Friday, February 24, 2012


I'm not able to concentrate right now. I haven't been able to concentrate for a long time. Horrible for writing papers

I'm not sleeping. In the last 2 days I've maybe gotten 8 hours of sleep.  If I actually fall asleep I get woken up right after. But that's another matter.

I'm hyper-active. So much so I was told to write my paper and go to my room. I mean, I was talking a hundred miles an hour, and didn't stop.

I've been restricting, bingeing, over-exercising, abusing laxatives-in fact, I have a row of them, that I've been contemplating taking since I got home-because I feel guilty when I eat.

I feel like crap, I know I look like crap, people keep telling me I look sick. I had someone tell me I looked waif-like.

I told my dietician I was contemplating a higher level of care. Then I gave my primary an update because I feel it's important for her to know what's going on.

I talked to her on the phone yesterday and she noticed my symptoms over the phone. Told me to call her today.

Of course, I run into her walking into the hospital this morning. She reminds me to call her. But, work is crazy. Funny enough, I run into her a couple hours later in the same hallway. She tells me she had been thinking of me because she hadn't heard from me. Told me she could make it happen, that she's concerned. I then run into her several more times in a couple hours...I've never run into her so much since I've started working there.

On my lunch I finally do call her. I tell her that my stomach is killing me because I haven't eaten and I just need to throw up. She told me to call her if I go down hill over the weekend. If I needed her to, she would make inpatient happen. Told me to call her 24/7 if I needed to. Legit concern. I wonder if she'd put me on bed rest so I could get caught up...of course, the next couple weeks would not be the time to do it. I guess that's part of the reason I dont want to go into the hospital either, because it'd be detrimental. But, I know, how I am now isn't good either.

Then this party happens. And I eat. I eat a meal meal for the first time in a few days. I see the cake a couple hours later and realize that that looks good and have a piece. See, this is when I start feeling guilty. I'm on a roll, I eat when I get home too. The dinner that the ladies made. Now I'm feeling fat, and my stomach is still upset because of the turmoil I've put it through the last week.

Yet, those little laxative pills-all lined up-look so appealing. I know if I take them the food will go away. My body will HATE me but, for a little while I won't hate me, I will feel like I'm getting justice. Over what? A piece of cake or a couple mini donuts??? I remember what this dose did to me the last time and I'm afraid. When you know what to expect it's sooo much worse. I can feel my whole body cramping from the OD. When my body is doing that already, I get even more scared.

I look at the line of little blue pills.

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