It was a great day today. I’m wondering if I should stop using this blog and go back to journaling. Like, I need to learn to type more efficiently, but for what purpose am I doing this for? Who am I blogging to? Who reads this really? Or, the better question, how is this bettering my life? It feels like an obligation, and I usually spend time wasted on the internet prior to actually putting anything down. I guess the benefit is that It’s easy to copy/paste for an autobiography. Psh. I’ve got so much stuff that I want to write and do. Maybe journaling will allow me to draw lines and scribble and connect the dots...and plan.
I’ll say this. Today Brody and I had a great day. We went for a walk in the forest, he hardly complained. I listened to him. We went to a Christmas market, then we wandered around for a couple hours which was arguably the most fun part of the day. We say some soccer players and leaped around on the playground. I felt like a kid! We ran down a forest path in the rain, (It’s so nice he’s not concerned for me and exercise anymore) and then ended up paying $30 to play table tennis at this club. $20 for both of us to be admitted, $10 for two rackets. Since this was my third time coming in, being unsure of whether to do it or not, she gave us the rackets for free. That’s nice. Then we got sushi and saw Coco which was so inspirational, lifts something up in my soul, melts some of the obsession away and makes me want to work for Pixar. I ate a lot of popcorn (with butter) and candy covered chocolate covered almonds, BECAUSE RESTRICTION SUCKS
Well, I’ll say this. It won’t be mandatory for me to write on my blog anymore. I’ll say I can if I feel like it, otherwise I’ll journal.
It might make it a little easier to get stuff done, the stuff I want to get done. I try to think of this stuff as difficult life experiences I need to work through, because If I don’t it will choke me in an emotional grip hold forever.
Or maintenance. Like maintenance on my life.
I started doing this blog for Dr. S. That didn’t go well, that theraputic relationship.
What was I doing one year ago, today?
Time machine time! *WHHHHzzchhhhjkadffzzzz*
I am mad at myself because I didn’t tell my dad what I was in the mood for when he made me a snack and I ended up downing a giant bowl of chocolate ice cream.
A peanut butter and banana sandwich, I should’ve requested, yogurt! Anything with value! But I obeyed my eating disorder and stayed quiet about my desires.
I am a bad person, a terrible daughter and sister. I would run away or die but it would only hurt my family more. They do so much for me. Like paying $300 for a lifeguard course, and my dad staying an hour and a half at the pool to wait for me to finish because I’m scared to be left on my own. But I mess it up and don’t even try to change, time and time again.
It’s not true, but as my dad called my mum who was sitting upstairs with his cellphone to “come down and watch her” because he was scared to leave me with the ice cream, I almost believed it.
If my family wasn’t here I would have nothing to work for. They’re honestly the only reason I’m not dead.
I’ve got thousands of reasons to self sabotage, and here they are spending thousands of dollars to get me better.
I don’t fight them too much because I love them. I don’t lie because I hate it.
I get better because I don’t want to live like this forever, but mostly because my family is standing there like a barrier.
By resisting I get nowhere, and in the process I only wear down and hurt them.
I hurt them because eventually they find out about exercise and hiding food. Because I can’t keep secrets, I hate lying.
Keeping my activities forbidden actives secret would be worse, because eventually they would grant me more freedom on a false recovery.
*BSSSHHHWWwwwwZzxxxZZrrr*
Well, past me. That makes me sad to read. You were going through a lot, weren’t you? It makes me... really sad to read. Because I’m reliving the pain all over again.
Makes me feel like I need this blog all over again.
Back form the rabbithole of the internet, in one of my posts I wrote a fact that an eating disorder specialist told me. People with anorexia nervosa, 40% of people relapse within one year, 70% within two years.
Today I ordered my popcorn with butter and ate a bunch of candy coated chocolate coated almonds. Today I noticed my critical inner voice and replaced some of it with compassion instead, to the best of my ability. Today, when I left the theater to get napkins, I resisted the urge to go downstairs. That 70% can’t be me. I have to beat the odds. That can’t be me. It won’t be me, and in this moment that is true and that is good enough.
I’m in a different place, ready to be introspective, ready to be compassionate, ready to move on.
They’re such different places.
