I can remember facts I learned long ago. And I can remember how to get to a new place after going once. My body can remember dance movements at the drop of a hat. I can remember conversations almost verbatim. But ask me how I felt on Monday and I’ll say that I can’t remember.

I hadn’t meant to restrict as much as I had over the weekend. I had a take home final and an extra credit assignment I needed to get done and knew I had to take care of myself in order for that to happen. But somehow things went awry.

After restricting, my anxiety goes sky high and I end up on the verge of a panic attack most of the day. It’s a struggle between knowing that I should eat–that I have to eat–and actually doing it.

I sit at work, telling myself that I have to over and over again. I need to eat. Otherwise I’m going to pass out and my cover will be blown and the secrets will ooze out of my pores. I can’t let that happen. I have to eat. I have to. I struggle with opening my mouth, afraid everything will just pour out. And I can’t let that happen.

In a moment blinded by weakness, I tell my best friend who will be visiting this weekend that I’m really struggling with the eating disorder. He is nothing but supportive and helps me get though my lunch.

But then work stuff happens. And my grades get posted. And life just happens. And somewhere in the midst of all that, I forget how shitty I felt on Monday. It takes more than a moment before I can recall that I struggled through my meals, didn’t feel well for the majority of the day, and that my anxiety sky rocketed.

Everything was fine. Everything was normal. It’s no big deal. The good cancels out the bad.

The normal cancels out the bad.

And I forget how it feels to be sick. How it feels to know that living like this really isn’t the best thing for me. How it feels, even for a moment, to admit that I need more help.

But like I said, I forget.



i’ve been sitting here struggling to write something.

i’ve been sitting here struggling to convince myself that it’s okay to eat something.

i’ve been sitting here struggling to drink water, juice, something, anything.

i’ve been sitting here struggling to reach out and get support.

i’ve been sitting here struggling not to take laxatives.

i’ve been sitting here struggling to get my panic attacks under control.

i’ve been sitting here struggling to allow myself to take my meds to help calm me down.

i’ve been sitting here struggling to admit to myself that i need more support.

i’ve been sitting here struggling with the fact that i know what i need to do, but can’t seem to do it.

Just Getting Through

I am so bored right now that I started taking pictures at my desk. I feel too guilty reading the book for my literature class, so I just have it sitting there taunting me.


I’m so bored right now. But I’m going to take it and run with. It’s better than being anxious and on edge.

I ended up going and staying for my sociology class. I’m glad I did. I got to talk to classmates and really tried to concentrate. I did find myself zoning out a few times, but I’m okay with that. It’s not material I don’t already know and regardless, I think I was engaged about 75% of the time. I’m pretty proud of myself for that. Plus, my test god pushed back a week. That really helps because I was worried I was going to have to pull double duty with studying for the test and writing my lit paper for next week. Now I just have to concentrate on my paper. 🙂

I got home last night and was really agitated and frustrated and angry. I didn’t want to do anything or even really watch anything. I was unpacking a box my parents had sent and just started throwing stuff out of the box. I was just so angry. And I broke down. I didn’t want to cry. I had been holding it together fairly well. I had managed to stop any tears from falling earlier, but I just couldn’t stop last night. I eventually managed to pull myself together. I don’t like losing control when I haven’t scheduled it.

I have a book to finish by tomorrow (which isn’t happening, but I’m going to try), a paper that’s due next Thursday, and a test the Tuesday after that. Then I’m looking at Thanksgiving and then finals. I can’t break down until after finals. I just have to keep going until then. Just putting one foot in front of the other and getting through each day.


And this is the view from my desk. It’s always fun looking out at the cement wall of the building next door.

Panic Attack Junction

Yesterday and today have been icky panic attack wise. I got one on the way to work. I almost went back home when I got off to change trains. And on the way home, I got another one because the subway car was too crowded and got off to wait for an emptier train. As I was waiting I started to cry.

I was already tired and I’m sure that restricting at lunch didn’t really help, but I haven’t had two panic attacks in a day in five years.

I didn’t have one this morning. Well, not a full blown one. But I did have increased anxiety. I didn’t know if I’d be able to make it to the subway station so I called a car service. (Ugh. I know that sounds ridiculously selfish and spoiled. But it was either that or stay home from work. And that’s never the better option in these situations.)

I know I restricted more than normal yesterday, so I’m trying to eat better today. Breakfast went okay. It was easy to handle. Just slow and steady. And then came lunch. It started out rough and just got out of control. I debated for a while about getting lunch, but I finally ordered something comforting. I knew it would be stressful, but not like this.

I had gotten over the majority my mealtime guilt quite some time ago. This doesn’t mean I still didn’t feel any guilt, but it usually happened after meals. Today’s was during. I almost put the food down and started crying. Then it just got really difficult to swallow. And then the panic set in. And BOOM! Panic attack.

So incredibly not fun. Now I’m just trying to keep it together so I can go to class this evening. I don’t want to skip class, but I’m not 100% certain that I can make it through the whole lecture. But I really want to go to class. But I also just want to sleep.

More Than I’d Like to Admit

I am hurting.

Yes, things were going downhill for a while. Yes, I asked him to leave. Yes, I know it was the right thing and I will be okay.

But I’m still hurting.

And I’m exhausted.

I just wish I could sleep. For a week. At least.

I try to go bed early. But I end up watching tv or my thoughts take over. And the next thing I know it’s almost midnight. Then the alarm goes off. And it’s just too early. I lie in bed contemplating whether or not to take the day off work. But going to work always wins out. If I want to take the week off after thanksgiving, then I need to go to work. What will I do if I stay at home? Watch dvd’s, since he took cable and internet? Why should I waste a day doing absolutely nothing? And going to work will get me out of the house.

I have my literature class tonight. There’s a paper that’s due. I just can’t bring myself to write it. I’ve tried. Somewhat. I have an opening paragraph. That’s all. I keep telling myself that I’ll do it, but I can’t seem to get to it. I’ve convinced myself that I’m willing to hand it in late and get a lower grade. Maybe I am.

I totally binged on dinner last night. It was like old times. I hadn’t even realized I had done it until the food was gone. I tried to rationalize that I was legitimately hungry, especially since I’ve been unconsciously restricting since the weekend. I felt so sick after. And I started feeling really anxious. About the food, the separation, the undone homework. It just all seems like too much. I wanted so badly to purge. But I didn’t let myself. Part punishment, part exhaustion.

I’m just trying to keep it together. And I don’t know how much longer I can.

On Edge

I had a panic attack this morning at Starbucks waiting for my coffee.  Not cool.

I had my digestive issues again today because I consciously didn’t take my meds.  Really not cool.

But at least I can eat a fairly normal lunch.  Not that I really did.  And not that I don’t feel guilty, because I do.  It was just nice to have the thought.

Once again, I am procrastinating writing my essay for my midterm.  Say it with me now, not cool.

I have half a mind to just go straight home today after work, instead of to class.  With my full intention being to work on my midterm, but I know I would just procrastinate then go to bed early.

I should have stayed home from work today.  I felt the anxiety creeping in, but I felt I could push myself through it.

I didn’t sleep as much as I should have last night.  I was up (punishing myself) procrastinating.

I don’t want to be here at work right now.  There’s nothing for me to do.  Well, no actual work anyway.

Yesterday, therapy probably touched on a few issues I would rather not have it touch.  I was fairly honest with her.  I still could have said more.

I get really peeved when my husband says “we”, but it’s really an “I.”  Like me.  Not him.  I would still get irritated, but not quite as much, or in the same way.

I just want to go to sleep.  Or escape for a while.  With no phone, no computer, nothing.