Twelve Months

It's been a big year for me with lots of changes, both good and bad. I feel like I've grown up a lot in 2011, although I can't say I'm sad to see it end. Time for new beginnings!

So here's a quick rundown of the past year:

- January - I withdrew from college and officially entered treatment for anorexia. In the span of about one week, I went from being a full-time college student to living at home with my parents, going to therapy twice a week, and embarking on - shiver - weight gain.

- February - I put on a little weight and my health was generally stabilized. Although I was living at home, I basically refed myself. Lotsa loneliness and self-loathing. I enrolled in a couple of classes at a local university, but they were lame and unsatisfying. I also started volunteering for a literacy organization, which was more interesting but not quite enough to keep me occupied and distracted from the yuckiness of weight gain.

 - March - Still gaining weight. Still lonely. I took a trip with one of my best friends and she turned out to be an amazing support system and sounding board for me. We still talk semi-regularly (she goes to school across the country) about ED stuff, and I'm pretty open with her.

- April - I reached my highest weight in recovery (still a few pounds short of the goal set by my treatment team) and got my period for the first time in about two years. I was actually thrilled about that, and I've missed it since then. Every month, my hormones still get wacky and I desperately wish for my period to come back.

- May - My weight gain faltered here. Getting so close to my goal weight (eek healthy!) made me super panicky and uncomfortable. The exercise started becoming a problem; I had exercised throughout all of my recovery, but it really ramped up by late spring/early summer. I got a fake wimpy period this month, and it hasn't returned since.

- June - I started my blog! I can't even describe how significant this has been for me. This blog originated as a private journal on my computer because I was too shy to actually put it up online, but I finally took the plunge and I'm SO happy that I did. Writing NVNL has become a tremendous emotional outlet and I've found more support online than I could have ever imagined. You guys rock!

- July - Working at the most boring, awful, uninspiring internship ever. Yawn. By this point in the summer, I'd dropped a bit of weight and found myself in the most crippling depression I've ever experienced (I blamed my too-high weight, therapist blamed my too-low weight). My eating was okay, but I was running too much and gave myself a hip injury that still bugs me from time to time.

- August - I finished my internship, had some challenging sessions with members of my treatment team, and finally returned to college! This was a tough month of transitions, but I was ultimately really happy and proud of the way it turned out.

- September - Back at school and back in treatment. I started with a new therapist and dietician, both of whom I really liked, even though they pushed me out of my comfort zone. I started dating a wonderful guy, S. I became super close to my roommate, who has become one of my best friends ever. Sometime during the fall, I also realized that I'd lost touch with some of my old friends, but that's okay because I had changed.

- October - Made it official with S, who bought me flowers and chocolates and took me on nice dates and succeeded in making me feel halfway decent about myself when we were together. I still struggled with the idea of gaining weight, which frustrated my new therapist, but he persisted. I was still working out religiously at this point, but had actually cut way down on the exercise since the summer.

- November - My exercise rituals came to a screeching halt when I injured my Achilles tendon. This was (and still is!) tremendously difficult to deal with, but the forced break may prove to be a blessing in disguise. My weight stayed basically the same, which was a success and failure at the same time. Success because I resisted the urge to lose more by resorting to sick and unhealthy behaviors; failure because I was supposed to be restoring the weight I'd lost over the past few months, and had been struggling to do this since starting with R in September. At the end of November, I had a wonderful trip home for Thanksgiving, which was a good distraction from the food/weight/exercise issues.

- December - I broke things off with S, which I still can't totally justify other than it didn't feel right. I got through my finals with straight A's, which was a major ego-booster after a rocky semester. After three months of waffling on the weight gain thing and resisting IP with every fiber of my being, I agreed to do more intensive outpatient treatment over my winter break. I'm heading back to College City in a few days to start seeing R and J several times over the next couple weeks in an attempt to boost my weight and get to a healthier place before school starts up again.

