2002-10-10, 5:05 p.m.
Okay, fuck it. And fuck whoever told but I have a lot to update with and I'm going to do it, damnit.
This morning I woke up at my ultimate, most defiente lowest ever of 95.5. I have been semi fasting the past 3 days. Tuesday I had 3 sticks of celery, Wednesday 3 sticks of celery, 2 apples, and some grapes. Today I have had 2 apples and some grapes. Fasting does wonders, but I can't do it anymore. Tonight I feast....then puke. I just need to wait for my dad to get home and get some money (I spent my last 3 bucks on parking) to get some binge food, and feast on the rest in my house. I'm about ready to exploade and feel like I can't want another moment to chow down, but I am trying to contain myself. I plan to buy a bag of chips and doughtnuts if money allows but I may just buy the doughnuts. I have a hankering for sweets.
Today was a nice day. I woke up feeling okay when I learned of my weight, drove a very nice scenic route to my therapist office, and drove the nice scenic route back. The meeting with Julio was nice too. I got there early because I left way early in case I got lost (I got lost last time at this location) and felt relaxed chatting with a guy he works with who is SUCH a nice guy. Then I sat down with Julio, explained all the stupid stuff with the school psychologist, and explained to him how I wasn't doing well. We chatted a bit about my theory of my mom and I being just as bad (him not completely agreeing and calling it on me that I was trying to solve things with a simple answer - black and white) my reasons for being self destructive, how I was scared, feeling empty, my day of non stop crying. The one thing that seems to stick in my mind the most is when I was telling him everytihng seems to boil down to be useless and empty, and that's the most hurtful feeling ever. And how he was saying I need to decide to try to get better then look for that purpose in life instead of looking for the purpose then getting better. I asked him his purpose - what he finds joy in. He got tears in his eyes describing the joys in his life - his wife, his sons, his friendships(with the guy i was talking to before seeing him..the nice guy) and God I was about ready to bawl. I managed to say more to my hands then to him "but what if you don't have those things..." i wanted to sob. i don't have anything. i want joy. but i can't think of anything that makes me happy. He said I needed to build my life, strive for mental health, and i will get those things.
We talked a bit about bulimia and what it's doing to me and my reasons and how the other doctor scares me with hospital threats. We talked for a long, long time. 30 min over the limit. It was nice. We doodled on the same sheet while talking which was nice, too. I felt very relaxed, and comfortable but knew the fears and hopelessness of life would flood me as soon as I left. But...that hasn't happened yet. Only because i'm seeing him Tuesday again, I think is why I feel remotely okay.
i want to get better, get that joy, and find purpose. I'm going to some kind of ana/mia recovery type thing this saturday night. i found a local group. well, a friend found it for me. I'm going to check it out, though everything in me is telling me not to go. I am trying to focus and remember my motivation is that though it doesn't feel like it's possible right now, afterwards i may find purpose, joy. I just need to keep Julio's face in mind...tear filled eyes...
and know there has to be something better than this.