Scales are for Fishies

A month ago I found the scale my father told me he threw away. I was so mad and of course my father didn't see the big deal. Finding the scale was a big trigger for me and my dad put the scale somewhere else so I went out and bought my own. Which I kept hidden in my car, after two weeks I told Jamie about it, she told me I could give the scale to her but I couldn't I NEEDED the scale, especially when every time I stepped on it the number went down. 

But then it stopped being good, I couldn't keep the scale in my house so I kept it in my car and would weigh myself in the parking lot of whatever location I was at. And that's completely normal, isn't it?

Then I saw this thing online where somebody smashed their scale and who doesn't love smashing things?! So I asked Jamie if we could do it and this was her response:

So last week, that's exactly what we did. We smashed the scale to pieces, with a sledgehammer. It was fun and exciting and liberating. 

Though, right now I'm struggling. I want to run out and buy a brand new scale so I can watch the number go down, down, down until it gets to that perfect number. So I just keep telling myself I don't need it and the only thing that actually needs scales are fish.

PS I put bows on our safety goggles (safety doesn't have to be ugly)

Scary Statistics

This is what I saw yesterday. Statistics screaming at me that the odds aren't really in my favor. I'm more likely to die than to recover and if I don't die my life is over any way. Those I love would give up, getting tired of my neediness and abandoning me so they don't have to watch me constantly almost kill myself. 

I also made a choice when I saw the statistics that I would be part of that 60% I am more determined than ever to beat this. To kill the fucking monster that is ruining my life. I will not be part of the 40% that lives alone and in misery. I refuse to be part of the 3% that goes to an early grave. No, I will be part of the 60%. I will enjoy my life and I will live like I'm supposed to.

Of course, it's so easy to SAY it but it's a completely different thing to go through with it. Recovery is exhausting and fighting is hard and I want a break but I don't get a break because the monster doesn't take breaks, in fact it waits for me to get tired so it can drag me down yet again but this time it won't get the chance.

Because right here and right now, despite how scary this is, I've decided to be part of the 60%. And I will be, despite the odds.

Getting Better

What I think "getting better" means:

Getting fatter

Losing control

Imperfection

What "getting better" really means:

Healthy (doesn't mean fat)

Happy

Accepting of myself as is

Energy

Can taste again

I know what getting better gets me and all of the things I will lose if I fight against recovery. But the monster is very good at convincing me that I will lose it all, everything I have worked (starved) so hard for. 

But with recovery comes all sorts of unknowns. I don't want to be the "anorexic" or the "girl with the eating disorder" but what am I if I'm not that? As much as I hate those stupid fucking labels it's how we survive (or die) in this society. 

I know that getting better means that I get to figure out who I am, that I won't have those labels attached to me. I can get a new label, perhaps something good and happy. 

And if I get better what happens to the people I adore (Jamie)? If I'm better I don't get to see her anymore. Does she just vanish into thin air? Like we've never even met? How do I forget someone that has been a part of my life for nearly a year and will most likely be helping me for months to come? And what about the people online? The ones who have and are struggling do I move on and forget them as well?

Yeah, I know that's silly. I can't speak for the others but I know that I will never forget and do what it takes to stay in touch (thank you technology!) I know you don't forget those that help and support you. And I hope they don't forget me.

Rationalizing is easy. I'm a rational person until that monster gets in and convinces me that it knows better. But I must fight that voice and let the rational part of me win. It's so terrifying. But I know that getting better will be worth it.