Liar, Liar

"How are you?" Don't you dare tell her.

"Fine." 

"Hmmm somehow I'm not buying it." Don't screw this up. All you need to do is smile and laugh.

*smiles* *fake laugh* wow, that was pathetic. 

I've never really been one to lie. Ever. I can if I absolutely need to but I hate it. But It turned me into a liar. Eating disorders turn everyone into liars. 

Not only do eating disorders turn you into a liar they also convince you that everyone else is a liar as well. 

It does a good job of convincing me that everyone who is trying to help is really just setting me up to fail. It has successfully convinced me, multiple times, that everyone who tells me they care, don't actually care. It has convinced me they're the ones who want to ruin my life and make me fat and make me fail. They're just jealous of how much closer you are to perfection than they are. 

I know this isn't true. I know that everybody really does care and it doesn't matter to them how perfect I am. But for some reason I have a really hard time seeing that. All I can believe is what my disorder tells me.

Because my disorder lies to me I have to lie to everyone else. During our last session I lied to Jamie. More by omission than anything, but still a lie. We talked about how I can find opportunities to add extra protein or calories in with my meals without adding to the number of times I'm eating throughout the day. I didn't tell her I was purposely not adding calories. I told her my schedule was to blame for my limited intake. But it wasn't. It was because I couldn't eat. And I couldn't eat because I'm counting calories. Because It lied to me and convinced me that I was overeating and if I counted my calories I could see just how fat I was making myself. 

And I did. Over 500 calories? Unacceptable. Count calories to keep yourself in check. Count calories and restrict your intake accordingly.

But Jamie's not stupid. She knew there was something I wasn't saying. But she can't read my mind, though I really wish she could.

It rewarded me though for lying. For not telling the things I needed to tell. My reward was a break from the negative thoughts surrounding how I looked or how much I had already eaten that day. But it wasn't a real break. Because as soon as It quieted down the guilt set in. The guilt for not telling Jamie what was going on. 

Of course I told her and of course she was sweet, she always is. Even though I don't really think I deserved it. Because It made me lie. It made me lie to the one person I should never lie to. 

I hate that I didn't tell her the truth right away. I hate that It convinces me that everyone is lying. I hate It for existing. I hate It for lying. I hate it for turning me into a liar.

I hate that all I can hear sometimes is liar, liar.

Songs Like This

I have a habit of making playlists for every event in my life. Break ups and make ups. Different seasons. I've even got ones for my wedding and songs to share with my children. I've also got a recovery playlist. It's filled with songs that are either motivational or describe how I happen to be feeling. I will either skip every song or just put one on repeat for days.

My current mood is to shift between Into the Ocean by Blue October and Change by Taylor Swift. I will blast both of those songs repeatedly and sing them loudly (not very well I might add) as I'm driving along. Unless I've got munchkins then it's Chipmunk radio on Pandora. The loud sounds drown out negative thoughts and if I'm busy singing I'm not berating myself for whatever I've done wrong THIS time.

Into the Ocean is the most accurate representation of depression and relapse I've ever heard in a song. In the music video the guys even look depressed and at one point there are three creepy ballerinas dancing around whispering and it's like the voices of It and anxiety and depression. Go watch it and you'll see what I mean.

And what is a playlist without T-Swift? She dominates most of my playlists (not so much the wedding one) because her songs are interchangeable, at least in my mid. So when she's singing about the guy that fucked her over I can easily see that as being my eating disorder. And recovery is literally breaking up with the disorder. However, Change is different. It's not about a boy (shocker, I know) it's really motivational and a fabulous song to blast on your way home from another exhausting day.

Of course the playlist has some not so motivational and depressing songs that I listen to when things seem really hopeless. I know things are bad when I put When She Cries by Brit Nicole, Nobody's Home by Avril Lavigne, and Courage by Superchick on repeat. Those are the songs I played over and over again this summer when things were unbearable. If I ever post a Facebook status with lyrics from those songs that's when you should really worry.

The best thing about music is that, even the rockiest/rappiest/metalish music can relax you depending on what you need to hear. And the right song can help make your day.

Despite the fact that I do have this playlist and those songs to help focus me I still feel like I'm losing it and I don't have a ton of faith that I will snap out of this before I wind up in the hospital. I don't want that at all and I'm trying but I'm just not sure right now.

So, I'm going to go blast my recovery songs and hope for the best.

Losing It

I'm scared. Terrified, anxious, panicky, petrified, and more. I can feel myself slipping with every meal I skip, every calorie I refuse to consume. I hate it and I want to hide from the monster that is trying to regain control. He's closer than he's been in a while. 

But I can't hide. There's no hiding from It and the terror I feel. I'm getting so tired of this, of fighting what It is trying to convince me is a losing battle. It tells me there's no way I will win this war. Mental battles shouldn't make me feel so physically exhausted but they do and that exhaustion is sucking the life out of me. 

It convinced me of a new trick, a new way of comfort (as stated in my last post) but most of all it's a punishment. Because if I would just stop eating I wouldn't need to be punished. But I eat and as punishment I must take the laxatives. And let me tell you, they suck. And yet I continue to eat and continue to use them. Jamie knows. I wouldn't tell her for a few days because I am mad at myself for getting sucked in. But I can't stop using them because I can't stop eating. And it's an awful cycle.

I feel like I'm going crazy and I can't look at myself without crying because I've gained so much weight despite the increase in exercise. I just need to sleep for a few days straight. Or get back to my low weight. Maybe that will help. Or so says It.

I know that neither of those are good choices. I know what happens if I figure out how to do both. And it sucks. And I don't know what to do.

I'm losing it and I don't know if I can stop it this time.