Just a taste of what my Halloween party was like...

Just an example of how awesome me and my siblings are together:

Inside the mind of an eating disordered girl...

Anorexia. What does that mean?...I'll tell you what it means.

It means going through your freezer for over 20 minutes just looking for something "low calorie" enough, it means reading ever single food label brought in the house so that you know what your mum might possibly want to feed you, and how to reject it because of the calories, fat, etc. - it means popping in pieces of gum when all you want is just some more food, it means over-exercising and working yourself until you feel you're about to pass out - even if in the middle of all this over-working you're having heart palpitations. It doesn't matter, because, you're burning calories, right? You're burning fat, right? It doesn't matter if your chest is stinging and it feels as if you're about to have a heart attack. Because you're burning off "those c's" - you're losing more weight, not maintaining, and you're making Anna happy. Right? Right. But no...wrong. So wrong. I see that, I see that over-exercising and not eating when I want to is wrong, but it feels so right.

Why do I still look at myself in the mirror and see fat? Why do I still think if I looked like a model, everything would be perfect? Why do I go searching every morning for an episode of America's Next Top Model, just so I can watch all these tragically beautiful girls, and wish I was one of them. Why does that bring me joy to imagine being one of them? Why do I fantasise and pretend that they're living my "dream" for me? And why do I despise every one of them because they are allowed to be in their eating disorders - they are allowed to be tragically beautiful, like I once was. Was. That's such a horrid word to me regarding what it means. Why can't I be "is", instead of "was" - why can't I be like those girls, and feel beautiful again? Why do I have to be...healthy. And...fat.

Those are my E.D. thoughts. Those are the thoughts that run through my head pretty much every day. And you know what my description of anorexia, is? It's me. I do that. Every. Day. I worry about napping because it will mess up my moving around time, I worry about food CONSTANTLY, I worry about gaining weight(even though I am not maintaining yet), I worry about every single thing regarding my food, calories, fat, weight, weight gain...I'm obsessed.

I'm learning about food, and digestion, and calories and such in my biology, and it's fascinating...I love to read it. I love to read about the things anorexics crave to know. I wouldn't, however, have loved to read all that stuff a couple years ago, I would have found it boring as shit, and never retained any of it simply because of that. But I have a disease now, and it's taken over me.

There are so many "whys" in my vocabulary lately. I'm always questioning the things that I can't explain, that no one can explain. Like, why do I think those models are beautiful? Why do I want to look like them? And why the FUCK do I have anorexia?! Yup. Lots of "whys" going on in my head. And on paper, and on my blog. And...well, everywhere.

And another why...why do I always have such down beat posts? I mean, bloody hell, come on! What am I, if not the girl that cried "oh woe is me!". Ugh. I promise you guys, soon...ish, I'll start writing happier things. For now I'd just kind of like to vent though, and basically let you all see a little bit more into the mind of an eating disordered girl, because God is it hard. And no one without the disease can truly understand. So that's what I'm here for, to hopefully stop the anger directed at what feels like me, and to help more people understand without having to go through it.

But you guys totally know that despite all my moaning and whining, and un-healthy thoughts, I'm totally trying my hardest to kick Anna's ass, right? Because I totally am. Totally.

And there I was left standing - still not thinking I'm thin enough...

Why can't I see the truth in this picture? Why can't I see the reality of it all? Why do I have an eating disorder? Why does it seem like I'll never be happy?...

So many questions, yet none of them can be answered. So much confusion, it overwhelms me. So much hunger, it pains me. So much pain, it brings me to tears. Even now I can't write this with a face dry of tears.

There's so much I want to know, and I feel like there's so little time - like my life is running away from me, and I'm left desperate to catch up. I feel like every day I'm here, is just another day I didn't die of heart failure from the over-exercising, and lack of calories. I feel like every day I'm still here, is just luck, and that someday soon my time will come. I feel like there's a clock that lights up each time I light my candle in the night - the clock of my life-span flashes as a shadow reminding me every night, with each light of my candle. And I feel like every night that clock appears, is just another reminder of how little time I have left. And how I have to decide what I want to make of my life.

This is where there is confusion, and pain. So much pain. I could use this short time and starve myself again - it wouldn't be so hard, right? It would be simple, going back to old habits, and dropping more weight than I already have. Becoming tragically beautiful, again. A model. Powerful, accomplished, in control.

Yet at the same time, not in control. Because as I've learned before, I do not control my life, when I control my eating...Anna controls my life. And by God have I seen enough of her lately. She has been everywhere, and I'm just letting her hurt me. I'm letting her win again. I'm being her best friend. And I swore I'd never go back there, again. Yet here I am, again, Anna's temporary BFF(until she kills me off). How could I make the same mistake? How could I let her back in, and let her control me like this again? How could I ever like it, again? It makes absolutely no sense. This insane idea of mine that I've always despised. DESPISED. Is now my current dream. My current goal. Starvation, over-exercising, and low BMI...that's where my "dream" is taking me. Sure I could be a potential Vogue cover girl...but would my life be worth that? Would the man I love, be worth that? Would my friends and family, be worth that? Jamie says no - hell no. Anna says fuck it all. Anna says think of how accomplished and perfect you'll feel once you're there - once you've gotten there, nothing else will matter.

