Help spread the joy of christmas

Taking a break from ED related news (Because, honestly, I'm feeling VERY recovered. I've had my ups and downs, but I feel this will be an 'up' for a loooong time.) To ask you for a favor. I'm trying to raise money so the foster kids in my city will get gifts under the tree this year.

here's the link!

http://www.indiegogo.com/Paper-Angels?a=238583&i=wdgi

story time!

something that happened to me at the hospital, but I wrote it through the director's, Monica's, point of view.

And yes, I did "hear voices" and "see things". But I was in no hurry to get them taken away from me.


 

The doctor was explaining her blood results, but she wasn’t making eye contact, again. She sat folded up in her seat, looking quite intently at…nothing. The doctor stopped talking and she furrowed her brows. Ah, maybe she had been listening after all. We haven’t lost her yet.

“Kristina!” She looked at me, but her eyes kept shifting back to the empty space.

“I’m sorry. What?” She looked confused, and like she was trying to hear someone over loud party music.

“What do you hear right now?” I asked slowly.

She tensed. She denied animatedly about hearing voices or seeing people, but the evidence was there. She glanced back at the empty space once again, and stood up as if she had made a decision. “I only hear you, of course. Look. If there’s something wrong with my blood, give me a pill.” Her face was blank and her voice flat as she said this, and the doctor took notes. Suddenly she tensed and closed her eyes tight as if she were scared of something. She returned to her previous state in a second, though she was grinding her teeth now and her fists were clenched.

“Kristina…what do you hear?” I said, at the same time the doctor said “You don’t need pills, you need food.”

She glanced quickly at the two of us, then suddenly covered her ears and shut her eyes as her breathing became more labored. I stood and stepped toward her as she turned and ran out of the room, kicking and shaking the locked hospital door in the hallway. I reached her in a matter of seconds, as it was right outside the office. She turned again, her thin frame shaking violently as she ran quickly and gracefully out of mine and the other doctors’ reaches down to the other end of the hallway, where there was another locked door.

I held up a hand to the other doctors and walked calmly down the length of the hallway. Kristina spent a minute or so shaking and abusing the door with her hundred pound body as well as she could, then shot back as if she had been attacked. Her hands were over her ears again, before she collapsed down onto her knees and covered her mouth, with her other hand gripping her left arm. It first looked like she was grieving, but I quickly realized she was holding back a scream. She was in pain.

I ran to her as she bent over, tears finally falling down her emotionless face. I slid onto my knees in front of her and grabbed her shoulders. “What hurts?” We wanted her to show emotion, yes, but not physical pain. Even when she was in pain—for we had stuck her with so many needles and she had broken a bone or two because of her early onset osteoporosis—she never showed it. Something was horribly wrong.

“Now is not the time for the silent treatment, Kristina. What hurts?” She uncovered her mouth and gave out a high pitched cry, before opening her eyes wide and gasping. I looked down and saw her clutch her chest. She started falling over to her side, but I caught her and held her steady.

“She’s having a heart attack! Get the ER down here Now!” I took her pulse as her face calmed a little.

“Monica,” She choked out, “I won’t die yet. I’m not thin enough to die.”

I was about to disagree with her when she passed out, and her hand went limp as the ER team came running into the psych ward with their stretcher, for the fifth time that week.

I. Am back.

And I'm confused. I was doing well. Then I stopped taking my meds and I moved out and started drinking and starving and smoking weed of all things, and prostituting again.

So....I'm back to where I was.

I got out of the hospital simply because I'm a good actress. This time. But I find it a lot easier to say that this....disorder....this particular eating disorder, is a lifestyle. I find it much easier to say than I can't stop.

I can't stop this....curse. The starving, the crying at night, the insomnia and purging...I can't stop.


In other words, why is "pro-ana" such a secret society? It's time we came out into the light. I mean, jesus, we're not vampires. I know how to do it. I will be the first person off the bus, the one who takes the bullet.


I'm writing a book. Not this bullshit recovery book that I only had fun writing when I was writing about my disorder. No. I'm going to write, essentially, the pro ana bible.

Quotes. workout routines. diets. book lists. music lists. debates in favor of pro ana. prayers. letters. thinspiration. Interviews. Conversations. Tweets. movies. straight up rants. The whole. deal. oh, and there WILL be numbers. And there WILL be hell to pay, that I will catch.


