At A Loss

I just don’t have words anymore.

I feel empty. Pure emptiness.

I don’t want to be with people; I don’t want to be alone.

I’m not happy; I’m not sad.

I don’t want to be awake; I don’t want to lay in bed.

I’m not lonely; I’m not overwhelmed.

I want to cry; I don’t want to cry.

I want to confide in someone; I don’t want to confide in someone.

I want to live; I don’t want to live.

I don’t feel anything.

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I just don’t know what to do. I have to go see my doctor on Tuesday but I feel like I shouldn’t say anything because I don’t want to be a burden and I already have enough issues for them to worry about. I don’t even know what’s causing it, I mean life has just become so unraveled since I spoke up about my eating disorder. I have had to officially give up my marathons and completely stop running, drop my fall semester classes because PHP will prevent me from going to classes and the doctors said to medically withdraw from the term, I have had to tell people, i had to stop going to the gym. dealt with the stress of getting into a treatment program, go to the doctor weekly, start new medications and deal with the stupid side effects.

It’s a lot.

Maybe I am just over stressed. Maybe it’s the new medicine that is making me feel like this. Maybe it’s just in my head. Maybe it’s anything. Maybe it’s nothing.

I’ve just never felt like this before. Ever. Not even when I was alone in my struggle with this eating disorder but now I can’t get rid of the emptiness and I don’t know what to do to make it stop.

The one thing I do know: I am losing myself. I am barely inside anymore. I am just a shell of who I used to be but the fire inside me, my soul, my self is smaller and farther away than ever; and I’m not sure I can get it back.

Leap Of Faith (I TOLD THE DR!!!!!)

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The first time I went skydiving I was the second (and last) to jump. The plane had just enough room for the 5 of us (pilot, 2 instructors and 2 of us jumpers each jumping as a tandem pair). I remember being so nervous until I got in the plane and we started flying. It was strangely surreal, I was unexpectedly brave and convinced it would be okay. Then we reached altitude, and the door latch opened. The air rushed in at over a hundred miles an hour, the sound was equivalent to one of those hurricane simulation tubes at the museum and it was cold (I jumped during summer in Key West). Fear shot through my body, I instinctively pulled away and shook my head no even though a huge part of me wanted to do it. Then, the other guy and his instructor jumped in tandem. They were there on the edge of the plane and then….GONE. SUCKED out with a noise that is equivalent to what it sounds like when you put your hand against the hose of a vacuum cleaner but times a thousand. I am fairly certain I was saying no as we inched closer and as I breached the edge of the plane I prayed to God that I was doing the right thing, my parachute would work and that I would somehow survive this.

Today, as I drove to the doctor’s office the same emotions came back. I had the same sense of bravery and confidence that I did in the plane and then, as I got to my destination I was overcome with fear, horror, anxiety and a huge sense that I was not going to be able to do this but feeling it was too late to back out. I had already changed clothes into some of my most lightweight clothes that made me feel comfy and would add less pounds to the scale and I had already parked, I HAD to do this. It was raining outside- quite fitting given my mood and the rain was getting worse as I arrived at the office but I still walked slowly, like a preschooler tiptoeing to the closet to check for monsters. As I walked down the hallway I went from feeling numb to shaking with fear, visibly shaking. Writing my name on the sign-in page was one of the worst memories, my usually nice and neat name looked like I had written it while driving down a gravel road. The nurse/receptionist at the front was really kind and took my copay. I think she noticed how nervous I was because I was quiet and, well, shaking. The nurse came and got me not long after I sat down (I mean I did wait until 2 minutes before the appointment to enter the building…) and I felt sheer terror. As I walked in the back my biggest fear: the damn scale.

