Thursday: 5.5 mile run, 58-60 minutes (including warm up and cool down). 3 miles in 31:28. 4 miles in 42. Total: 2740 calories burned
Friday: Zumba. 4 hours walk. Total: 2600.
Monday: .....liquid fast.
This is PrettyWreck.
This is PrettyWreck severely fluctuating weight every week, never seeming to go lower.
I've decided that I need to work on my intake and let it go up just a little, but I have to be careful. I'm falling into Coed. And not just my run of the mill binge cycles, but I'm talking bad. I'm talking, I eat until my stomach is swollen out and a hard, solid mass, and I can't walk without feeling like I"m going to vomit. It's physically painful, I can't breathe, my blood pressure goes up, and my heart rate is through the roof. I eat what I'm allergic to, even. I can't stop. I physically cannot stop. And then I wait until the discomfort subsides just enough to start eating again.
It's a vicious cycle.
Weight gain, weight loss.
The calories consume me, even as I consume them.
It's a scary thing, you know? I see myself going into the cycle, and I've been there before, but I can't stop it. And it's not just food that I hunger for. This past weekend was literally a fest of compulsive cleaning, masturbation, and food. I could barely bring myself to shower between shoving myself under my bed to hand pick the lint out from the cracks in the tile, to stopping long enough to look at porn, to shoving my face full of anything. I wanted to go out partying. I wanted to go dance. I wanted to go drink, and I never drink. My mood was strange, and manic, and obsessed, and I couldn't stop it. I was stressed over food, over lint, over dust....My room is always messy, and I cleaned it spotless and then purposefully made it messy again.
Even laid the mess out in a certain pattern so it was familiar, organized, and disastrous all at once.
Panic manic. Manic panic.
Move move move.
Eat eat eat.
Starve starve starve.
This is the turning of my life.
Overtaken. Overwhelmed. Out of control. Seeking it without regard or remorse.
My eating disorder has stopped being unique in the ultimate layout of my life. It's stopped being new. It's sunken in to being just another aspect of the disorders that I possess. Just like my sex drives waxes and wanes depending on my period, and my moods fluctuates as well, so does my eating habits. And in that, it's becoming so out of control. Don't eat, eat. Don't eat. Eat. Trust. Don't trust. Lust. Don't lust. Indulge. Deny.
Back and forth, back and forth, no middle ground.
Can't find a middle ground.
It's not allowed.
Comfort is stagnancy, stagnancy is a lack of growth, and a lack of growth is death.
If I ever got comfortable--if I ever became content and happy--I'd become stagnant and I'd die.
I wouldn't make the difference I need to.
If there's anything at all.
I think instead I'm just spiraling. Like going down a great corkscrew slide. Of course there's no middle ground. You're thrown around the edges of this thing over and over, the force trying to drag you to the center but never able to reach it. Left, right, left, right, spinning down, thinking you're able to reach out and get to the center and that middle spot eventually but when you actually do, it's just because you're dumped onto the ground with an inelegant thump and your journey is done.
Death looks so pretty when we don't realize what it is.
Be happy for your pain.
It shows you still breathe.
My lust is in high gear.
I'm convincing myself of the negative aspects of unattached sex.
Especially with coworkers.
Is it too much to ask for a pretty girl who won't go crazy?
Or a man of muscles who smells nice, doesn't do drugs, and won't stalk me?
Or to ask for either free of drugs and STDs?
Or is that like, impossible now?
Ah, one can only dream.
I blame the need to fuck another coworker (not G, but now ANOTHER that I like) on the liquid fast I'm on. My mouth is craving something to chew on, and good lord, C looks delicious.