Keep Your Shit Together

All right, let's make this brief, shall we? There's really no need to ramble on and on in a recap of my ED related foolishness...

I had a pretty decent day. Was exhausted yesterday after continuing my 2 lb a day weight loss...of course I'm doing it the unhealthy way. Rapidly, foolishly, slightly obsessively. Meh. The calendar keeps telling me that time is shifting from being on my side to moving on, so I don't have the 'luxury' of being Team Fit Fam (hah) and doing it "the right way" through normal - whatever that is - exercise and a well-balanced diet.

Not like I fucking care. I could die tomorrow from some freak accident and I'd still be skinny-ish, whether it was from barfing or bike riding so whatever, la! Let me do what I have to do for the time being so I can make sure my fat ass gets thin by the time I have to board that plane! Hmph.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. So I'd been tired from my stupid gym obsession and I think I'm becoming dependent on coffee (gross) despite my effort to just limit my intake and only use when extremely necessary. So today/yesterday I decided to take it easy! Don't worry about work or doing a bunch of errands or being *terribly* productive! Just stay happy(ish) and make sure not to tip the scale *no pun intended* towards my freak-out state of mind where I rage and eat everything in sight. No more of that shit, right!

Right. For about 18 hours of the day. Then I met up with a friend and it went downhill from there. Despite me making it clear and she already knowing I don't eat, or at least didn't want to this time, I still managed to kind of get coerced into having just a bit of an appetizer and I *know* in hindsight, and in the rational part of my brain, that it wasn't even anything but it made me uncomfortable.

Ok, no worries. Still had an awesome time, just go home and go to the gym, right? Wrong! She immediately lost her wallet after we left the restaurant, somehow, and my stupid, over-sensitive ass felt bad and bought her a new one. Why? I don't know. I have this awful nagging feeling I'm just bad luck. Seriously. I think that I make everyone's life worse that I know. Whether this is actually true or not, who knows? But I overcompensate.

And then I felt ridiculous for being supersitioius/unfounded in my feelings (because I'm usually pragmatic) and it made me feel bad. I didn't have a meltdown or a complete hissy fit, but I did attempt to binge/purge and, like the forever failure that I am, I fell asleep after just a bowl of ramen. Score! My body went into auto-shutdown mode to prevent serious damage.

So, that's basically it. Oh yeah, I'd been giving my husband a hard time/not playing nice/not intentionally ignoring him the last few days, and then yesterday while I was out, my phone wasn't updating his emails (remember, I cut him off so he can only email me so he can't trigger me or get under my skin). I missed a few of his messages and when I finally did see them, I was in the throes of my eating mania and blurted out that I felt bad for throwing away money like that again, and surprisingly, he just said: you did a nice thing. Treat yourself to something good too and don't worry.

Hold up, who are you? And what did you do with my dense slug of a husband? *pause* I guess everyone has their moments, huh? :-| Whatever, he's leaving for China next week and just told me he'll in fact have to go to Shanghai after all, so who knows what he's up to or what's going on with that. Dunno, don't particularly care. Just come back and keep your job, dude.

Well, that wasn't a particularly short summary of my day's foolishness, but it was thorough!

Now, I can go ceremoniously and symbolically purge and finally get some sleep within the next hour. Which is stupid, cos the gym opens in 90 mins...sigh...

Just Stay Focused

...and try to be a little more positive and just a little lighter than the day before, and somehow the weeks fly by. Do I want my months to be a blur of weight loss and steam and pounds lost and gained? Not necessarily but you can't (or can you?) have it all. There are only so many hours in the day and between juggling work and my future and trying to safely and somewhat rationally get down to where I'd like to be in terms of weight, it doesn't leave much energy or time for me to do much else.

Anyway, I just wanted to jot down a little bit and thoughts on what's been going on. I'd like to keep things going nicely like this: wake up early, get a lot done, drink a little bit and restrict without going nuts, and just feel less like I'm being controlled by my ED and more like I have some say in what's going on in my life.

