joanna.

i clutch my tiny rainbow pony stuffed animal and think, i miss joanna. (i named it "jo" after joanna.) but when i really think about it, it's not really about missing joanna herself. while she was an important person in my life during my time at sheppard pratt, what she gave was more important- support, kindness, understanding, encouragement, positivity, compassion, love.. the list goes on.
she was the mother i always wanted but never had. she was my mom away from home. she was the person i went to when i was upset, or happy, or just because.
i often find myself missing her, but now i'm realizing that it's much deeper than that; instead i miss what she meant to me. i miss having that type of relationship with someone, a relationship that i swore i could never have. a relationship that actually scared the shit out of me because i knew that all too soon i would lose it.
and i have lost it, and it kills me. it cuts like a knife. it hurts like hell. i wish that i could re-create that relationship with my own mother, but somehow that doesn't work.
hopefully someday i'll find that relationship in SOMEONE; someone that i won't lose. someone who is meant to be a part of my long-term life, not just temporarily there.

too much to lose.

3 am. i wake up in dire need to go to the bathroom. too many laxatives and diuretics have now taken affect, making me miserable. afterwards i step on the scale- 89. somehow the fact that the number is one less than it was yesterday makes it all okay. but is it really okay? i'm beginning to ask myself this question again. i go back to my room, open my window and smoke a menthol marlboro. somehow it also makes everything seem okay. i listen to the music that drowns out the silence that is simply unbearable. my stomach rumbles and my throat aches from thirst, but i won't allow myself anything to eat or drink, especially not at 3 am. my tired eyes want to close and let me drift away to sleep , peaceful and calm, but my stomach and mind won't allow that to happen. and so i write, hoping that if i spill my mind out onto this paper everything will be okay, and i'll be able to sleep again. but why do i keep trying to convince myself that everything is fine when it's obviously not? why can't i just accept that everything is completely fucked up again? i'm not in denial, i just won't allow myself to accept the reality, but why? everyone else has accepted it, even my mother, who is amazing at denial. so why won't i just accept it? things are fucked up, and i'm going to die.
maybe it's because now i have too much to lose. before i had nothing but weight to lose, so it didn't really matter if i died. but now i have a lot more- a boyfriend, friends at school, school itself, babysitting, church, and a family that is trying harder than ever to support me. i had some of this before, but it didn't matter as much as it does now. my attempts to lead a normal life have screwed me over because now i have SO much to leave behind.

before it's too late...

i sit here, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee cup after cup. bad habit i know, but somehow it helps. well, i guess that depends on your definition of "help". for me it means that i'm able to starve myself. which leads me to the question, how the hell did i get back to this place? how could i possibly forget that day with carson that i cried in the car, begging god to not let me die? how could i forget sitting on the floor as the nurses searched my stuff and confiscated my contraband, crumpled up into a ball of manic sobs, pleading for them to help me. "i'm dying," i said, "joanna, please help me, i don't want to die." how could i forget standing up and having to hold onto the wall for dear life so i didn't fall over? how could i forget staying awake all those nights, fearing that if i went to sleep i would never wake up again? maybe it's not that i've forgotten because clearly i haven't, maybe it's just that my eating disorder won't allow me to believe it. the past year honestly feels like a dream, and though i know the doctors told my mom i wouldn't survive another relapse and re-feeding process, somewhere in my mind i can't believe it. i think even when i was sitting there, curled up in a ball hiding my face and begging joanna to not let me die, i couldn't really believe it. i said it, but i don't think i meant it. do i want to die? absolutely not. but there is still this part of me that likes to think that i'm invincible. that somehow, someway things won't end up the way they were last time. my eating disorder keeps kicking me for not losing "enough" weight, but honestly, i've lost quite a bit, and i shouldn't have lost any. i'm losing weight at the same pace that i did last time i left sheppard pratt, and i'm as symptomatic as i was the last time too, if not worse. i have stopped binging and purging for the most part, but i have replaced that with restricting, which logically i know only leads to binging and purging. i like to pretend that i'm okay, "i'm fine," i tell my therapist, "i'm perfectly healthy." however, i know that's not true. my blood pressure is lower, i'm orthostatic, i've lost a substantial amount of weight, and i'm sure my potassium and phosphorus levels are off. logically i know what is happening to my body, but emotionally i can't bring myself to fully believe it. which brings me to another question, what is it going to take for me to believe it? am i going to have to nearly die in a friends car again to realize that this is serious? i wish i could make my emotional mind believe what my logical mind does. logically i know i'm not overweight, i just FEEL overweight. logically i know i'm not a bad person, i just FEEL bad. logically i know i'm deserving of basic needs, i just FEEL undeserving. it's so frustrating. it's like i'm split in half between what i know and what i believe. so how do i start to believe what i know? i'm not sure, but what i am sure of is that i have to figure it out soon; before it's too late.