I got on and convinced myself to not look but then the other “me” won: I saw it. It went down quite a bit again, makes sense and was soooooooo addicting and made me want to lie infinitely more. We walked to the exam room. I sat on the chair and felt my heart racing as she took my pulse and BP. I think she knew I was nervous because I was fidgeting and my pulse was high compared to what it normally is. Then she said, “so it says you’re here to go over some concerns about a few issues, what kinds of issues?” I glanced over, nearly started crying and all I could manage was a slight chuckle (which I am convinced is only because I was trying not to cry), and to say “I’ve got a lot of issues,” before my eyes started tearing up. She then said, “you just want to wait for her then?” and I just shook my head and picked at my nail, knowing this was the end of my lies.

The wait for the doctor seemed like AGES. I wanted to get up and run away or at least pace the room but I couldn’t get up, I was too scared to move. I kept mindlessly staring at my phone hoping someone, something would jump up and save me from the Hell I was in but nothing did. I had put my sweatshirt on- I’m ALWAYS cold- and plus it felt comforting to have something familiar around me, protecting me. Then the dreaded knock at the door.

I started crying almost before she sat down. I think the nurse had told her something pretty major was up because she walked in and was instantly concerned. I was sitting cross-legged in the chair, with the sleeves of my hoodie pulled over my hands, hiding as much as possible. I’m not normally the person who shares their feelings, I think that’s why this was SO unbearably hard and inconceivable for me. A lot of it was blurry at this point but I do remember quite a bit. I remember her asking if it was something new, I shook my  head no this had been going on for a couple years. She asked if it was something we hadn’t ever discussed and I said yes. I remember saying this was hard, I didn’t how to start, and then she very very cautiously asked if anyone else knew. I hugged my legs and just knew I wasn’t getting out of this but too scared to do anything.

I just cried. No one knew the full extent, no one had ever been told in person, no one was there to support me. She continued to cautiously ask what was wrong, was it an issue with a boyfriend, an issue with drugs (she noticed the drastic weight loss from my latest decrease in calories), an issue with alcohol or depression. Each time she asked she would pause, giving me time to respond never be presumptuous or judgmental. When she said depression I took longer and said “sometimes but that’s not it.” She then said no matter what it was she wouldn’t judge. I cried then I decided it was better to just jump out of the plane once and for all. I told her I rarely eat more than 200-300 calories and I am petrified of food and I just spilled my guts. I made very little eye contact at this point, I felt ashamed, stupid, absurd, fear, and like I was some kind of freak. She listened, asked questions, “was I ready for therapy, what do I eat, how do I feel” and many more. I answered feeling lighter and lighter with each word, never feeling like what I was saying was wrong or judged. She offered to tell my family or to help me tell them, I said my mom probably knew but didn’t want to believe it and that my roommate didn’t know and I was honest when I said I had no idea how I was going to do that as I was crying.

Then she said it. She said “We need to find you an eating disorder specialist.” Those 2 words. Eating disorder. I honestly have never heard them out loud in reference to me, never from someone else and not from myself. Even though I can type it and use it to describe myself online, I’ve never uttered those words. To be honest, I felt numb. I’m not sure if that was because so many emotions were finally running through me or if it was a protection mechanism but I was numb. We talked about a lot, what got me to that point, the illness that led up to it (I just switched to this doctor 8ish months ago she she didn’t see me through the depths of it), what was going to happen, some of the side effects. She told me she would go look up treatment centers and sent the nurse (from earlier) back in to do an EKG and some other tests. Blood was taken, the EKG though was the worst because you have to have all these electrodes put on your chest which involves at least having some degree of your chest (and stomach by default) being exposed and I HATE MY BODY.

The nurse knew though, she tried to make small talk and I did appreciate it but I still felt numb. She let me keep my shirt on and let me hold my hoodie and she just rolled my shirt up while she did the EKG to try and let me be as comfortable as possible. I just stared at the ceiling, my eating disorder voice screaming at me for what I had just done and now, to be exposing my gross body saying my ribs weren’t out far enough, my stomach not small enough, tight enough. I laid there and tried not to cry, tried to not freak out or focus on what was going on. It was raining outside and had been since I started driving to the office so I just listened to the rain. It was over fast (I’ve had one before so I know it just felt long and that it didn’t really take as long as it felt). After all the tests she said the doctor would be back in. So I sat on the exam table and waited. Then I was dizzy and overwhelmed so I laid down and for the first time in days I fell asleep.

