Death to All Stupidness

I didn't begin to feel depressed until about an hour ago. A time that I really should have been asleep at anyway. However, I never seem to be able to go to be at a decent hour. Never have been able to.

I scheduled my double bunionectomy on my left foot today. And I wanted it on October 9th so that I didn't have to miss a lot of school. Just my two classes that I'm doing well in. However, I can't have it done on that day. I have to have surgery two days earlier. Which I suppose will be good in terms of recuperation, but awful when it comes to my grades. Biology is already kicking my butt and this isn't going to help anything.

I don't know why I am feeling this way. I have no reason to be depressed. I am pumped up on 30 milligrams of Lexapro. Something of which I would rather not be. I hate taking medicine. But I went to the doctor on Thursday and he said that I was ridiculously strung out and that I needed to take more of the "wonder drug".

Truthfully I don't think I would be so stressed out if I had a job and if my housing was paid off. I am trying to find jobs, but nobody is even biting at my resumes. It sucks hard core.

And to top it off, I have gained six to seven (he wouldn't tell me which number) unforgivable pounds that are dripping off of my skeleton. I think I might just die. Of course it's my fault. I never should have eaten all of that ice cream and cookies. What was I thinking? That was unacceptable. How did I let myself do such an awful thing?

I really need to talk to my therapist, I think. But I live out of town now, and so I can't as easily. And truthfully, I'm kind of hurt because I contacted her on Facebook and she hasn't responded. I feel a little left out in the cold. And of course, she's a busy person with a family of her own, so I can't hold her responsible (and I don't), I just need someone to talk to. And sometimes my mom just can't fill the bill. And my roommate, as much as I love her, just doesn't help either. And I know they both try. It's just my fault.

I feel so alone. I need some help. And I feel like I'm just grasping at straws at this point. Won't anybody listen or help me? Am I not worth the effort? Am I too annoying and troubling? Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. But lately it certainly feels like it.

I Hate Not Being Able To Cry

I want to cry. I feel like crying. But I can't. And that feeling is almost worse than not crying.

A person that I really care about just told me awful things that make my heart hurt. And then he had the audacity to tell me that he cares about me.

And the subject is always about sex. I hate it. He told me disgusting things and he knows that I hate stuff like that.

But the worse part is that I actually started the conversation this time. And I hate myself for it. I feel so dang guilty.

I want to cry. But I can't. And I hate it. I wish this stupid day had never happened.

Delightfulness and Drudgery

So on Friday I went to the Financial Aid office and applied for four thousand dollars more in student loans. Which makes me both happy and sad. Happy for the fact that I will be able to have money to pay for things that I need, and sad for the fact that they are loans and I will have to pay them back. But oh well, c'est la vie.

Then I went to the Housing office to let them know that I was going to have their money for them, but it was going to take a while because of processing. That did not go over well. The guy I was working with practically jumped down my throat. He accosted me and said that I "had dug a real deep hole for myself" (great english, I know), because I hadn't given all of the remainder of my grant money to them.

A) I had to use the remainder of my grant money to buy my books and computer. Otherwise I couldn't have done my homework, which would have not been good for my academic endeavors.

B) I wasn't trying to get out of paying my bill. Goodness, everybody has to pay. I was just trying to let them know what was going on and that they would be getting their money, they would just have to wait for processing.

Anyway, so the guy practically jumped down my throat and was pretty much not happy with me. And he said that the only thing that he could do for me was have me sign a promissory note. However he didn't really explain it to me. And when I skim read it, I missed key points that I found later. So the meeting ended with me signing this stupid promissory note saying that I would pay $2,990 (or some stupid number like that), by October 15.

And even as I was signing the stupid piece of paper, the guy was freaking out at me for the rest of my money that I owed. I mean for goodness sake, I had pretty much just signed my soul away to him and he was still wanting more. I mean the amount I am now required to pay by the 15th of October is including November's fees too, what more does the man want? I mean really?! I can't do much if I don't have a job. Something that I had already explained to him numerous times. And still he's like "Well you still have December's dues!"

For goodness sake! I KNOW! Believe me I KNOW! I am not stupid. You do not have to get in my face about. Especially when the fees for the month are due by the 1st. Not three months in advance. Geez.

So as I was walking out of the office, I read the copy of the promissory note he had given me, and I found a crucial piece of information. If I don't have my money to them by the 15th then I will "be forced to vacate the premises within three days of the aforementioned date". Shoot me in the face and gag me with a spoon.

I am totally screwed if processing takes longer than a month.

And so today, I went to church and talked to my bishop. And he's going to refer me to this guy that I guess helps with stuff like this. And Bishop said that he could help me with my job issues too.