rubble

Yesterday was a pretty awful day. it started off well, but ended badly.
i stole miralax from my grandmother (a whole container) and i thought i had gotten away with it. well, after church my mom went out to the car and dug through my bags and found it. she was so angry. she came into my grandmother's house screaming at me, telling me how i was raised to know not to steal and that it wasn't acceptable. in that moment all i could say was "what the hell mom?" but inside i was screaming.. "you don't get it! i'm sorry i just had to. whatthehellcanisaytomakeyouunderstandthatiHAVEtodo it!?!?!?" it was so frustrating. then my mom started saying that i obviously didn't give a shit about any of their feelings, which is probably the farthest thing from the truth. there have been many times that i have sat, a lump of sobs and crimson liquid, and held the bottle of pills in my shaking hand. i wrote pages and pages of letters filled with heartfelt, 'i'm sorry's' and 'please don't blame yourself' and it was always their feelings that stopped me. it was always the thought of, "what will they do when they find me like this, cold skinned and wrists covered in dried blood?" it was always thinking about how they would feel that stopped me because i know i have already hurt them so much. i'm sick of hurting them, i HATE myself for it, but i know killing myself is not the solution. so you see, if i didn't care about how they felt i would have died years ago. but i DO care. sometimes i wish i didn't so i could just be done with this all.
the whole situation was just really upsetting. i felt horrible for getting caught, and for doing it in the first place. i felt so stupid and foolish. my grandma's words to me cut like knifes, "if you would've asked i would've given them to you, i just don't want you to die erin, please promise me you won't do it again." that hurts more than my mom's anger ever could. i promised her, knowing that i couldn't fully commit to that promise. knowing that when my ED takes over, erin checks out, and i don't really control what i do anymore. it's so frustrating because though erin is not in control, she is the one that has to take responsibility for what ED does. it's her body that is damaged, her mind that is tormented, her soul that is being slowly sucked out. she is the one paying the price for all that ED is doing. it's not fair, but i don't know how to stop it. i feel awful for what i did, but i can't guarantee that it won't happen again. i can't guarantee that i will eat. i can't guarantee that i will stop purging. i can't guarantee anyone that i won't just drop dead someday. i know it's possible, especially with purging, and though that's scary, i can't change. i don't know what's wrong with me.
it was like one day i was a normal human being, and the next day suddenly i was a monster. my eating disorder has turned me into a horrid monster that lies and cheats and steals. erin would never steal, but ED doesn't care what erin would do, or what she wants or needs. ED only cares about one thing, "thinner, thinner, thinner, you must get thinner" i recognize that my eating disorder is only trying to protect me, but it's not working. sure, emotionally it helps, but even that gets bad sometimes. i just wish i could take everything back.. go back to a year ago and not go to his house, go back to six years ago and not purge with my friend. go back 11 years ago and beg my daddy not to go to work. but i can't. the past is the past and i have to deal with what it's left me, and right now all that seems to be is a bunch of rubble.

short narrative

up way too early, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. she's in that place again. the nicotine and caffeine make the thoughts race. every now and then returning to one that is a double-edged sword, horrifying and yet somehow pleasant- she will die. she sits in her room and writes pages and pages of her daily life. she looks back on what she's written, and laughs. it's not funny, but it's easier to laugh than cry. she thinks about the past year and feels nostalgic, and hopeless. she misses all of her dear friends she met in treatment, but she knows that going back is not an option. she is disappointed with some of her friends at school because they let her down. she doesn't trust any of the friendships she has because the fear of abandonment is so immense. she also doesn't trust because she has been hurt and betrayed so much that she doesn't feel anyone could really love her. her faith in God barely exists anymore because of everything that has happened over the years. if God really did exist, how the hell would He let all of this happen? she doesn't know.

finding what's lost.

