Shaking

Feet shaking. Knees hitting. Heart pounding. Mind racing. I can't do this anymore. I want to recover. I do. I know I do. But i can't handle the shaking. The anxiety. The food. The food is killing me. Every bite is a struggle. And I feel more and more alone every meal. Everything feels shakey. My body. My life. Everything. Like it all could all just fall apart. I want the anxiety to stop. I want everything to stop.

Someone Find Me

I am lost. And I am trapped. And I am in pain. And I feel broken and defeated. I don't know where to turn anymore. I am surrounded by people that I adore. But feel like I'm not actually with them. I'm doing the things I love. But have never felt more frustrated. Treatment centers want to admit me but I can't admit myself. Not again. I have too much going on. I have a life. It's not worth it. It never works. If my stomach would stop killing itself, then I could try and gain weight out here. I think. I don't even know. I don't know who I am or what I am. Can someone please find me? Save me? Do something? I'm so numb and yet so full of emotions...I don't know what to do. Please help. Search for me. I'm here, somewhere. Scratching, clawing, aching to get out. But I can't. I can't fight. I don't know what to do.

I AM SO CONFUSED

Ok. So, I get that starvation is like my thing but why am I so good at it? Not eating over a 1000 calories so just damn easy. And like I know the whole "you never know how sick you are until you try to recover" thing but I didn't think I was this sick. Like wow. I fell so fast. But It's nice to know that I have a solid support system. I was talking to Kristin (who owns the gym) today and was saying how Mr.Daniil told me and Kristen how we could lose a size and she said that that is definitely a red flag and WAY too old school and rude. And Sarah is so not okay with it and wants me to try and double my intake..which isn't too bad. Like 1400ish. I think she knows that I can't like jump from 680 to 2500. So, I appreciated that. She even texted me till like 1045 tonight and she hasn't done that in forever and looked proud of me at practice. We are getting on good terms again I think and I love it. I missed it so much. I told her how my pants are big and they're size two so if I lost a size...I would be near like a 00. Which she called gross to quote her but maybe that's a normal reaction? To me it kinda sounds like a dream come true. After all...who needs an eating disorder when you have an old school gymnastics coach? haha. I love that. But anyway, I asked her I am supposed to gain weight (especially after I promised someone that I wouldn't get my BMI over 19.5...she said that that is one of the promises you are supposed to break but idk) and she said to basically just eat a lot of carbs. Shocker. She loves carbs. LOVES them. I guess I could try. I've kinda been trying to avoid having them too often but I guess that's not really an option anymore. It's nice to feel so cared about. Especially because like I re-earned that from her. It wasn't just given. Anyway, if I can't compete at Columbia then I am competing for Mr.Daniil so that should be interesting. But like I'll still be working at Columbia so I'm sure I'll be safe. hopefully....

Pictures, Literally

I really like to keep records of my life in pictures so here are the last two-ish weeks.

Dear People Who Can See This

Hello Bobbi and Talya. This one is for you. And considering that we are the only three people who can read it...I think you'll be ok with everything I write. But either way this is my blog so get over it.

It's time to be really up-front about some things in my life. And about some things that I don't like or do like. This post is all about honesty for you two. Congrats. Feel special. Let's begin with easy stuff. This first list is titled: Things to Please Not Assume.

1. That I am struggling less or more than I say
2. That I have a better perspective now than I used to
3. That I can just not use two behaviors on less than a 24 hour notice
4. That I can see how things are detrimental
5. That I believe in full recovery (I don't)
6. That I am not trying
7. That because I can text you, I am not totally freaking out. I probably am.
8. No I do not try and create health problems

That is all for now on that list. This next paragraph or so, I will discuss two things that we have pretty much avoided in all sessions since the beginning. This is not your fault considering that by the time I met you two, these were pretty much obsolete and therefore unnecessary to discuss. However, they are now back and important.

Number one. Exercising in the middle of the night. I pretty much stopped this is SP. However, the idea and act are sorta back. Which is really really scary to me because I remember the mental withdrawal from that. It took like my entire inpatient stay and lots of nurses watching me. I figure the best way to explain how it worked then as how it would probably occur now would be to simply explain what a normal night looked like back then. Hang tight. Here we go.