Which I hope works, because I really feel like that I am supposed to be here right now. And if I have faith I know everything is going to work out.

And what is really nice is that Bishop was like "I can tell you're a class act, you're not trying to scrounge or mooch it off of people, you are just trying to get everything worked out". Which definitely made me feel good. I am really glad I'm in this ward. Hopefully I can just stay here. Let's all pray that it does.

The Monster Rears Once More

As I was undressing for my nightly shower last night I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I almost threw up. And I am not kidding or being facetious.

Instantly millions of thoughts that are in no way healthy for my well being flooded into my head and engulfed me.

Too fat, disgusting, jiggly, beached whale, no more eating for me, gross, gross, gross...

I wanted to cry. I hate the way that I look, and whenever I see myself I want to die. I haven't been able to exercise like I would want since May because I separated my ribs and it hurts to do breathe, let alone any physical activity. And swimming and running are absolutely out of the question. Of course they are getting better, but not as fast as what I want them to.

I know that I shouldn't restrict, but I want to so much. I just want to be able to feel my hip bones again and to see my ribs (which are currently obstructed and hidden from view with inflammation) and to be able fit back into my clothes properly. I hate that I don't fit into them as well as what I used to.

And while my roomies tell me that I look just fine, it doesn't make me feel any better about myself because what I see in the mirror is a beached whale.

And to make matters worse, the place that I eat at every day is a buffet! Ugh. Words cannot describe just how much buffet's freak me out. There is so much food there and I can never seem to control myself. I always eat way too much.

I have become more self conscious about what I eat lately. I can't help it if I am ridiculously hungry and I eat a lot. It's certainly a new thing for me to be so hungry, and of course my doctor loves it, but I don't. I know I'm probably eating more because the food is buffet style and I can eat as much as I want. And because I swear I have absolutely no control over what goes into my mouth. I am always cramming food in. I can't ever make it stop. At least it seems that way lately.

I can feel every single jiggle of my body when I move and I am acutely aware of where every imperfection is on my body. Every dimple, every dip, every bump, anything and everything that detracts from the overall attractiveness of my body. And I feel like I need to do something to fix them. Then again I also feel like I don't know how. Which is a ridiculous statement because of course I know how. I'm Anorexic for goodness sake. Well technically I'm not Anorexic, I deal with Anorexia. Which doesn't sound like it's that big of a difference, but believe me it is. Those few extra words are literally the difference between being completely engrossed in my disorder, and being on the road to recovery. Which can also be interpreted into the difference between life and death.

I just feel like I am so out of control. I have had so many thoughts of restricting lately that it's not even funny. And I've been thinking about bingeing and purging lately too. And if my therapist heard me say that she'd absolutely shoot me right now, but that's beside the point.

The real point is that I'm hearing the voices again.

The voices that try and convince me to restrict and to harm my body. The voices that scare me to death because I know of their terms and conditions. The terms and conditions that will bind me to them indefinitely. And it's not just every once in awhile either. I'm hearing them all the time now. But I don't want to give in to them. I just want them gone. Rather, I would just like Anorexia gone. But we all know that that's not going to happen. And I'm supposed to be living in reality here. Not the fantasy land of Anorexia Nervosa.

I want so much to just have one day where I know what it feels like to be able to walk into the grocery store and look at the girls on the magazines and not wish that I looked exactly like them. And to not know what it feels like to think that those same girls are photoshopped, but still wish that I could look like them. I hate thinking that I want to look like something that isn't real, but it happens all the time.

I want to be able to sit down at the table and not feel like I am in the middle of a battle between me and the nutrients that are on the plate in front of me. I don't want to know what it feels like to be completely self conscious about what I eat. I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and not have force myself away before I begin pinching and prodding and pulling at myself, trying to find places that need to be fixed before I can be "perfect".

But of course I know that this isn't going to happen. Because I am living in reality. Or at least trying anyway.

Lately I have been laying on my bed, thinking about what I can eat and what I can't eat. And figuring out what exercise extravaganza's I am going to put myself through when I can exercise again.

And what kills me is that while I was just writing that last sentence the voices came into my head saying "If you really cared about losing weight, you'd power through the pain of swimming, lazy. You're a terrible Anorexic." Ugh! I am going to lose my mind! I am sick of having things like that come into my mind! I want them to stop!

I have been restricting more lately. And while I love it, I also hate it too. My entire existence is involved in this love/hate relationship. Half of my body is telling me to restrict because I know how much I would love it, but the other half is telling me to keep walking down the road of recovery because I don't want to be where I was ever again. And the awful thing is that both sides are correct. I really miss how I felt when I was restricting, like I was powerful and in control, but I also know that I can remember just how alone and terrible I felt.