I only slept for maybe 5 minutes before my body woke me up but I slept and at almost 3 days of no sleep that felt amazing. The doctor had even commented at the beginning how I looked like I hadn’t slept in a while so I was grateful for the 5 minute reprieve. I laid there and waited, unable to move, unable to think, just staring at the wall. When the doctor came back she started talking about treatment options, Intensive Outpatient and Partial Hospitalization programs in the area. I felt for the first time in a long time a sense of support and… hope. She had called a couple of places that she wants me to follow up with tomorrow and Monday (one was closed until Monday and is supposed to be a really good place and we both laughed at the semi-ridiculousness of this). Then she dropped a bombshell: “I need you to let me call your mom or your roommate, I need someone to know so I know you are safe.”

Safe? I’m far from safe. I am freaking out. She reassured me my mom wouldn’t be mad that she would be concerned and want to help. She offered to call my roommate but my roommate has been back home for about 2 weeks while her sister is in town and I don’t want to tell her until she gets back. I need to tell her, I know she will blame herself for not seeing it and I need to be the one to do that. But my mom was a different story. For some reason it was harder to conceive how I would tell my mom. I agreed to let her call her after she promised it would be okay and she would talk to my mom. I never doubted my mom would be supportive but I just don’t want to be a burden, I don’t want her to be mad or be disappointed in me. But, I let the doctor call my mom. She stepped out of the room again and I pulled up my phone to text the only person I could in that moment…my mom.

I’m sorry ❤

That’s what it said. I waited 5 minutes or so to send it, I didn’t want her to get it before the doctor got in touch. I knew she would instantly freak when the doctor said she was calling about me. My mom got that type of call one time before- from 911 when they found me passed out on the side of the road during a run- and I know how terrified she was. Plus I was sorry, sorry I couldn’t do it, sorry I got into the mess, sorry I would scare her when the doctor called her and then disappoint her when she heard those two words associated with me, sorry that I’ll make her worry every day, sorry that she might think I couldn’t trust her- which isn’t true, sorry for just everything.

My mom texted back before the doctor got back in,

Nothing to be sorry for. I love you and nothing you do or don’t do will change that. We will figure it out.

The doctor came back with paperwork, a prescription, referrals for the treatment centers, notes, and the best thing I got all day: a hug. The words I’m proud of you and this is the hardest step were repeated again as they were earlier and she sat and went through everything again. I still felt numb but I also began to feel something else I hadn’t in a very long time: relief. I felt relieved.

At the end of the appointment I made my follow up appointment, promised I would try this anti-depressant she is giving me which is super scary b/c the one other time I was ever put on one I felt so suicidal it was unreal and the only time I actually got to the point where I almost executed the plan, and I told her I would follow up with the Intensive Outpatient and Partial Hospitalization programs. She gave me her email in case I need anything and of course I have the office number and I left.

Leaving I was still numb, as I walked out of the office though I noticed one thing: it had just stopped raining.  I cried when I got in the car because I just had no clue what the next step was. I knew the doctor and my mom wanted me to go home or to have my mom come to my place but I just wanted to run. To clear my head, to be alone. I’m an introverted extrovert and while I love being outgoing and with people when I get overwhelmed I need my space. I stuck to texting my mom for about a half hour not wanting to be suffocated, not wanting to be alone, not knowing what I wanted all at the same time.

When I got home I called my mom. I told her everything, she tried to convince me to eat or to come home for a bit and I couldn’t because I don’t feel safe there because of all the unsafe foods. She offered to come here but I didn’t want anyone here or around when it was 7:30 because I don’t like people seeing me eat. I think she realized how entrenched I was in this. She kept suggesting maybe eating 1 spoon of something and said to just focus on eating 50 calories more and I felt so overwhelmed and she could tell because I was crying and finally told her about the “voice” in my head. The one holding me hostage. I could almost feel her sadness and maybe a little helplessness.

