There is something I need to admit to not only someone but to myself. I don't think it's a problem but I'm afraid to tell anyone, so I thought maybe this would be a good way to get it out.

I'm terrified. I think...I think there are like two of me. I think there's like two of me, like one girl who is really sweet and she wants people to be happy and she's honest and she wants to get better and she's selfless and she honestly does care about her friends. And then there's the one who just is so...mean to me. Like, she's this voice in my head that yells at me and makes fun of me when I'm eating, she puts me down when I look at myself in the mirror, she helps me stay away from food when I need it the most and she puts words in my mouth. She makes me lie. That's so irresponisble to say that she makes me lie. But I don't feel like it's me. Because I don't always agree with what she, with what I do. Well, I hardly ever do.

I don't know if what I say to people is a lie or the truth, because for part of me it is. The other one, she doesn't care about anything. She hates everyone, she lies and steals, and tries to get other guys to mess around with me and I don't know. I feel like when I'm alone I'm no one. And when I'm with my family I'm the more wholesome quiet one and sometimes I am with my friends too. When I feel threatened I just make up this character in my head like I do for acting, only it's real. And she comes to life and it's like I'm watching it all go on from the outside.

I feel like I'm in control, but that I'm not. I feel like this isn't really happening but it's my way of coping. I think maybe once I get better, they'll both dissappear and I'll know who I really am and the real me will be the one left.

Because there's the part of me that doesn't want to be either of them. I want to be just me. I don't want to be skinny or fat or anything. Just me. Just happy. I don't want to care anymore - about getting better or getting sick. I just want it to go away.

I think I'm having a panic attack about seein the shrink tomorrow. I don't know what to say. Will she lie or will she tell the truth? I don't know. I'm trying really hard but I don't know what I want so I don't know what to do. I just don't want to do anything. I want someone else to take over and live for me because I'm so tired and I can't sleep and I haven't slept in a long, long time. And when I do I dream about food which is disgusting. I'm afraid that my friends think there's something wrong because there's not. This is just about me and me making my mind up about whether to be healthy or not. But I know deep down that it's so much more than that.

I wish I could give advice to myself like I do for my friends. But what if it's all lies? What if just like I lie to everyone else I'm lying to myself? What if I'm lying so that in case anyone recognizes me on here I won't get in trouble. No, it's too late for that. I'm in trouble regardless.

I think my mother has given up on me. I don't mean to say she's disowned me or doesn't care, but she's tired. And I'm tired too. I think we're all tired of this.

There is a point in your life when someone you care about has a problem with alcohol or drugs or, in my case, eating. You try and try to help. You try to be supportive, you try to give tough love, you try to understand. And in the end, recovery is based on their decision and you get to the point where your hopeless. You feel as though there is nothing else you can do. So you, either conciously or subconciously, let go of that person. You have tried to save them and realize that you can't and so you stop fighting, your heart and soul can't take the hurting anymore...so you silently let them go.

I think that's what my mom has done to me, and honestly I can't say I blame her. She doesn't even try to ask me to eat with the family anymore. She doesn't make sure I take my medicine, she doesn't badger me. She didn't bother to pick up dinner for me tonight.

The funny thing is, I think this thing not only started for me as a way to gain control, but I think it was also my own way of getting the attention and recognition I wanted. I needed to be needed and loved and so I put myself in danger. And now...I don't feel like I'm in danger, it is only when I'm sickest when I feel safe. Now, I have lost a lot of affection and caring from people closest because I feel they have let go in order to save themselves from anymore hurt.

I just think this is all so messed up, and I'm tired of it. I think that maybe I wish I were just fat so I knew I was fat and I could accept that and eat. I don't think that makes sense and I probably sound stupid and spoiled right now but I have no idea what to do. It's all messed up and jumbled up and I'm doing this three ring act of trying to lose weight, trying to be healthy and yet not be healthy, and trying to make things appear as if they're all under control and I'm okay. They're not. Things were never okay.

I wanted to try something a little different and make a small blog post documenting the ideal images of women through the years, staring in the 1900's. Here we go.

1901:

Female models of the 1920's:

Women of the 1930's

Women of the 1950's

Women of the 1960's

1970's

1980's

1990's

2000-2007

How did we get to where we are now? What and who decides what is beautiful and what is not, and why do we allow the media to influence us to tell us our value based on size?

I know that the media is not completely responsible for eating disorders, but it does play a role as well as many other factors and the role that it plays is a big one. They set the standard, today's models, magazines, and TV shows influence us more than we sometimes realize.

