Dreaming of Dancing

I loved dancing.  I still do.  Dance got me out of my head.  Learning choreography was all encompassing and the “normal” noise in my head was, finally, quiet.  Being at the barre at the beginning of class brought a comfort.  I got to escape in the movement.  Each dance I choreographed was auto-biographical.  A page ripped from my journal and brought to life.  But no one knew it.  I’ve never had any problems dancing a solo, but my palms start to sweat and my heart beat races at the mere thought of having to do an oral presentation.  Dancing was my passion.

Injuries and the eating disorder have taken dance away from me.  I get to a class maybe once a year.  Maybe.  And it hurts.  There are some dance programs, both live and on TV, that I can’t bring myself to watch.  It just reminds me of what could have been.  And that hurts.

I had the best dream the other night, but it turned into a nightmare once I woke up.  I had just been accepted into the main company where I had been part of the second company years ago.  I remember feeling so happy in the dream.  I was trying to figure out how I could manage work, school, and rehearsals.  The warm-ups cleared my mind of the time management issue and I could feel the stresses of the day just melt away.  Everything felt to good.  But then I woke up.  I was reminded that I was NOT part of the main company and that my involvement in the second company was but a glimmer in the fog of long ago.

I hate not dancing.  And I want it back


And Still I Keep Going

It’s been quite some time since I’ve put words out there in the universe. It’s only when I see the words on the screen, or on paper, that they become real. I actually have to admit what’s really going on. And sometimes I don’t want to. I don’t want to deal with stuff. I’d rather avoid it. Because if I avoid it, then it doesn’t really exist, right? Right. But I can’t run from certain things anymore.

It’s been about a week and a half now since my grandmother passed away.  My heart aches so much. She was my beacon of light. My grandmother was the best person in my life. She taught me so many wonderful things. I don’t allow myself to think about her too much because I start to choke on my tears.  The pain of her not being in my life is too much.

Every once in a while I still get a piece a piece of mail with my ex’s name on it.  It throws me for a loop and back into the place where I blame myself for everything.

I figured out that I’m jealous of my best friend.  And my therapist.  Different reasons, same feelings inside.  I don’t like feeling jealous.

I don’t like feeling.

I just want to be numb.  I just want to binge and purge my way through my break from work and school.  I just want to sit and not feel anything.

But I can’t even do that because m mother is visiting.  She’s in my way.  Constantly wanting to know what I’m doing and if I’m okay.  I don’t like it when anyone invades my space like that.  It makes me want to shut down.

The only thing I’m looking forward to is school starting next semester.  Then I can be busy again.  Then I’ll know how to spend my evenings and weekends.

Until then, I’m just going to keep putting one foot in front of the other and maybe I’ll be able to breathe a bit easier one of these days.

Nothing to Do

So I’ve had a particularly busy summer so far. I took a summer class, which was great. I learned a lot, but had to work hard too. I was a bit stressed, but definitely busy.

After the class was over, we had to prepare for the start of the selling season. That took a lot of time and work actually during work hours.

And now? Although the selling season is still going on for the next month, I don’t really have anything to do at work. School doesn’t start until September. What am I supposed to do until then?

I have a three day weekend coming up. Barely three hours into it and I’m already bored. Me + being bored is NOT a good combination. I tend to intensely engage in eating disorder behaviours. And I really don’t want to do that this weekend.

I have plans for both lunch and dinner tomorrow with friends. This will be good because I will get out of the house and at least attempt “normalcy.” But it brings out a lot of anxiety. Where are we going? What am I going to eat? Will I be able to resist the urge to purge afterwards?

I so don’t understand why I can’t seem to do this on my own. Why do I have to have plans with someone in order to actually take care of myself. I should be able to do this on my own. “Normal”people really don’t have a problem with feeding themselves.

Why is it such a struggle for me?


It’s All About Time

Time passing.  Time looming.  Time standing still.

This time.  Next time.  All the time.  Not enough time.

I sit and I wait–trying to be present in the moment.  My thoughts race ahead of me, too fast to catch on.

I need more time with my grandmother.  I need to work on the power point presentation for work.  I need to make sure of my schedule for the fall semester.  I need to get a new notebook for work.  I need to look at keyboards and cases for my ipad.  I need to make too many truffles this weekend.  And I need to pick up more small boxes.  Why did I say I would do all that?  There’s no getting out of it now.  I’m so stupid for saying I would.  I don’t want to see my therapist again this week.  I already saw her once.  I don’t need to see her a second time.  I need to be an adult about this.  I need to get over this shit.  I can do thisonmyown.  Igotmyselfintothismessinthefirstplacesoit’suptometogetmyselfout.  IknowwhatIneedtodo.  Whycan’tIjustgetovermyselfandDOIT? WHYCAN’TIDOIT?

There’s more, but I can’t catch it.  My mind feels out of breath.  I need my head to slow down.

s l o w d o w n.

But I can’t.  I have to keep going.  The more I have going on outside, the quieter it gets on the inside.  I need it quiet in my head.  But it all gets to be too much.



And I’m Still Hurting

I want him out of my head. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. I don’t want to see his face when I close my eyes.  I don’t want to want to feel his touch. I don’t want the good memories to make me smile and miss him even more than I already so. My lungs feel tight and my breaths are shallow. It just hurts.
I’m tired of feeling. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I can’t handle anymore pain. I just want to be numb.
n u m b.
Strategically planning when I can be alone and what I want to have. There will be NO interruptions. I have the time to myself.
To stop the emotions from coming up, I block their way with chips and cake and rice and ice cream. I need these feeling stay down and out of the way. I can’t function when I feel like that.
I stop in the midst of shoveling food in my mouth and look and what I’ve done. Full of embarrassment and shame, I hang my head and try to think of a way out.
You said you’d never do this again. Now look at yourself. How can you even look at yourself. You’re so disgusting and vile. How can anyone stand to be around you? Well the damage has been done, but let’s make sure you really feel it.
Back to the kitchen I go to get the food that hurts. One handful on the way out. Two handfuls as I sit down. I can’t cram the food in fast enough.  But when I’ve deemed it’s been enough, I walk to the bathroom.
I dread the bathroom.
I love the bathroom.
The ritual starts.
Get everything out.  Geteverythingout.  GETEVERYTHINGOUTNOW!  It hurts because you’re horrible.  If you weren’t horrible, you wouldn’t be doing this to yourself…  your husband would have stayed…  you would have control.  Control.  Get everything out and never do this again.  You need to control yourself.
My heart has been cut up into a million pieces.
I try to put it back together, but can’t see through my tears.


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.

Another Night

Another night is spent trying to get the feelings out.

Another night spent wanting to think of anything else.

Another night spent stuffing food in my mouth, all the while chastising the hand that feeds me.

Another night spent over the toilet in an attempt to expel all the hatred looming inside.

Another night spent berating myself for giving in when I know better.

Another night spent tossing and turning, hoping sleep comes to help me escape the thoughts that plague me.

Another night spent walking towards the depths of hell I fought so hard to get out of. I never meant to go that far in the first place. I can see myself going down that path again and I don’t know if I have the strength to pull myself out again.

Another night promising this is the last night spent like this.

Another night is repeated.