I ultimately decided to be alone. I want to go to work tomorrow. I don’t want to go all day because I need to call these treatment centers and I am not sure I can do that alone and I think I want my mom to help so I might just “get sick” and go home early but I need to go back to normal life especially because I feel so abnormal right now. I think the routine will help with that, make it easier to accept my life isn’t totally over.

As I lay here and get ready for (hopefully) sleep, I am still scared, I still feel “not sick enough”, and lost but I also feel the best feeling of all right now: relief and support. I’m not alone and I know it’s going to get hard again before it gets easy but I just need to capture this feeling in my mind and no matter what realize that I’ve got support. I don’t have to bear this burden any longer alone and although they might not get it all the time or know what I feel inside, at least there is someone willing to sit by me, or wait on me while I text them. And I cannot express enough gratitude to for all of the support I have had here and from the girl who knows about my struggle and from my doctor because telling her was so hard and such a huge decision and there are so many fearful stories about idiot doctors and rude responses but she was nothing like that and never belittled or judged me.

So in the end, it was kind of like skydiving. Fearful as Hell as you jump out, a numb almost out of body experience as you free fall and a new perspective on the way down when you can slowly focus on the big picture and take a few deep breaths seeing how far you’ve come and how amazing life can be. It gave me a bit of hope, a lot of relief and even though I still have a ton of fear, I feel stronger than I was a few hours before. Here’s to recovery!

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This really is me (much heavier at the time) in Key West- or rather above Key West- during the free fall of my first skydive a few years ago.

The Waiting Room

UntitledAs the sliding door opens the cool air hits me causing me to shiver and get goosebumps from the stark contrast between the heat outside and the temperature inside. Actually, I’m not sure if the goosebumps are from the temperature or what I am about to do. I hesitate as I cross the threshold into the building and stare at the wall, at the names on the directory sign. I know where I am and where I am going but it allows me a few more moments. I head down the corridor to the second set of doors and walk through.

The aroma is familiar and fragrant, disinfectant and antibacterial soap. I hear my flip flops shuffle across the floor, past the chairs to my left to the closed glass window on the opposing wall. Nausea strikes my body causing me to grab my stomach out of instinct, even though I know it won’t help. I stare at the clipboard. In my peripheral view the receptionist is on the phone. Good. I don’t want to make conversation, I think. I pick up the pen, adjusting it in my hand and rolling it back and forth mindlessly until I see her looking at me. Slowly I begin to write my name on the next blank space. It doesn’t feel like me doing this, it feels like I am in a foreign body, like a robot just able to complete this task out of habit. I glance at the window, the receptionist is typing as she talks on the same call; It feels like she has been on that call forever but I know it’s just me feeling like time is stationary.

I turn and face the rest of the room instinctively looking at the doorway I just passed through, the one that leads to freedom and safety. Run, don’t do this, pierces through my mind instantly hollowing out the sound of the music playing overhead and the whispers from the few other people in the room. I stop in my tracks and stare for a second consumed by nausea from the whole situation. Fearing I am not able to take another step, I sit.

Nothing seems to be moving. I can feel and hear my heart pounding, the nausea is as strong as waves crashing on the shore during a hurricane. It’s hard, brutal and relentless. Leave NOW, is all I can think but I am frozen, frozen with fear. I hear a door open behind me and I can feel myself getting faint, the blood coursing through my body faster than if a snake had crossed my path during a trail run. I hear the nurse say something but my fear has overtaken me and I can’t comprehend anything. I see someone stand up on the other side of the room. Phew. Not me. I breathe for the first time in what feels like minutes and try and calm myself.