It's always going to be there, you cannot escape it. You can either learn to ignore it, or let it take over you. I remember when I was a little girl I would stand naked in front of a mirror with my fashion magazie out, turned to the swimsuit section, and hold it up beside me, comparing myself to the models.

This is not healthy. How did we go from Marilyn to Twiggy? Why have we begun to measure our worth and out ability for success by the number we see on the scare?

I know I am not one to talk and that I find myself very often putting myseld down about the way I look. But this has gone too far. Some say nothing is going to change, but I say...nothing is impossible. And if we can go from idolizing healthy to dying, then I think we can do anything - including learning to stop idolizing body images and instead learn to appreciate the things that really matter.

Thought I'd give a rundown on the past few days and how they've been. I have dropped a pound but it's better from a pound a day, no?

Anyway, I went to a friends house to stay the night. We had pizza. I figured since I hadn't had anything all day, I could pretend to be normal and have a slice, right? Wrong. Total panic attack which was bad because I had to keep it quiet and not show that anything was wrong.

Today I had popcorn and some coke (not diet) and bread so I think I'm doing okay. My stomach doesn't even hurt. I'm afraid that I'm gaining weight because my stomach feels full so that's why I'm writing this so that I won't think about it. I want to be able to do something right finally, but my body and my mind are telling me I'm wrong wrong wrong. Either way I feel like I'm going to be dissapointed with myself.

I'm afraid, no...I'm terrified that if I eat normal...if I let myself eat, then I'm going to gain weight. This terrifies me because I'm disgusted with how I am now. So I don't know what will happen if I gain. I don't know anything.

I still visit pro-ana and or "thinspiration" sites, even though they go against my morals. A lot of girls I know use the excuse of visiting these sites because it's the only place they can go to to look for support. But with me, that's not the case. I visit them because it's easy. It's easier. They are most definitely not the only places I could go to for support or understanding. There are plenty of sites out there promoting health and recovery that would gladly accept and support me through my disorder. But taking that step to admit you have a problem, convince yourself that what you're doing is not normal and not healthy, and coming out about it not only to others but to yourself - that's hard.

Recovery is a very, very difficult journey. And yes, I have not washed my hands completely of these pro-ana sites. The thing is, they'll always be there. And I support their rights to the first ammendment and know that they're as necessary as all the good that's out there too. I'm just terrified for anyone I love to happen upon them. It's like my little guilty pleasure. I don't visit them for the belonging or the support. I vist them to feel normal. I visit them when I'm feeling guilty for the thoughts I have and the things I do. It's that whole "well...they're doing it, so I can too!" mentality for me.

I find myself a little more dragged in every time I visit those sites. But I want to be clear on one thing: I did not develop any eating disorders from these sites. Sure, I got tips and a little push ahead from them. But it took me to be sick to go looking for them in the first place. I did not happen upon them by chance, so I consider it my fault for visiting them. I mean, someone who eats fast food every day is responsible for how unhealthy their food choices are. They chose to go into the fast food joints in the first place even if they didn't know what they were getting into.

But I'm not pointing fingers and saying that visiting these sites doesn't make anything worse. It really does, it's given me the false belief that I can get away with starving myself. They've made me think that unhealthy is good. They've reaffirmed my reasons and my wants that ana so often throws at me.

So I haven't posted in a few days. Although my last one was full of success and hope, it's been a hard past few days for me since then. I've dropped another two pounds these past two days. I haven't changed my eating habbits much. My sleeping scheduale doesn't even make sense anymore. I don't understand what's going on half the time. I don't know if I'm anxious or terrified about seeing my new psychiatrist. I just know I am in desperate need for someone to talk to.

I feel that I'm living in a stranger's body these days, with someone else's mind. I feel like I'm watching someone else live their life each day in and day out. It's like I'm watching  my life from the outside. Last night I had a huge freak out and spent the whole night pacing my house up and down trying desperately to remember what things were like when I didn't have this problem.

I remember eating pizza, I think, and maybe not caring. I don't remember why it was all right to eat then. I can't remember what it was like to feel okay, like it's all right and that I'm not disgusting. I tried and tried to remember so that maybe I could eat now too and not freak out. But I couldn't. I don't know or remember what it's like to eat and not feel useless...and I'm scared maybe that I'm just lying to myself; maybe I never did feel okay. Maybe I was never healthy.

My mom is getting on my case way too much about my eating habbits. She's probably concerned but it comes off as annoyance nowadays and I can't say I blame her. I really can't stand myself, you know? If anyone else had my problems I would think they were stupid and that there was a perfectly logical solution to all of this. But when it's me, my problems...it's so different and alien. And nothing is logical.

