enough. The little voice that tells me to binge and purge keeps whispering in my ear. It's not some radio I can turn off or change the station.
However, I try to find hope. The voice that says, "thinner, thinner, thinner" is becoming stronger than the one that says "eat, eat, eat," and "purge, purge, purge."
Of course, I need to find the root, the reason for the issues. I'm pretty sure, as I've suspected for a long time, my cycles are triggered by stress. I think most people would be surprised by this observation. By all outward signs, I handle stress very well. I excel in a stressful work environment, work well under pressure, and can juggle many things at once (I worked full time in college and still managed to graduate early). But the tradeoff for this ability to keep cool in front of bosses, friends, and professors is the secret, self-destructive life I live somewhere between the kitchen and the toilet.
For example, this week, I had some unexpected stressors. They were positive things, but stressful nonetheless. I mentioned to my family I may be interested in buying my sister's car from her instead of her trading it in for a new one (yay four wheel drive!) The next thing I knew, I got a text message, "They didn't trade it in, you're buying the car." I was both very excited and nervous. The sudden change to my financial situation and worries about whether or not I would be able to get a loan to follow through, etc...weighed heavily on my conscience. Between displaying my enthusiasm to my family and dealing with the bank, I didn't allow myself to feel my mounting worry. Instead, I made pancakes. And more pancakes, and more, as if I could drown my worry and fear and shame for my inability to get a loan without a co-signer in maple syrup. And then, plagued with guilt, I had to empty myself of the sticky sweet diversion.
I also started dating someone new. It's exciting. It's terrifying. I'm trying not let myself feel, and yet, the more I try to deny my elation and fear, the more I turn to b/p to absorb my emotions.
Enough. I need to remember it's okay to feel. It's okay to be excited or worried or sad or happy. Sure, I'll never be one to show the world what I'm thinking or feeling all the time. But I can hide what I'm feeling from others without hiding it from myself.
Baby steps. No more lying to myself. No more denying what b/p does to my body. No more denying how the stress of ignoring my emotions triggers my cycles. One step, one day, one feeling at a time.
Also, I need to focus on some of the positives. I've met a guy who enjoys spending time with me. I've bought a car I can take skiing and hiking and not worry about whether it will make it up the mountain.
These may seem like baby steps to some, but they feel like giant steps to someone who makes a point to remain aloof and distant from people, and who fears change and inadequacy as much as she fears body fat (I've driven the same crappy car since high school).
So I took a couple steps back this week. I like to think I took a few more steps forward.
Keeping faking it,
JK
Friday, July 29, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
The Bravery in Small Things
I promised myself when I reached 112 lbs. I would get a new tube of lipstick: a nice one, expensive. I think prizes like this are a nice motivation to continue the fight against fat, and also help to build my arsenal of weapons of perfection.
Well, I did it. I had been flirting around the goal for a couple of days, but when the morning scale measurement read 111.2, I was elated. I knew it was legitimate weight loss, not just fluid shifts.
So, I went to the Lancome counter and purchased a shade of Berry Noir. It was as if, more than a coat of lipstick, I had put on a suit of armor. Such a small thing, but I suddenly felt glamorous, strong.
I reflected again on the person I want to become. Sure, the future me is thinner, more stylish, her hair has grown longer, but it is more than looks. What does this woman DO?
The ideal I have is difficult to put into words, but I see myself as the person who is aloof, yet accessible. Socially desirable. A woman wearing this shade of lipstick should be in a trendy shop, drinking coffee, reading a book...meeting a young man. Suddenly brave, I did something I haven't done in a long time. I pulled out my phone, scrolled through the contacts, and texted a guy friend, a mutual acquaintence I have always found attractive but never hung out with one-on-one. We decided to meet within the hour.
As I sat, laughing with him and sipping my Americano, I admired the deep rasberry tinted stain my lips left on the edge of my glass. I had none of the nerves I usually get in social situations. I felt cool, in control, and I felt his surprise and delight in response to my confidence.
When we parted ways, my glow lingered, stimulated by laughter and caffeine. Where had this sudden, unexpected confidence?
From bravery. From the bravery of small things. A new shade of lipstick. The bravery to call up a friend and be vulnerable to awkward conversation. The bravery to embrace the eating disorder that has so long threatened to ruin mylife, and instead use it as the catalyst for my rise to perfection.
