Anxiety at its Best

I realized today how very anxious I have been lately, all the time.  Constantly.  I'm so anxious about work and food stuff that I barely sleep.  I'm so anxious that I show signs of OCD traits.  I made three lists at work tonight about things I needed to get done.  Three.  Lists.  And I check them every five seconds, as if something on them were going to change.  I wanted everything to be right.  Everything needed to be perfect.  It was my very first night closing the store by myself, and it felt so unreal, like I wasn't supposed to be there.  I realized every few minutes that it was only me there (besides the last checker and person in charge) and I had to do it by myself.  And I had to do it right.  I couldn't fuck up.  This was my chance, my chance to have someone be proud of me.  For someone to pat me on the back and say, "Wow, what a great job you did closing for the very first time."  And I've been replaying everything I've done all night to see if I'd made any errors.  And I have.  I couldn't find the Coinstar total on the spreadsheet in the computer.  I swear, everything was different from when I last saw it.  They changed it.  Am I going crazy?  I have been feeling very slightly manic lately, but that's probably because I haven't been regularly taking my meds seeing as I'm running low and won't get any more until Thursday.  And then I think of all the things I have to talk with her about, and I have only 20 minutes.  All these days go by so slow, because they are filled with so much anxiety and thoughts and little sleep or food and obsessions with things and mad stuff.  I'm mad.  Crazy.  Something must be wrong with me.  I've been smoking a pack-and-a-half to two packs of cigarettes a day.  It feels like forever since my last therapy session, but it's only been a week.  I'm not happy to go back there either.  She'll think I'm crazy.  Everyone will think I'm fucking nuts.  People at work probably think I'm fucking nuts.  I think I'm fucking nuts.  But I think that makes me not crazy because I'm pretty sure they say when you go crazy, you won't know.  Or something.  Or maybe that's something I made up to make myself feel better.  I don't even know anymore.  I just wish I could sleep normally and be normal and do normal things with normal people.  But I don't really believe in normal anyway.  I think anyone who is "normal" is fake.  They're full of shit.  They probably have more problems than the rest of us, really, if you think about it.  Because they're probably so concerned with being normal, they probably have some kind of personality disorder where they just live by what everyone else says and does.

I hate having a mental illness.

STOP THINKING ABOUT FOOD FOR A SEC, KAY?

Well, well, well.  Today was SUCH a productive day, in the most sarcastic way possible.  Yes, today I woke up at 9:30 which is my weigh-in time (don't ask why it's not earlier - I dunno).  I lost the pound back that I'd gained so I was pleased because I'm actually getting somewhere.  Unlike most of you (probably, I don't know how much you all weigh), I'm not underweight.  No, in fact, I'm 8lbs away from being underweight.  Now, my goal is not to necessarily become underweight. It is to be able to look in the mirror and not feel horrible and fat and PREGNANT like that stupid bitch said.  Anyway, I still look icky, so I shall continue to try and lose weight.  BUT today I decided I would eat more than usual.  So I binged on safe foods.  That's right, 'cause I'm a freak.  Four-hundred and forty calories worth of safe food.  That is a lot.  For me anyway.  But the funny thing is, I don't feel nauseous.  Nope.  Ever since I smoked weed the other night, I haven't felt nausea.  Well, I did a little yesterday, but not nearly as bad as I have been.  It must be true that pot has medical purposes.  Maybe I should be a pot head.  Hah, nah.

Anyway.  I had off from work today, although I did get asked to come in and close the store.  Jen texted me and woke me up actually (because I went back to bed after weigh-in for like, three more hours).  I had to say no because my mom would have to pick me up at 11:15 and she already has to do that tomorrow, plus we had things to do (laundry) tonight.

So at the laundromat, the only exciting thing that happened (I don't suppose anything exciting really ever happens at a laundromat...) was that I got to feed someone's baby a bottle while they did their laundry. Awwww, it was so cute.