But the problem is, it will. I don't want to lose relationships, and basically, life again. But that stupid fantasy is in the way. Anna is in the way. She's already causing me damage in relationships and life.

The other side of all the Anna thoughts though, is me. The real me. Jamie. Not Anna. I don't want to starve again, and I don't want to lose more weight, and become tragically beautiful. I want to be a fit, sex kitten, and have women hate me wherever I go, because of it. I want to eat what I want, when I want, and not worry. I want to sit when I want, do what I want and not stress over calories burned, exercise, and everything else insane about this stupid eating disorder. I want to ultimately be healthy, and happy. And have my man, and my family, and my friends...I don't want to be alone. I don't want to just have bones, and Anna. They can't comfort me forever. It just doesn't work like that, as I've learned from previous experiences. I want to be thin, and healthy, and fit, and not worry at all about food and calories, and exercise. I just want to be normal again. Please?...


So she tells her story of woe, and hopes for a better ending than the one she sees in her future, now.


God, please help me. Please, please, please...

Waiting to bleed it out...

I keep waiting for it to be over. I keep waiting for the urge to somehow wash away with my crimson blood. I wait for the pain inside to go away, but it just intensifies as I rip through my flesh.

I watch my blood run down the sides of my arms. I feel the cold, wet drops wash over every inch of my skin; like the tears that cover my worthless face.

I try to stop, but end up thrashing harder, faster - with more intention. All the while I tell myself over and over again to keep going.

Because I deserve this traumatizing pain. I deserve to suffer.

Taking emotions and experiences and using my creativity never felt so good...

"The pain I had been longing for, for so long, has finally come to me.
My heart is racing, my stomach sinks, I feel as if I might cry, but there is just too much anger in my way. I am furious. I am hurting. And I like it.
I've been given the pain I recieve after I slit my silky skin - the numbness of it all while in the act, then the sting afterwards. That's what I feel right this moment. The sting. And I can't help but wish for the numbness again and again. To not experience pain in an emotional way, but a physical way. To watch my blood run free from my veins to see the way my skin parts as I drag the weapon across, leaving nothing but blood and soon to be scars. I crave this feeling. I need this feeling. And it hurts - it hurts worse than any cut could ever. I feel so trapped in my own life, I feel as if I am a prisoner in this home, in this country - I'm so ready to break the hinges of this door keeping me from my independence, my freedom, and my life. My destiny, and my future.

But all I feel right now is the sting - and for once in so long, I am comfortable. I am stinging, and angry, and I am comfortable. God I'm sane...
Ha. Just kidding. Oh and for your information, I was being sarcastic. If anything you're getting inside the mind of someone gone mental. Because I'm SO special like that. Fuck me. No, fuck YOU. And I wonder why everyone deems me a quote; "angry person"...you know, that really pisses me off.

...No seriously. It does. So shut up and sod off."

Split my skin, and watch me bleed my emotions out...

The feeling; words can't describe. Adrenaline pulsing through my vains, the feel and sight of my soft flesh, quickly being torn apart - knowing I could be caught at any moment...

It's so sick; so wrong to any human being that would never think twice about injuring them-self on purpose. But so right to the ones that understand - the ones that crave that feeling...

This is how I feel. Every time I cut. Every time I think of cutting, think of tearing apart my silky flesh, watch my blood bubble out like an erupted volcano. Nothing can truly describe the feeling, the craving...the way my arm stings afterwards, but feels so numb while in the act. The guilt and pain I feel beforehand - knowing that it hurts the man I love every time I slit my skin. It kills me. Every mark I make on myself comes with a life supply of guilt and shame. Not because I'm ashamed of my scars and cuts, because I actually see them as a part of me, and they're part of who I am - they remind me of what I've been through, and what I'm going through. It actually keeps me grounded. But anyway, as I was saying, I am ashamed of the fact I still do it - even though I know it hurts people I love.

But do I stop? No. Should I? Hell yes. Why don't I, you ask? I have no bloody idea. Honestly. I love him more than words could ever describe, yet I still do it to myself. To him. I still proceed to injure myself time and time again when I'm extremely upset. But I am trying, I am really trying. I'm am fighting my anorexia, and I am winning - I love my body now, and I'm working hard on my food intake, and not worrying about gaining weight, because I have to gain some right now. I am winning.

Now I just have to beat this vampire that likes to tease himself by talking me into slitting my skin open, so he can watch my blood pour...

I'm beating Anna, now I have to beat Dimitri. Ugh. Bloody battles. When will they end?

I've been tagged...

Okay...I was tagged to do this silly 10 questions thing, so here goes...

1. Do you have Flinstone or Jetson toes? Um, not sure. I mean my toes aren't particularly fat, but they're also not long, so...yeah, don't know.

2. What did you have for breakfast? Cereal and fruit.

3. Do you name things? Sometimes. I mean I name my stuffed animals, and I give my dog Tacey a million stupid nicknames, such as: Beegadoors, Meegadermeatzees, Mings, Mingy...and the list goes on. How I came up with them? No idea. And yes, I'm weird.