i couldn't really comprehend what had happened. it was something really bad, that was for sure, but it almost didn't feel real. i kept pinching my arm to try to figure out that it was real, and it was, but i felt like i was watching myself from afar. i stood in the mirror, staring at a body that didn't belong to me. staring at a very broken, hurt person. in the mirror, i saw the tears running down my face, but i didn't feel them. the only thing i could feel was the pain, which stuck around for a while to make sure i knew that it had actually happened, i wasn't dreaming. god how i wished i were. i kept praying, "please let me wake up, please!" but every time i opened my eyes i saw the broken person that i could no longer identify with. i sat down on the cold floor of the shower and turned the water on. i sat perfectly still and let the tears spill from my eyes. i listened to the beating of my heart, which reminded me that i was a person; i was alive. despite everything that had happened, i had survived, and that was going to be a good thing someday, just not today. the water eventually got cold, but i was so immersed in thought that i barely noticed. when i started to shiver i decided to get out. i found myself again staring at that person in the mirror that wasn't me anymore, and i remember thinking one thing, and one things only in that moment, "i have to lose weight, i have to find me again."

hunger

i'm trying to ignore it. my head throbs and the hunger eats away at my insides. i sit journaling at my desk, chugging diet coke to try to rid the ache deep in my stomach. however, nothing seems to work. suddenly all i can think about it food. no matter how hard i try i can't focus on anything else. deep down inside i wish i could be "normal". i wish that right now i could go get something to eat- something more than an apple or carrot sticks. i wish i could eat without shame or guilt. i wish i could make the hunger go away properly, instead of downing diet soda, coffee, and chain-smoking menthol cigarettes. it's times like these that i wish i could recover more than ever. but why can't i??

destiny unknown

yesterday was mothers day, and it was really difficult. i ended up not going to church or out to lunch with my family. they were going to a buffet after church, and i knew that it would be way too overwhelming, and so i told my mom the night before that i didn't think it would be a good idea to go. to my surprise, she was actually really supportive. she was very proud of me, but i wasn't proud of myself. instead of going and trying to manage the situation, i stayed home and majorly restricted. my whole family was proud of me, but i hated myself for it. i don't like that i'm still mentally not in a place where i can handle that situation. i'm also full of guilt for the fact that my whole family is so proud and praising me for doing well, and i'm eating no more than 400 calories a day and exercising all the time. i feel like a horrible person. i wish i could just be normal and go out to eat with my family and have a nice time, instead of worrying about how many calories are in the food or how it would make me gain weight or how i was wasting time that i could be exercising. my life is again completely consumed by this eating disorder. i would like to say that i thought things couldn't get worse than they were the last relapse, but at the rate i'm going it looks like it's quite possible. i've been home 2 weeks and lost 11 pounds, but the weight doesn't even matter to me. i mean it does because i have an eating disorder, but my eating disorder has become so much more than weight. it is almost a way of life- the only way i know how to live. i can't imagine myself without it, but i know that if i don't stop i will die. i'm 16... aren't i too young to die? but then there's a part of me that thinks, "hey, maybe that's what i deserve.." or, "maybe i'm just destined to die from this.." are people ever destined to just die? just like some people get cancer and don't make it, is it the same for eating disorders? or does everyone have the oppertunity for recovery? i mean, some people will die, but is that possibly because they were just one of the people chosen to not make it? i feel like if those people exist, i'm one of them.

i can't see through their eyes...

someone made a comment in first block that really stuck with me.. "you're just so tiny erin!" i stood there and stared at her, i'm pretty sure my jaw dropped. i couldn't believe it, me.. tiny? that's impossible. it was really frustrating.. not because what she said was offensive, because it definitely isn't, but more so that i can't believe it no matter how hard i try. i really wish i could see what they say. i feel like everything i see and everything i have ever believed is just a lie. it really sucks because i think that maybe, just maybe if i could see what they saw, i wouldn't have to do this to myself anymore. i don't know how to get to a point where i can see what they see. it also crosses my mind, maybe they're lying to make me feel better. maybe they say that because they know that is what i, or more my eating disorder, wants to hear. but in a way it isn't helpful. it 'feeds' my eating disorder. it gives me ammunition to keep going. i don't like my eating disorder, i really don't.. but i honestly feel like i can't stop at this point. things have gotten so far out of control that i can't go back to the way things were before this stupid disorder. i feel like such a failure for relapsing so quickly, but somewhere deep down inside i think it was inevitable. maybe that's a self-fulfilling prophecy, who knows. it's just really frustrating.. they call me tiny but i feel so huge. i really don't know how to challenge the thoughts anymore. my brain is spent.

