I am beautiful. I just don't know it yet.

And the only thing three meals could have done for me today, is help. So it's a good thing.

I am beautiful.

I haven't "had the time" to write lately. To be honest, I haven't wanted to. After my post about Polly I felt the need to top it, to come back and in her honor and after all the strength of what I said, I wanted to come back all healthy and resolved. Better. "Fixed".

Thank you alwayshope for responding to my blog. It's such a nice shock when you realize that people are reading what you're saying. It's such a nice shock to read everyone elses new posts every day and have that little like lifesaver to hold onto out in the storm or whatever. It's cheesy, but it makes you realize you're not alone. Which is the one thing I always struggled with, I used this disease to isolate myself until I only cared about me. Or maybe it was...until the only thing I cared about was not caring about me.

Anyway, some unhealthy habits coming back into play. Two days of stress equaled two days of not too bad but still very bad behavior on my part period. That's my problem, is that even though I've found plenty of other outlets for stress and anxiety (a.k.a belly dancing, writing, talking) that old comfort blanket always is lurking there in the corner waiting for me to pick it up and hold onto it like a little shaking girl.

There was the depression. Before last night I didn't sleep for around 56 hours except for a few naps here and there that were forced or were to the point of me falling asleep at random, even while hanging out with a friend who luckily was really understanding about it.

The depression...the coldness, you know? The kind that convinces you that you are alone despite what all logic tells you. It makes you not want to talk about it even if you know it will help. It makes you not want to go blog about it because you know it will help. And you just feel so deep into it that nothing feels good, not even the idea of taking it away feels good. You just want to sit and wallow and wait for something to take you away.

So I didn't eat anything one day, until that night I went onto my myspace and saw the blog I posted about Polly. My heart broke all over again and I started feeling so hurt because of the way I was disregarding my own preaching, ignoring something I firmly believe in.

But that lead to a panic attack, me feeling so much pressure to make it right. I felt like people in my life who look up to me would be so let down if I didn't stay healthy. I felt like I had to live up to my blogs and be the perfect healthy person...just how I used to feel on "thinspo" sites that I needed to be the "perfect anorexic". It's the same unhealthy thought process scooping me up again.

So in all that pressure of the moment I just attacked the kitchen and ate out of stress and fear and confusion. And then, just as I had shoved in the feelings through food, I threw them back up into the toilet and purged. I remember I was ashamed while it was happening. The first thing that came to my mind was Ceslie...then Brandon...then Ben. I imagined them right there with me, standing there in the bathroom watching me puke.

I kept thinking, "They would hate me if they knew the 'real me'. They would hate me if they saw this. The would be so disgusted because I can't control myself. I can't do anything right." And that's not true. And if it were, I don't need friends like that. I know that at least Ceslie and Brandon would help me, they accept me and my faults. I know that. But somehow the sick part of me also knows that uses it to scare myself. Because they stand for the part of me that is living a healthy, open lifestyle. They are people I talk to when I have problems (if I find the courage to talk in real life at all about this.) So the part of me that thinks unhealthily uses that information to scare me, to convince me the "real me" (which is so not the real me) is repulsive to them. So that I can isolate myself again. So that there will be less reason to pull out of this, and more to let it engulf me again.

The human mind is a complex, sometimes scary thing. Especially when you own one. I could be all wrong about this, but it feels better to write about it and try to dissect it and figure out what went wrong. Obviously, I got over and picked myself up and I'm here.

Anyway, I was really relieved to read other people's stuff again when I got back on and to see you guys were all still here and fighting. I just wanted to say I'm still here too. I'm not perfect, but I'm still alive and I'm trying.