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.

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?

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...

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

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.