I am still not the woman I want to be--no where near. But for a brief, afternoon coffee date, I got to pretend. I got a taste of a good-looking guy hanging on my every word mixed with rich, black espresso. Needless to say, I liked the flavor.
For now, I'll have to be content to keep faking it.
--JK
Well, I did it. I had been flirting around the goal for a couple of days, but when the morning scale measurement read 111.2, I was elated. I knew it was legitimate weight loss, not just fluid shifts.
So, I went to the Lancome counter and purchased a shade of Berry Noir. It was as if, more than a coat of lipstick, I had put on a suit of armor. Such a small thing, but I suddenly felt glamorous, strong.
I reflected again on the person I want to become. Sure, the future me is thinner, more stylish, her hair has grown longer, but it is more than looks. What does this woman DO?
The ideal I have is difficult to put into words, but I see myself as the person who is aloof, yet accessible. Socially desirable. A woman wearing this shade of lipstick should be in a trendy shop, drinking coffee, reading a book...meeting a young man. Suddenly brave, I did something I haven't done in a long time. I pulled out my phone, scrolled through the contacts, and texted a guy friend, a mutual acquaintence I have always found attractive but never hung out with one-on-one. We decided to meet within the hour.
As I sat, laughing with him and sipping my Americano, I admired the deep rasberry tinted stain my lips left on the edge of my glass. I had none of the nerves I usually get in social situations. I felt cool, in control, and I felt his surprise and delight in response to my confidence.
When we parted ways, my glow lingered, stimulated by laughter and caffeine. Where had this sudden, unexpected confidence?
From bravery. From the bravery of small things. A new shade of lipstick. The bravery to call up a friend and be vulnerable to awkward conversation. The bravery to embrace the eating disorder that has so long threatened to ruin mylife, and instead use it as the catalyst for my rise to perfection.
I am still not the woman I want to be--no where near. But for a brief, afternoon coffee date, I got to pretend. I got a taste of a good-looking guy hanging on my every word mixed with rich, black espresso. Needless to say, I liked the flavor.
For now, I'll have to be content to keep faking it.
--JK
Fixing my vacuum cleaner...and other ways of seizing control.
Today, I fixed my vacuum cleaner. I know, you're probably wondering "so what?" or "what does that have to do with having an eating disorder?" Well, on the surface, not much, but on a deeper, more symbolic, metaphorical level, it has EVERYTHING to do with it. Allow me to explain.
The ugly truth is that my ED dominates every aspect of my life, especially when Mia is in charge. The apartment goes uncleaned, my houseplants go unwatered, the bed unmade, the laundry undone. Refuse and debris from past binges litter the counters and corners, chocolatey finger prints smear light switches, door handles and computer keys. My checking account is overdrafted when I spend the last of my funds and more on an uncontrollable sugar binge in a futile attempt to glut myself beyond emotion, beyond sensation. My entire environment becomes an accumulation of decay, a physical manifestion of deterioration of the spirit.
I have no control over my urges, my life, my environment.
Or so it seems. How will I ever achieve perfection if I continue in this pattern?
Enter the vacuum cleaner. About a week ago, it stopped working, emitting a high pitched whine without sucking up any dirt. I ignored it, accepted it, like everything else, as something beyond my control. It thought to myself, I get another one. Tomorrow. Or the next day. I'll deal with it later...there's nothing I can do about it if it desides to break.
Clearly there is a problem with this way of thinking, but my mind is so full of Mia, of worrying about binging and purging, about NOT binging and purging, about eating, about NOT eating, there is no room for anything else.
That is, until I cleared room. After just two days of following my eating plan, of not giving into the urge to binge and letting my body readjust to hunger's sweet, wonderful emptiness, my head is clearer. I feel more energetic, more alive. I feel in control.
So I look at my vacuum cleaner. After a few moments I dig into the bottom a drawer and retrieve a screwdriver. I take the machine apart. I find the belt is broken. I go the store for a replacement. Once it is installed, I put the vacuum back together. I pressed the switch to turn it on, and the contraption springs to life with a deep growl that devours every piece of dirt in its path. Success is mine. I clean my apartment, do my laundry, rearrange the furniture. I nearly burst with pride in my own self suffiency. This is my environment. It is totally in my control.