We'll see how long these good feelings last. I'm not trying to be skeptical or cynical, just practical.

Full of Emptiness...

Here I am, forcing myself to stay away from the bathroom and willing my stomach to hurry up and digest just a little bit faster so even if I do get up and try and purge, the contents will already be in my intestines and I'll be shit out of luck.

Isn't that ridiculous?

Know what else is something I'm having a hard time dealing with? I want to be happy...I even have more moments that feel, well...OK. "Normal." Pleasant, even. It just sucks because I'm alone. I have no real friends. Hell, I've changed numbers and locations and residences so often in the last 5 years my own family doesn't even know where exactly I am right now. I keep running from my sordid, depressing past thinking I can leave the gloom behind and just reinvent myself.

It works...for a while, at least. But then the old familiar feelings of inadequacy, loneliness and guilt come from the depths of my despair and I find myself right back in some wormhole of self-hating. I wonder what is wrong with me and if I'll ever really find someone who understands and cares about me. If I'll ever have another person to share my highs with, my thoughts, my aspirations...I used to also wonder who would be there for me when I was at my worst - would I suffer alone behind closed doors and have to wipe the misery away and paint on a fake fucking smile, day in and day out for the rest of my goddamn life until I die, just like my poor mother? Jeezus christe, what the hell would keep me from killing myself if that was the case??

Thankfully, I found the wonderful world of Twitter, and just go on there and say whatever the fuck I feel like saying and all the nasty little things on my mind as they pop up, so that's a good release/outlet for my negativity. But still, for my positive moments? They didn't used to be so few and far between before. When I was younger, I was still hopeful. I still had daydreams of finding my own Tuxedo Kamen or being the Chi Chi to some dreamy Goku, or having my own English Patient to take care and fall madly in love with...I was such a naive little nerd.

Now, I'm like: meh. I'm one big :-| since I saw just how stupid and ugly the world can be and usually is. I just had to turn my emotions off, become a hardened, stereotypical Bitch, and shuffle through my days. I was focused on my ED and controlling the abuse I put my body through, because I felt so powerless as to the way others treated me and made me feel small (but not physically small, I'm still fat/huge) and ineffective.

Then, I had a breakthrough. I won that stupid lawsuit against that POS slumlord ex-judge/psycho con-artist and I felt like Samson with a new head full of weave in: who the fuck could stop me if I was determined? I don't need anyone but myself and my will of steel to get through this fucking life. I mean, try as I may, I can never escape myself, right? I'm not psycho. I know I'm not. All those stupid hospital stays and anti-depressants were nothing but money pits that made a bunch of people richer and made me even more depressed at just how shitty some other people's lives are. Especially when the fucking medical staff all but tsked at me and told me to get my shit together and suck it up, cos my life isn't so bad and I was way too young to give up just yet.

And in a sense, they were right. I knew then and still know now that no fucking pill was going to make the world a better place - that's my fucking issue. The *rest* of the world brings me down - the violence, the crime, the racism, the sexism, the injustice, the bigotry, the misogyny, the xenophobia, the judging, the...I could go fucking on forever. Why the fuck should *I* dope myself up on some caustic shit just so I can cope with my racist in-laws calling me an animal and pretending I don't exist because I have more melanin in my skin than they do?

Are you fucking kidding me?

No, I'll pass.

Instead, I finally said: to hell with my loser husband. He fucks both younger, stupid girls and older, pathetic women because he himself is a loser. He can't ever be with someone his own age that's intelligent because she's smart enough to see that he's a cad and not worth anyone's time who is not a total burnout herself. What kind of idiot would I be to still stay with him if I'm trying to get my life in order and overcome the years of isolation and subtle rejections I felt. If I truly believe that there's nothing wrong with me, that I deserve happiness as much as the next person, that despite not having any discernible chest and just a small, scraggly little afro, that I'm still a beautiful enough woman in my own right (no more and no less than any other female walking on this planet, at least. Shit.), why the hell would I still put up with any bullshit in my life?