My head is all consumed in whether I should stay or leave before this goes any further. However, I continue to sit there, unable to move, unable to think for myself, unable to feel anything other than fear. The door opens again. My anxiety shoots back up past where it was before. There are less people ahead of me now, it’s time to make the decision. I hear another nurse utter more inaudible sounds but I can’t hear anything over the voices in my own head screaming for me to leave, to run straight out of here back down the corridor and outside to safety.

The nurse repeats the same inaudible message, I still don’t hear anything other than garbled syllables. I stand and begin to walk.

I walk briskly, with purpose and more confident than I am certainly feeling. I walk past the other chairs, the other patients and walk past the gentleman the nurse is acknowledging before she begins to escort him to an exam room. I walk straight to the door, only hesitating for a second as it automatically opens, and then down the coordinator. I never look back.

I feel relief as I cross the final threshold of the building and into the safety and security of the outside world, hiding away the secrets of my life. The last thing I think before everything goes black is, Maybe that’s not relief but actually regret. Then, darkness.

***

I open my eyes. I see the curtains and bedsheets. I look at my clock, 5:23am. It was just a dream.

Tuesday. I WILL Seek Help on Tuesday.

Somebody please tell me this will be okay.

I’m going to throw up.

I’ve decided though that Tuesday will be the day. I am scared about how terrible I feel.My doctor mentioned at my last appointment that some of my numbers may suggest my medicine dosage is too high (for a totally separate non ED thing) so maybe it’s related to that but the nausea is really bad, I have full blow passed out 3 times in the last week and almost passed out more than that. Last night I collapsed- in front of my roommate. I can’t sleep and my chest feels weak.

As I type this I am freaking out, running through it in my head, trying to figure out how to say, what to say and how to not back out or get too intimidated. It’s not making the nausea any easier lol. The short list of the other side effects (trigger warning) is the muscle cramps (like charlie horses all throughout the day), bloody noses, black outs, arm and leg weakness, headaches, crying in the grocery store, intense fear of food, on and off depression, safe foods, purging,, restrictive eating, hair thinning, nails are paper thin, chest pain, chest “weakness”- not really sure how to explain that, sore throat,fear of food, always cold- even in the FL heat, night blindness, and that kidney-area pain amongst others.

Even as I write that all I can think is: not sick enough. I know that sounds nuts/idiotic and just plain stupid but again, this a mental & physical thing and the mental aspect is so controlling. So, I am just going to keep trying to ignore it. I also know that this weekend is Fourth of July and my family and some friends are coming over to my and my roommates place. There will be food. Ugh. And whenever I have to eat non-safe food I feel like it invalidates my problems even if I purge it all and still restrict the limits it just makes the feeling that I am not sick enough seem infinitely harder to shake off.

I need to call the doctor but hopefully I can get in on Tuesday when they have late hours. And hopefully, I can go through with this.

Down and Out… Passing Out.

Passing Out- 1 : Me- 0

Last week I mentioned in a post about how I am doing shadowing for school in a local hospital. Well, today I went back for a half day and I was super excited about it because I am really interested in the field and finally being in that setting and learning in the field is amazing. So today I went, as usual, without eating anything and we got to the first patient after I had been there about an hour and all of a sudden my heart started racing. It wasn’t nerves but it was just racing, then I got more nauseated than normal, then my hearing went out and I don’t remember anything else until I heard one of the ladies I was shadowing say “are you okay” and grabbing me and I’ll I could do was say “pass out” and collapse. Luckily, patient rooms have chairs and they were able to get me into it before I totally dropped.

Coming up with an answer to the “did you eat today” question  came with too much ease and felt way to normal. Me? Eat? at 9:30 in the morning. Heck no. I eat at 1:30 and 7:30. All of these went through my mind but “yeah I think I just worked out too hard and didn’t get enough to eat after” were the real words that left my mouth. Then I had to eat. Again, thankfully I was in the hospital where food is plentiful even if none of it is safe. I had apple juice and graham crackers (as safe as unsafe gets) and prayed I wouldn’t pass out again although I felt woozy the rest of the morning.