4. What do you want for Christmas? Honestly? Happiness. I want to not be depressed, and almost completely out of my eating disorder. That'd be the best damn thing ever.

5. Favorite movie quote: My favourite is from Austin Powers Goldmember -
Nigel Powers: So, little fella, I'm curious. Is everything in proportion?
Mini Me: [Mini-Me nods unsure]
Nigel: You know, your bobby dangler, giggle stick, your general-two-colonels, master of ceremonies... Yeah, don't be shy, let's have a look.
Mini Me: [Mini-Me unzips his pants]
Nigel: My lord! You're a tripod. What you been feeding that thing, eh? It looks like a baby's arm holding an apple. Good thing is, if you ever get tired, you can use it as a kickstand!
Mini Me: [Mini-Me nods, smiling] (I literally love those films...I've watched them more times than I can count. So hilarious. :oP)


6. What are some of your phobias? Germs. That's basically the only phobia I have. I'm so afraid of germs - hence the OCD. The OCD came out of my fear of germs.

7. If you had to change your hair color, what would you change it to? I've always wanted red hair. Not red red, but you know, natural red hair colour. But it wouldn't work with my skin tone..

8. What is your dream job? Zoologist. Well, I mean, I have a lot of dream jobs. What I actually day dream about though, is: Being a chemist, and winning a Nobel prize, and once I've achieved that I want to travel the world and save helpless animals in the wilderness. Once I'm done with that maybe slow down a bit and write an award winning novel...that's not all I dream of, but I won't list the other things right now. Haha.

9. What Hollywood star do you think is hot? Daniel Radcliffe. He is so sexy...

10. Are you embarrassed that you have nothing better to do than fill out this survey?
Yeah...just a wee bit.

It might as well have been "1978"...

Sometimes I wonder why I was born in the wrong decade. I feel like a fucking 30 year old stuck in a 15 year old's body. Maybe god(assuming there is one) mixed up my brain with some 30 year old's. Don't get me wrong, I love my mind...most days. It's just difficult when you basically feel like the only adult in the household sometimes.

That is all I have to say right now...

It's almost time again, to head back home on the road to recovery, the highway of healing

I was going through all the photos of when I was starving today. And I can honestly say I miss it. I miss all of it. The hunger, feeling my bones, seeing my bones, feeling like a beautiful super model for the first time in my life. All of that is now taken away from me. All of it.

I think every day how I'm going to slowly work my way back to where I was. How each and every day I'll get closer and closer to my goal weight. It's so far away, but it isn't impossible. I've almost been there - I was only 7 pounds away when I stopped starving. I had almost made it.

Yes, those two perfect little numbers stick out in my head each and every day, and every time I think about reaching those numbers, I remember that wonderful man I was talking about a couple days ago. I think about his opinion on how I look NOW, compared to when I was starving. And you know what? Being thin really isn't worth losing such a wonderful relationship. It just isn't. Because that's what would happen if I starved again - I'd drift away just like I did before. I did it with everyone, not just him. And I don't want to lose him or anyone else.

So point is, I think about starving all the time. And when I skip meals, it makes it particularly difficult, because then I get a taste of the feeling again - I start to remember why I had that feeling all the time. I start to remember what I looked like because I let myself get that hungry, and I want it. I want it so bad. But not as much as I want my wonderful, sexy English Llama, I'll tell you that. Looking like a skeleton is just not worth what I'd lose to get there.

So here I am - still trying my best to fight Anna, and come out strong and recovered. And in just a few days, I will be fighting with all I've got. I'll be back in the real world, with the centre, and my support group. I'll be back in recovery world. And I need that. A vacation is strangely not what I needed - although I've enjoyed it, I think it was too soon to leave the centre and venture out on my own. I wasn't ready. But alas, my journey is almost over, and I will be back on the road to recovery again in no time. Which means I'll be one step closer to fucking Anna's shit up. The stupid bitch won't even know what hit her.

I run for the win

You know what feels good? Running. Running until your lungs are on fire, and you feel as if you'll collapse. Running from everything in the world, and only leaving dust behind. Not another car, nor human being in sight - just me, and the open road.

All I hear and focus on is the sound of my heavy breathing and my bare feet tapping the asphalt. The wind rushing through my thick curls, my heart pounding through my chest.

Yup. There is no other feeling in the world like running. Maybe this is just my opinion - maybe I love it so much because I have the blood of a runner - my dad. Maybe it's because I have that same speed and connection with running, as my dad did. And I feel incredibly lucky to have gotten the gift from him. Because it is a gift.

When I'm running, nothing in the world can touch me - I am invisible, and I am strong. I'm out running Anna. I'm leaving her tranny ass in the dust, and I am winning the race. I feel beautiful and graceful only then - because only then do I know I am both those things. Or at least that's how I see it. I'm fast, I'm powerful, and I know that I can easily out run anyone I know. I feel confident in myself, and that, my friends, is not a feeling I get too often.