playing normal

today has not been fantastic. not horrible, by any means.. better than yesterday, but still not good.
it's wednesday, which means a lot of 'playing normal'. i have to play normal all day at school, and then go to church and do it again. i'll admit, playing normal has become a very difficult thing to do here lately, but i have to.
i can't actually let on to how things really are.. people would think i was a freak. no one would talk to me. i would have no friends and no life. but in all honesty, i don't really have a life anyway...
my life was long ago consumed by food and weight and numbers and purging and exercise. even at school, i catch myself mentally saying, "i have to keep shaking my leg to burn more calories"
so you see, even when i'm playing normal, i'm very far from it. and i find it pathetic that i can't even play normal correctly.
when i'm at school, i only have one class that i actually have to take (English III) for the rest of the day i just sit in seminar and do random things. earlier i worked on my new altered book, now i'm writing a blog entry in the library. it's so simple, but i still feel so much stress for some reason. maybe it has more to do with ed and less to do with school, but it's really frustrating.
well, the creative juices really aren't flowing today, so i think i'm going to stop writing now.

forgiveness.

i saw her today, and had to work really hard to keep from completely going insane.
the girl that used to be my best friend.. the girl that knew everything about me, that i was completely comfortable with, that i would do anything for.. the girl who eventually hurt me more than anyone ever could.
we did everything together while we were friends, which was for several months. yes, i know it's weird to have a best friend after only a few months, but that's an issue i have. i get attached to people really quickly. i trust very easily. i should say, i used to trust very easily.
now i find it hard to trust anyone. because of her, because of him.
every time i see her face i freeze. it's like i'm paralyzed. i guess there is a part of me that blames her for what happened. i know she didn't make him do it, but i know that if i would have never been friends with her then it wouldn't have happened. and she wasn't innocent either; she took advantage of me too.
when i see her my world stops. a fear rises inside of me, making me shake and my vision blurry. for that moment as she walks by, i fall apart. usually once she is gone i can pull myself back together, but today it proved to be very difficult.
i had to text one of my friends and use grounding skills that we learned at sheppard pratt. i felt so stupid and small. not small in a good, eating disordered way, but small in a defeated way. so small that i can't defend myself. so small that i could easily be crushed. so small that no one can see me; it's a horrible feeling.
i haven't really been able to shake the feeling. it happened after first block, and now it's fourth. all day long i have been thinking about her.. thinking about our friendship.. all the 'good' times partying, sleeping over, and hanging out dowtown, and then the night when it all was ruined and erased. the night my life was shattered.
to this day, i believe she cared. i don't think she was a completely souless person.. i want to give her the benefit of the doubt. but i can't seem to erase the last thing i remember her saying to me, in front of the whole class, "what are you looking at, you fucking whore!?"
the girl who was supposed to be my best friend, saying something so horrible and so untrue. but after what had happened, i believed it to be true. i wore that label and couldn't escape it no matter how hard i tried.
i still find myself wearing that label from time to time, and i have to remind myself of the reality.
no one asks for that. no one deserves that. i am not a whore. sometimes i still find it hard to believe for myself.
and in truth, there is a part of me that misses her. well, not really her, more the relationship. honestly, i want nothing to do with her. a little detail i forgot to add, she got knocked up last year and from the looks of her today, i'm guessing she's either had her baby or had an abortion while i was gone. and i'm the whore? but that's beside the point.
i miss how i could go over to her house after school and escape my own home. i could talk to her about anything. she wouldn't judge me. she knew about my issues, even drove me to therapy once, and she didn't seem to think of me any differently. however, everything i believed about her was wrong. i was believing a lie. the relationship wasn't real. even though i hate her now, it was still a loss. i've already had so much loss in my life, it doesn't seem fair.
i'm just now realizing this, after over a year without being friends. i don't know why it has taken so long, but i'm glad it's over. the wound has been reopened, but i know that with time and patience it will heal. she can't hurt me anymore. he can't hurt me anymore, either. as much as i would love to blame her, it's not her fault. the psychologist, and good person, in me wants to help her.. wants her to have a better life. i do think she deserves more than what she's settling for.
but right now there is only one thing i want to do- forgive her. that is the only way i will ever move on. i don't think i'm ready to forgive him yet, that's still not possible. but i think i can forgive her. forgiveness isn't for her sake, it's for mine. and forgiveness doesn't make what happened okay, it makes ME okay.