And lately I keep having to remind myself of all the consequences that I endured when I was restricting. I was always nauseous, I was always freezing, I didn't have any energy, I didn't have relationships like I do now, my body started growing hair just to try and keep itself warm. I slept my entire day away, I never had enough oxygen, I was losing hair, I bruised easily, I was completely unapproachable, my life was consumed with counting calories and with making sure that I wasn't eating too much, I was always having to hide things, the list goes on and on.

I don't want to live like that again. That's not living. That was me being a complete and total zombie.

And despite all of this, I have still been restricting more often. And I've caught myself counting calories in my head numerous times. It's a good thing that they don't have caloric information posted at where I eat all my meals otherwise this could go downhill really fast.

I don't like feeling this way. I don't like always worrying about calories.

People often say "Well just don't do it then." But it is so much more complex than that. People who suffer from eating disorders can't "just stop". We love our eating disorders just as much as we hate them. And we don't want to give them up. It almost feels like we are killing a best friend or a part of ourselves when we stop restricting. I know that I felt like a part of me had been viciously ripped out of me and stolen from me when I stopped restricting, and I am sure that other people have had similar feelings.

The worst part about this is that members of my own family think that I am making this up. They think that I am doing it just to get attention and because I am a hypochondriac. I cannot even begin to comprehend how they came to this stupid conclusion.

Why would I do this to myself? Why would I want to watch my family cry and be worried all the time? Why would I want to potentially kill myself? Why would I want to make my body so hungry that it starts to break down my muscle just to get nutrients? Why would I want to be sick all the time and watch my hair fall out? Why would I want to potentially do harm to my heart, and kidneys, and liver, and lungs, and other organs?

Simple answer: I WOULDN'T!

I hate how stupid and uneducated they are about this subject. They are so calloused and can't see past the ends of their noses. It pisses me off so much. Especially when they make fun of me for it and specifically talk about weight loss in front of me and shove it in my face.

For one: They aren't losing any weight by exercising for twenty minutes and then going and getting Taco Amigo.

For two: They get mad a me when I restrict, but then glorify each other when they restrict. I hate it!

And finally: I am so annoyed that they think that I am some immature little twit, while their friends in high school are "more mature than me". And I especially hate it when they give me crap for flirting! I can't help it if they are so fat and ugly that people don't want to flirt with them. But certainly don't give me crap about it.

Ugh. Total rant there. I need to stop and cool down. I've got to go to class anyway...

My Writing Teacher is the Bane of My Life!

So I am sitting in class and my teacher is the weirdest human being alive! I absolutely am annoyed by her. She plays favorites and acts like we are still in high school. This is college for crying out loud! We do not need to take roll every single day. Or have a doctors note excusing us if we miss class because we are sick.

She never explains what she means and is really pretentious. She thinks that everything must have depth and that no rhetorical analysis is deep. What is she a hippie? Deep man...

I swear, when she sent me that email she acted like I was an idiot. We were supposed to write an essay in thirty minutes, and I did that the best that I could. Was it the best paper that I every turned out? Absolutely not. Did it accomplish what the assignment asked for? Yes. And then she freaking tears it apart. "You have no depth", "You only critiqued, not analyzed", "Do you know how to analyze?"...blah, blah, blah.

And whenever I say something in class, she has to play the devils advocate. "Really? Who says that?" Ugh! I do you annoying human being!

I swear the woman worships Thoreau. And it is driving me nuts!

And on top of that she wears see through shirts! I do not want to see saggy old lady boobs! That is not on my list of things to see before I die. But have I seen it? Unfortunately. In the form of Writing 2010 professors. Gag me with a spoon.

Now don't get me wrong, I absolutely love writing, but I hate this class! When I took Writing 1010, I aced it with flying colors. I didn't have a problem and my teacher was crazy hard! I know how to do rhetorical analysis. I know how to write correctly.

And then this lady comes along and tears everything apart. And practically calls me dumb. She even corrected me on my grammar! Bane of my life! I know how to use grammar correctly.

What do you want to bet that she only had good things to say about her little pet's paper. I hate it when teachers play favorites. It is so unfair to the rest of the class.

And it's so hard to even be in this class because hardly any of them talk and I do not do well in silence. I have to be talking, I have to be moving. And I can do neither of those things while in this class.

My professor wants us to get into Thoreau's head. And personally I think that's pretentious. Why try and tear apart something that is already viewed as a classic piece of American literature? And certainly why be ridiculous about it?

I don't know...all I know is that I want to be out of this class right now. I don't feel good and I have not been sleeping well. I want to go home and sleep. Get me out of this class!