Not just from my fake husband, either - but from anyone? I've always been a propenent of speaking my mind and the more I saw in the news about family members or neighbor's who would give interviews after someone died or was gone or killed themselves, the more I realized there's no point in keeping shit to yourself. The people yammering away in the camera would always say "but we had no idea!" "We never knew." "Such-and-such always *seemed* to be..." Like, what the fuck? Did these people really not know the person, or was the person just that good at hiding what was going on? I'd never want to wind up dead in my car somewhere and have some asshole give an official statement like: Well, she was just so happy and I can't imagine what could have happened! I would come back from the dead and slap the shit out of whoever would say that cos it would be a fucking lie. And I'm pretty sure anyone who really knows me, or even knows me in passing, knows what shit I can't stand and what gets my goat.

Anyway, what the fuck am I even saying? Oh yes: so I've conquered my demons somewhat in that I'm not actively trying to kill myself and won't do anything sudden like jumping off a bridge, or wading out into the ocean to drown, or gassing myself in the bathroom with charcoals. Too much room for error and I don't want to wind up brain-dead or paralyzed.

So. That leaves me with possibly 80 more years to live. Knowing my luck all the preservatives and shit I've eaten will keep me on Earth until forever and a day somehow so I need to find out how to not be miserable every day, right? While I do have some pretty shitty cards in my hand, there's still the rest of the deck to go through, right? There's the possibility that I'll get even more crappy cards, but then there's the possibility that I won't. Basically, I need to just deal with what I have in front of me and what I can control and give the :-| to the shit that I can't.

If staying in and watching nerdy shows and reading random articles and doing techie stuff makes me happy, then so be it. Yes, it's not exactly how I'd like to spend my nights, but part of me is happy and that's better than none of me being happy, right? So what I don't have a best friend. I didn't come into this world fucking joined at the hip to some other person's kid, right? When push comes to shove all you can rely on is yourself, and even that is fallible, right?

Once I lower my expectations, more things seem to be less irritating or surprising. While it sounds kind of bad, and I guess it is, maybe my standards were just ridiculous ideals to begin with. Perhaps I took things too literally as a child and believed those who told me not to judge a book by its cover, and that there's someone for everyone out there, and that we're all the same. Maybe that stuff doesn't apply all the time: some hos are just hos, maybe there is a mate for everyone but maybe you'll die before you find him, and perhaps we're all the same in that we all have flaws and imperfections.

I don't have some pithy little way to tie this up. I probably should have written this in my journal but it would have taken too long. Anyway! I had an OK day even though it was uneventful and I'm slacking off at work. I have a feeling I'm either a) going to go to Japan and not come back or b) become so nonchalant about my job that I just quit. That's another big shortcoming of mine: I'm either super gung-ho or I-don't-give-a-rat's-ass about things. Starving for six days or gorging six pounds of food I don't even like. I really need to work on moderation. And concise bog entries -__-"

A New Month, A New Me!

Ha ha, just kidding! I'm still a fat mess, but at least I'm trying and figuring out how to manage my rotten ways and ridiculous, disordered eating, right?

See, what it boils down to is I'm an over-achiever...a "Type A" I guess is what they like to label folks with my personality traits. I don't like to be told what to do, I need to micro-manage, and I'm always looking for better and pushing myself to be the best. But the thing that makes me slightly different is I'm not competitive - I don't give a flying fuck what my peers are doing really and I don't want to necessarily have their lives or out do anyone or be better than another person.

Because really, who knows what someone is going through on the inside or what one's life is like behind those closed doors? If someone were to look at my fat ass, they'd think I was very fortunate, with an enviable situation and appealing (enough) body and desirable aspects to my life. They'd be right on the surface I guess but the daily torment/back-and-forth I put myself through is such shyte, I mean, who would really trade their lives for mine if they knew how I really am?

Anyway, what was I babbling about? Oh yes, I've tried kicking my vomiting cold-turkey. It lasted for a few days, then almost a few weeks, but I started again once a day and then I had to just stop eating altogether. I can't with the vomiting. It's tiring, and my allergies are acting up and it fucks with my throat so badly. Plus, I always try and grow my nails out a little as a deterrent from poking around my esophagus and I don't feel like ripping them off again so no more eating which equals no purging. Well, that's the plan, anyway...