For the most part I ate exactly 300 calories a day or half of that or fasted. My numbers were extremely exact. Always. Once my family would go to sleep, the exercise would start. It would 800-1000 sit-ups, and then exactly half of that number in squats and then half of that in push-ups. It would then be 3 30 second hollow holds and arch holds. Next came 500 heel raises on both feet and then 250 on each. If my body wasn't in physical pain then I would start over. My rule was that I couldn't go to sleep until my legs and stomach hurt just from being touched. If I woke up later in the morning and wasn't sore then I would have to do more the next time. I also exercised around stores, in school, while my parents were out. All I did was exercise. And I had too. 

The other night wasn't this bad. But for the most part I did follow the same patter. Just with lower numbers. And I still feel bad for not doing as much as I could have. So yeah. There's that.

The second thing I want to talk about is something we have briefly covered. Which is the fact that I say that my period makes me not want to eat anything. Which is kinda a huge lie. It makes me want to eat everything but is a great excuse to eat nothing because I already feel immeasurable guilt from having my period. Like I cannot even describe how awful it feels to know that I am fat enough to have one. Eating just makes it worse.

Lastly, please do not say you are walking with me through this unless you actually understand what I feel. Because it's ok if you don't. But pretending to be walking it with me when you are actually just watching...hurts.

thanks for reading.

I Can't Do This Anymore

I really really can't do this anymore. I can't handle my thoughts. They scare me and control me and I don't know what to do. I'm crying and all I did was eat a meal. ONE MEAL. And I spent the day walking around the mall and then at practice. Like I am so happy during certain times but times like now I'm just miserable. I ate breakfast at 2 in the fucking morning so that I could exercise right after and have it pretty much gone by the time I woke up and not have to deal with it. I literally ran on a muffin (at 2 am) and then a smoothie until 8 pm. And for the most part like I felt totally fine. Practice didn't even faze me. But now that I've eaten, I can't handle it. Like I might as well have eaten 3000 calories today. And Sarah and I were texting because someone I know told me the saying "eat breakfast, share lunch, give dinner to those that you hate". And she was like no Barbara that's not right. And then we calculated approx. BMI and discovered that mine isn't exactly in the high or even middle of the healthy area which was not ok in her book. Like at all. She's going to be so on my butt now till I'm at a "healthy" number. Even though I am. Like I am at a much healthier BMI than I would like. If it wouldn;t get me sent away or make stop having to do things, I would get below 100 in a second. But that can't happen. Ugh. I just need someone to hold me and tell me everything will be ok and stand with me. Walk this with me. Crawl it. Whatever. But not just sit and watch. I feel so alone already. I don't know what to fucking do anymore. ughhhh.

Gut Feelings and Being Trapped

Peer pressure such been such a bitch lately. Like okay sure I don't trust my treatment team but I don't even know if that's my actual feeling about it. Emme has been so big on telling me how awful Bobbi and Talya are and like the things she says kinda make sense but also feel wrong in my heart. Like they have been such major parts of this whole shitty process and have yet to leave me unlike her. So, I mean, it makes sense for me to trust them and not her but that's not what is happening!?! It is like a serious pattern lately of talking to not so great people and watching eating disorder videos and not being honest with people. I know I should trust my gut...but what if it's wrong? Then I am screwed for forever. ughhhhhhhhh.

I'm not physically trapped or anything but I might as well be. Everything feels smaller and tighter. Everything. From clothing to my thoughts to places. I just feel so trapped and stuck. And I feel out of place. Like when I look in the mirror, I don't see myself. I don't recognize the person in the mirror. I just see a person staring at me. My body feels so foreign. Even normal things feel like I;m not actually connected to them. It is so weird. It's like I don't belong trapped in this fat gigantic body. I hate this so fucking much.

Not The Continuation

Oh how I wish my damn foot would stop shaking every time calories come near me. It is so fucking noticeable. But I don't know what else to do. The anxiety is crippling and I feel like I can't even move. Yet nobody fucking understands. Or they do and just don't actually want to help. LIKE HELLO I AM ALONE. HELP ME. In other exciting news, Sarah and I are actually on good terms again. To the point where she actually cares. And is letting me practice with the team this year even though I won't be competing. Under one condition, I have to bring food with me to practice. So, I guess I have one person who cares. Or actually a bunch considering the outpour of support (or more like tough love) I have gotten from pretty much everyone at the gym this past week. That's semi-cool. But like hello treatment team please realize that I don't even know what I look like in the mirror. And that every bite is becoming harder and harder. Like honestly if Ensure wasn't so gross, I would just drink those and be done. I can't do this. I just fucking can't. I am so fat. And such a disappointment. Like how can anyone even stand me?  Ugh. Oh and I am officially back obsessed with watching the Anorexia stories on youtube. Like they totally interest me. And just reconfirm that I am not actually that sick. Like they are so much worse than me. So, I must be fine. I'm not sick.