Whew, did I say "quick rundown?" I meant "epic reflection." If nothing else, I just want to emphasize how much I appreciate the support I've gotten from the blogging community. I started writing this blog six months ago, and still get ridiculously excited to read new comments and watch the number of pageviews go up. It makes SUCH a huge difference to know that I'm not alone in this, that other people have fought this illness too and won, and that there are so many incredibly compassionate, smart, perseverant people out there. I'm so thankful for all the texts/e-mails/comments from everyone, and of course I appreciate silent readers too!

Thanks again everyone! Have a wonderful New Year's.

One Good Day

After all the misery I've been spewing in my last few posts, I just had to sit down and write about the wonderful day I had yesterday. Nothing big happened - just hanging out at home, running errands, cooking and eating dinner with my family - but after several days in a row of inexplicable, overwhelming sadness, it was the most incredible feeling. 

I woke up around nine, had quick coffee and breakfast with my mom before heading out to the Apple store. I've been having problems with my laptop this fall, so I'd made a Genius Bar appointment for 10am, as soon as the store opens. I got there at 9:55, and there was already a line out the door of people bringing in their new Christmas toys for returns, repairs, etc. Luckily my appointment was fast and I was out of there within thirty minutes. Back at home, I hung out with my brother for a while, then went shopping with my dad to exchange one of his gifts. Came home, ate lunch, and then headed back out to run some errands with my mom and brother.

Later that evening, my mom and I made dinner together. In general, I don't particularly enjoy cooking (it's not an ED thing, I just don't really have the creativity or patience to spend much time making elaborate meals), but I LOVE cooking with my mom. We use it as an excuse for some relaxing girl time - put on an episode of Law & Order or Bones in the background, sip some wine, and take turns chopping/stir-frying/mixing etc. 

My dad and brother are total men's men in that they refuse to participating in the food prep, but eventually they wandered into the kitchen as well, snacking on cheese and crackers and chips while we finished warming up the food and setting the table. We had one of those long cozy dinners where everyone lingered talking at the table after the food was gone because we were too comfortable to leave.

It wasn't until much later that night, when I was brushing my teeth and taking out my contacts, that I realized how content I was feeling. None of the usual out-of-control anxiety and overpowering depression, but a new sense of security and calm. I'm not under any illusions that one good day means the end of this emotional roller coaster I seem to have been on lately, but that one good day has recharged my batteries and settled some of my racing fears.

Christmas Impossible

Something has shifted over the past week or so, sending me from general numbness to outright depression. I know that I just mentioned recently how my anxiety has been a much bigger problem lately, and it still is, but suddenly I'm crying all the time and I don't know why. My mom is at a loss, and now I mostly just hide it from her because I'm sick of upsetting her and trying to explain that no, I'm not crying because of this or that or anything you said, I just feel crappy.

I'm trying really hard to be a normal person around my family and friends. Christmas was lovely; we opened presents in the morning, then my mom and I went for a walk outside since the weather was beautiful. We spent the afternoon cooking (steaks and shitake mushrooms in a Cabernet sauce, YUM). After dinner, we decided on a whim to go see the new Mission Impossible movie, which was a totally unprecedented Christmas night activity, but still fun.

So I should've had a wonderful, cozy, happy day with my family but, for no real reason, I didn't. After dinner, I started falling apart and had to excuse myself to cry in the bathroom.

Being the logical control-freak that I am, I've tried to be rational and come up with possible explanations for my irrational emotions:

1) Hormones - it's that time of month when I get pseudo-PMS. My skin is usually pretty clear, but I've been breaking out lately. My tummy feels all crampy and yucky. My emotions change hourly without warning or reason, and I'm thinking that only wacky hormonal shifts could be responsible for such senseless moodiness.

2) Lack of exercise - I've been trying to turn this injury-turned-recovery-challenge into a positive, but the truth is that I'm really, really struggling. My original Achilles injury is getting better, but I somehow managed to aggravate the other foot, and even walking hurts. Plus, my old hip injury is acting up again, despite me doing zero physical activity in over six weeks. Seeing other people running outside makes my chest hurt because I miss it so much. It's giving me an identity crisis. My mom runs daily and comes home talking about how refreshed and exhilarated she feels after being in the sunshine. Meanwhile, I feel fat and lazy and gross.