Because I am not ill. I'm in control. It's extremely easy to starve, to not eat a single calorie for 12 days. To swallow your pride and cry until daddy lets you squeeze that thirteenth day in because he's been out of town and thinks this is a one time thing.


comments? questions? thoughts? .....concerns?

happy anniversary?

So. May first is coming up. Know what that is?

It's my one year recovery anniversary. Yay?

I have mixed feelings about all this. I mean...The first year is the hardest, right? Please let it be so. I've been through hell just to get this far.

My thoughts on my first year:

1st month: Recovery sucks. What am I doing?
2nd month: Relapse. But then recovery again.
3rd month: Eh. Recovery kinda sucks, but I'll deal.
4th month: yay, I'm getting good at this!
5th month: Oh, never mind. relapse.
6th month: I'll never purge again!
7th month: I'll never starve again!
8th month: uh...never mind. Just this once.
9th month: Still gotta work on binge eating.
10th month: Holy c*** how can people live with eating disorders!?
11th month: I want to save the world!
12th month: Wow. A year already?

Hi! (again)

Alright. I know I haven't been on much, but I've been busy. Sue me.

I return to post a happy post for dylphe. If you haven't read her blog, you TOTALLY should. She's an awesome person.

Good posts start with good news: I am totally recovered! I say that, because I haven't relapsed in like 4-6 months. I went without weighing myself for two months, then when I did, I didn't freak out or anything. Are you ready? I weigh 165 pounds. And I'm HAPPY. A year ago, I would have deemed this an impossible scenario. So if you're scared of recovery, or rather, of becoming "fat", know this: After your body recovers from your eating disorder, you will feel uncomfortable and will probably relapse a couple times. This is okay. Learn from your relapses. And the better part: After your MIND recovers from your eating disorder, your perception of "fat" and "thin" Will change. You will learn to love your body and thus, your life.

If you have any questions about recovery, leave a comment. Or email me at curlytop36@hotmail.com. Be sure to put something like "recovery" in your subject, so it doesn't go to the spam folder.


And happy! What's happier than adorable bunnies? NOTHING. photos courtesy of dailybunny.org

I need your help!

So. You all know about my book. Maybe you do, anyway. Here's what I need. I need questions about recovery. I promise I won't shove recovery down your throat with my answer (at least, I'll try not to) Nor will I criticize or judge you for your condition or question.

This is the letter I've sent to my friends:

You don't have to have an eating disorder to have questions about anorexia, body dysmorphia disorder, bulimia, Binge eating disorder, or recovery from any of the aforementioned.

So Please Ask Me ANY Question you have.

If I have a decent answer, I'll put it in my book.

Sample questions that I've gotten from others:

1. What is Body Dysmorphic disorder?
2. What if you don't have  an eating disorder, but you have the thoughts (i.e anxiety about what you eat) but you don't act on them?
3. What if I stop purging, but don't stop binging?

Sample questions that I will NOT answer:

1. What's a good diet for me, cause I want to lose a whole bunch of weight really fast?
2. Can you give me tips on how to be anorexic?

Questions like these not only give me ulcers, but will be answered with a very angry and strong worded letter.


That said, I know I'm kinda vague on what to ask/not ask. So ask anything. I won't get mad at you, I promise. Just PLEASE ask me a question. ANYTHING helps. Oh, and let me know how you want me to cite you (anonymous, username, real name, etc)

oh my god.

my heart is broken.

You know you're recovered when your heart breaks while reading pro-ana-ish blog posts. Not even the posts. Just the titles. I read the TITLES of blogs of girls who happen to have anorexia/bulimia. And I immediately wanted to start bawling.

need to kill time?

I was reading the lovely Dylphe's blog and found not only horrendous pictures of really fat black women (ouch. politically incorrect, anyone?) but some amusing pictures and HOT chicas.

