I just get so peeved with my male therapist sometimes. I’m in a major fight/rut with my other therapist right now, but that’s another story.
EDIT: I am not rich. Insurance covers for both.
I finally begin to think I can trust him…and then he tells me that I’m skinnier than this one girl and I just think “Hell no”.
And it’s true! I won’t say who (not all of you would know, but I don’t want to risk offense anyway), but it’s practically a fact (Google that shit!) that I’m not thinner than said girl. It’s not even my distortion…her proportions are much tinier, and while he admits that she is too thin, he still thinks she’s about five to ten pounds ahead of me.
Lalalala, I can’t hear you.
Dunno if these are ED distortions, or if my therapist is lying, trying to make me feel better. And trust me, this would be a first. He was the one who called me a bitch, remember?
“It’s the oldest story in the world. One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life.”—Nathan Scott (via thefreenomad)
A girl’s frozen yogurt cost a small fortune and her mom called her a fat ass and the girl started crying; she was about 9. When the mom went to the bathroom I told the girl that her eyes were pretty and that she was beautiful.
I’d apologize, but I guess it is my blog. I warned in my “About Me” that I’m not purely a recovery blog. Hah
I’ve been thinking about it all day. I mean, I forgot about it for a while, but the thought cycle is back:
What am I if I am not an anorexic (anorectic?)
I’m Mckenna. That much is obvious. But what else is there? I don’t know anymore. I don’t find things as exciting or interesting as I used to. Sure, I like reading and I love being in musicals, but I don’t get the same thrill I used to get. I know a symptom of an eating disorder victim is “lack of interest” because of the decay of brain muscle.
However, I am always convinced that I never got that bad. Every “victim” has this thought, I know. But the thing is, I’ve been around women with a BMI of 9, so it’s only natural for me to feel…like a bit of a loser. Like, I couldn’t be good at this one thing? I wasn’t even good at starving myself?
For example, an underweight little girl told me the other day that she weighed 89 lbs at a height of 4’10. Okay, so I weighed two more pounds at a height of 5’6 1/4.
My rational mind says, “Hey, shouldn’t this mean something? She’s small, so you must have been a skeleton at that weight!”. And I still disagree.
So, what am I? Does anyone else struggle with this kind of thinking?
I’ve been single for my first sixteen years. How can I expect this year to be any different? Sure, it might be nice, but then again, I’d probably have to hide this huge chunk of my life (eating disorder, self harm, depression) and what good would that do, really? If I even bother telling the truth, people either don’t understand, respond with ignorance, or look at me like I belong in a mental hospital.
There´s only black and white. There´s no inbetween. I´m completely in control or I´m totally out of control. I´m the happiest person in the whole wide world or I want to die right away. I do everything right or I do everything wrong. I eat nothing or I can´t stop eating. I wish I could find something that´s in the middle.
Actually, that was posted a bit ago. The most recent news is that I’m not going to treatment at the time. I was faced with the decision to either be sent away to Baltimore tomorrow…or to consent to gain some weight back at home. I took the latter option. There is always the threat of treatment if I slip back again, but for now…I’m safe. *Hallelujah*