I'm kind of pissed that I binged at night.  I mean, in bulimic/BE terms, it was no binge. But in anorexic terms, I suppose it would be considered what they call an "anorectic binge."  I had 2.5 servings of Light Pringles.  Which was 160 calories.  I also had a massive amount of ice pops throughout the day (totaling 88 calories, which is really only two servings of ice pops since one serving is 3 ice pops and 44 calories), a popsicle (24), two servings of fruit snacks (152), three servings of dill gherkins (9 pickles, one serving is 3 pickles, total - 12), and lastly, sugar-free jello (4, for one gram of protein that God knows where it comes from).  Maybe it wasn't even an anorectic binge.  Maybe it was an Amy binge.
 I did not have these things in said order.  On MFP I crammed everything I ate after dinner into the dinner section, so it looks like I pigged out.  I didn't want to add it to snacks because it would add it all up for all the snacks I've had during the entire day and that would make me look bad.  I wish they just showed the snacks in between the meals.  Then I wouldn't feel so fat.

So I'm really upset because I keep hearing these stray cats crying outside my window.  They move around between mine and my neighbors' yards.  I don't think they have an owner.  It's a momma cat and four kittens.  And I just want to grab a freaking can of tuna and bring it out there so bad.  My mom doesn't want me to because then they won't go away, but like, seriously, you'd rather have the poor kitties die than be hanging around the backyard (that isn't even ours)?! This is coming from a woman who told my father to kill my cat when I was little... and she got her wish.  But let's not go there.  I hate when people are so insensitive, especially when it comes to another living being's life.

Anyway, the days are going by so slow because I'm so hyperfocused on everything I'm eating.  And I hate that.  Just STOP THINKING ABOUT FOOD FOR A SEC, KAY?  That's what I scream in my head.  And how much I weigh.  And when can I eat and how much and how long will it take for me to be x lbs.  My friend was telling me about Ensure Clear today.  Apparently it's fat free!  It's got 180 calories though.  I don't like drinks with a lot of calories in them.  Because it's so effortless (at least more effortless than eating) and it's like, wow, I took five sips and just took in like 200 calories.  Blech.

Oh! I wrote a song at like, 3 in the morning! It's about EDs, namely AN but can be applied to all EDs I suppose.  I also did a recording of it but I don't want to post it because my voice sucks.  I posted it on WE in the Creativity section, but pretty much no one goes there so I shall post it here:

Under Her Doubt

(Verse 1)
Once, there was a girl
Who saw herself in her reflection
Smiles and rosy cheeks
Happiness was her intention
But once, she looked closer
Staring at her imperfections
Then, she would change
And live up to her expectations

(Chorus)
Sunken eyes
The palest skin
Every day she tries
But she can't win
Longing for her craved perfection
Can't she see in her reflection
That she's beautiful
Under her doubt

(Verse 2)
Broken, like a glass
She wonders if she'll ever get there
Losing, much too fast
Will it ever be enough
For her, it doesn't last
Trying harder every day
The pain from her past
Never seems to go away

(Chorus)

(Bridge)
Broken but so beautiful
She is trapped inside of her skin
Life used to be meaningful
Now it's just a game she can't win

(Outro)
Tired eyes
And looser skin
She said she tried
But she didn't win
All along she had intentions
Of feeding into her perfection
Under her doubt
Under her doubt

The more I look at it, the more I hate it.   But I'm like that with everything.  Tell me what you guys think :)

So that's all for today, folks.  Stay tuned for the next boring post by... me.

Someone Shat in the Baby Aisle

So today was an interesting day.  I gained a fucking pound from those stupid fucking cheesy breadstick pieces of disgusting shit (this is how I make myself feel better about it - I curse out inanimate objects).  Anyway, I was super tired when I woke up to weigh-in, so I went back to bed.  I woke up again around 1 in the afternoon, but I was still super tired and groggy.  This is because, for some reason, I was compelled to smoke weed last night with my little brother.  I only took like, two hits.  But because I'm on Lithium and another psychotropic medication, it fucks with my head and you'd think I was on LSD.