3) Aside from the injuries, I've been having a lot of other health problems that I don't really wanna talk about on here, but they're stressing me out and making me scared of what my body will do next. I've seen three different doctors since being home, and I just want someone to prescribe me a pill that would cure everything all at once.

4) Being on vacation - This should make me happy and relieved, but I think that a lot of my emotions got suppressed when I was caught up in the stresses and busyness of school; since getting home, I've had a chance to sit with myself and feel some of the things I didn't have the time or energy to feel before. Like inadequacy. Ugliness. Fatness.

5) Starting therapy again - I alternate between feeling prepared for it and absolutely dreading it. Lots of the time, I feel like the ED is barely there; like the problem is just me. I'm ashamed of how terrible I feel, because my life is pretty perfect and there's no reason for me to be so unhappy. I'm ashamed of getting treatment for anorexia when I'm not thin, I'm not starving, and I'm not deprived of anything in this world that any person could ever reasonably want.

Ugh, I apologize for the rant that was this post. Blame the winter blahs. I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday and is looking forward to the new year.

Home for the Holidays

Thanks to everyone for all the sweet comments! It means so much to me that people read this, much less take the time to write back. You guys are the best.

So, the home front. My brother isn't here yet (he lives in Big City about an hour away) so it's just me and my parents at home this week. Which is fine, I love my parents. But it's also a little stifling after living on my own. I forget what I need permission to do. I've always been a "good" kid and my parents have always given me the benefit of the doubt, so sometimes the lines are a little blurry. Do I have a curfew? I don't even know.

My mom has been all over the food thing, and I can't take it. I'm super close to my mom, but her constant comments ("Have you eaten breakfast?" "What are you making for lunch?" "Aren't you supposed to pack a Clif bar?") are driving me absolutely insane. She's never been this vocal about it, even a year ago when I was clearly at my worst. The constant scrutiny makes me just want to avoid her, and that makes me miserable.

At my last appointment, I talked to R about how my mom generally stays out of my ED stuff, which makes it doubly difficult/awkward/aggravating when she does insert herself. R suggested just being honest, and telling my mom that the food questions are unhelpful. The obvious solution, no? But for some reason, I find it so hard to talk to her about it. It feels impossible to admit that yes, I really do care this much about my weight.

Christmas is coming too fast, and it's bringing up some mixed feelings for me. A lot of the stuff I want can't exactly be wrapped up in a box; peace of mind, for one. I want someone to take away my constant anxiety and fearfulness. I want to be healthy (without getting fat). I want to be satisfied with my healthy weight, and I want to be able to stay there. I want to be able to eat without counting calories, or without even thinking about calories. I want to enjoy the important parts of the holiday and forget the rest. I want to be able to communicate to my parents how much I love and appreciate them, and that it has nothing to do with what's sitting under the tree.

I also want to get everyone else the perfect gifts, to make up for my being less than the perfect daughter/sister/friend etc. I hate feeling like a lame, un-fun, unenthusiastic person to be around, and I have this vague sense of wanting to compensate for that by making everyone else's Christmas morning spectacular. I'm a product of a materialist culture, sue me.

Speaking of...I love giving presents, but I hate shopping for them. My dream Christmas would involve no presents, just a weeklong trip to a tropical island. Although there is the bathing suit issue...

Semester's End

Well, I officially completed my fourth semester of college yesterday as of 3pm, and I got home late last night. I wish I felt some big sense of accomplishment or something, but honestly I don't really feel anything. I feel like I got through it, that's all, and don't have much else to show for it.

This was my lightest semester course-wise so far, but it didn't feel like a breeze by any means...which worries me. What happens when I pick up a full load in the spring? Or next fall? How am I ever going to manage? Why can't I be like my roommate - who is getting a double major, volunteers in the city public schools, plays a varsity sport, and bakes (and eats!) cookies every week?

