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i’m home now. i discharged saturday. it’s really scary and overwhelming. my parents have to support me a lot. i’m not sleeping in my old room with old memories. i miss the house and all the people and support there.
i’ve been restricting snacks the past few days. i’m not as small as i used to be. yesterday i was too sad to eat but my parents made me.
my exercising is under watch as well.
i started eating disorder outpatient. i am starting an intensive dbt day program and intensive outpatient program for eating disorder next week. the dbt is a year long program. fuck.
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ED Vignette: Worst Gym Memory
I’ve had many gym lows: almost passing out, running through injury… But the worse was one day I ate some brownies and to compensate I was going to burn a ton of calories and not eat the rest of the day. I went to the gym despite feeling sick even though it’d been hours. I felt so nauseous on the elliptical that I stopped and purged in the bathroom so I could finish the rest of my workout.
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i’m pretty sure i was the only one in yoga yesterday picturing myself being violently stabbed over and over again while we were supposed to be relaxing.
i mean, i guess i was in corpse pose.
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yoga used to be the one time of the week i didn’t 100% hate myself. now during class i watch myself in the mirror and see my disgustingly obese body, especially my wide man-waist. and i feel my fat rolls fold up on each other.
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holiday mode
Breakfast: low calorie oatmeal
Lunch: coffee with unsweetened soymilk
Dinner: normal/moderate meal
Exercise: one hour cardio for maximum calorie burn (plus other)
this is how i lost weight the day after christmas last year. i go into this general mode for holidays and big eating occasions.
i don’t want to have to eat all this fatty and calorific food when i’ve been doing so well…
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i lost 2.8 pounds in 5 days. but it’s not surprising since my body has been barraged with bingeing and isn’t supposed to be this weight.
why the fuck did i let it get this bad? why do i have to start all over again? it’s indescribably horrible.
if i had only gained a few pounds i could have lost it and then more. i have to keep losing.
today i talked to her. i felt ashamed and anxious. i had to burn myself after.
lunch. everyone always talks about weight, food, and exercise. i can’t handle it and remembered why i’ve been avoiding it for months. i had to burn myself after.
guess this is pretty typical.
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don’t stop or else you’ll realize how much it actually hurts.
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i WILL eat healthy again, i WILL lose weight, i WILL get back to my smallest measurements, i WILL say “no,” i WILL not binge, i WILL regain my former fitness levels, i WILL keep up with exercise, i WILL not give into cravings, i WILL get back into my smaller clothes, i WILL stop living this way i’ve been living
it ends now. i’m losing weight, dammit.
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my fitness level has declined from weight gain and decrease in exercise due to depression and bingeing. it upsets me so much and now i won’t be as in shape in case of a zombie apocalypse.
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does anyone else feel like their body finally gave up and revolted after a few years of restricting, purging and exercising and they lost control?
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mind 1: i’m tired and sorta want to eat something.
mind 2: you have to earn your food. go exercise.
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i recommend yoga to anyone with an eating disorder. it helps you become aware of your body and to connect your mind with your body, which is one of the biggest struggles. it also helps slow down those with exercise compulsion. yoga doesn’t have to be a bunch of hippies doing slow boring moves while listening to chants, like i originally thought. the right style, class and instructor is key.
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exercise
i exercise solely to burn calories and lose weight.
i don’t see the tv, i don’t hear the music. i stare raptly at the numbers on the screen, the calories and time going up, up, every moment spent doing calorie calculations in my head. i must look like a maniac, vigorously toiling on the machine in a trance.
when it was worse, i would go no matter what. through pain, through exhaustion. it was all i could do to drag myself home from the gym. my hips began to hurt, they still hurt and click to this day especially if i run too much. i pulled a muscle in my groin- it hurt to walk- but i ran through it. one time after a binge i felt sick while on the elliptical. i paused to puke in the bathroom, then kept going. it hurts so bad, but just one more minute, then another…
i kept adding more. every time i reached a new time, new level or new number of calories burned that became the new standard and anything less felt like it didn’t “count” enough. percentages on my calendar of days per month i worked out.
“forty-nine percent
one percent short of half
and less than half
ain’t really much of nothing”
- 49 Percent, Royksopp
this past year i cut back a bit. i’m trying to more but my brain told me that if i did less then i could add another day, so essentially i’m doing more. plus my rest days with exercise that “doesn’t count” because it’s “just walking, just a little yoga, not at the gym” etc.
i feel very guilty when i exercise. i know that i should be doing so much more, fixing the unraveled edges in my life but i am not. instead i am anxiously trifling over the details of should i do 2 or 3 reps of this exercise? should i eat this when I go home? if i eat this with this then this will be 20 extra calories or i could skip this, or add this there, and that would equal 125 less calories and how can i cut out any more calories and this and that and i go through all the infinite possibilities in my head of my meager meal plan.
i look outside myself at the gym and realize that it’s just me. i see myself moving repetitively in silence, in a gray emotionally barren room. i guess the room matches myself. but it makes me incredibly sad when i realize that this is where i am, this is what i have been doing, this is a major part of my life.
but it’s mandatory.
and just like eating or not eating, it numbs me and everything bad fades away as i stare at the numbers.
