I have come to realize something recently. Despite my deep distaste for being sick and my desire to recover, I am not really. The behaviors are getting worse. WTF??? Well, think about this for just a second; imagine life as a univariate existence, where only one thing matters. ONLY ONE! There are not relationships; there is not the risk of involving oneself with many realms of life. There is just this one realm of life.
Guess what? I have that one, singular variable world. My life, my actions, everything I can conceive of can be reduced to food/weight. Think, I take a test and fail miserably. What happens? I immediately define that in terms of weight. For some unknown logic, I think that if I become skinnier, if I can see my hipbones jutting out of my skin, something will be better. (And to think I just heard Dr. B. chatter about lousy thinking.) My weight, or whatever I perceive it to be without a scale is my identity. . . and I have to figure out how to change that. I do not want my life to be dictated by a single perception of weight, or even a reality of weight. I acknowledge the role of physicality, but I really do not think I have much reason to fear that my weight will ever be out of control upwards. I do have good reason to fear that it will be out of control downward.
Anyway, it has been a very depressed two days. I hate birthdays; they are no more than a marking point for me. Oh, I turned twenty. . . so, congrats, I have been obsessing about food and weight for ten years and been ed/0-ed for seven. That's all it is to me; another day with the same fucking shit going on and I still cannot escape. How pathetic. Hopefully, I will write more because I really need to be a lot out, but for now I have to get ready for IMPACT.
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