I'm afraid of myself and what I'll do. I can't stop lying to all of my friends. I'm trying to put on the "recovering" mask. But I'm not getting better, I think I may be sinking in worse and I'm so scared. But I'm excited. It seems like no matter how hard my day is I can come home and feel my bones on my hips and ribs and back and feel calmer...like there's one thing I can count on. I don't know what I'll possibly do without those bones.

I went swimming with some friends and I really didn't want to. I mean, I came over with a huge jacket on in the summer but the water looked so nice so I ended up borrowing this girl's older swimsuit that used to fit her but was too small. She kept talking about how jealous she was of my body and that she wished she was thin like me. I thought I was going insane. I saw my reflection and was so angry. I was pudgy, meaty looking. I looked soft.
Soft has to be my most hated word. It's such a disgusting, suffocating sounding word. I never want to be soft.

My mom keeps buying me food even when I tell her not to and I keep having to throw it out so I won't eat it. It makes me feel so terrible. I can't eat it though or I'll feel worse. It's not like I'm not eating. I had popcorn and I think something else today. And I mean, come on...I'm an idiot. Who do I think I am? I'm not superhuman...I have a body that I'm selfishly starving...deteriorating, killing. This is a blessing that I'm abusing. I wish my mind weren't so retarded and I wish I would stop making excuses for myself.

I cannot sleep. So I thought I'd post this...that's about all that's been going on today. My fourth of July was dumb. I sat at home sick eating an apple and watching TV. This sucks.

I feel so proud of myself. I feel like I've finally taken some sort of a step towards recovery. I am scared but I feel so liberated already. Today I've been so nervous. I ended up posting on my blog (my public, real life one that my friends have access to) a lot of personal stuff and basically said that I had a problem and hopefully, maybe am trying to get over it.

I didn't expect the supportive, loving, understanding comments I got from my friends. I can't explain how good it feels to have people tell you they support you. I don't feel, for the first time in my life, like I have to hide as much. I just feel better. I feel a tiny bit less trapped within myself. And it's amazing. This is definitely what you could call another major "blink" in my fight.

Of course, nothing's perfect.

Today has not been so good. Mostly, I've had just water and a few more caffine pills than I probably should have.

I ended up making myself eat an apple. It's gross but I immediately got the runs as if my body was rejecting the food which worries me. I haven't weighed myself today though, which is huge progress.

I don't know, I feel like I'm less afraid because now people are aware and I know it's going to be hard and people are going to be just as unsupportive as the other ones have been awesome. So I know that the worst may still be ahead.

Ugh, my stomach is killing me at the moment, I can't tell if it's cramps from the runs or hunger pains or both...I'm afraid to eat anything right now but I may have an egg of something in an hour or so if my stomach calms down.

I know for a fact that just because I am more open now does not mean that things will be a cakewalk. I still want to lose weight. But at least it's not this huge secret that's destroying me and is kept silent. I think the hardest part is admitting that something is wrong, and I admit it: I HAVE A PROBLEM.

Saying that in itself, is a beautiful thing to do. To say it and know it. Because it takes a problem to have recovery, and there is hope.

Now I just have to FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT.

If you're feeling alone in your fight for recovery, know that you are not.

This is a song I can highly relate to at the moment, I find it very accurately describes the control my disorder holds over me. It's not very inspiration...but it is eye-opening.

"Sad But True" - Metallica

It's taken a while for me to realize how much I'm losing to this. There are the good days, and then there are almost always the bad days. But the closer I get to my goal, the farther I estrange myself from everything that used to matter.

I used to want to lose weight so I could get all the guys. Now, I don't care about anyone but myself. I don't want to be in a relationship because I'm afraid of getting close, and the only thing that seems to matter is losing weight.

I used to want to lose weight so I could be more sucessful in the acting industry. Now I feel too weak to get up and go to auditions. Now I almost don't care about what used to be all I wanted. Now what made me so happy is a source of stress and imminent failure.

I used to want to lose weight so people wouldn't make fun of me, the pudgy girl, anymore. Now I find myself not caring what anyone thinks. Now people are saying I have a problem and that I'm too thin. And now...what they say is something I ignore, it's not a concern anymore. And being what I am, is not enough.

I used to want to lose weight so I could wear nice, stylish clothes. Now I have a hard time finding clothes that fit my small frame. Now...I can't fill out clothes and I've lost my womanly shape to wear them.

I used to want to lose weight so I could finally love myself and feel beautiful. Now...I feel is ugly, ugly, ugly. And fat.

And I hate myself.