And isn't that what eating disorders are all about? Control of the body? Control of ourselves? Well I won't let Mia be in control any more.
Today, I did more than just fix a vacuum cleaner. I seized control. And you know what? It was great. I ate less than 700 calories, I got in a workout. I cleaned my apartment. Seemingly small things, but without them, how will I ever achieve perfection?
Keep faking it,
--JK
The ugly truth is that my ED dominates every aspect of my life, especially when Mia is in charge. The apartment goes uncleaned, my houseplants go unwatered, the bed unmade, the laundry undone. Refuse and debris from past binges litter the counters and corners, chocolatey finger prints smear light switches, door handles and computer keys. My checking account is overdrafted when I spend the last of my funds and more on an uncontrollable sugar binge in a futile attempt to glut myself beyond emotion, beyond sensation. My entire environment becomes an accumulation of decay, a physical manifestion of deterioration of the spirit.
I have no control over my urges, my life, my environment.
Or so it seems. How will I ever achieve perfection if I continue in this pattern?
Enter the vacuum cleaner. About a week ago, it stopped working, emitting a high pitched whine without sucking up any dirt. I ignored it, accepted it, like everything else, as something beyond my control. It thought to myself, I get another one. Tomorrow. Or the next day. I'll deal with it later...there's nothing I can do about it if it desides to break.
Clearly there is a problem with this way of thinking, but my mind is so full of Mia, of worrying about binging and purging, about NOT binging and purging, about eating, about NOT eating, there is no room for anything else.
That is, until I cleared room. After just two days of following my eating plan, of not giving into the urge to binge and letting my body readjust to hunger's sweet, wonderful emptiness, my head is clearer. I feel more energetic, more alive. I feel in control.
So I look at my vacuum cleaner. After a few moments I dig into the bottom a drawer and retrieve a screwdriver. I take the machine apart. I find the belt is broken. I go the store for a replacement. Once it is installed, I put the vacuum back together. I pressed the switch to turn it on, and the contraption springs to life with a deep growl that devours every piece of dirt in its path. Success is mine. I clean my apartment, do my laundry, rearrange the furniture. I nearly burst with pride in my own self suffiency. This is my environment. It is totally in my control.
And isn't that what eating disorders are all about? Control of the body? Control of ourselves? Well I won't let Mia be in control any more.
Today, I did more than just fix a vacuum cleaner. I seized control. And you know what? It was great. I ate less than 700 calories, I got in a workout. I cleaned my apartment. Seemingly small things, but without them, how will I ever achieve perfection?
Keep faking it,
--JK
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
The Banishing Mia Diet
Mia has been an ever growing presence in my life. Simultaneously a demon, plague, and friend. But I know more and more she is a false friend and her comfort is only fleeting. Besides, what is less beautiful, less glamorous, less perfect than succumbing to Mia? To constantly having a scratchy throat and puffy eyes, vomit breath and and sticky fingers? To having to vigilantly worry about hiding empty containers and candy wrappers and wondering whether anyone will notice if you take just one...more...piece...
The beauty doesn't eat for worry of messing her lipstick and because she is too busy engaging everyone in stimulating conversation to even bother with her dinner.
My pride wants me to show the world I can immediately jump into (once again) subsisting on 500 calories a day or less, that I can make a magical transition overnight from the curse that has been slowly taking over my life. I know that would be setting myself up for failure. I know that would send me back into Mia's waiting arms without any resistance.
Time to lay my pride aside and come up with a plan. Here is the plan. I will stick to it like ritual, a magic that will banish mia, banish the curse that has plagued me.
For 1 week I will allow myself 1200 calories/day.
Breakfast: Oat bran/blueberries (150 cals).
Snack: 1 grapefruit (100 cals)
Lunch: Salmon, spinach, and fat free dressing (150 cals).
Snack: 1 cup coffee w/ sugar free creamer (40 cals).
Snack: Yogurt (100 cals)
D: Light Veggie Soup w/ FF cheese (150 cals).
S: Oat Bran w/ Strawberries (150 cals).
This is a total of approximately 840 calories. The remaining calories up to 1200 will be discretionary, to allow flexibility, but should be used wisely to prevent binges on things like fruits and veggies or fat free dairy.
