It must take some really level-headed strong girls to not fall into the traps of an eating disorder.

What started as an innocent attempt to get in better shape and just be lean and toned[harmless right?] turned into a nightmare. At first I just decided to work out more than I already did, do a little more running a little more yoga, etc., which brought some results. Of course eating healthier meant fewer calories, but once the thought of “well if I just eat a little less, I’ll lose even more” gets in your mind, how do you totally get rid of that and just take things slowly? It felt like a breeze when I first started, the weight was just falling off. But of course when you get to that point most become obsessed with it and continue to seek that gratification. Girls are so young, I’m only going on 18 and I’m worried about things such as my heart rate, not getting my period, never being able to have a child, osteoporosis, etc. . .

Sometimes I receive emails or messages from girls asking me about weight loss tips. Who am I to get frustrated at them? I would have eaten that stuff up when I was in their position.

How do you get the courage and attempt to do something that you already failed at before? That would mean changing my whole frame of mind, my thoughts, and my beliefs.

Therapy would be nice, but not with a therapist or psychologist or psychiatrist. If only I had the heart in me to tell my friends about my ED. People are therapy. People are recovery.

5 January 2008

[wordpress journal entry]

“Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8-color boxes, but what you’re really looking for are the 64-color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I’ve got a few missing. It’s OK though because I’ve got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem though in that I can only meet the 8-color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean, there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation . . . so when I meet someone who’s an 8-color type . . . I’m like, “Hey girl—magenta!” and she’s like, “Oh, you mean purple“. She goes off on her purple thing, and I’m like, “no—I want magenta!”

—John Mayer

2 January 2008

[wordpress journal entry]

hypocrite = the story of my life.

“Be the change you wish to see in the world” - Mahatma Ghandi

That’s what I live by and yet it isn’t. I’ve always involved myself in community service, volunteering at soup kitchens, and my life’s dream has been to join the Peace Corps. But all I can think of are my superficial problems that I constantly worry about. Even though I know there are more important problems to keep myself occupied with. Is your weight as horrible as the man begging for food at the corner by the grocery store who doesn’t even have the luxury to worry about such petty things? Talk about vanity at its best.

1 January 2008

Used to be the most joyous time of the year. Now its just a time to deal with whats going on in my life and be 99% consumed over my ED whereas I used to be only 90% consumed. Thinking of school starting again stresses me out for all the wrong reasons, not exams, not lack of studying, but superficial issues that I cannot get out of my head.

There also two important days during the holidays[not just Christmas or New Years] but my uncle and my mother’s birthdays. New Years Eve, everyone is having a great time. The only thing I can think about is, “Whatever is takes don’t eat that cake.”

I read a very interesting article a year ago on the NY Times called “One Spoonful at a Time,” which is about a mother who writes about dealing with her 14 year old daughter that is going through treatment for severe anorexia. Do yourselves a favor and read it. Here is an excerpt that stuck me the most.

“She sat in front of the cake, crying. She put down the fork, said her throat was closing, said that she was a horrible person, that she couldn’t eat it, she just couldn’t. We told her it was not a choice to starve. We told her she could do nothing until she ate — no TV, books, showers, phone, sleep. We told her we would sit at the table all night if we had to.

Still, I was astonished when she lifted the first tiny forkful of cake to her mouth. It took 45 minutes to eat the whole piece. After she’d scraped the last bit into her mouth, she lay her head on the table and sobbed, “That was scary, Mommy!”

At age 4, Kitty went for a pony ride and was seated on an enormous quarter horse. When the horse reared, she just held on. Afterward I asked if she’d been scared. “Not really,” she said. “Can I go again?”

This was the child who was now terrified by a slice of chocolate cake.“

And now I’m the girl who’s afraid of a piece of cake.