So needless to say, running is my thing , and if I can feel all those wonderful things when I run, then I sure as fuck can carry that into the hours and minutes I'm not running. I just have to keep it up - keep mentally and physically running to beat Anna, and win. Because I'm a hardass bitch, and I won't give in to some jiggly-ass tranny look-a-like.

What's passed is passed, and now with weary eyes and tired feet, I walk the path to my future

You know, a lot of the time I wonder if life is worth living. If one more day, will be one more day not even worth my time and energy.

Anna gets me so knackered each and every day, that by the time the day is ending, I wonder if it was even worth living through. I wonder if I should have committed suicide already - if tomorrow will be the day I do the deed. Now of course, I will not commit suicide, because it is probably the most selfish thing you can do in life. Or at least I think so. But I wonder if I was just put on this earth solely to show the world I'm here, then die after I've had a few passing glances.

You know what keeps me going everyday though? What makes each day a little easier, yet also a bit of a challenge to keep as a main thought? The one I am deeply in love with. Every negative thought that passes through my mind - every time I contemplate suicide, his words come into my head. The words: "You are brilliant, and you will fight this. I know you can do it.". That's all I need. All I need to let me remember why I am here, why I was put here, and who was put here for me to find. Also for me to remember that if I was strong enough to starve for as long as I did, then I am sure as hell strong enough to kick Anna's arse.

I don't know though. I mean, I obviously think of my family and friends too when I contemplate suicide, and hurting myself, which in turn will hurt them. But with him, he's all I need, to know that I am supposed to be here, and that once I beat Anna, there will be nothing holding me back from living the glorious future with him I know I can, and will have.

I just have to hold on to the future, and never look back at the past. Because what's done is done, what's passed is passed, and now I have the brightest, happiest future to look forward too.

So I guess all I have to say now, is...thank you for being there for me always, my English Llama. I love you more than anything I could put into words. <3

My mind is like the ocean; it will rise and crash on the shore every second of everyday - up and back down again, over and over

You know, sometimes I think I could have a bit of bipolar disorder...

I only say this because my moods are so extremely up and down all the time. It's gotten to the point where I feel like a lot of people will start to not like me because of it. I mean, I'll be extremely happy one moment, then the next I'm either incredibly depressed and suicidal, or pissed off at someone - for what feels like no rhyme or reason. I really do wonder all the time if it annoys others. I'm sure it does sometimes at least, if not all the time.

This is just another issue though - another thing for me to feel guilt over. Because it's quite easy to put on an act and say I'm okay all the time, when anyone but my mum and Summer are around. With them I try, but I just can't hide it. I don't really want to hide it - not from my mum at least. I want her to know when I'm upset, and don't feel I can tell her that verbally. So I guess I just show her.

I want to talk to her about what I'm struggling with, and I really want to feel better about myself after our chats. But I don't. Because no matter how many times I ask her: "Do you think I look fat? Have I been moving around enough today? Did I eat too much..?", I will always get the same answers, and I will always feel the same even after my questions have been answered. Because until I can see what my mum, and everyone else does, then whatever my mum tells me about my body and calories, and exercise and such, it won't matter. Because I have to believe it, to feel better about myself, and things in general. I just still feel so guilty though. So so guilty all the time. I wonder every day if I get on her nerves all the time with the same exact questions I ask. I mean, she's told me that I don't, and she's just frustrated at Anna, but still...I can't help but think that.

And then I feel guilty for talking about my weight, calories, fat, exercise and such around Summer. I mean, she IS only 10, and I feel terrible for talking about things like this, so openly in front of her. Although at the same time, I'm glad I say what I say around her, because maybe after watching everything I have to go through with recovery, and how stressed and anxious I always am, she won't have an eating disorder, or ever long to be super thin like I did/still do. Which, I definitely don't think Summer will ever develop an eating disorder, and I also don't think she'll have any body issues, really. I mean, she will to some extent, because every woman does, but I don't think her's would be anywhere near as severe as mine. I mean, I've struggled with body image and weight and such ever since I was 9 years old, so.

But anyway, I just don't know what to do. I feel like I'm in a constant lose lose situation.

Heavily resting on my heart; guilt

Nothing can describe the overwhelming guilt I always feel, the weight on my heart, the lump of sorrow in my throat I swallow back every day, the pain I try so hard to hide and ignore.

The guilt is by far the worst. My mum and Summer are having to be in the car, and wait for hours three times a week - because of me. My mum has to put off her life, and have virtually no fun, because of me. She's thrown with accusations of cancelling every potential fun plan because of me. My mum' life is not fun right now, and that is all due to me.

God, you know I think everyday if it's the day. The day to kill myself, and end all of the things my mum is being forced to do right now, because of me. But ironically, even killing myself would bombard her with a different kind of things she is forced to do. But that is only for a short while, where as my recovering from anorexia could take years. If I end it now though, my mum will soon be able to get on with her life - as will everybody else.

I hear my mum say life is all about me now, and there is an indescribable amount of guilt that rushes through my heart, my brain, every part of me feels the guilt. I don't want my mother's life to be all about me, and I don't want Summer's life to be about me either.

