Dear Dad,

According to my therapist, I'm supposed to write a letter about you because...I have nothing to say about you when he asks. He says that there is obviously something there, some underlying issue with my feelings towards you because I have nothing to say about them when he asks. The thing is, that's just it. You haven't been much of anything in my life. I suppose it's not your fault, is it? You've always called when you could. Always been nice to me when you were there. You usually pay your child support on time. You send me birthday presents in the mail. You visit for Christmas, you try to be interested in my life.

Sometimes it makes me annoyed because I wish you would just give up. That's sad, isn't it, and I know you won't because...you just couldn't You're dad and you want to be a good dad, but you can't, okay? You can't be a good dad if you're not here. You can't be a good dad if you can't even tell that half of everything I tell you is a lie. Do you know about how I hate myself? Do you know about the naked pictures I sent to some random guy? Do you know that I'm not daddy's little girl? You probably think I haven't even had my first kiss yet, and I'd like to keep it that way.

You're always so excited to hear the good things in my life, most of them I make up. You're always ready to ask me what my favorite color is, which you do every time I see you because every time you forget. I don't blame you, I never would. You're doing your best. But sometimes that's not enough.

I want you to know that I don't have a dad. I have a nice accquaitance who I talk to every once in a while and sends me a check for my birthday once a year. Our relationship is no more personal than my relationship with a distant cousin. I don't regret not having a dad. I've never been in a situation where I've thought, "God, I wish dad were here," or, "if only I had a dad to help me through this."

Maybe that's because thanks to you and many other people and incidents in my life I've learned that there's usually never going to be anyone there to make it better. I've learned to stick up for myself, to get things done for me. And I've lost just as much as I've gained learning that.

I remember one time when I think you caught a glimpse of the true me. Just a little bit of it. I got a call from you in the hospital. It was the first time you had heard anything about me having an eating disorder and I remember laughing because the girl who answered the pay phone in the hospital that you called me in was the "craziest" of us all and I think she said something about soup to you.

Anyway, I remember for the first time in forever...you had nothing to say. Except for that you were sorry. Which you don't have to be. You have nothing to be sorry for because you haven't affected me in any significant way because I don't care enough about you for you to have the ablility to do that. I'm sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry. I just remember you seemed shocked. You didn't talk to me like you usually do. Other times you would talk to me as if I were an adult, I was the young woman you were always so pleased with because I was tall and thin and I made good grades. For once you talked to me like I was your daughter, you were scared and I was a little girl...not a young woman, not the adult you always saw me as. I think that was the first time you realized that I am not perfect. I think you felt bad because your son molested me and you left my mom so you thought you brought my eating issues to me. I have no room in my life for pity. Just love, which is something we don't have for each other. Plain and simple.

Now that I think about it, I don't think you've ever seen me cry, have you? I've seen you cry before. I feel bad because you always seem to be quite open with me, like you're trying. But see, you're not trying to a real relationship. You're trying to form something like a brady bunch family thing. If you ever want to get close to me, it's not going to be ideal or happy and it definitely won't be perfect. See, I partially blame myself for our lack of closeness. But that's because I don't trust you, Dad. I don't trust you because I've watched my mom cry over you, I've watched her hurt because you haven't been here. I'm fine without you but sometimes I think she's not.

I do not want to get close to you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you're not going to get the perfect daughter. I'm in no way ideal or perfect or daddy's little girl. But then again, I didn't end up with a perfect dad either. Fair's fair.

Sincerely,
Amy

So, in my last post I was really exhilerated because I was doing good. I was confident that I would overcome and have dinner, just a small TV, lean cuisine dinner. Something so simple. I couldn't possibly screw that up...right? Wrong.

I was so certain that I could just eat it and relax and watch some TV and act normal. I hadn't had anything else all day besides vegies. I mean, come on...jeez. But, as soon as I was no more than half way through my chicken and veggies meal, I just couldn't take it...I started breathing quick and getting nervous. I ran to the kitchen and threw it all up. I couldn't bring myself to finish the rest. And I spent the next hour or so pacing around and deciding what this meant.