Looking back over the past few months, one thing that stands out to me is my anxiety. I've been a constant foot-jiggling, nail-biting, skittish, omgIcan'tdoanythingandtheskyisfalling ball of nerves. The littlest things set me off. Two points off on an exam? I'm failing. Twinge in my neck? I'm getting a migraine.  Half a pound increase on the scale? Obese. Over the spring and summer, I was stuck in more of a weepy, hopeless depression; but lately, I haven't been sad or down so much as plain FREAKED OUT. About EVERYTHING.

Reading back over those last couple of paragraphs, I realize how lame and whiny they sound. I should revise a bit: I am proud of myself for getting back to school and making it through a tough semester. Even though the schoolwork wasn't necessarily that intense, the lifestyle changes and recovery challenges made everything harder. So I'm proud of myself for getting through all of that. I'm also proud of maintaining my weight, improving my eating from where it was a month or two ago, and participating in life despite feeling like a whale.

I'm proud of how I handled things with S and trusting my gut, even though it still makes me feel crappy. My instincts were screaming at me to just hide out, ignore his calls, and generally act like a complete wimp - so I'm proud of taking control and dealing with the situation in a grown-up, straightforward way.

Okay, I haven't totally talked myself out of this weird post-semester slump, but I'm getting there. Part of my uneasiness is just nerves about starting treatment again in a few weeks. I'm scared to gain weight. I feel stupid getting treatment for something as simple as eating. Who doesn't know how to eat? I got frustrated with my mom earlier today (yes, after being home for less than twelve hours) because she seems to think that getting to my goal weight will be some magical cure-all, when I know it isn't exactly that simple.

But I also know that everyone has their problems, and these are mine, and I need to get over this insecurity about feeling like I don't have a "real" illness. I'm not exactly sick, but I'm not healthy, either. I'm twenty-one years old - when am I going to have a better shot at getting what I want? Why am I settling for partial, half-assed recovery? I've only got one life, one family, one body, and I've been pretty lucky with everything so far.

How's that for a verbal vomit? I'm going to shake off these heavy thoughts and try to get myself in the Christmas spirit. So much shopping, so little time. Why is it that 75% of my school vacation falls after the holidays?

Hope everyone's doing well, take care!

Brain-Body Disconnect

It's amazing how variable my perceptions of myself can be. Some days, I realize that my stomach is empty and achy, my jeans are baggy, my head hurts, and I consider the possibility that I might be on the thin side of average. Other days, the rolls of fat on my gut and thighs jiggle and my double chin sags and everything seems squishy and disgusting. Compared to my high school years, I feel MUCH fatter now...but I know for a fact that my weight is lower. Compared to a year ago, I feel physically similar and my clothes seem to fit the same, but "mentally" I feel fatter because I'm eating more and exercising less...and my weight is higher. So obviously, something's off.

This week, both J and R harped on the lag time between bodily recovery and brain recovery - how you can restore weight, improve bone density, and undo all the physical damage while continuing to feel like a miserable, anxious, fearful ball of nerves throughout the entire process, and after. Lovely. If only I could reverse the process, this would be so much easier.

R keeps telling me that it takes achieving 90% of ideal body weight to significantly reduce the physical symptoms of malnutrition, but up to about 97%  of IBW to break free of the food/counting obsessions, fat-phobia, and body distortion. The tricky part being, of course, that determining IBW is far from an exact science, so who's to say when you've reached 80%, 90%, or 97%? What if I make it to 95% - would just a couple more pounds transform my entire mindset? How will I know? I don't want to be gaining forever.

The idea that adequate weight gain heals the brain makes sense to me, but it's hard to believe. I hit my highest recovery weight last spring (in a healthy range and I got a period, although I was still below the goal set by my first treatment team) but I was no less obsessive or anxious about food, still counted calories compulsively, exercised too much and for the wrong reasons, and experienced the most intense body hatred of my life. Plus, I was isolated, depressed, and crying multiple times a day for weeks and weeks.

