7 01 2013

Here it is, another new year and I’m still fighting this beast. For most of 2012, I was ok. Not great, but ok. Sure, I dropped to my lowest weight in almost 6 years, but I felt good. Then I got deathly depressed and fought suicidal ideation and tendencies for several months. Along the way, I gained about 60 pounds.

I cannot even begin to describe how difficult that is for me. I have this “I don’t care” facade up because I don’t know what to do or think about it. If I pretend it isn’t so, then I don’t have to worry about the freak-out, brain-crazies that loom just around the corner. If I ignore my current weight, then I won’t (hopefully) fall into the sneaky-death spiral.

I’ve gotta say, though, my current weight is sapping me of my life. I don’t want to be seen in public, I don’t want anyone to touch me for any reason and I’m 10 times more anti-social than I usually am. I dress like a blob, look like a blob and feel like a blob. Blah blah blah, people can say I’m still pretty and that my weight doesn’t matter, but it matters to me. I can’t do anything without thinking of how fat I’ve gotten and now that I’m officially in the “obese” BMI zone, I feel as if I’m not allowed to have ED thoughts for any reason. Like I’m too fat to be struggling with it.

So I keep eating, try not to purge, do a bit of exercise every day and try to hold depression at bay. It’s not easy, and I can’t help but remember how easy it was the first time I started dropping weight. I could honestly care less about what the number is; I just don’t want to feel the way I do. Between coming off my ADHD medication and starting a merry-go-round of various anti-depressants, I don’t know that my weight will ever stabilize.

I feel like my body is a burning building and I’m trapped in it. I want so badly to jump, on so many levels, but I’m scared to death of the incapacitating anxiety and compulsion that awaits me on the ground.

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