Now I am on my break and just feel kind of exhausted from this week. I have been being a ditz, my mom had surgery and not only is she home 24/7 anyway, but she now can't drive or walk really for a week or 2, I am stressed about money and school, I have binged and purged twice this week(although way better than in the past), and am trying to eat enough that I can hold it together but not enough that I am disgusted with my body. This leads to a very stressed and moody Ellen. I was walking back from class yesterday and thinking rationally and was telling myself "Self, yes, you want to lose weight and be thin and blah blah blah, BUT how much more disappointed will you be if you end up back in treatment over the summer(even if I completed the semester in the best case scenario)? You think it's way more important now, but in the long run, school is far more important...so don't screw it up!" It's funny how I have those moments of clarity, but still choose to act how I act. Ultimately, I KNOW I have to do all the work/be uncomfortable/accept my body myself and no one else could do it for me. I really wish someone could. There's something about the idea of me having to wake up and decide every day that I will eat 3 meals and not purge and stay hydrated that seems way too daunting. I know if someone else could take away the pain and discomfort and recover for me, my parents or someone would have by now.
Blah. I am hungry and not too focused. This would be a good opportunity for a lunch break, but I am eating dinner with Danielle tonight and the website does not have calories, so I will save most of my daily allotment for that meal. It sucks more places do not have vegetarian options--it drives me nuts.
My head is just spinning a thousand miles an hour. I hardly have been going to the gym at all. Like once or twice a week, and when I do, it's a spinning class. I never feel good enough. Ever. Even if I went to the gym 7 times a week, it wouldn't be long enough. I guess that's true with a lot of things. I always tell myself if I lose X amount of pounds, I will be happy. I should realize this about myself and set more realistic standards.
One final vent and then I must start some homework. Okay, part of me never wants to move out because it saves money to live with my parents. There are definitely advantages to leaving and to staying home, but I won't get into that now. The main point being that I had a friend that mentioned a few months ago she will need a roommate next year. I said that I might be interested but have to see if things are stable enough. She never mentioned it again. I should have said something these past few weeks, but she would bring up to me how she was looking for roommates on craigslist. I thought to myself that she must not want to live with me. I should have said something. It has continued to bother me so I texted and asked why she didn't mention it to me. She said something like she wasn't sure if I was still interested, and she also feels a little worried that I am still struggling to get things under control. I was kind of irritated. Granted, if I had a friend with a problem/addiciton or something, I might be leary as well of living with them. This also makes me think of the quote by Marilyn Monroe, "If you can't handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." I guess I was just hurt. I am not saying I definitely would have lived with her, but I feel my e.d. gets in the way of everything, and it's really hard for people to understand. Julie has been the only person I really feel completely understood, but I don't expect most people to. Maybe just to TRY to understand. I am just rambling. I guess it upsets me because it was my one chance, and I feel like at this rate I will be home until 30.
Sorry this is so disjointed. I know no one really reads this anyway except probably Liz;)
Later.
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