But yeah, after being triggered by my husband's perverse, teenage-fucking ways and filing our taxes jointly (for the last time, I swear!), I've been very truthful to myself about my failed relationships and mommy/daddy/guilt issues and I have a plan of attack (kind of) in mind so I'm just chilling out, shopping too much, and trying to be social at least once a week before I finally head over to Tokyo.

I get it: life can be shitty and usually is for a majority of the world's population. Am I going to keep complaining and wallowing in my own fat and failure or am I going to reclaim my philosophy of "fuck the rest, just do your best" and fight for my own version of happiness? If you know me by now, I think you'll know the answer to that question...

Feeling Fat...And Happy(Happier?)

As you might already know from my unfiltered tweets from the past 3 months or so, I had a big, fat, slimy toad clinging to my back and weighing me down for way too long - I finally kicked that nasty creature to the curb and instantly felt immeasurably better. It was great! Suddenly, the whole world just seemed a little brighter and I honestly felt like I could *feel* it and notice a visible change. It was great to finally be free of something that had been making you so unhappy for so long. I had been stressing out about it because I was too embarrassed to go into the details at first for fear that people were too stupid to listen to the whole story and just judge me that I was in the middle of a bitter lawsuit.

Then I remembered I really didn't care what people thought and I wanted it to be known that this sleazebag existed and to publicly shame him and not myself in the process. Wasn't that the whole reason I was doing this? To stand up for my rights and not let this piece of shit continue to get away with ripping people off, deliver some justice in my own little way? Once I let a few people know (if asked) what was going on, I felt better, but still anxious because of the uncertainty and the factors that were out of my control. But, I was able to get the desired outcome and necessary validation and so my mood improved. This bastard represented my disappointment in Hawaii and frustrations in life and to close that chapter finally is a great feeling.

Now I have no reason to binge and purge because of stress and my inability to cope with the strain of the trial. I should be going to the gym and working on getting tiny...so why am I fatter than I've been in a few weeks? My excuse could be that I wanted to "relax" and "enjoy my victory" or some shit like that, but really I'm just lazy, let's face it. I eat still with the intention of purging, just maybe not as soon as I'd like. And I'm eating far less than an all-out-mega purge: just a bit of cereal and ramen and still under the daily recommended intake (of course). But I still wake up in the middle of the night, disappointed that I ate, stay up for 5 or 6 hours reading and subconsciously fretting about not purging immediately, and then finally around sun up or maybe even after dawn, I'll chug some water and just yack a little bit of something up so I can get a wink (30 mins maybe? If I'm lucky) of sleep and start my day.

This isn't what I'd like. I don't mind staying up, but not because I'm worrying about getting progressively fatter every day. And it's all water weight. At least I can sweat it out and I know exactly how many hours it'll take to do so. The hardest part is always starting to do what you need to do and stopping the shit that you shouldn't have been doing to begin with. But, with Tokyo on the horizon, I really don't have a choice. I refuse to go to that country big, fat, and wretched. Hells no! I'm going to be a tall whisp of a thing and blow everyone's mind who seems me.

Or something like that! ^_^

My Husband is a Fat, Triggering Ass

....and I need to stop talking to that bastard completely. I've been really good with not messaging him at all, actually, and not saying petty or trite shit, but being honest, direct, and to the point...making sure not to stir the (empty) pot so interactions could go quicker and just stick to business. But recently this bastard has really been trying to be chatty and act as if all is forgotten.

Goddamn I hate him for that. All is not forgotten, nor are you forgiven, you narcissistic sociopath. Just because I am trying to be civil with you doesn't mean I don't hope your racist parents don't die a painful, smog-related death of lung or some other obscure cancer perhaps related to tainted dumplings, or that you don't eventually get some non-life threatening disease of the dick and think of me every time it burns when you pee (cos you do pee a lot). Horrible to say? Yes. But this is my corner of the internet and I have the goddamm right to. Why should I be pleasant after how you continue to passive-aggressively try to mind fuck with me? You're fucking lucky I don't say 1/100th of the shit I want to say to you because it would just be such an awful thing to hear and I'm not an awful person unless provoked.