But what do I do? What do I do to make it not about me? I could cut myself, and break the contract at ACE, then I'd be forced out, and my mum's life would no longer revolve around me. Sure I'd have to live my life in a constant battle against Anna, but I could do it. I could manage, and I would survive. I could put on a happy face, like I always do, and say everything is okay. Because it would be, as long as I had it all under control. I think I could do that. I'm seriously contemplating leaving treatment. Because I can honestly say that the guilt comes extremely close to being worse than the disease.

I hate myself. Everything about me. I hate the fact I'm putting my family through this, I hate the fact I have this disease, I just generally loath myself and everything about me. I'm so ugly - inside and out. I'm a nasty person that doesn't deserve to be here. I don't deserve this treatment. I don't deserve to be healthy. I deserve to be ill, and suffering. Dying a slow death, is what I deserve. And I had that, when I was starving. Every second of every day I contemplate going back to starvation, so I will live in pain. That's the life I deserve.

My family doesn't deserve what they're being put through. But I deserve what I think I should be put through. And it isn't what I'm being put through right now - because I am recovering. I deserve to be suffering, that's just how it is. I think that's what I was put on this earth for - to live a few years of my life in happiness, then die a slow and deserving death.

I was born a worthless person, and always will be. So why not own up to it, and end it all now? That is the question I'm still working on answering. It will come to me. I just have to have a bit of patience. When the day comes to end my worthless existence, I will know. I always do.

This black hole will never give up...and neither will I

Life is hard. So, so hard. Life is also wonderful sometimes, but at the moment, it is mostly...hard and sucky.

I thought my life would get just a tad bit easier after I had my first visit with my nutritionist. Well, it didn't. Guess what happened? It just got HARDER. What the fuck? I was so sure that once I knew how many calories I could consume daily, and how much to exercise, I'd relax a hell of a lot more. But no, I'm in fact, more stressed out. And I have the ugly, ever growing rash on my neck to show it.

I should have 2300-2500 calories daily, minimum. That's the minimum, now. You'd really think that would relax me...but it doesn't. If I think I've even come close to either of those numbers of calories in a day, I start to freak out.

With the exercising, I'm only allowed to exercise 30 minutes a day, three times a week now. Because of my heart, and body problems. Really, what I should be doing for most of my days, is resting. My body so desperately needs it, but I can't give it that. Why? Because I never stop worrying, and wondering, and being terrified.

I eat, then I sit down for a bit, just to give myself a quick rest. If it's longer than 30 minutes though, I freak out. And oh god, if it's longer than an hour I'm lazy. What will people think of me if they see me resting? They'll see me as lazy. Except according to everyone I know, they see me as anything but lazy...so why can't I believe that?

Before meals I get stomach aches, and my stomach tenses up. I even start to feel nauseated. I get so stressed and worried about food, and calories, and I don't even feel like I deserve food anymore. Since I've only exercised 30 minutes three times this week, then I don't deserve the food I get. That's how I feel. I feel like running to the bathroom to purge every time I eat, because I feel like I didn't deserve the good food I just put in my body. Or, I feel like never letting myself get satisfied, because if I haven't worked like a manic with exercising, why do I deserve to have my hunger completely satisfied? I don't. This is what goes through my head all day everyday now. Instead of thinking about how intensely I have to work, I'm now filled with thoughts of purging, wanting to starve, worrying about what people will think of me, thinking I'm lazy, thinking I don't deserve food, wishing I could exercise more, but also wishing I could just be okay with finally giving my body the serious rest it needs...it's constant. All of it.

I stare at myself in the mirror way more times than I can count. I'll stand there for long periods of times just poking and prodding at myself. Sucking in my stomach, squeezing the fat I think is there, pushing the skin on my face back to make it look thinner. I miss it. Every. Day. I miss my old starvation body, and think: "I could slowly get back to that. If I slowly work it, my mum and everyone else would never know...", even though I know that would never work. I try so desperately every day, to just try and work my way back to where I was before.

There will be moments when I am happy. Moments when I think: "You know, this is hard as hell, but in the end, I know it will all be worth it. Because I have a wonderful life waiting for me.". But the problem is, there are not anywhere near enough moments like that.

The moments that there are too much of though...thoughts of suicide. Planning how I'd take my life. I've thought of overdosing on pills, running in front of fast moving cars, stabbing myself repeatedly, so I die the slow and extremely painful death I deserve. These are the moments I have all too often.

I think I about suicide, purging, how fat and ugly I look, starving, wishing I looked like I was starving again, calories, exercising, food, and how I don't deserve that food, restricting, how lazy I am now...every day. All these obsessions are driving me insane.

These fragile bones aren't ment for over working...when will my heart stop beating?...

You know what I'm tired of? Dreading the days to come. Each night I go to bed dreading the next day. And I wake up thinking to myself: "Another intense day...".

The thoughts, they never stop. I'm still constantly worried about calories, and always counting calories. For breakfast, I never left myself go above 80 calories. And if there is no food in the house 80 calories or below, then I simply won't eat, OR I'll eat a couple strawberries. I'm always stressed out. I never relax, and simply don't know how. I'm struggling just sitting here trying to write this post. I always feel like I should be up doing something.