ANYWAY.

I felt like shit so I took the quickest full shower ever and got dressed and just sat there and stared at my wall until I had to go to work.

When I got to work, I didn't even get to clock in yet before my co-worker, Shannon, came up to me to tell me the "funniest story."  And it was funny.  And disgusting.  Apparently last night, someone came in around 10pm and was... well, they were shitting all over the store (and I'm cracking up while I type this. Why? Because I'm completely immature).  So Shannon and I were going on the security camera database trying to find the clip.  Well all we caught was the guy wiping it into the floor with his shoe... *face slap*  Yes, I know, this is completely disgusting and why is she telling us this repulsive information?  Because it's my fucking blog and I'll say whatever the fuck I want, ya dig?!  I'm in a very random mood.  I haven't been taking my meds regularly and I'm sure that before I get refills on Thursday, I'm going to become some type of manic.  Anyway, so he shat all over aisles 13, 12, 9 and 8.  And poor, poor Rick, one of the receiving managers and persons in charge, had to clean it all up.  But I feel so bad for the poor old man, because I'm sure he didn't just intentionally shit all over Acme.  He probably didn't even know he was doing it :(

So work was good.  I let out an occasional laugh just by thinking of the old man shit.  So gross.  But it's such a random not-something-you-see-every-day kind of thing.  That's what made it so funny.

Anyway, I came home and ate some of my Light Pringles.  All I've had before that was ice pops.  After the Pringles I was really full, but decided to eat some sugar-free jello, too.  Now I feel bloated and fat.  I also ate 6 dill gherkins.  Which I shouldn't've because they have a lot of sodium.  Not that I'm drinking enough water anyway.

So I'm really just very giddy right now and I went in the bathroom and looked in the mirror and I was like, ew, look at my eyes, they're so old looking and tired.  So I took a picture:

And I know it's all freaking lob-sided but it won't let me turn it because it's stupid.   And excuse the orange-ish color... the lighting everywhere in my house sucks.  But my eyes look icky and cover-up won't make them look better :(  sadface.  Anyway.  I feel like I'm just making a really long post because I'm bored and I want to talk to someone but no one is here.  Guess I should stop now, huh?

Stuck

If you know me from WE (which most of you do), then likely is you've already seen the post I made about what's going on.  I honestly don't feel like typing it again.  I guess I can copy and paste for anyone who didn't see it:

I am so miserable. I think I have reached the point where I'm actually in a relapse and I can't get out. This time around is totally different than when I've been sick in the past. Two weeks ago I started out just restricting and now I can't even think about food without getting nauseated. I'm not sure if it's extreme anxiety or what, but I feel nauseous constantly and I don't want to think, let alone go near food at all. Every time I think of something I'd like to eat, I feel sick, and then don't eat. I've only been able to eat ice pops, applesauce, sugar-free jello (I am still concerned about calories, despite half not wanting to be in this position), and very rarely something like Light Pringles. I forced myself to eat a small banana today after I left work early because I was weak and my chest hurt. I went to the ER early this morning because of chest pain. Nothing really major is wrong with me - all I have is arrhythmia and my potassium is a bit low (hence the banana). They just gave me an IV and I went home two hours later. I felt stupid for even going there. Anyway, the banana made me feel sick. I haven't slept well in days because I'm up all night from stomach and chest pain. Part of me just wants to eat something, another part says no because I'll get sick, and the another part of me says no because I don't want to gain weight. I don't want to go through this. I fear I'll lose my job because I'll just become physically incapable. I worry about having to end up in a hospital again, which I really don't want to do. I'm so torn. I don't know what I want to happen or what I can do. I just don't want to get sick but I'm really struggling with eating anything substantial. I know it's all psychological and there's probably not a physical reason why it's making me nauseous. I've just never experienced it this way before and I'm really scared.

