11 / 26 / 2021
You know what? Something that I never talked about is that around a month ago I one day flipped a switch and started not eating any. (Maybe I did talk about this... I'm too lazy to go back to see) BUT, I was at the gym and I just was like, "No, I am not going to be like this anymore.". I started an instagram soley dedicated to it. I weigh around 145? Which to me is insane. Because last year I weighed around 130. But I need to keep in mind, I'm still growing from puberty and I'm going to the gym a lot and growing in muscle mass which equals more weight gain from all that muscle.

Through this, I was very strict about my diet. Only coming in around 500-1200 cals a day. Around a week - 2 weeks later I realized that this isn't a good goal. I'll either snap out of it or I'll die trying. So, I stopped. I fight everyday to not relapse into this again. I look healthy and I look great. But there is always a part of me that is wishing my bones were jutting out and for me to be pale and fragile. To look like a doll who is too skinny and has unrealistic body standards. I know this isn't right though and I know that I don't need another problem on the table. In those few weeks all I obsessed over was food. I would stand at the fridge crying and I'd fall onto the floor trying to silence my sobs so no one else in the house knew what was going on. I'm glad I'm not doing that now. Really glad.

Yesterday, I talked about the whole feeling like Max thing. I don't feel like her as much now but she's still lurking around in my head. Right now, it's like she is staring at the screen with me as I type. Just in the back seat looking over my shoulder. It's so weird. It's almost comforting. I'm going to talk about this with my mom when she gets home from shopping for all those Black Friday deals.

Talking about Black Friday, I am set to work 4-10 but I know I won't get off till 12 p.m - 1 a.m. Gross.

I romanticize my illness a lot. I'm not sure why I do.. But I do. It's like I need it to feel valid. Last night, I had the scissors in my room and I self-harmed with them. I just stood up mad that this Sam girl was controlling me and I did it because I thought it would snap me outta it. But it didn't. So, I chose to contact the Crisis Hotline which didn't really help. I was debating on cutting my wrists as deep as possible just to see what would happen. I could do it then run crying to my mom and dad saying I don't know how I did it or how it happened. I really wanted to do it, super badly. But I didn't. Because then they'd send me back to inpatient and I'd miss work and school and I'd have to come back and make it all up. I would just be even more stressed.. Which I don't want. But anyways, I'll get off here and work on other stuff. Peace out.
11:50 a.m