Remember that time when I was all "I'm not dead just yet you guys" and then promptly dropped off the face of the earth? You probably don't because no one probably reads any of this anymore. Ha.
The truth is that in December... I took 210 mg of Lisdexamfetamine and had a thirty-four hour manic episode, in which I started a blog post that turned into an eighteen-page (twelve-point font, single spaced) eating disorder manifesto. And I was about to post it when I realized that it was eighteen pages long. Instead I purchased tickets to the local production of the Nutcracker, went to the store to buy HB pencils, completed two self portraits for my foundation drawing final (I managed an A- in the course), and went out to party with a friend. Thirty-two hours in I realized that--aside from concerns about my hummingbird heart beat and the doctrine I composed about eating disorders twenty-eight hours earlier--I had not thought about food.
Not once.
It was the best day ever.
Things have changed since then. I am not recovered, and I doubt I ever will be. There will be no soft glow Lifetime movie credits to close the chapter on my eating disorder. But things are different now.
I eat meals now. Or at least I try to, what constitutes as a meal fluctuates rapidly and is always a muddle of confusion. Eating with people helps.
People help. I have friends now, a tight-knit group, and I've reconnected with older friends I'm surprised I even managed to make in my bulimic stupor.
Weed helps. But of course it would. But weed is always with people, who have become my greatest comfort in all of this. I forgot how much I missed real people and real hugs and honesty. HOnesty is hard, but I'm working on it.
Of course I still binge and purge, but not with the ferocious madness that usually came over me. Mostly when I'm nervous or stressed--not merely because of the presence of food. And I always, always try my darnedest not to. Laxatives are the hardest to wean myself off of. I doubt another eighteen-year-old-girl prays for a bowel movement like I do.
I made it through college--something that, looking back on my earlier entries here, is incredibly impressive even without a 3.44 GPA and friends with beach houses. Somehow though, I've trucked though.
That is pretty much all I want to say now. I'll try to write more regularly, because while things are better they are not best.