http://www.looneypalace.com/night-clubs-for-overweight-people-in-california/   <-----overweight dance clubs
disney for adults: http://www.dumage.com/disney-for-adults/?utm_source=avalanchers.com&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=avalanchers

cyborg tattoos: the next best thing to bones:  http://www.dumage.com/cyborg-tattoos/?utm_source=avalanchers.com&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=avalanchers

beautiful girls and photo manipulation: http://www.dumage.com/beautiful-girls-in-photo-manipulations/?utm_source=avalanchers.com&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=avalanchers

young angelina jolie: http://www.expirationchug.com/young-angelina-jolie/



real skinny model: http://www.thefashionspot.com/celebrity-fashion/news/107592-frida-gustavsson-get-her-nyfw-look

twisted disney princesses: http://www.gunaxin.com/twisted-disney-princesses/16011

flexible girls: http://www.dogguie.com/chicas-de-goma/

naughtiest advertisements ever: http://dailyartcocktail.com/collection-of-naughtiest-advertisements-ever/2/#45

banned beauties--look at those ribs!!! : http://englishrussia.com/index.php/2010/09/04/banned-beauties/

thinspo and fake reverse thinspo all in one: http://www.dumage.com/beware-of-photoshop/

children's beauty pageant--some of these are amazing!: http://funzu.com/index.php/crazy-pics/beauty-children-pageants-make-children-look-ugly-05102010.html#564

russian graduation pictures: http://do-while.com/russia-vs-us-who-have-better-graduates-photos/2/

disney princess look alikes: http://www.smashinglists.com/10-hottest-disney-princesses-look-alike-models/

hey, everyone.

sorry for the absence. I'm doing JaNoWriMo this year, so I'm really busy writing.

I only really came back because Dylphe said she misses me.

I miss you guys too! And I'm working on a book on recovering from your eating disorder. Here's the first chapter:

About This Book

I started this book partly in the hopes that I would convince myself to fight through the recovery process. I also wrote it for all those girls and boys with eating disorders, along with their concerned friends, parents, teachers, what have you.

I will advise you, if you are suffering from an eating disorder and not sure about recovery, to completely skip the next chapter, which is my story. You’re not missing much, but it is there for the purpose of allowing everyone to see that I’ve been there. I’ve been through the sleepless nights and frightful days. I’ve spent way too much time worrying about whether or not my heart was going to give out, and even more time over how many calories were in a cigarette.

I’ve been to that Eternal Cold, where every staircase was a mountain and I couldn’t look down or else I’d faint again. I had battled with the doctors over and over about whether or not I was dying. But the doctors always won. I was, indeed, dying. I had been sucked into this awful, horrid disease thinking that I wouldn’t lose control; I could only gain it. But I’ll tell you one fact that took me six years to realize.

There is NO control in Anorexia or Bulimia.

There is no happiness at a low number on the scale. No number will ever be good enough. To me, the scale always read “FAT.5”. I was always, always too much and never enough. I was making myself disappear and screaming to be heard and seen.

Yes. To other people, I was thin. But I was not strong. Yes. To other people I was extremely intelligent. But I was not smart. To others I was stubborn and beautiful and precise and a leader. But I was also a lost young woman trapped in a child’s body. I was out of control. I was sick. My beauty showed when I smiled, although smiles were rare and my mouth was deteriorating. And I was not happy.

I was not everything I thought I could be. I was the complete opposite. I was trapped behind a foggy glass wall, where only few could see my true pain and none could help me heal it. I was screaming for girls on “Pro-Ana” websites to turn around and never look back. Because they were looking for a place that I could never escape.

And it all started with one small, harmless, out-of-the-way word.

DIET.

“Diet” used to be a harmless word, anyway. It used to mean what you eat every day. For example: Fred’s diet includes many meats and few vegetables. Anne’s diet is strictly vegetarian. It did not mean “things you don’t eat in order to lose weight.” Diets, in this context, DON’T WORK. You’ll learn why in a later chapter.

2011: A year of riches, smarts, looks, and books. (hopefully)

Everyone seems to have resolutions this year, so why not me?

1. get down to 120 pounds. no more, no less.
2. read at least 24 books.
3. make lots of money
4. publish 2 to 3 more books.
5. get on the ellen show.
6. move out an prosper on my own.
7. get a 3.7 gpa in school

