Saturday, February 4, 2017

"I think you're getting worse."

Silly boy, no.
This isn't worse.
This is what it looks like when you take away my ability to binge and purge.
It's not that b/p is a "good" coping mechanism, by any means, but it's a very effective one.

Lovely, caring boy, no, I'm not getting worse.
This is what it looks like to get better.


If you look at my behaviors, things are Better: I've been lifting weights and taking dance class or being in rehearsals five or six days a week since the end of December. I've been eating 1600, 1800, 2000 calories a day, only binging twice a week, maybe, only purging twice in all of 2017 so far, my weight is down consistently to the 133s and 134s and holding steady. I can bench press 85 pounds for four reps. I can deadlift 140 pounds for four reps. Neither of these are particularly impressive, but for only a month's progress, I'll take it.

I WANT that. This is one of the days where I want a strong, healthy body. I want to go rock climbing again, to scale a wall like an action hero, to get my bench press up to body weight, to figure out how to afford a gym and learn to squat properly with a bar. I want to compete in powerlifting, make more dance pieces, perform more, have abs that are functional, not just aesthetic.

I had a job interview yesterday and, if I get it, I'll become (at 24!) the managing director for a dance company that's only three years younger than I am, that has a 100k+ annual budget, that's developing an outreach program and growing its audience annually and maybe starting a school. I'm also currently the managing director for a small theatre company, and I could continue doing that, as well. I'd have power and money--I could juggle managing both (no, really, both are part-time) with performing and making and being a badass. I could save money and take my lovely boy on a vacation and dye my hair regularly and be happy.

Today I want this.
Today I do.
Yesterday, Thursday, Wednesday... I just wanted to be dead.

That roller coaster is taking its toll. A little on me (but frankly I'm used to it), a lot on the boy. So I think I'm coming back here, at least for a bit, because oh fuck do I need a place to spew these thoughts.

So far today I've taken a 90-minute dance class and done about an hour of work for the theatre company. I have another couple hours to do (marketing! video editing!) and am hitting the gym for a running-and-weightlifting session this evening (or afternoon). I bought a pint of vegan ice cream and am going to have some atop a chocolate brownie larabar this evening because food has become scary lately and FUCK THAT.  I'm going to reread Intuitive Eating because things in my brain are loud and ugh.

I feel less lost than I did, but I haven't quite found my way yet. I suppose no one has, really.

Love, always,
--The Dancer

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

So I officially Have An Eating Disorder.

Things got not-so-great this fall, and I finally sought treatment. I got a diagnosis, officially, and started one-on-one therapy. Things felt... possible. I was optimistic and hardcore white-knuckling through Not Binging and Not Purging and have only purged twice in 2017! and then it all fell back down again--I didn't want to recover. I didn't want to spend my entire life white-knuckling through behavior avoidance. I was still spending ALL OF MY TIME thinking about food/my body/hating myself/binging/purging/not wanting to live. I started daydreaming about self-harming again. I still haven't been able to walk over a bridge without having my SO on the phone to keep away the "you could jump" thoughts. The restrictive desires have been STRONG these past couple of days. I started rereading ana regzig then stopped, started rereading Wasted then stopped, started looking up all of your blogs then stopped. Because those are things I did When I Was In It. And now I'm Recovering. See? If you stop the behavior, if you white knuckle through it and berate yourself for even thinking those thoughts, it gets better, right?


Yeah... no.

I had my fifth session today, and broke down crying in my therapist's office. All the things, all the tears and the self hatred and the wanting to rip my skin away and cut my fat off came pouring out. We talked through the emotional outburst, I got a packet about "grounding" techniques, and a schedule of the two Intensive Outpatient Programs they offer. Because apparently I am now Sick Enough to qualify.

I don't know where to turn. It's about 5pm here and I've had 420 calories today (if that... I don't think the three bites of sweet potato, carrot slice, and boy choy I had in a sauce for lunch were actually 100, but better safe than sorry). I binged yesterday, hard, but that finished at 5:30pm and I don't think 420 calories in 24 hours is supposed to be enough, but food is hard. Scary.

I don't think I can afford IOP, either. I'm 24 and still on my parents' insurance, at least until that gets repealed (thanks, Trump), but the copays alone... ffs. I need to ask, I guess. And I need to ask when it would start, how long it runs, all of that. And I need to figure out if I want to do daytime (would need a new dayjob, couldn't take advanced dance classes in the mornings like I have been, but I'd still be able to rehearse and perform) or evening (could keep my current job&continue taking dance classes, but wouldn't be able to take on any new performance projects), or none of the above and just... keep doing this.

It was also recommended that I get an appointment with a psych and talk about anti-depressants. So.

Lots to think about.


Life has changed a lot since I last wrote in June. I don't know if I'll keep this blog a regular occurrence or no--if I do, I'll chat about those other changes soon. If I don't--well, for anyone who finds this in the future, know that the girl who wrote for years about controlling her body and beating into submission is finally open to trying another route.

(Oh, and looking back at those make me laugh, a little. 133.4 yesterday mid-day before the binge, 134.2 this morning. Apparently at one point I did a 4-day liquid fast to get down to this weight. So.

I don't know who's still around, but love to anyone who's reading this.

--The Dancer