This means I'm a lot worse off then I thought. I am not in control of this. This also means that I'm in denial because last night I ignored it and went to bed, and even considered not mentioning this in my blog because I didn't want to let everyone down. To the people who read this...I hate letting you down. I don't know if anyone reads this, but you have no idea how many times I think about you. When denying food or counting calories, I stop myself and think of you, the reader....what hope will I have to tell you if I do this? That's what I always ask myself.

And that's great, I think, it's nice to have someone to live for. If there is anyone, I mean. But the problem is that I can't keep living and doing things for other people. It's the same thing as starving myself because I don't want people to think I'm fat. It's the same thing, and I need to stop looking to others for approval of my lifestyle. I have to start living for me, for once.
So...I'm not perfect. And I was making progress yesterday. And today has actually been good. I did throw up a little but I was able to stop myself. So I've had a meal today, and that sounds like not much but it's progress.
And I have to keep making progress. For my family, for my friends, for you, and most of all, for myself. I forget that time to time, that it's my life. I tend to forget.

Perhaps this is my silver lining in the grey colored cloud, hm? Today has actually been not so bad. I've been really tired. But I've only had ONE (count it, one) caffine/diet pill today! I've also let myself eat, guilt free. I mean, it's only been apples and carrots, but it was guilt free...I didn't bother to exercise or anything either. I even went to a movie with my family and shopping. I feel a lot better now that I know I can do something about my life. I think I can do this.

I bought myself a Lean Cuisine dinner, making a blatant attempt at showing my mom I was eating tonight. It's eleven at night...and I might even eat it. I'm thinking about it, and I think if I can relax and not over think it, and just try...eating. And relaxing and stuff, then I can do it.

My period is still acting weird, but at least I have it back! I'm a real woman. And shame on those who make me feel like I'm not. And shame on me for making myself feel I'm not! Anyway, I'm in a better mood and my stomach hurts because I AM HUNGRY. Yes, that's right. And I may even do something about it. Not binge. Not cry. Not ignore it. I may have something to eat, and be a normal, healthy person about this. That's who I wish I could be. Someday maybe I will be.

I want to be better, and I'm not going to do anything stupid and kill myself. I can't do that. I can't do that to my family. It's not because I really don't want to kill myself but it's because I don't want to go that way, and I definitely don't feel like doing that to my sister or my mom. They'd be fine eventually but my little sis looks up to me like I'm some kind of idol and I've screwed her up enough already.

I try to be this strong person because I don't want to seem weak, I don't want to be out of control. My head hurts and I'm very sick right now. Anyway, I just...am not the person I try so hard to be. I don't know who me is. I don't know her. She's some quiet, lame, weak little thing. And she'll be fat to be always. I'm working on it...but I've always been fat in my mind. I'm working on that self image, I guess.

I don't want to be a hypocrite anymore. I think I'm some feminist with super powers and I'm the worst kind of conformist. I mean, look at me and how pathetic I am.

Anyway, I've opened myself up way too much to someone tonight. I just freaked up and stuff. I've been doing that a lot lately. Freaking out. There's been less and less space between breakdowns and panic attacks and freak outs lately. It's scary. I'm losing control over everything.

I just want to stay home all day and drink water and sleep and never talk and never eat and never live. But I can't do that, I won't let myself. I have to try, but I'm so tired. I need help, you know?

So these past few days I've been unbearably miserable. I've taken far too many diet pills in the space of forty eight hours. I guess it's just another way for me to test my limits, I seem to enjoy doing that. So do other people. They enjoy stretching me as far as I can go until I break.

This past week I have been considering taking my life many times. For the first time in a while, it seems that now that I am so terribly depressed, no one seems to notice. Which is very good, because I really don't want to deal with the guilt and annoyance which comes with people always checking up on you and asking "what's wrong?" With those kinds of questions comes some unbearable weight of knowing this person just feels pity for you, that's all.

Since my huge binge yesterday, my weight has gone up a pound. I think that's not too bad, but inside it's bad, bad, bad. Terrible.

Today wasn't too bad, I still think I consumed less than five hundred calories, but it's better than nothing. I'm tired, very, very tired.

I am afraid to be alone, but I really need some quiet time. But I'm afraid because I honestly don't feel like living anymore.