a post from february 18, 2010

"6 AM: Mother wakes me up, slams the door.
6 10: I am in my closet, close to tears because I know I've gained, I just know it.
6 15: My clothes are picked. A pretty shirt that used to be a bit loose, jeans that are usually quite loose, and a paper-thin see through jacket that will just barely cover up the scars from last night.
6 20: After standing at my door, hand on the knob, I brave the bathroom and its ominous billboard sized mirror.
6 22: I brave the mirror, last night's clothes are off. My right hand passes over my left arm, starting at a long-healed scar on the wrist, past a few shallow recently healed ones further up. Over the one I made in the crook of my elbow, and gently over the ten leading up my shoulder. Those aren't near healed. My hand goes closer to my neck--the skin is more fragile here and tears easily. That's why the scars are 'softer'. They're only deeper and haven't healed completely. My hand goes down from my neck to my chest, over the cross shaped scar that passes over my heart.
6 25: I look at my body. Fat. Blobby. Jiggles. Disgusting. Failure.
6 26: I weigh myself. Up two pounds. Damn.
6 28: My clothes aren't loose. I have to unbutton my jeans to get them on. My shirt rides up.
6 30: Today is a makeup day. I straighten my short hair and put on some lipstick and a good necklace. Anything to take the attention away from my stomach.
6 35: I stay in my room and read.
7 15: I go to my closet, take out two cigarettes from my stash, and put them in my bag. I go downstairs and run in to my dad. "Have a good day" he says. I doubt it. I leave the house, and light up once I'm out of eye sight.
12:00: Flash forward to lunch. I skipped breakfast, and class was boring. No one at my table is eating yet. They wait for the lines to get smaller. I nibble on a piece of pear and talk a lot. I smash my apples into a kid's forehead next to me, because he touched my phone. A food fight ensues.
Class: English. My crush. My scars. Oh dear.
Home: I go to the computer. After a while I get up again, go up to my room to grab a cigarette, and smoke it outside. I go down to the dollar store, buy some ice cream. The whole time I'm saying, "this is a bad idea"
5:00: I eat the ice cream, poor some habanero sauce into last night's pasta and eat that too.
5:15: Purge. purge. purge.
5:45: done purging. Sister comes home. I get back on computer."

So.

14 followers, I might as well post, right?

This is what I'm thinking. I'm fat. I'm now, officially, 158 pounds. How did I allow it to get this bad? I'm not going to b/p. Thanks to dylphe for her inspiring message (and potent use of the word 'bitch'.)

I'm going to slyly cut down on what I eat. And if my parents give me grief about it? Well. What can they do?

It's so liberating for my eating disorder to not be a secret anymore. They know. so what? What are they going to do about it? Take away my phone? computer? Stop paying for college? kick me out? Anything for thin. I don't care.

Even if they throw me back into the hospital, I don't care. Although I need to lose at least 30 pounds before I go there. I clocked in at 115 when I left last time.

follow up

Alright, then. I survived. And I'm still fat. But instead of working so hard at recovery only to resort to mia later, I'm gonna go slightly ana so I feel a bit more control. I'm going to ease myself out of this disorder instead of trying to go cold turkey.

damn barrett's esophagus though...I hate it.

and thank you all for your kind comments. Dylphe, I love you. but nothing could have prevented it.

and portraying taylor, I totally understand.

so close to recovery

sloppy joes tonight. empty house. to purge, or not to purge?

fuck it.

Heart, I'm sorry in advance.

turning dreams into goals

So. remember that dream future I posted before? I'm going to work at making that dream a reality.


In the future, I will look good in anything I wear. How? Confidence. I will love my body no matter what size it is.

My best outfit will be a purple blazer and black pants, about um....let's say $250 for a real fancy one?

and I can get away with wearing hand painted shoes that don't match. This one's easy. just plain old shoes and some paint. :)

I will know portion control and I will not purge or deny myself anything. these portion pals actually look interesting. I might try them out.

I will not smoke, hmm....well, for 30 days I will use the indoor treadmill instead of walking outside, so I have less chance of coming across a cigarette I want to smoke. Also, I have no school, so there will be no one I can bum off of.

and my favorite drink will be 0 calorie flavored water. mmm I love the third one here, wildberry splash. Delicious!

I will have a customized jeep. It'll be custom painted with my book art on it.

and at least three published books.

I will own my own practice,

along with the building that holds my offices.

I will use art therapy and learn a lot about my patients. because art therapy really helped me in the hospital.

I will be able to relate to my patients,

and I will make a big difference in the world.

I'll have a big house by the beach. Yeah, this is a hotel. I'm gonna buy a hotel and turn it into a house.

and a dog that doesn't shed.

I will only drink alcohol socially.

At the end of every year I will hold a banquet in my ballroom for my office staff and the group therapy patients.

I will come home at 6PM and work out for half an hour to an hour ONLY.

