Pardon Me While I Whine

I came thisclose to starting a whole other private blog so that I could whine like a little girl without anyone having to witness it. I never really feel entitled to whine, considering the fact that I have working arms and legs, live in an apartment that doesn't have cockroaches also living in it (mostly), and have a generally sweet, fantastic little life. My parents are awesome. Every blood relation of mine is awesome.

You know how your best friend always hates your boyfriend because all they hear about is the time that he *insert terrible thing that he did here*? That's how I feel about this blog. Y'all only hear the bad stuff. I hardly ever say a word about those weeks at a time where I am just so thankful to be alive. So uhh...let me just say, those weeks/months happen. That is where I'm at the majority of the time.

BUT UNFORTUNATELY THIS IS NOT ONE OF THOSE WEEKS AND SO YOU'RE JUST GOING TO HAVE TO SIT THERE AND LISTEN TO ME COMPLAIN AND TRY MY BEST NOT TO RESORT TO USING ALL CAPS THROUGHOUT THIS ENTIRE POST.

I feel badly. I feel down and out. There are some days where no matter often I remind myself that I'm just out-of-this-world lucky to have all that I have, I still can't stop thinking about:

1.) I am listing them for your convenience.
2.) And also explaining why they bother me for my own convenience.
3.) Okay I'll really start listing them now.
4.) The fact that I have no money, and will not have any money for a long time. Which is all my fault. I fell prey to an infomercial. And didn't cancel my gym membership correctly so I owe $110 in unpaid fees. Due tomorrow. And I was late paying my rent, so that adds another $50. And I know what you're thinking...no, Anytime Fitness will not take my first born child as a form of payment. I asked.
5.) I got bad grades on two of my tests. Which means that I failed to prove to my parents that I am a genius, which is preeeeetty much all that I have to offer them at this point, and I failed to prove to myself that I'm a genius as well. I feel like I am failing in all areas of life right now.
6.) Did I mention that I don't have any money?

Number 7 gets some space because it's a Giganatasaurus Rex paragraph and I don't want to overwhelm you visually.

7.) My ongoing battle with my eating disorder is always at the front of my mind. I feel like a failure there, too. I am nowhere near as bad as I was. Even my worst slip-ups now look nothing like my worst slip-ups then. But I have always been the type of person who can't see the forest for the trees. I still struggle. But you know what's the worst part? The worst part is that it's not the struggles that bother me. I eat healthily a good solid 70% of the time. I don't starve. I rarely binge. I don't throw up. What really bothers me is that I am still over weight. I wish I could delete that and pretend like it was something else, but that's what it is. That's what all of this is. Because it reaffirms what I've been so afraid of. That even though I have for the most part gotten my shit together, it won't make me smaller. I won't suddenly look like a pile of bones, or even a normal person, for that matter. I have achieved the very thing that I thought I'd never achieve...I've become normal about my eating. But it's still not enough. I am still over weight.

I feel like I kept pushing up that mountain and fighting and fighting to get over this eating disorder with everything that I had. I am a normal human being now, and becoming more normal every day. And I worked so hard for that because I had this magical image in my mind of how it happened for my mom. The second she threw her hands up in the air and gave up for good on her eating disorder she became skinny and normal and natural and perfectly in balance. I thought that that was all that I had to do, was to find a way to truly surrender the control of my darling little Ana and her friends Binge and Purge, and that glitter would rain down from Heaven and I'd be set free, with a shiny new body and a sound mind.

But nah. All I have is the sound mind.

So I feel trapped. The only way to lose this weight is to diet. If I diet, I die. I will spiral back down into hell and it will be years before I make my way out again, if I do at all. But if I stay here, the best case scenario would be that I stay over weight. The worst would be that I just gain weight steadily until I fuse with my couch and they have to tear down a wall of my house and remove me from my living room with a fork lift meant for barrels of hay.

Oh my god.

DO YOU SEE MY DILEMMA.




I have just realized that I quit counting.


But damn. I put all of my effort into this recovery. I have come so far. In fact, I'm almost done. And I am still over weight. I do not have a shiny new body. I have one that is bigger than it ever has been before. And it's looking like it's going to stay that way. I want to cry. Actually I did cry. A tear fell out of my eyeball and it surprised me so much that it made me stop crying. And it made me realize that I know approximately zero ways to cope with pain that aren't 800% dysfunctional. Let's take a gander at my life history of problem solving. Age 7-22: Restricting/Bingeing/Purging. Age 12-21: Cutting. Age 14-20: Smoking. Age 15-22: Drinking. So I've basically covered all of my wildly dysfunctional bases here. What do you normal folk do when under duress? Ride horses? Play fucking golf? I don't even know. I don't get it.

All I know is that I want to check out of life for awhile, to deal with the loss of my biggest hope. And the loss of all of my money. And the loss of all of my coping mechanisms. Now I just get to sit here. I've got nothing to do to make it feel better. Some therapist of mine said that this was healthy, that you're supposed to be able to just "sit and feel an emotion". Is that seriously how this works? I am really supposed to just sit here and feel like pond scum? This is when I would normally eat ice cream to make my serotonin shoot up through the roof. Or this is when I would normally smoke a cigarette or drink a fifth or cut a little (a lot) bit to make this weird, intangible emotional pain turn in to something that I know how to handle. Like a hangover.

See, I told you. Big ol' whine fest. Now excuse me while I go put my face through a window.