I feel like there is no end to this in sight. And I don't want to end it, and I don't want it to keep on going. So I'm considering getting some real help. Not a therapist to lie to or a friend to lie to and tell I'm okay. Like real help. But the voice in my head keeps saying that there's nothing wrong and I'm not sick enough yet, I'm not dying.
But I think...I think I am. And I don't care.

I just feel like bursting into tears right now but I can't stop smiling or acting like everything is fine. My body, and my heart just feel numb, nothing's coming...no emotions, no tears, nothing. I'm so tired of feeling like this. It's been like this for months, I can't feel. But I can - overwhelmingly. I don't know.

I just had so much to eat today, I just totally binged out of nowhere. I ate at Popeyes today so that my friend would eat. She would totally deny this, but if I hadn't ordered food, she wouldn't have. And because I ordered food and ate it, she did too. Which made me feel better, because more than anything I never want anyone to go through this...ever. This is eating me alive. And I didn't throw it up, I worked out a little when I got home, but not enough. I came home and my mom had bought my favorite doughnuts from my favorite bakery. And I had some of those. I don't want to throw up because last time I did I was bleeding from my mouth. I usually don't binge or purge because I restrict, and I'm fine with that. But today I just gave up.

 I don't want to not eat anything and be a skeleton, but the only other thing I know is to either eat nothing or eat everything and then throw it up and exercise. I am so sick right now, I feel disgusting and like I'm about to burst. I keep getting on and off the scale. I don't know what I'll do tomorrow if I get on and I've gained. I don't want to live this way. This is not worth it. I kept acting like everything was cool at the fastfood place, and after that...and the whole time I was screaming inside. I just want to die. I've actually been considering dying...but I can't do that. I'm not that weak, I don't want to die because I feel like I have stuff to do. But I can't keep living if it's going to be like this. This sounds so over-emotional but I feel so alone in this.

I honestly cannot say whether I am relieved or dissappointed that I have managed to maintain the same weight for about a week. That's a really big deal, whether it's good or bad. I just finished reading a book called "Next to Nothing" one on girl's account of anorexia. It was very good, better than I thought it would be, so I'm glad about that. I still have to say, nothing beats the book "Wasted" though.

I was going to try having three small meals today...instead of freaking out late at night, wondering whether I should eat or not. I thought, maybe if I plan today out...I can be healthy AND lose weight. Pfft, who am I kidding.

Anyway, I had a slice of bread for breakfast, skipped lunch because I couldn't handle it and chickened out. I had an apple and a handful of cereal around eleven tonight. I guess I'm doing okay though. Well, not really. But at least I'm not getting smaller. I'm really depressed about that, you know? I need to stop weighing myself because when I see the numbers aren't going down, basically my day is ruined.

I feel miserable right now. I feel as if there is no end in sight to this, and I feel trapped and scared. I don't know what I want. I guess what I want is someone right now, someone to just not need to say a word or for me to explain anything, and for them to understand what I think and feel and do...and to just give me a hug. Because I don't even understand what's going on. I can honestly say I have never felt more alone then I do now.

No matter what's ever happened to me, or the people in my life that I've lost...I've always never been truly alone because I've always had myself. I've always taken care of me, I think, and calmed myself down and helped myself and known what to do to make it better. I don't have myself, I am not me. I don't know who me is now or who she was to begin with. I'm just Amy, the girl who wants, who needs to lose weight. The girl who is terrified of food, of telling the truth, and of people. But I want all of them so badly right now. I want to be normal and to be happy.

I feel like I hate myself, so how on earth will anyone ever be able to like me? Let alone love me...

I just realized how many things used to make me happy. How many things used to define me, and they don't anymore, I don't like them, I don't enjoy them. I have lost my favorite things and people to...myself and my problem and my obsession.

I used to love muffins. I used to love YooHoo. I used to love toast. And hot chocolate. I remember the taste of stuffed crust pizza. I remember Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper. REAL Dr. Pepper...not diet. I remember spinning around for fun without getting so dizzy I had to stop. I remember laughing and finding things funny. I remember having energy, not needing diet pills to be able to get up and walk around. I remember loving to read, I have no focus. I remember loving to cook and taste the food I made. I remember going out to eat with my family instead of staying home while they have fun. I remember getting to eat birthday cake on my own birthday. I remember feeling hungry, and eating because I was hungry. I remember how every once in a while I would feel pretty and confident. I remember loving wearing mini skirts. I remember being able to do things, being strong and athletic. I remember food. And I remember...just barely...living. I remember life.