Anyway, that jackass isn't worth all those words I just typed. I was close to achieving something today but failed to because I let that idiot and bitches at work get under my skin and distract me. I not-so-subconciously turned to food to take my mind off thing and have something else to bitch about that I brought on, at least. My fucking back *killed* and I really didn't even eat that much. Grilled salmon salad and ravioli, but very small portions. My killer is always the liquids though (to ensure a smooth upchuck process). I must have had like a liter over the course of 8 hours. See, my binges when they're very shameful are multi-part processes cos I keep going back until I'm so full or so racked by guilt that I have enough motivation to go puke up all those awful emotions. Took me a while today cos I didn't want to fail at yet another target today and sure enough, I did. I don't know what I got out but it wasn't all of what I put in, and it was thick and lumpy, meaning I absorbed all the water and shit anyway. Fabulous.

I've got that damn case to finally finish coming up in two days (well, tomorrow, since it's now 5:30 AM) and my sister's birthday is the same time. I've been thinking about it off and on for the last week, reminding myself to get her something and then *whoosh* its already almost too late. Preoccupied with starving and trying not to flip out at work, quit, and take the next plane anywhere. What a goddamm mess.

Well, you know I hate complaining, even though I admittedly do it way too much, so I'm going to end it at that. My keyboard sucks, by the way - the 's' key and some others are just lazy as fuck and on their own working schedule, so excuse any errors. I don't care enough to go back at the moment and do a thorough once-over and editing check. *kanye shrug* Who know who actually reads this drivel anyway?

Still Here, Never Stopped.

I have the link to this blog right on my bookmarks bar...I look at it every fracken day and chide myself for not taking just a moment to say something, anything, and not let this corner of the internet collect e-cobwebs. Since nobody says anything on Twatter or in the comments section, I honestly didn't think anyone even ever came on here anymore and just let it fall into disuse. I was genuinely surprised to see activity behind-the-scenes this month - new year's gumption making people consider my crazy tactics worth reading? Hah hah, let me stop flattering myself...

Anywho, I had my phone held hostage from new year's day after work until 4 days later when I had already bought the upgraded model. Some bitch held on to it and took her sweet time turning it in to someone else to get back to me - can you believe that? I can! People are ridiculous. I only bring it up again because I had a few random pictures from 2011 when I was at what I think (if I remember correctly) was my LW and I finally posted them to compare with now. I guess I'm about the same, but in my mind I was near death! Crazy what the body adapts to, hm? And it just further confirms the statement that memory is subjective and not to be trusted :-| I'm going to transfer all the pics and sell my old phone. I had considered using it as an over-sized mp3 player for the steam room, but I'd rather get the cash. *kanye shrug*

What else? I attempted one of my "epic binges" after abstaining from forcing myself to vomit pounds of liquid and unwanted food for an entire week - what...a...letdown! I didn't get much in (about an "average" meal) and knew I should have just kept starving. But it was more of a symbolic kind of purging anyway - I had to be sure that the highs I would get from eating were gone and that my restricting had replaced those endorphin releasing habits in my life. Happy to say it has! My swollen face and irritated scale are also overjoyed and I have no intention of over-eating as long as I have my wits about me. Do you know how exhausting it is to throw up all the time? Always cold then sleepy and hungry minutes after. Ugh! If I just stay empty, my body finally gets tired of grumbling and starts to eat itself or whatever it does.

Well, I'm going to check in on my days off, at the very least. Between this, Twatter, and tumblr, I think I'm more than preoccupied to avoid eating and to keep losing weight. Once I get down to 100 I swear I can drink and eat and do all that "normal" shit again. I said it before and I mean it (more or less): I'm trying to live happier and not die miserably. I pity any fool that dares get in my way....