My therapist told me I need to hold myself accountable. Actually, everyone on my treatment team tell me I need to stop lying to people when I tell them why I am sick. Honestly? I don't think people would believe me. But oh well.
Friday, August 13th 2009 marks Day One of Serious Bulimia Recovery. Two times in treatment haven't worked, mostly because I have this fabulous habit of not listening to advice that I don't like. But I'm trying anyway, and I'm not quite sure why.
My "S" key is broken.
Here we go.
AUGUST 13, 2009
8:30 am Day one of serious bulimia recovery. No more puking. No more lying. Until I discovered a picture of boyfriend at his first wedding, kissing his whore of an ex wife. Readily available in my pantie drawer. This means two things: One, I clearly never wear panties, and Two, uhh, Two is that there is a picture of my BOYFRIEND kissing someone else. In the drawer of unmentionables. Tostitos have suffered the consequences. Well, one more time won't hurt, right? This is going to be harder than I thought.
11:30 am Lunch with my father. Telling myself I won't puke afterwards. We have been going to the same restaurant every Friday for six years, and if accomplished, this will be the first time I don't hork it up immediately afterward.
1:30 pm ALL of my thoughts are about vomit. I'm at work. After successfully keeping my cobb salad down for an hour. Can't stop thinking about it.
"Hi, welcome to Clinique, how may I barf you?"
This is excruciating. Cue zen breathing here. Except, every time I go to do my deep breathing, I inhale old lady perfume and want to throw up anyway.
5:00 pm And so we begin yet another glorious anxiety attack. I have never kept down leftovers IN MY LIFE. They are usually prime binge/purge material. I'm apparently jumping right into the fire here. I will not purge, I will not purge.
6:00 pm I'm starting over tommorow. Remind me to not think about how pathetic I am.
Hopefully today is better. Hopefully today I'm funnier. Maybe if I have time I'll update my profile. Probably not.
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