The lady who I shadowed was so kind and I think she thought it was because of the patient and seeing them sick so I let her believe that because, well, it was a safer cover than anything I could come up with. And they were super nice about it and told me stories of when they passed out and have seen others passing out so it was really not nearly as traumatizing as it could have been and they said as long as I felt up to it I could keep shadowing the rest of the morning (I only scheduled a half day today) so I stayed.

But here’s the thing: I passed out. I passed the heck out. THAT IS NOT NORMAL. And worse, that is not something I can prevent from happening if I keep this up which means my dreams are going to be shattered. I can’t go into the field I want if I am not able to help care for people because I am malnourished, starving my body, deteriorating away and too weak to function. When I was in the process of passing out it was almost like dying. One thing at a time started shutting down sense by sense. First, my legs got tingly, then my hearing went out, then my balance, then my eyesight, and then my ability to communicate. It was like my body was dying even though I was still living. I guess that’s kind of what it really is, you pass out when your body sort of needs to “reset” because it cant’ handle what is going on. And, even though it is by no means the first time I have passed out, it was the first time it happened in front of others and there was something different about this time. It was like I knew I was going to pass out and I knew this was going to be a major shutdown not just one of those times I force myself to collapse out of caution because I feel like I am going to pass out. It was like seeing what was going to keep happening if I do this much longer.

I need help. Soon. Very soon. The instances of people almost finding out or my body experiencing the scariest side effects ever has been increasing exponentially the last few weeks. And now, I am beginning to to fear how capable I am at destroying my own body.

Thoughts Running Wild

Well, the good news is I AM OUT OF THE CAST!!!!!

The bad news, I need surgery to remove my sesamoid bone but the podiatrist said if I can handle the pain we can wait for some of my marathons to be over.

The worse news, my eating disorder is stealing running from me.

(Trigger Warning)

I went for my first run today post-cast. It sucked. I did 2 miles total and needed to stop and felt as if I was dying during it. Logically, I get it. I ate 155 calories today before I ran, none of it had carbs in it, none of it had protein, none of it had fat. I had steamed cauliflower, 3 baby carrots, 2 sugar free mints. I know that is not conducive to life much less running but I can’t stop it, I only ate the baby carrots because I knew I was in rough shape going into the run but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t eat the carbs. Hell, I don’t even have carbs in the house.

I’m so weak. I’ve not consumed over 250 calories a day for over a week now. It’s killing me. The chest pain comes and goes, the black outs when I stand up too quick, the mental struggle, all of it is just killing me. I feel like my running is the only thing I have keeping me trying to eat and now, now I am losing the very thing I cherish and love.

Maybe needing surgery will be a blessing. Doc says no running for at least 6-8 weeks and he would prefer 10-12. I still want to do my marathons though. I am set on Chicago and Marine Corps because both have special meaning to me but now after today’s run I feel like ED is going to stand in my way more than my need for surgery. I’m torn. I know that is hard for anyone to understand who hasn’t been through this but I am torn between something i love and something i am obligated to.

The easy answer: “just eat”. Please don’t say that, it’s not that simple. If I could “just eat” trust me I would. I promised myself, after I realized my fears had warped into this, that i would never be one of those girls who let themselves suffer for years and that I wouldn’t let this thing destroy my relationships and life but yet, here I am dodging my friends, losing my ability to do the things I love, secluding myself, living a secret, living a lie, slowly killing myself each day, week, month and year.

Yesterday before I saw the podiatrist I got blood work done for my autoimmune condition which means I will be getting a call from my primary doctor in a few days to discuss the results. I secretly hope they’ll somehow figure out I’m sick based on the blood work but I know that they didn’t do the blood tests necessary to discover the horrors I’ve put my body through. I know I could also just say I need help on the phone and they’d make an appointment ASAP, but I also know, in my heart, I’m not ready for that yet.