So tonight, my mom was supposed to cook spaghetti, but of course she got lazy, fed herself something and decided against it.  We ordered pizza.  I was craving cheese but I didn't want pizza.  I got some cheesy breadsticks instead.  And I regret it horribly.  I took someone from WE's advice and tried not to think about being nauseous.  I ate two of them - about three hours ago - and I still feel sick.  And now I'm scared I'll gain weight.  And I'm more upset because for hours before my mom promised spaghetti, I had it in my mind that, that was what I was going to eat.  And on some level I was okay with it.  But then she expected me to order something.  I ate very slowly with a fork and knife and drank a lot of water.  I'd rather be full from the water than from the breadsticks because they are very unhealthy.  Just two of them was 332 calories.  This is why I can't/don't want to eat real food.  I feel so sick.  If I were "healthy" I would've ate the whole 5 pieces and some pizza and drank soda.

I don't want to get really sick.  I don't know what I want.  I'm scared to see my psychiatrist on Thursday because she's gonna freak out at me when I tell her what's going on.  She's very intimidating.  I don't want to end up back in a hospital.  For the moment I'm emotionally comfortable with what I'm doing - definitely not physically.  I don't know how I'm going to explain to my psych the diuretics and laxatives.  This feels so normal to me; why can't I just do this every day?  What is so wrong with it?  Ugh.  I wish I could have a normal relationship with food but I'm just fucked up.  And my therapist doesn't offer much hope for me... "You're going to go through this probably for the rest of your life.  You're just going to keep relapsing."  I'm really not liking her lately.  Like, what the fuck.

I really do want to eat but I really don't.  I do because I don't want to be fucked up physically and I don't want something to happen to me at work and I don't want to lose my job by either passing out or something stupid like that, or having to go inpatient somewhere down the line.  Why can't I do this to myself and be physically healthy?  I'm so tired of everything.

Sixty-four Cents

I didn't lose any weight today.  I didn't take my laxatives or diuretics last night either, and the reason is because I've been having chest pains.  After I got up originally and had a cigarette, I went back to bed.  I didn't wake up until a little after noon and I called one of my best friends on the phone.  We talked for two and a half hours while I ate four ice pops and a cup of sugar-free jello.  I had to get off the phone with her because her battery was dying, so I went back down for a nap.  I couldn't really fall asleep because I was thinking about food.

I got up and went to work.  I felt really tired and weak.  About an hour and a half into my shift, I started to zone out.  I was helping a customer and waiting for her to pay.  I was staring at the coins she was placing on the counter.  She owed me some bills and 64 cents in change.  As I was watching her, everything seemed to get really slow.  A white mass started closing in on my vision and my body felt limp.  Just as I was about to fall over, the lady yelled, "Got it! Sixty-four cents!" and I came back, stupefied (apparently that's how you spell that since Chrome just yelled at me and told me I was wrong for writing 'stupified').  I gained back my composure and proceeded to do my job.  I started thinking of how horrible it would be if I actually passed out at work.
A little later I was having chest pains.  It wasn't very severe so I ignored it.  It was probably anxiety.  I kept getting the feeling in my chest that I get when I'm anxious.  I tried to focus and I was fine for the rest of the night.  I bought some pickles afterwards and I left.


As I was waiting for my mom to pick me up (because I don't have a car yet), I checked my phone and saw that I had a text from my boyfriend that said, 'Either you just broke my heart or someone on Facebook is lying.' I called him and he told me that my ex messaged him on FB and said that he just had sex with me.  Obviously this was some way to start drama.  I told him that he's an asshole and not to respond to him because that's what he wants.  He wants my attention because he's still pissed off that I broke up with him.  I was infuriated though, because not only did this make me upset, but my boyfriend was hurt and confused and angry, and I felt horrible.


