Monthly Archives: January 2015


I am not ok and I need help but I don’t know how to ask. I keep trying to get back on track but I keep failing. I have no idea what to do. fuckkkkkk




I am beginning to feel hopeless in my recovery. I know that’s such a pussy thing to say but that’s just where I am. I used to pride myself before that I always found a way to get out of my lapse, no matter how bad it got. I trusted myself too much and now I am in a place where I don’t know if I can get out. Food is constantly on my mind and I am scared to tears with the idea of having to eat three meals a day. What I’m going to eat, where I am going to eat, punishing myself for eating, coming up with lies to get out of eating. It’s like this never ending monologue in my head reminding me that I don’t deserve food and there is no happiness outside of starving myself. I can’t even get myself to sleep most nights and when I do, I wake up from nightmares about my dad, and the things I lost in high school and college. Relapse is paralyzing me with fear. I can’t believe one year later and I am where I am.

I wish I could pinpoint why the hell this is happening but it’s a whole cluster fuck of things. I am facing basically the same things I faced in my strongest days in my recovery but this time I feel so much weaker. The reality of my father’s illness is really bothering me for some reason. He has been back and forth with almost dying and surviving for so many years now that it seemed routine to get bad and good phone calls. But the each call seems to be worse and the family unit as a hole is suffering. My dad is dying, my mom is grieving, I’m having a great time fucking up my life and Mary is just staying peachy because that’s what Mary does best. I feel like every thing I do has to be perfect because “It’s going to be the last memories you have with him Sarah, so you better make it count”. Fuck if I am doing that. The guilt behind me relapsing is bad enough but throw in that my dad is going to die with nothing to really make him proud of doesn’t help me sleep at night.

I don’t know what else to put on here really. Just that I’m relapsing and I don’t think I’m strong enough this time. I do want to get better, I really do and I have so much anger at myself for being where I am. I know that this disorder is what is going to keep me from having the things that I want but I don’t know if I am ready to give that up yet. I wouldn’t restrict if I wasn’t so uncomfortable with myself or the situations I am put in. Sometimes it’s like which hell to chose: Hell 1 of hating myself, feeling anxious and depressed when I am eating OR Hell 2 of starving myself but the anxiety and depression isn’t as present.

I wish I could put some fantastic recovery quote to make me this post a little chipper like “Reach for the stars and when you get there you will no longer be afraid of pizza. You can get a sandwich and eat it without a fork.” or some shit like that but Ix have nothing. I normally eat more on the weekends which makes me anxious for tomorrow but I’ll fucking deal with food when I have to.

Yesterday, Everyone had an Eating Disorder


I would by lying to you if I said I was doing well. Since the comments last week, I feel like I haven’t been able to breathe or think straight. For me, Anorexia isn’t about the weight loss, it’s more about trying to control my depression and anxiety and when it’s as bad as it has been the last two days, I would much rather feel dizzy, feel my heart racing and not be able to sleep than being depressed.

I am getting more and more frustrated with being sick. Last night I was working and I had not 1, not 2, not 3 but 4 people come to me and ask to speak with me privately about their eating disorder. I heard story after story about people who go to therapy and that they are doing so much better and I am over here, after 8 months of treatment still struggling. I feel so ripped off, their eating disorder didnt make them have to leave school or make them lose friends. They just went to therapy and got it and I am over hydroxycut just to function. This may sound pitiful but what did I do to deserve being the sickest out of this little group of eating disorders. For them, it is just a phase in their life but for me, it seems like this is going to be my life forever.

And they look at me like I know all the answers. I even got “I trust you more than anyone. You are the only person who gets it.” It’s a nice thought but it’s embarrassing. I’m stuck because I can’t tell them that they shouldn’t look up to me and I have to just smile and play this strong person for everybody else. I amI am not that person. Clearly, I am not strong and it’s lonely pretending. not that person. Clearly, I am not strong and it’s lonely pretending.

When I got off work, I completely broke down. I was so angry at myself for not being the person that they want me to be and I am pissed that I can’t have a mild eating disorder. It’s not fair. I realize that everyone has their own battles but it’s not fair that I have this. This battle is bullshit and I am so sick of fighting it.

I Look Fine


I cant sleep. I just keep hearing ‘you don’t look like you have an eating disorder’ over and over in my head so loudly that I can’t think straight. Do you ever have those nightmares were you are in front of a crowd and they are just yelling how disgusting you are and you cant find the words to fight back? I have them all the time but I wake up. I open my eyes and I see that I am safe. I am in my bed, in my room, and all the noises are gone. It was just a dream, it wasn’t reality.

I never wake up thinking that those nightmares will become a part of my reality. I never get dressed in the morning thinking that I will leave my bedroom and walk into the nightmare that I thought I had escaped. But it happened. A supervisor said in front of about 20 of my coworkers that I don’t look like I am anorexic. She never would’ve fucking guessed because I am not the skeleton that I long to be. I am average, I look fine, and in no way do I put off the vibe that I am trapped in a body that shouldn’t belong to me. But I am. I am trapped into this normal BMI range that feels like a punishment and I can’t get out without killing myself in the process. I’m not thin enough to deserve concern. I’m not safe, it wasn’t just a dream and it is my reality.

And when I finally stop crying so I can fall asleep and wake up tomorrow, I still wont be safe. I have to see the person that said this, along with every person that heard her and just smile. Have my goddamn name called and walk up in front of every person that heard or assumed that I’m not thin enough to have an eating disorder. Wear longer sleeves and put ice packs on my face to stop my eyes from swelling so when they all see me I will still be that average girl who looks fine. Not sick, not anorexic, just a normal person who presents herself as fine.

I have never dreaded a Wednesday more in my fucking life.