Although, I keep thinking July 2 is a good date to maybe try to get help. It’s the day before I have off work for the holiday which means if I do tell, I can at least have the day off the next day to collect my thoughts and not have to face my co-workers and pretend like everything is still okay when I know in my mind it’ll feel like the world is crashing down around me- assuming they believe me. It’s also early enough that I could help and have folks help me through training, I hope. But then again, what if they steal marathons from me? That’s my biggest fear, honestly, that tops dying (again, I know it makes no sense unless you’ve handled this disease). So maybe July 2. Maybe.

Until then, I have to make it through one of my best friends’ wedding, bachelorette party, rehearsal dinner and bridesmaid luncheon, a day of shadowing and somehow figure out how to not have a panic attack because of all the unsafe food, stress making it look like I ate, purging all the unsafe food that I may eat and people around. And I somehow need to figure out how to acclimate my body to running in this state again.

Because above all else, I can’t lose running. It’s been there for me longer than my ED has. It keeps me moving forward (in more ways than one). I can’t lose it. It’s the only piece left of me that I still control. It’s all I have left.

Dear Mom, I’m Sorry.

Momma Bear,

I just need to put this out there just in case you never find out in person from me: I’m sorry. I’m sorry I turned into this girl, sorry I didn’t ask for help sooner, sorry I am destroying my body in an attempt to protect it, I’m sorry I didn’t confide in you, I’m sorry for it all. Please know that it wasn’t anything you did or didn’t do. I’m not really sure when this started but it was some time after they told me to figure out how to fix the chronic pain and nausea with “trial and error”. After a year of error and hospitals and pain I couldn’t do that anymore so I eliminated the error but it’s like when I did that, this other person took over, took me hostage, protected me and cursed me all at the same time except I didn’t realize how bad it was until recently. I didn’t realize who I had become or what I had turned into.

I couldn’t ask for help. I tried so many times and I just couldn’t. I never thought you would turn your back on me or hate me so please don’t think that. In fact, I have many times thought you suspected something but didn’t know or wanted to believe the best in me. You stood by my side when I got sick initially so it wasn’t that I thought you couldn’t handle it, it was all me. It was this other person inside my mind.

I know there are two outcomes to this letter: I told you about this blog or you found out about it after I died. I hope it’s the former but everyday I feel closer and closer to the latter. It’s why I am writing this, just in case the worst happens, just in case you find out after I’m gone. If that’s the case know that you are the best mom in the world I’ve never once wanted a different mom or thought you weren’t enough. You were both a mom and a dad, a friend and role model and I’m so sorry for what I am putting you through whether it is the first or second outcome.

I hope one day i can say I am recovered and stable. That I can eat what a normal person would call a meal, that I won’t purge everything I eat, that I don’t live in constant fear of being in excruciating pain again and that I also don’t fear getting fat or being judged for my food choices. I hope one day I am strong enough to find love, get married and give you some rockstar grandkids.

I am scared to death that I won’t survive this- the side effects have been really bad lately- but please know I am trying so hard to fight back and live and that I am so so so sorry. I hope one day you forgive me.

Love,

(Your favorite) Baby Bear

Chest Pain

It’s 5:30am, my normal wake up time. Except today wasn’t normal because today instead of waking up to my alarm, I woke up to the feeling of severe chest pain about 15 min earlier. It was sharp and horizontal across my chest; It felt deep and almost like a stabbing cramping feeling. It woke me up from my sleep. What have I done to myself. Maybe I should go to the doctor? Lies,  I know I need to go to the doctor whether it wears off or not but I know I’d have to tell. Maybe this is my out?

Yesterday was a severe restriction day: 200 calories. No more. I know that’s bad but I felt okay yesterday aside from the lightheadedness and weakness after shopping all day. I wasn’t even hungry most of the time. But last night I couldn’t sleep. I was uncomfortable. Like I could feel my muscles cramping but never having them enter a full blown cramp. I’m not sure what was going on. Maybe I was just too hungry to sleep, maybe it was a precursor, a warning. Either way, I should really listen.