Rant Numero Uno

If you're reading this, then congratulations. I must really trust you or I'm dead. At the moment though, I trust nobody and I'm alive. That is why this blog is here. To give me a place to get out all the awful painful thoughts that go on inside my head. Hopefully this blog ends on a happy note or you will see my destruction unfold. For now though let's assume that nobody is reading this or ever will be. Everything on this website is between me and my keyboard. I was told in my second treatment center that the best place to start is at the beginning. So, that is where this blog will start. The beginning. The very moments that remember hating myself. Starting at age 5 and coming all the way to now. This blog will finally give me a place to tell my story. To an audience of one person. Me. So, starting now, I am completely honest.

My name is Barbara Sydney Schiffer. I am eighteen years old. I have an eating disorder. I think that was the hardest thing I have ever had to type. It is just so straight forward. But it is the truth. Ask any psychologist or dietitian or doctor that has come in contact with me and they'll all agree. I have an eating disorder. What a shocker. Except not to me. To them. I knew it would happen, either that or I would simply diet for the rest of my life. Not really sure which is worse. Let's begin with the first time I ever cried at the doctor when I wasn't getting a shot. I was five years old. I stepped on the scale and started sobbing at the number. I wish I remember what it was because looking back, I know it wasn't that high. Fast forward a few years. I hated everything about myself. I was never strong enough or fast enough or skinny enough. Once, middle school hit I knew I had to change something. So, I did. After stepping on the scale one more time and seeing the number read 115, I knew what I had to do. I had to be back under the 100 pound mark. So, I stopped eating lunch and I had never eaten breakfast. It was so easy. I was losing weight but was still healthy so nobody noticed. It was the perfect situation. That summer, my dad happily sent me to his old sleep away camp. I was always exercising and you weren't required to eat more than a slice of bread at meals. When I got home, my dad was so proud of me. Because you see, dieting was a bonding activity for the two of us. We would weigh ourselves together and set weight loss goals. We even challenged each other to see how long we could go without eating anything outside the house once. Fast food was a big no-no in our games. But it was how we spent our daddy-daughter time. When he picked me up from camp, he literally picked me up. I had done it. I had the, now coveted, thigh gap, size zero jeans fell off me. I had done it. When I told my dad how my thighs no longer touched, he congratulated me and told me that's how you know you are healthy. Apparently he wasn't exactly right. But it is something that still holds a place in my head. A few weeks after getting home from camp, I went to the doctor and got weighed. It said exactly 99.7 pounds. It was the first time in years that the number didn't make me want to scream. I giddily went to the mall with my dad that day and proudly asked him how much he thought I should weigh. He said 100 pounds. In my little seventh grade body, I jumped up and down telling him that I was under that! I don't think I have seen my dad so proud or happy with me since that day. I loved how 99 looked on me. My stomach didn't go over my pants, everything fit. It was great. That year I also had my bat mitzvah and was determined that my stomach would not be big enough to go over my pants like most of friends. That meant I had to keep all weight off from August through February. Easy. I made it a game with my dad. Who could go longer without fast food and lose the most weight. He lost more weight than me but I reached my goal of being semi-skinny for my bat-mitzvah. I also don't look healthy in those pictures. But it was worth it. Through eighth grade and the beginning of freshman year, I started eating again. Biggest mistake of my life. I walked into my doctor's office as a high school freshman weighing 130 pounds. I promised myself and my doctor that I would lose 20 pounds. After getting them to agree to my weight loss goal, I left and cried for the rest of the day. With my new goal weight set, I just had to get started. It started slowly. 1000 calories. 800 calories. 600. 300. 300 was good. I could eat that and lose weight and still have the energy to exercise for exactly three hours every night. I had exceeded my goal within four months. I weighed myself 6 times daily. I lived numbers. By September of my sophomore year of high school, I was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa. A diagnosis I didn't accept then and still don't. It sounds fake. I wasn't sick. I'm still not. That was when I entered my first treatment stay.

And where this post will end. Like I said in the beginning. This is for me. So, I will write at my speed. If I happen to be dead then please keep going. If you're reading this because I trust you...ask before continuing.