I've been thinking about finding a doctor that takes my insurance (no, I don't have a doctor currently) so I can get checked out just to make sure I'm physically OK.  I don't think there's much wrong with me, but it never hurts to get a check up.  And I haven't had one in about 2 years.  I'm sure I'm fine for the most part. The only thing questionable to me is my potassium level.  I've been getting severe charlie horses 3-5 times every night for the last few days.  I keep forgetting to buy bananas.  I'll probably remember tomorrow.

Stupid Therapists and Ice Pops

I've been having trouble sleeping.  It doesn't help that random people I don't know call me at 4 in the morning, just as I'm about to fall asleep finally.  I woke up at 8am and did my usual.  I lost two pounds since yesterday.  Still not that big of a deal.

I went to my appointment and I talked to the nurse there.  She told me she couldn't help me.  Couldn't assess me, nothing.  I just said fine (not in like, a snoody way or anything) and left.  My therapist couldn't see me until about 11:30.  I stayed with my boyfriend in the waiting room and I was so tired, I fell asleep on his arm.

My therapist came to get me and I told her that I've been having trouble eating solid food.  Her response was that it's because of the laxatives and diuretics I'm taking (wow, I don't think so...).  I talked with her about how I never had a healthy relationship with food and it's so hard for me not to either binge or restrict.  We talked about my mom and how she hasn't set a good example as far as eating goes. Then she told me I'm childish and that mad me upset.  We had to end the session early, which was good because she was pissing me off and I just wanted to get out of there.

I came home and took a two-and-a-half hour nap before getting ready quickly for work.  I felt so horrible.  Prior to my nap, I was on the phone with one of my best friends and I was trying to eat a "cheese sandwich" that consisted of one slice of bread, one slice of cheese and a little bit of mustard.  I slowly tried to eat it but I felt sick and didn't finish.  This is why I took a nap.

Work was long, boring and tiresome.  I felt like shit nearly the whole time, and started to feel sick towards the end of my shift.  After I clocked out, I bought two more boxes of ice pops, jello and applesauce (as suggested by the people of WE). When I got home I settled down and decided to have some jello.  After that I felt full and sick but I wanted to try to eat more, so I had an applesauce.  My body and my mind were craving something, but I couldn't tell what it was.  I had another ice pop.  I was feeling more and more uncomfortable.  My mom was sitting there witnessing all this.  I was looking in the cabinets and fridge for something I could eat.  I ended up eating the other half of the soup I ate a few days ago.  I didn't end up eating it all.  I felt too sick.

Although all I've been eating is carbs (kinda) with the ice pops every day, I feel like my body is craving more and more carbs.  I mean, obviously my body is craving some sort of energy that I'm not giving it.  I don't want this to turn into a relapse, and I honestly don't think it is.  But that's mostly because of the fact that I'm still a healthy weight.  I'm not trying to make myself sick, but suddenly I have so much anxiety about food that I'm physically and mentally rejecting it.  I'm not even tempted to eat.  I force myself to eat those ice pops.  And the weirdest thing about this is that it's only been about 2 weeks since this all came about again.  And I'm sort of just letting it happen although part of me really doesn't want that.  I'm so torn and I just feel like giving in and forgetting about everything and just letting any disordered thought that comes to mind take me over and destroy me.  I've been thinking about my "recovery" and it was really all distorted.  I was binging every day and putting on a lot of weight.  I never ate healthily.  Food is either comforting or repulsive to me.  I can't find a  middle ground.  And I hate myself for it.

Another day

So I didn't update yesterday because when I got home from work I felt like shit.  I had a 24-calorie fruit bar and 3 ice pops totaling 44 calories (although on MFP it says 60 for three of them... they're wrong, it doesn't even say that much on the box and I counted).
I went to work and had a really boring night.  About halfway through my shift I felt really tired and I had a headache.  Nothing really interesting happened at work except for two 12-year-old boys terrorizing the place and getting kicked out.  Other than that, just a bunch of customers, some of which annoyed me (I was working at the customer service desk last night).