After one week of this I will begin lowering my intake to meet my ultimate goal weight. However, this plan should replenish my body of the nutrients purging has depleted from it as well as breaking the binge/purge cycle to allow me to enter my next stage toward perfection.
Wish me luck and...
Keep Faking It.
--JK
The beauty doesn't eat for worry of messing her lipstick and because she is too busy engaging everyone in stimulating conversation to even bother with her dinner.
My pride wants me to show the world I can immediately jump into (once again) subsisting on 500 calories a day or less, that I can make a magical transition overnight from the curse that has been slowly taking over my life. I know that would be setting myself up for failure. I know that would send me back into Mia's waiting arms without any resistance.
Time to lay my pride aside and come up with a plan. Here is the plan. I will stick to it like ritual, a magic that will banish mia, banish the curse that has plagued me.
For 1 week I will allow myself 1200 calories/day.
Breakfast: Oat bran/blueberries (150 cals).
Snack: 1 grapefruit (100 cals)
Lunch: Salmon, spinach, and fat free dressing (150 cals).
Snack: 1 cup coffee w/ sugar free creamer (40 cals).
Snack: Yogurt (100 cals)
D: Light Veggie Soup w/ FF cheese (150 cals).
S: Oat Bran w/ Strawberries (150 cals).
This is a total of approximately 840 calories. The remaining calories up to 1200 will be discretionary, to allow flexibility, but should be used wisely to prevent binges on things like fruits and veggies or fat free dairy.
After one week of this I will begin lowering my intake to meet my ultimate goal weight. However, this plan should replenish my body of the nutrients purging has depleted from it as well as breaking the binge/purge cycle to allow me to enter my next stage toward perfection.
Wish me luck and...
Keep Faking It.
--JK
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
The Overhaul
So here I am, in a rut...again. It seems like every time my head is close to breaking the surface and breathing the fresh air of success I am dragged under again by my own predilection for self destruction. Well, no more.
I've long swung back and forth on the pendulum between the sweet control and empty bliss of Ana and the swirling chaos and destruction that is Mia. If you don't know about Ana and Mia, stop reading and count yourself lucky. But chances are you know exactly what I'm talking about.
Like I said, no more. I am determined to achieve what I've always longed for: perfection. My own personal perfection. And if I can't have it, then I will fake it until I do. The only thing standing in my way is myself. So now it's time for the overhaul: of everything.
I need to overhaul my apartment, my diet my workouts, and my closet. I need to start paying closer attention to my appearance and my lifestyle. It's time to actually start working for the things I want instead of bitching that I don't have them.
Here are the goals:
Clean, stylish, glamorous apartment.
Organized, stylish, fun wardrobe.
7 days a week of cardio, 4 days a week strength training.
Paint/ draw at least one hour a day.
Play instruments every day.
No binging.
No purging.
Get weight to 95lbs. (currently 113).
Bare with me. I'm new to this. I promise it will get better and more fun. If you struggle with an eating disorder, I'm here to help and support. I'm hoping this will end up being part diary, part self help, part do-it-yourself...you get the idea.
You know what they say, fake it til you make it.
-JK
I've long swung back and forth on the pendulum between the sweet control and empty bliss of Ana and the swirling chaos and destruction that is Mia. If you don't know about Ana and Mia, stop reading and count yourself lucky. But chances are you know exactly what I'm talking about.
Like I said, no more. I am determined to achieve what I've always longed for: perfection. My own personal perfection. And if I can't have it, then I will fake it until I do. The only thing standing in my way is myself. So now it's time for the overhaul: of everything.
I need to overhaul my apartment, my diet my workouts, and my closet. I need to start paying closer attention to my appearance and my lifestyle. It's time to actually start working for the things I want instead of bitching that I don't have them.
Here are the goals:
Clean, stylish, glamorous apartment.
Organized, stylish, fun wardrobe.
7 days a week of cardio, 4 days a week strength training.
Paint/ draw at least one hour a day.
Play instruments every day.
No binging.
No purging.
Get weight to 95lbs. (currently 113).
Bare with me. I'm new to this. I promise it will get better and more fun. If you struggle with an eating disorder, I'm here to help and support. I'm hoping this will end up being part diary, part self help, part do-it-yourself...you get the idea.
You know what they say, fake it til you make it.
-JK
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