But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Update on Life at age 22

I can't sleep. It is 4:35 in the morning and I have been struggling since 10:00 pm to sleep.
So many thoughts. Diaryland is still so close to my heart. Something inside me changed, when I realized I was getting better, when I knew I was no longer going to die...
When I was safe.
Something about knowing I would not cease to exist on any given day forced me to silence myself, out of fear... fear that these secrets would follow me not in death, but in life... And all throughout. Somehow, having my secrets known when I was sure I was going to die was fine. In fact, I hoped that my struggle with anorexia, bulimia, type one diabetes, and "diabulimia" might help someone else.
Indeed, no one understood diabulimia. Many doctors said it was impossible for a type one diabetic to survive with an eating disorder. Now, information on diabulimia is everywhere. In the last year, knowledge on the subject has exploded, and rumors of it being added to the DSM are in the air. Treatment protocols specifically for those who omit insulin to lose weight are being created. With new treatment comes more awareness... Hopefully the death rate will decline as well.
As for me, I am not perfect. I have come so far in the last few years, but I still struggle. Automatically, my brain calculates calories on a subconscious level. I am very aware of myself, my body, and my weight. Some days are much easier than others.
But not long ago, I gained a lot of weight. In fact, I weighed over forty pounds more than I do now. It was terrifying. I fear ever returning to that, as people actually had the gall to make snide remarks about me being "chubby", "having put on some weight."
I kept the tide at bay, worked to ignore it, but, as I did so, I became more conscious of my body, and, in turn, more humiliated by my appearance.
I started to lose the weight. Slowly, but then faster. I began to cut more out, to eat healthier amounts. I started exercising and stopped eating junk food.
At one point, I was working 80 hours a week, between a job and school.
Crazed, exhausted... I found myself eating next to nothing. In a matter of months, I had lost almost fifty pounds.
But I realized this was a problem... As much as I felt I needed to lose more weight, I knew it was time to stop. It wasn't easy. Ironically, if I hadn't stepped on the scale, I could have denied this problem... But who knows how low I would have gone?
That is the difference between me now and me a few years ago. I can make those decisions. I realize, though I might not like it, I can use the scale to tell me when I have gone too far.
I now have the strength to live, not just merely exist. However, I still fluctuate between eating too much some days and not enough on others.
Sometimes, I even freak out for hours, pacing, wanting to cry, unsure of how to act... when I eat too much. I cannot concentrate at these times, but I live through them.
A friend of mine, with "diabulimia" just got out of the hospital. She passed out after not wearing her pump for two days, and ended up in the ICU on a ventilator.
It is so deadly.
I am so grateful to be where I am today. Though there are ups and downs in recovery, (trust me, I know, I've gone through every eating disorder, to hell and back) life is better without being consumed by a thing that traps the victim only to consume and kill.
I want no one to live the way I did a few years ago.
You are beautiful for who you are. In the battle, you are fighting to lose. It is giving up that wins.

4:25 AM - Monday, Mar. 03, 2008
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dying - living