Okay, actually, let me just describe each and every day of my life, lately. So maybe you all can get a better idea of what I'm really talking about.

I wake up in the morning, and the thought following "Another intense day...", is always: "As soon as my feet hit the ground, it begins. The intensity, the pain. My day starts.". I go to bed every night around midnight-1am, and wake up at 7am or earlier every morning. It takes all my power just trying to stay in bed longer, because I know that once I'm out of bed, everything becomes intense. But the problem is, I can't stay in bed longer. I feel compelled to get up and start my day. So I do.

First I have breakfast - my 80 calorie, or less breakfast. Or no breakfast at all. Then I take pain pills. Every. Morning. Because if I don't, I won't have the strength for my intense days. For all the exercise and moving I do. I simply wouldn't be able to function, because my body hurts so incredibly much every day. The pills don't take away the pain, they just numb it for a bit. But anyway, after breakfast and pills, I sit down for 30 minutes to an hour, just so my food can settle. If I sit down any longer than an hour, I freak out. Really, if I sit an hour, I freak out. This is how it is all day though, I count my hours resting, and my hours up doing things. And usually, my hours up doing things always out numbers the hours of rest. Which is how I want it.

Okay, my food is now settled, so I get up and get dressed and such. After all that, I rub pain numbing cream all over my body, basically. Then I do an intense cardio DVD for 30 minutes, and after that, I do intense dancing for about 25-30 more minutes. When all that's through, and I feel like collapsing, I don't rest. I walk around, clean, pace, until lunch time. I'm starving. Literally so hungry. An hour after breakfast every morning, my stomach is roaring so loud, you'd think it was a T-rex coming to devour a highly populated city.

Lunch time arrives. And do I relax and eat as many calories as I want? No. Not even close. The most calories I will allow myself to have, is 700. And even that number of calories terrifies me if I really think about it. Okay, so lunch time is now over, so I clean the kitchen. I wash dishes, load the dishwasher, sweep, mop - things like that, every day after lunch. When all that's over, I HAVE to rest. Just so my food can settle, and I can intensely exercise again. So I let myself draw, or write or something for about an hour...then the intensity begins again.

I head up to my bedroom, apply MORE pain reliever cream, then do the intense cardio DVD again for 30 minutes. After I'm done with that, I then to ab exercises for 8 minutes. And when that's through, I might dance again for a bit more. So by the time I'm done with all this, my body is screaming. My knees and every other joint are popping, like they do all the time, it takes a ridiculous amount of effort just to try and stay upright...and you know what? I STILL won't rest. Because I can't. If I do, I'm lazy. So I walk around, looking for SOMETHING to do. Anything. I pace, and run around just trying to burn off extra calories. I brainstorm, just searching my mind for something that I could do. If I come up short, then I sit down for a bit. But literally, only for a bit. Not longer than 30 mins, and most times, shorter than 30.

So I wander, and pace, and run around, and look for things to do for a few hours until it's dinner time. Once it's dinner time, I relax a bit more. I'm not feeling as tense as I do throughout the day. I'm easing up, just a wee bit...

I allow myself to reach the total of about 1,800 calories each day. So at dinner I can eat up to 1,100 calories. Which seems like a whole lot to eat in one sitting, but when you have a metabolism as fast as mine, and your body literally takes every calorie to just try and support the intensity of each day, then you wouldn't think it was that much. My body really needs somewhere between 2,500 and 2,900 calories each day. Which...holy fuck. I struggle sometimes trying to make it above 1,200. Because I think what happens is, I get afraid of eating too many calories, so then I don't feel as hungry, I just tense up, and my stomach hurts, and so I don't eat as much as I should. Which I'm trying to work on.

But yes...that is how my day is, every day. And after dinner I try and relax for a few hours. And sometimes I can, but most times I just can't. I have to do something for just a bit longer before I can rest. And when I get ready to get in bed at night, I never feel like I deserve it. I don't feel like I deserve to rest that long, because I STILL feel lazy. Even though most days I'm up and doing things WAY longer than I am resting.

But this is what Anna does to me. She fills my mind with thoughts of calories, burning calories, exercising, guilt if I rest for "too long", and other things. It's exhausting. Emotionally, and most definitely physically. My body is falling apart. I wonder every day if it will be the day my heart stops. That's how bad it is. That's how hard I am on myself, and my body. And the worst part is, is it's getting worse...

After every meal I contemplate purging. I pace, and think, and wonder if it really would be worth the nastiness. I wonder if it would really help me to lose weight. I could just eat normally, then throw up, exercise, and be okay. I'd likely lose weight in no time...right? That's what my mind says. That's what Anna says. And I'm struggling trying to not listen to it all. Because if I can't go back to starving, eating normally then purging seems like the next best thing to that.

I don't know, I'm just ready to not think like this. I'm ready to want to rest, and be okay with giving my body a break. I'm tired of worrying about calories, and fat content, and exercising like a maniac. I'm ready to be normal. If there is such a thing as that...

I just want to get rid of Anna now. For good.

If Anna could be photographed...(look at photos starting from the bottom, and going up. blogger is f-ed up, I know...)