I got home and decided I should eat something.  I looked in my room through my stash of food I always keep in there and found a can of Progresso Light vegetable soup.  One serving was 60 calories so I decided to give it a try.  I tried to put half the can in a bowl and ended up getting mostly broth and a couple of veggies in there.  My mom sat there and stared so I screamed at her.  I would have eaten in my room but I don't have a table and I didn't want to risk spilling it.

After I ate the soup I felt sick to my stomach.  It was about 9pm so I took my laxatives, water pills and other meds and went to bed.  My head was pounding and I just wanted to sleep it all off.

I woke up around 6:45 this morning to go to the bathroom.  I still had a headache.  I smoked a cigarette and went back to bed.  I woke up again for good around 10 and went to the bathroom, had a cigarette and weighed-in.  I lost a pound.  It wasn't that exciting because a week ago I was a pound lighter than I am now.

Around 11:30, Maria, the supervisor at my old partial who said I looked pregnant, called me.  She had the nurse in her office, too.  Apparently the other staff there told her that I was starving myself because of what she said.  So she gave me the whole talk: you can't do this to yourself, it's not healthy, I said I was sorry, blah blah, eat something, blah blah blah, laxatives and water pills are bad, blah blah blah.  Whatever.  I told her I was fine and she shouldn't worry about me and the only person there who should even be bothering is my therapist.  So she wants me to stop by her office when I go in for my appointment on Wednesday.  I'll go see Johana (the nurse) but I don't know if I really wanna talk to Maria.

So far today I've eaten 3 ice pops and one 24-calorie popsicle.  I feel hungry but I don't feel like I'd be able to eat anything substantial.  I dunno, I just don't feel like opening my mouth and chewing and swallowing actual food.

I have a lot of dishes to get to and then I have to shower and get ready for work at 6:30.  Tonight I'm working with Jen til close.  I'm supposed to be fully trained tonight because one of the CSRs, Sara, is leaving to go to another store and they need an extra person who can close.  I  hope it goes well and that I don't mess anything up.  At least I'll be with Jen.

I have energy, don't I?

Ugh.  Last night I ate stuff that I felt bad about.  I had Chef Boyardee beef raviolis. And a lot of light Pringles.  I totaled 497 calories for the day.  I woke up and gained a pound.  I was mad.  I had a total of 2.75 servings of light Pringles, a pouch of fruit snacks and three ice pops today.  That's 286 calories.  Why am I counting?  Because I'm stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.  At least I'm actually eating.

I saw my friend Jen today at work.  She's the only one there who really knows about my ED.  For the moment though she thinks I'm not restricting.  She knew about it at first but then I called her and told her I ate pizza and she shouldn't worry and she apparently bought it.  She told me today that I look really pale but then I told her I'm on my period so she was like, "Oh, that must be why." And she asked if I ate today, just out of the blue.  I told her yes, which wasn't a lie at all.  I said, "I have energy, don't I?" She agreed and also added that she noticed I'm not shaking.  Awesome.

I keep having dreams about looking in the mirror and seeing an emaciated person who isn't even me. And I just sit there and stare at it.  It's so weird.  I don't want to be emaciated.

I don't know what I want.

Prepare For a Long Update

I have so much to say.  Part of what most of this post is going to be makes me feel ashamed because over the last year I've changed my blog to be more positive, and posting something such as what I am about to post doesn't fit and makes me feel bad.

For starters, I'll make a few points of what has gone on since December (freaking December since I last updated!):
- my older brother, the fucking annoying, arrogant, selfish jackass, is gone.  I called the cops, told him I knew someone with a warrant, BOOM, he got arrested. Jail for 35 days, came back to get his shit, now in a homeless shelter and I don't talk to him at all AND I'M SO GRATEFUL FOR THAT.
- I got a promotion at work.  In case anyone forgot, I work in a grocery store and was working as a cashier.  I am now a CSR (customer service representative), but I still do the register and self-checkout sometimes.
- I've had a boyfriend for almost two months now. His name is Demitri :D
- I still don't have a car, but I'm about halfway there as far as savings go, and I've applied for a second job.
- I graduated from my partial program and am now in individual therapy (in the same building).