I've explained to R that I'm afraid of gaining the weight back and returning to that same awful place. Although he is understanding, his proposed solution is always the same: get to a healthy weight - MY healthy weight - and stay there.

A Case of the Randoms

Time for some update-age, I think. It's reading week here, meaning we have four days of nothing but studying for finals. While it's nice to have big chunks of time to get all my work done, lack of schedule always throws me off. Generally, I structure my eating around my class schedule and always eat at the same times without much internal debate. When I have no schedule, though, too much freedom opens the door for thoughts of should I eat now or later? Or never? But no worries, zero meals/snacks have been foregone due to my anxiety over excessive free time.

I haven't done any formal exercise in over a month. This is a Very Big Deal. Up until I hurt my foot, I was religious about working out, and a single day off led to major feelings of guilt and ickiness. And now? Well, I'm not cured of the urge to work out. I still test my foot every morning to see if this weird, nagging Achilles injury has gone away yet. I'm still constantly antsy and on edge. I still fantasize about running miles upon miles. But several weeks after cutting the exercise cold turkey, something in my head has definitely shifted. It has occurred to me that I can function without doing my obligatory workouts. I no longer open my eyes each morning and immediately commence panicking about not being able to torch some calories.

Most importantly, I don't freak out to the same degree about my body exploding with weight gain. I've actually slightly increased my calories over the past few weeks, and I've gained absolutely nothing. Zero pounds. My weight has stayed almost identical, and maybe even gone down a teeny bit. I'm also convinced my appetite has increased since cutting the exercise, which still makes no sense to me but I'm trying to go with it.

Oh yeah, I broke up with S. I did a lot of soul-searching beforehand, doubted myself, went back and forth on it a million times, and spent about a week in serious internal conflict. Basically, it came down to the fact that I was just not interested anymore. He's an incredibly nice and caring guy, but there wasn't any spark for me. Plus, S was a million times more serious about the relationship than me and all the attention was making me extremely uncomfortable - not because I felt unworthy of the attention or anything like that, but just because I had no desire to reciprocate, which didn't feel fair to him. I was constantly filled with guilt about not putting enough effort into the relationship, whereas it seemed like he went above and beyond every single day. The whole thing was becoming incredibly one-sided. Does that make sense? I felt like I was constantly letting him down by not being committed to the same degree.

By the end, most of my hesitation about breaking it off came from not wanting to hurt his feelings. Once I made the decision though, I had no regrets. So I went to his house the other night and we had a long unhappy conversation in which I tried to articulate that I wanted to end things and he tried to convince me otherwise. I prevailed - not that it felt like much of a victory.

So that sucked. But in all honesty, I'm absolutely okay with my decision and I'm relieved to have the whole thing done. I was really worried about my total lack of interest - that something was wrong with my brain that left me with the emotional capacity of a zombie, but I gave the relationship a shot and it just didn't feel right.

I'm still working on my plans for winter break treatment, but I think it will involve me coming back to College City early and doing more intensive outpatient treatment with R and J. I'm definitely resisting formal IOP or IP, so I think this is a compromise I can live with. R's main goal is to have me restore some weight and get on a more solid footing medically and psychologically before school kicks off again in the spring.

That's all I got for now! Back to studying. Happy Monday, everyone!

Progress and Reflections

Today was my last day of classes, and finals start next week! I'm still blown away by how fast the semester has gone by - but also a smidge overwhelmed by how much that needs to get done between now and when I actually go back home. But I'm not panicking yet and I felt like blogging instead of studying.

Stop the presses everyone: I had a really good session with R yesterday. Usually, I leave his office feeling like crap; this time, I left feeling empowered and motivated and wanting health. He was thrilled that I had done way better on the meal plan last week, and I think that rubbed off on me. See? I can be a good patient! 