I miss these things, sort of. They don't seem as fun anymore. Or worth it.
Nothing seems worth it. I don't seem worth it.

So in my last post I said I was going to a play. I did and I had a great time, until afterwards. We went out to eat to celebrate (my mom and sister were main characters in the show) at the Wafflehouse since it was the only place open.

I hadn't had anything to eat all day, so I told myself, live a little, let yourself eat. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of raisin bran. I ate most of the sandwich, picked out the raisins from my cereal carefully and ate that, after I made sure the milk they gave me was skimmed.

I sat there while my family ate their huge meals and smiled and made small talk. I felt my stomach churn and could feel the food trying to come back up and I began to panic. I began to feel myself get bigger, the voice in my head was saying, "You fat pig, you have no self control." I told myself it was okay, I would look up the calories at home and exercise. But it was too late. I got up, went to the restroom and puked up my dinner.

I let myself breathe, washed my mouth out, steadied myself, and went back to the table, smiling and watched everyone finish eating, feeling smug like I had achieved something. I have failed. I know that this is no way to live, this is a selfish existance. I hate this, you know?

I went home and dry heaved for a few minutes unintentionally...it was like there was still something in my body and I began to panic that maybe I had still absorbed some of the calories even though I'd thrown up. I went to sleep exhausted. I said earlier yesterday that that day was a sucess, it was not. I want to try harder today, I need to live for my family. I know I have things to do, things to say...and I can't kill myself. But I am afraid that I already am.

Today I visited with my therapist, and we basically spent a lot of time focusing on my past. My past situations do have a lot to do with sex and violence and food...and drugs, but not the commonly known meaning of them. Drugs as in perscriptions, constant trips to the hospital and many, many pills. Just call me the little pill popper.

Anyway, I talked about the kids who harassed me in fifth grade in Texas, the fact that I was the only "blonde haired, blue eyed white girl" at school so therefore the girls alienated me out of jealousy and the boys teased and made sexual jokes constantly. I felt like an outcast. I distinctly remember looking at our class picture that was hung on a big paper cut out of an apple on the classroom wall and thinking, "I'm fat."

Weight, even before then was a huge issue and conversation topic in my family and day to day life, but though I had always been health concious, I'd never seen myself as fat. But starting that day I did. My mom was gone at work constantly and always stressed out from the big move and culture shock so I took on the role of mommy, even though I really didn't need to, my mom was great. I don't blame her for any of my problems, she always gave 115%, you know?

Anyway, I felt alienated, ugly, fat, stressed, and depressed. My therapist and I focused on that and the fact that suddenly I became very aware of my body at that age because of the sex jokes that were pointed at me, so we think that maybe I unconciously hated my body for the ridicule it brought up and that's why I began to diet with my friend Amanda, the girl I mentioned in my first post.

We went into some later things, how I lost weight and then went through three more moves after that. Then there was the naked picture situation. I'm starting to think that maybe I secretly hate myself because of my sexuality. And that's why I try to starve myself, because I don't want to be put under that kind of situation again. But I'm not explaining this well, am I? Long story short - I gave nude pictures to a guy I used to care deeply about. He betrayed me, they were given to his girlfriend, and then spread around school. Haha, how do I get myself into these situations?

We talked about how I blocked out all of my emotions in all of the above situations and used them to fuel my self hate and abuse. I'm not totally sure of this, but I'm willing to give it some thought. When I talk about my past I don't feel like it's me I'm talking about, like it's some other girl and I'm just an innocent bystander.

Anyway, just wanted to give an update. I'd say today was pretty successful, and I feel okay. Still very tired.
We talked about a lot today, but I still didn't mention the incident yesterday at the restaurant or the freakout, I'm pretty sure my mom told him though because she hinted at doing that.

And on a lighter note, I'm still not finished with the seventh Harry Potter book, I'm putting it off...savoring it, since it's the last one.

I guess that's all I have to talk about for today, I'm off to go see a play now, I'll talk to you guys later.