Warning: tonight's post is depressing. It has no inspirational tea bag ending. Sorry.
Related, I think I should get a few weeks off at the end of February annually for my own personal suicide watch.
You see so many statistics when you read about eating disorders - 1/5 people with anorexia die. 1/3 people with untreated eating disorders die. Anorexia is the most deadly mental illness. Having been in school for a nauseating number of years, and reading endless studies and papers and methods, I never put all that much stock in numbers. (Ha, eating disorder, see what I did there?)
These are statistics that I know: during my 6 weeks in IP, we started the day twice with news that recent patients had died. I know that out of the 100+ girls I was in treatment with (and one guy), at least half went back in after discharge. I know that one of my good friends had a heart attack and died a few months after she discharged, and another two overdosed and were admitted to the hospital. I know that about once a month, a friend of mine will post a RIP status on facebook, and I'll wonder who died this time. If I knew them. How they died.
The mental health community is exhaustingly heartbreaking to be a part of. I have so many friends who have dropped off the face of the earth, who I hope are still alive somewhere. Some, I track with horrified fascinating, waiting for the inevitable moment when the tributes start pouring in on their facebook pages.
I only know what I've experienced, and personal accounts of friends. I know that for me, even after 10+ years of malnutrition and starvation and exercising to the point of collapse, my body refused to die. To the point where it became maddeningly frustrating, my body refused to give up and die no matter how hard I tried to make it.
This is not to say that eating disorders aren't dangerous, of course. My point is that of the many deaths of people with eating disorders that I know of, at least half were because of suicide. You hear many different statistics and points of view on recovery, on whether full recovery is possible, on the percent of people in treatment who do recover. I spend far too much time contemplating this, because for me, being "fully recovered" feels like it would require rewiring my brain.
The academic part of me is organizing studies in my head, ways of coming up with better statistics, better numbers. I think there are two "levels" of eating disorders: the first is self-punishment, a method of coping; the second is suicide. Thinking about all the girls I've met, the majority of those who consider themselves "recovered" were part of that first level. Those who hang in the gray area between disordered and recovered, living and dying, existing and thriving... those were part of the second.
I honestly don't know where I'm going with this. I only know that once you've stepped off certain cliffs, I don't know that there's a way to really get back.
Related, I think I should get a few weeks off at the end of February annually for my own personal suicide watch.
You see so many statistics when you read about eating disorders - 1/5 people with anorexia die. 1/3 people with untreated eating disorders die. Anorexia is the most deadly mental illness. Having been in school for a nauseating number of years, and reading endless studies and papers and methods, I never put all that much stock in numbers. (Ha, eating disorder, see what I did there?)
These are statistics that I know: during my 6 weeks in IP, we started the day twice with news that recent patients had died. I know that out of the 100+ girls I was in treatment with (and one guy), at least half went back in after discharge. I know that one of my good friends had a heart attack and died a few months after she discharged, and another two overdosed and were admitted to the hospital. I know that about once a month, a friend of mine will post a RIP status on facebook, and I'll wonder who died this time. If I knew them. How they died.
The mental health community is exhaustingly heartbreaking to be a part of. I have so many friends who have dropped off the face of the earth, who I hope are still alive somewhere. Some, I track with horrified fascinating, waiting for the inevitable moment when the tributes start pouring in on their facebook pages.
I only know what I've experienced, and personal accounts of friends. I know that for me, even after 10+ years of malnutrition and starvation and exercising to the point of collapse, my body refused to die. To the point where it became maddeningly frustrating, my body refused to give up and die no matter how hard I tried to make it.
This is not to say that eating disorders aren't dangerous, of course. My point is that of the many deaths of people with eating disorders that I know of, at least half were because of suicide. You hear many different statistics and points of view on recovery, on whether full recovery is possible, on the percent of people in treatment who do recover. I spend far too much time contemplating this, because for me, being "fully recovered" feels like it would require rewiring my brain.
"I should have died tonight. and now every damn second is just too fucking painful."How does anyone really come back from that? I don't feel like I have, or that I ever will.
The academic part of me is organizing studies in my head, ways of coming up with better statistics, better numbers. I think there are two "levels" of eating disorders: the first is self-punishment, a method of coping; the second is suicide. Thinking about all the girls I've met, the majority of those who consider themselves "recovered" were part of that first level. Those who hang in the gray area between disordered and recovered, living and dying, existing and thriving... those were part of the second.
I honestly don't know where I'm going with this. I only know that once you've stepped off certain cliffs, I don't know that there's a way to really get back.
February 26th
2008
04:55 pm - (no subject)
i'm sitting here comntemplating binging and i feel so RIDICULOSULY suicdial all the sufdden an di cjust awnat to cut msyelf like crazy and fucking throw myself off the fucking roof and mogm
2009
03:06 pm - (no subject)
I was very nearly hit by a car today, walking back from Westwood. I was about a quarter of the way into the crosswalk, and some girl in the turn lane I guess realized late the light had turned green and punches the gas around the corner, straight for me. I had to run to get out of the way and I barely did. She never slowed down - I don't think she even saw me.
Apparently I still have some basic survival instincts after all.
06:47 pm - (no subject)
HAHA so my mom just asked me if I'd finished my cookies yet, and it took me a minute to even remember what she was talking about.That she'd baked me vegan brownies.
Dude, mom, those were so two weeks ago.
2010
07:31 am - (no subject)
"One of my blog's commenters beautifully and concisely described the difference between disordered eating and an eating disorder:
Anonymous said...
Most people who restrict their intake of food find it very difficult after awhile to continue because their biology takes over and forces them to eat more. Other people restrict, however, and their biology responds in exactly the opposite way, signalling them to eat less and less. The first group has disordered eating. The second has an eating disorder. The difference is clear cut and determined by different biological signals. We don't know exactly what those signals are, yet, but we know there are clear differences."
Ugh. Who the fuck am I kidding. I don't have an eating disorder.
And if I don't have an eating disorder what I am can't be treated.
I really, really might as well just die.
09:01 am - (no subject)
my coffee grinder works like a charm for grinding up pills
this is going to work
funny how i'm still going to class.
09:59 am - (no subject)
off to class an to buy the last 700
what the fuck am i oing
11:07 am - (no subject)
I have this mix I'm working on that I'm desperate to finish before tonight an I realize that there's no reason it should have to be by tonight but WHAT HTE FUCKING HELL AM IO OING
200 more. 500 to go.
01:31 pm - (no subject)
all bought. half ground. roommate came back in the middle which was a little awkward. wtv.
i realized im not ED locking half these posts which is weird cause usually it's a reflex and i have to go back and unlock things i don't want locked and whatever.
i'm in a weird mood. no shit.
did you know you can buy single serving squeeze packs of peanut butter?
my roommates will be here tonight and ir eally just want to be alone. think theyll be gone tomorrow. but meh.
sorry for updating so much. thoughts in my head need to get out somewhere.
69/70 on my anthro essay. the nine page one i wrote the day before and thought was super crappy. average was 63. in a class with half grad students. go me.
fuck, fuck, fuck.
06:11 pm - (no subject)
I fucking want my fucking roommate to go the fuck away and leave me in peace.
08:15 pm - (no subject)
i need them to not be here. i need to die, now.
i need to.
please go away. please leave me alone.
10:20 pm - (no subject)
off to sleep. normal sleep.
fuck.
hopefully both my roommates will be gone tomorrow night. if not, they'll both be out sunday morning.
you know how you can deal with something up until the very end, when the finish is in sight? and if that ending is taken away, suddenly its so much harder to get through each moment.
i should have died tonight. and now every damn second is just too fucking painful.
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