Oh, and money. I'll be a registered dietitian as well as a licensed therapist

And once a week I'll go to the beach and just...think, you know? Think about how far I've come and how proud I am of myself.

oh, yeah.

forgot to tell you: I'm leaving for ruidoso, so I'll probably be back monday-ish.

A happy post for dylphe.

Because she's so stressed out and needs some good news.

Things are finally starting to look up. I'm glad I'm in college, because the eight hours a day at high school would not have been good for me. Now I have time to work out at my own pace and meditate. My mother took me out to mcdonald's yesterday, but I'm glad I saved calories for dinner because I was still under my daily intake. *trying* to work out using various wheeled objects helped too. I fell on my ass so much I decided walking is just fine for me.

I'm at school right now waiting for the dean to approve my form so I can skip the last remedial english class and go straight into something that will count towards my degree.

And good news! I managed to get my schedule so I have an AA instead of an AS. That means easier math and science for me! And I don't have to face pre cal EVER again.

yesterday I was feeling hungry. like actual hunger, but instead of binging like I normally would, I had a tomato and my hunger was sated. I'm so proud of myself. :)

The bittersweet news is I got my period. It's good because it explains the cramps and shit I was feeling yesterday, but bad because there's no such thing as a happy period. screw the always ads.

mmm I don't think there's anything else. But I'll check in again if there is.

confessions of a reformed bulimic

So many posts ago I posted a rough story of my past, of how I got here. This is where I am now.
When I got out the hospital, I had an heart complications, low potassium, and barrett's esophagus. After I was well again and in recovery, I relapsed. My very first purge my body went into freak out mode. My heart immediately started going irregular and I couldn't stop shaking. And now I'm scared to death of being sick because my body can't tell the difference between a purge and being unintentionally sick.

The next time I throw up, I could die.

It kinda scares me. Only because I'm no longer suicidal and I've actually made some friends here and in real life that might care if I die.

Oh, and by the way, read Dylphe's blog. It's awesome and she's a really good friend.

Reply to comments

dearest dylphe: Awwh, you're so sweet! It's nice to know someone cares about my safety.

dear anonymous: There are copays in america. my therapy, which would be 165 an hour, is actually about 20 dollars with a copay. That, along with my insurance matching what I pay once I meet a certain amount spent. For the last seven sessions, I have had to pay nothing for my therapy.

dreams of the future and dear blanks.

So lately, every night before I go to bed I imagine what the perfect future for me would be. It makes me smile. So when I have a bad day or pms or bdd, I just imagine the perfect future and everything seems a bit better.

So here it is.

In the future, I will look good in anything I wear. Even if I look like that fat chick from drop dead gorgeous, I will rock that look. My best outfit will be a purple blazer and black pants, and I can get away with wearing hand painted shoes that don't match. I will know portion control and I will not purge or deny myself anything. I will not smoke, and my favorite drink will be 0 calorie flavored water.
I will have a customized jeep and at least three published books. I will own my own practice, along with the building that holds my offices. I will use art therapy and learn a lot about my patients.
I will be able to relate to my patients, and I will make a big difference in the world.
I'll have a big house by the beach and a dog that doesn't shed. I will only drink alcohol socially. At the end of every year I will hold a banquet in my ballroom for my office staff and the group therapy patients.
I will come home at 6PM and work out for half an hour to an hour ONLY.
Oh, and money. I'll be a registered dietitian as well as a licensed therapist so I'll charge about 200 dollars an hour. working from 8 to 5:30, that's...1600 a day! Take out about 300 to pay my nurses. But still, that's pretty awesome.
And once a week I'll go to the beach and just...think, you know? Think about how far I've come and how proud I am of myself.


What's your dream future?


Oh and dear blanks! A couple of my favorites:

Dear Stanford,

That's OK. I like Community College better anyway... :(

Sincerely, Rejected.

Dear Crazy People,

I'm not going to blow this grocery store up, I just need some salad.

Sincerely, an American Muslim.

Dear World,

Please stop freaking out about 2012. Our calendar ends there because some Spanish d-bags invaded our country and we got a little busy...

Sincerely, the Mayans.

Dear dad,

It's not 'disobedience,' it's 'delayed obedience.'

Sincerely, your lazy daughter.

Dear giant spider on my wall,

Please die. Please die. Please die. Please die. CRAP! Where did you go?

Sincerely, Terrified.

Dear teacher who is erasing the board,

You missed a spot!

Sincerely, your OCD student.