...So this is it. Anna from beginning to now. This is how she has affected me, my appearance, my mind, and my life.

No creative title needed for this - life just sucks right now. Blah, blah, blah...

Life is hard. And you know, there's nothing worse than being severely depressed, and trying to get out of an eating disorder. Especially when I can't relieve myself with a thrash at my tender flesh. Ugh...

Oh well. I'm now on the road to recovery. It's going to be difficult. It IS difficult, but I have to keep pushing on, because if I don't...Anna will win. And as I think we all know, that my friends, will never happen. I'm going to bitch slap the little tranny look-a-like, and if that doesn't work? I'll just kick her in the balls. Oh wait, did I say balls? Oops, I forgot she wasn't a TRANNY. My bad.

For every negative, there's a positive somewhere. You just have to open your eyes, and want to see it

Last night, I had time to reflect on my life. On the good parts, and horrid parts, and you know...I discovered something. Something that I think will really help me through this hard time.

The title of this post, is what I discovered while reflecting. I thought to myself: "For every negative, there's a positive somewhere. You just have to open your eyes, and want to see it." And so that is what I did last night. I looked at all the negatives in my life, and found positives. Also, I thought about the saying "All things happen for a reason". I firmly believe that...still. Even though there is so much shitty stuff that has happened in my life, I believe it has all happened for a reason.

The first - my dad dying. I have no idea why his life was taken so suddenly, when he still had the rest of his life to live, and look forward to. But, I still believe it happened for a reason, as terrible as it is. And I also searched, and searched, and found some positives that came out of this horrid, horrid negative. One positive being the new-found freedom me, and my mum and Summer have. Used to, we'd have to rush through everything fun we'd do together in the daytime, because my mum would have to be home to cook dinner for him and such. Life was always rushed when my dad was around, and that really got me frustrated, because it felt like I never got to really spend time with my mum, and tell her stuff. We were all always so rushed...and so the positive out of his death, is that we have a pretty damn leisurely life now. And now, we can literally just spontaneously do stuff, and not have to worry, or rush.

Although I think you all know that as much as I love the non-rushed life-style, I miss my dad a lot. And I would give it all up in a heart beat, if that meant him being here.

But anyway, that's one situation I thought through, and found at least one positive.

Another - my anorexia. I often wonder why in hell I developed such a horrid thing. I get angry, and frustrated, and say: "Why me? Why? Seriously?"...but then I think, like I did last night. And this negative - this life affecting negative...well, it has a positive. And a bloody good one. You see, before all this started, I didn't care. I didn't care about exercising much, and I didn't really care about what I ate. Granted, I never gained any weight, or looked fat, I still wasn't healthy though. I never really exercised. I danced a bit, and ran a bit, but not enough. But you know what? Now, I exercise every single day. One and a half to two hours a day - whether I'm tired, in pain, hungry, feeling sick...I'll do it. Sometimes I over work it, but that's okay. I look at my uber fit body now, and that's all I need to see to know that over-working it sometimes, is not so bad. And without this disease, and the need to exercise and burn calories, I would have never become fit, and look better than I did before! So there's the positive. And it's an excellent one, because I'm generally very happy with the way I look...when Anna isn't being a bitch, or course.

So that's what I did last night though...I reflected, and found positives. And also found a good way to deal with the numbers on the scale. Everything I've gained since eating, has ALL been muscle - no fat. So I shouldn't be freaked out by the numbers on the scale anyway, right? If I know it isn't fat. Well, Anna doesn't agree. BUT. I have to remember my new coping device. I have to think of it as gaining muscle, rather than gaining weight. Because it is gaining muscle. Every time there is a higher number on the scale, it's because I've built more muscle. I just have to remember that, and I'll be okay.

But anyway, so yes, that is what I did. I reflected, found lots of positives, and have the beginnings of a new, healthier outlook on life. I'm on my way to getting better, and I won't stop until I've gotten completely well.

I won't give up, and I won't give in. So suck it, Anna. Go fuck yourself honey.

The path of darkness stops, and comes to a dead end. Should I turn back, or just end it now with a step off this beautiful cliff?...

Do you ever get those times where you wonder if your life is even worth living? Yeah, well I get those times everyday. And it's all because of goddamn Anna.

I've gotten to the point where I am so fed up, that I wonder if life is even worth it anymore. I can't tell her to "Fuck off" or "Go away", because it doesn't work. She doesn't fuck off, or go away. She gets angry, and sometimes it scares me, but then other times I just kind of try and make her think I'm going to do things her way, and she calms down.

People think I'm better - they think I'm healthy, and that I look good. But that's only what they see. I'm not in any way shape or form better, yet. I still constantly worry about gaining weight, and calories, and burning them all off. And I miss it sometimes...the feel of my prominent hip bones, and rib cage, and spine. How thin my arms and legs were. And I can't even believe the change in my body, with only one pound in weight gain. And it's muscle, not fat. But I look so different. And most times...I like it, but only my abs. I'm so proud of them. But the rest of my body, I hate. I think my face is fat and my arms are fat, and my legs...these thoughts go through my mind CONSTANTLY. All day. Everyday. Calories, burning calories, how fat I look, wishing I could go back to starving. It's not over, and I can't believe I was so stupid to think it might automatically disappear as soon as I started eating again.

