Yeah, yay, fucking relapse. Great. I've been doing well for a few months, but I'm turning around and going back to anorexia. The thing about my eating disorder is that I know exactly the way my brain is working; I know I'm only focusing on food to distract myself from the fact that I'm depressed. I know I'm not invincible. I know starving myself is self destructive and it's stupid and wont solve my problems.
But despite knowing, I just don't care. I want to be a small little thing, I want to lose weight, I want to have orthostatic hypertension, anemia, blah blah blah.
So yesterday I didn't eat until 1:00; I had a mango, 3 eggs, pasta, and some onion, and I purged it. So today I didn't eat until my mom took me to a small restaurant for lunch around 2, and I had two slices of watermelon. We took a long walk and burned off those calories, but when we got home she made me eggs and toast. I had to eat that so she wouldn't think I was up to something. I took a bike ride afterward, hoping to both burn a few calories and that the exercise would speed up my metabolism.
I don't have a scale but I don't need one. Effort will show me my results in the mirror.


Lowest Weight

I just reached my lowest weight again, for the first time in months.
However, my mom caught me weighing myself and I'm really worried she'll hide the scale some place else. She's convinced I've nearly recovered from the eating disorder, (HA), so I can't be positive. She wasn't upset, either. When I said, "It's not like I still have an eating disorder or anything..." she responded "Yeah, yeah, I know, youre good, your fine."
I'm going to have my first meeting with a therapist tomorrow. I don't know what I'm going to do... either actually talk to her about my problems, or keep it bottled up and continue to feed her lies about why I want to recover, what being healthy means to me, how I eat three meals a day that are good for you, etc.
I feel like I want to let it out, but I don't want to let anyone else in.

Doing Well

So I've been able to stay in control. And it feels so good. I know what I'll be eating the next day before I go to bed, I wake up, and I eat it. And then I go to bed. And it feels so incredibly fulfilling and euphoric to be able to have that kind of will power, that kind of control, to be succeeding.
I'm sorry I haven't been able to post yet today, and I've barely been on PrettyThin besides.
I've been noticing something... I can't sit still for an extended period of time without a part of my body falling asleep. For example, if I'm leaning on my hand, it will fall asleep in five minutes. If I'm sitting cross legged, my feet fall asleep. I'm just wondering if this could be related to blood pressure dropping due to low caloric intake or lack of nutrients? I don't know... maybe it's nothing.

I hate the mirror.



So is this strange? Has anyone else done something like this?
I just sat in my room for about and hour and a half planning exactly what I'm going to eat for the next five days. I counted every calorie, (with help from an app I just downloaded to my iPod Touch called Daily Burn), and I have my no-fail plan until April. In case you're wondering, here are the calories:
I've figured out the times I'll be eating, too, so it always looks like I'm eating in front of my parents. Also, many of the foods I'll be eating require a while in the kitchen, which hides the fact that although I'm putting so much effort into my food, I really won't be having much of it. I feel so... so safe. So at ease. So in control.
This is bliss.


I remember being a child and never worrying about my body.
I mean, sometimes I might ask my mother why I had a belly, but she would just tell me it was baby fat and would come off when I was older. I believed her.
However... the fat only "came off when I was older" when I developed an eating disorder. I was close to overweight, and as I tapered my caloric intake from 2000+ to less than 600, I lost the weight quickly.
Anyhow, I remember being a kid and waking up in the morning a little hungry. I would jump out of the bed, rush downstairs, and start making chocolate chip pancakes with maple syrup and whipped cream. I would eat it with a tall class of milk and smile like I'd just won a million dollars. I had ice cream bars from the freezer and yogurt and popsicals throughout the day. I treated to myself to whatever I wanted, and never, not once, did my parents tell me to "eat, there are starving children in Africa."
No, as a child I was not overweight.
But when I grew up and no one stopped me from continuing these habits, (my parents were too drunk and stoned to notice much of anything about my sister and I), I got fat. My highest weight was probably around 10 years old, which, by chance or not, was when I found out about my parents' habits, but I don't remember being an emotional eater.
(Don't worry, they've quit now, and things in my house are getting a lot better.... minus the constant yelling/screaming/carping)
Now there are no pancakes I would ever think to run to when I wake up in the morning. I can't jump out of bed anymore-I sit up slowly and drag myself across the sheets, stand up, and breathe huge, slow breaths being careful not to faint from the black stars bursting in front of my eyes. I either stay in my room until the bus comes and hope that nearly being late is an excuse to miss breakfast, or saunter over to the scale and check my weight before consuming anything. I trace the outline of my ribs and hold the hole between them, not wanting to destroy it by eating much of anything. There are no sweet treats, no bowls of slimy mac & cheese. There is only a goal. A reason. A way to prove to the world that I am sufficient.


So Damaged, So Young

Sometimes it feels like I'm not taken seriously because of my age. I don't understand, though... am I really too young to be struggling like this? At my age, thirteen, I've had thoughts of suicide. I've gone on three day fasts and take in less than 300 calories every day, with difficulty. Sometimes I feel like I'm not thin enough for someone to see it as a problem at all when I tell them I have anorexia and bulimia. It's almost as though I can hear them thinking I'm too fat to be in trouble, it's not a big deal.

Ana, sometimes I hate that I love you.
Sometimes I just love you.
I need you right now. After all this instability and failure in other aspects of my life... please help me prove to the world that I really can do something right for once.



I can just imagine myself going back to camp, seeing all my friends, doing the things I used to do.... but being 20 lbs lighter than last year. 100 lbs, thin, dry, and cold beneath the burning sun, laughing and free and perfect and strong willed. I want them to see how much power I have. I want someone, anyone to recognize that I really don't do everything halfway after all.