Now to the recent stuff.

In short, the supervisor at the partial care program I used to go to told me I look pregnant.  Then she proceeded to "apologize," which was really her saying, "I didn't mean you look fat, but I think you look pregnant so you should see a doctor."
That was last Thursday.  Of course, this went straight to my head.  My starting BMI was 22.  I lost 11lbs in the first three days, then ate pizza the next day, gained 4lbs, fluctuated, ultimately lost 9lbs in a week and one more since yesterday.  My BMI is currently 20.3.  I've started taking laxatives and water pills.  I am not proud of myself.  Not one bit.
I went there yesterday because I had an appointment with my therapist. I actually was there bright and early because I wanted to go on the partial care's picnic they were having.  I spoke to the nurse (who was the one who told the supervisor that was she said to me was totally fucked up, in so many words) and told her what was going on.  She took my vitals.  My blood pressure was a tad high (142/85), my pulse was normal at first but then got 20 beats faster and then went back to what it was.  My blood sugar was fine - it'd only been two days since I'd eaten at that point.  She urged me to drink orange juice before we went to the picnic.  I really didn't want to, but she drank it with my and I ended up drinking about 5 oz of it, only to purge it (which is so unlike me because I've never really been much of a purger).  I went to the picnic and I was fine.  I had to go back to the agency for my appointment.
I told my therapist almost immediately what was going on.  She wasn't happy and she took a lot of deep breaths.  She urged me to go home and eat something healthy right away.  I told her I couldn't do that because by the time I got home I would have to get ready for work right away and then I worked until 10pm and I would not eat that late.  She told me to call my insurance company and get a nutritionist and call her after.  She kept being dramatic like, "you're gonna end up in the hospital or you're gonna die," etc., etc. and it was really annoying me.
My mom forgot to pick me up at 4 and I was freaking out.  I blew up her phone but there was no answer.  I was crying, thinking something had happened to her.  I called work and tried to explain what was going on and that I didn't know when I would make it in.  The third time I was on the phone with the front end manager, my mom beeped in on the other line.  She started screaming at me and I don't even know what she was saying, until she told me she was outside.  I called work and told them I'd be there by quarter to 6.
Work was long and exhausting.  I hadn't slept well in a few days and I felt like I was going to fall over.  I finally left and went home.  I took my laxatives and water pills and climbed into bed.

This morning I woke up feeling like shit.  I was so completely tired but I had to drag myself out of bed to go to the bathroom.  I went in the kitchen and lit up a cigarette.  I felt my heart racing and I was breathing heavily.  I figured I needed to weigh myself right then so I could eat something.  I did so, lost another pound since yesterday.  I went in the kitchen and grabbed a 24-calorie popsicle and wolfed it down, then finished my cigarette and went to bed.
As I was lying there I decided to try to call the nutritionist I had at the hospital.  She actually answered her phone.  I told her what was going on and she told me I can't let myself be the victim of someone else's harsh, ignorant comments.  She's totally right.  She said I need to start eating again and healthily.  She also told me I should eat with my therapist if it would make me more comfortable.
I called my therapist and told her what my nutritionist said.  She scheduled an emergency appointment for next week since we didn't have one.

I don't really want this life again.  I don't want to throw away 14 months of recovery and start all over again.  I don't know what I do want though, besides losing weight.  But I do know that I still don't want to eat.  I don't even want to eat the littlest thing because I'm scared.  I don't want to look pregnant.  But I know this cannot continue and I have to do something before it gets to the point where I have to go inpatient again.  I need to make decisions, and I need to act on them.