Every night before bed I start planning my meals, and counting calories already. And there have even been a few nights where I've tried to tell myself that starving is okay, and I can go back to it, because I can pull it off, and I've proven to myself that I am not dependent on food. I've said these things out loud over and over again before bed. Not many times, just a few. Now, of course it didn't work, but I had to try it. Because I missed it. I miss it. Still.

And what scares me, is the fact that I don't even know if an E.D. doctor/therapist can help me. I'm obviously going to try the idea, but I just don't know. At this moment, I just don't know about life though. I try to ignore it all, and say I'm so happy. But deep down, when I think about it...I'm still not happy. Because I don't want to live my life this way. And currently, I don't want to live life in general.

The only sense of comfort I feel is when I lie down, and touch my ribs and hip bones. Because they feel like they did when I was starving. I don't want it to be like that. I don't want that to be my comfort. I'm ready to be better now.

My Daddy

Today, I thought I'd write just a few random bits about my dad. About how special he was, and caring, and loving. And overall - a great daddy.


He was so funny, and he told the best stories of anyone I know. He had such enthusiasm, and charisma that showed so much when he was telling them, and just being him, really. And he had such a hard childhood, yet spoke of his stories in such an...indescribable way, really. Not as if he was in pain about telling them, or sad. But as if he was just enjoying telling me and Summer so much. And I think he did. He literally told the same stories over and over, and we never got tired of them. It was like I was hearing them for the first time, every time he told them. I loved to hear his silly laughter when he'd tell of something funny - it just made everyone so happy. He definitely knew how to lighten up a room.

He loved to watch horror films. Some of my favourite memories of being with Daddy, are the times we watched horror films together - particularly the Halloween films. He loved those. We would watch two or three in a row, and crack up laughing when Micheal Myers would chop a head off - or we'd start yelling at the television when the characters were being dumbarses. And he'd always say things like: "Now look at that white chick runnin', if that was a black girl you'd only be seein' dust right now! She'd be going so fast...But that girl is falling, and acting all stupid!". And then he'd pretend to be the stupid girl: "Oh! Micheal Myers is coming to chop off my head! Save me, save me! Ohhhh!". He always knew how to make anything funny. A moment so dark and gruesome, he could turn it into the funniest thing alive.

He genuinely cared for everyone. He'd do things like, stop at the entrance of our neighbourhood, just to help some random person fix their flat tire or something. He was always helping anyone in need of help, and he truly loved to do it. He wasn't forced, he didn't think it was something he HAD to do, he just did it. He did it because he cared, and because he loved to help others. I think he was a pretty selfless person though.

When me and Summer were really little, he used to play Barbie dolls with us. We'd sit upstairs in the hallway, and just play dolls with him for an hour or so, whenever he was home. And the funny thing is, is that although he preferred being the man doll, he would occasionally be the girl. And again, make us crack up laughing doing it. He'd use a high pitched voice, and say lots of silly things. And also the times when he wanted to watch television, but also wanted to make me and Summer happy, and play with us, he would do both. We would all sit in front of the TV, and he would literally just be holding the doll up, while engaged in a show, and I thought it was the best thing in the world, still. He wouldn't even have to say anything, it was just the fact he was still playing with us. Even if it was just holding a doll sometimes, it meant something.

He loved Country music. Of all the music out there, Country was his favourite. All though Jazz came close. That was just one of the many wonderful and original things about my dad though. I mean, come on, how many Black men do you know, that love Country music? None - unless you knew my dad. He was always talking about how he loved that every song told a story. And he would call my mum almost everyday just wanting her to hear a song with lyrics he couldn't get out of his mind. That was another thing about him though - he was so passionate. Passionate about his family, friends, music, and even life itself.

He had the biggest heart of anyone I know. And I think it will be like that always. Then, now, and forever. Daddy was truly one of a kind. He was so incredibly special, that no one on this earth could ever take his place, or even compare. He was a great dad, and over all, a great person in general. And I miss him so much.

Today is June the first. My daddy's birthday. And I feel like I am letting him down. This post has not at all been what I wanted it to be. I wanted it to be perfect - to tell you all everything about him. Everything I saw in him, and everything I know he was. I wanted to share things that even the people that knew him, never got to see. I wanted him to come alive through my words.

But then I have to realise...I can't describe my father in just one post. Or a few paragraphs, and certainly not with one word. He was so many things. Wonderful and sometimes, not so wonderful. But I can simply not do him justice with one post.

So I will take my time, describing and telling stories of my father. I will share every fantastic moment of my life spent with him, and through my words, he will be so alive, it will be as if he never really left. A part of him will always be with me, and I am going to do my best to share that part with everyone I shall meet.

I guess all I have to say now is...Daddy, I love you. More than you ever knew, probably. And I miss you every single day. I miss your laugh, your hugs, your Country singing, but most of all I just miss your presence. And wherever you are now, I hope you are happy. Just always know that I will miss you forever, and love you always. Happy birthday Daddy.