I hope I haven't given the impression that I don't like R or that he isn't working for me. In fact, I think he's brilliant. I complain about him a lot on here, mostly because he is tough and he does challenge me. I've been a tough patient, I know, but he has never gotten frustrated or given up on me or treated me with anything but concern and respect.

Then last night, I had a long talk with my mom in which I was able to talk more openly about the ED than I probably ever have before. She still doesn't really get it, but she believes me. We are working on the plan for treatment over winter break and although I'm not thrilled about any of the options, I'm becoming okay with it. Again and again, I am absolutely freaking amazed at how supportive and loving and wonderful my mom is.

Okay. Now I want to address something that came up in the comments the other day: I sincerely regret having ever inadvertently given the impression that I'm treating my illness "lightly" or not taking it seriously. I am. It is on my mind every second of the day. I agonize over it - the dangers, the insanity, the futility. I am constantly terrified about the damage I could be doing to my heart, my bones, my brain, and pretty much every other organ in my body. I am wracked with guilt over the trouble I've caused my parents, the money my treatment is costing, and the worry they live with every day. How anyone could not take all of that seriously is beyond me.

BUT I understand that it is possible to recognize the seriousness of something without having the tools or the capacity to rectify it. Yes, I could probably solve most of my problems (health-wise, anyway) by simply "eating more." By shutting up, sucking it up, putting on my blinders, and soldiering through. I'm not denying that I need to eat more and that I need to restore weight. Actually implementing that, though, is a process fraught with anxiety and fear and incredible self-loathing.

I know that I'm living a half-life by wasting time and energy and emotions on food and weight, but I am taking steps forward in ways that are hugely significant for me, even if they don't seem that way to an outsider. Upping the meal plan was huge. Cutting the exercise was huge. Opening up to my mom was huge. So I'm trying and it's working - albeit slowly - and I would never treat this hell lightly.

The Hunger Files

Recovery is an endless state of hunger, I swear. My appetite is out of control. Like today, I was sitting in a meeting for my internship when a sudden wave of hunger hit and I literally could not focus. We were working on an interesting project and I actually had lots to participate, but all I could think about was when the meeting would be over so that I could scarf down my Clif bar.

This has happened in classes before, too - where suddenly, I'm inexplicably starving and start counting down the minutes until I can bolt. And I can't even describe how angry this makes me, because I absolutely love my classes and my professors and it frustrates me beyond belief that I can't sit still for ninety minutes without dissolving into a hunger-induced haze.

My metabolism is still doing wacky things, but it seems more intense lately. Even if I don't feel particularly hungry (no tummy rumblings or anything), I'll get sort of light-headed, short of breath, my pulse quickens, and my whole body feels heavy - like my limbs are filled with lead and every movement takes a tremendous effort. It's this weird sense of being keyed up and antsy but exhausted and weighted down at the same time. And I've also been getting that insane sensation of having a full stomach that starts growling thirty minutes after a meal.

The baffling part of this is that I've actually upped my intake over the past couple of weeks. Very slowly, and not by much, but definitely an increase. Also, I'm still not running so it makes no sense to me that I'm so hungry! PLUS I've lost weight. Huh?

I'm becoming more and more afraid of my hunger. Timing of meals and snacks has always been a big deal for me (I will eat at 1:00 and not a minute earlier), and now I find myself micromanaging even further to make sure I never go too long without food. Because I am terrified of finding myself starving at a "non-meal time." Oddly, I'm not really afraid of overeating or binging at all, because I know that the chances of that actually happening are slim to none. But I am afraid of that weak, shaky, fuzzy feeling that can totally knock me out.

Anyway, this has been on my mind since I'm filling out my food records for R tomorrow. I hate writing down my intake. It makes me self-conscious. Although I'm actually eating less than what R wants, I still get horribly embarrassed to write it all out. And then to have to admit that I'm STILL hungry. I don't know how to explain that even though I realize an increased appetite + weight loss means I should eat more, I have a hard time justifying that to myself.

The point of my rambling, I think, is to show that Body Knows Best. I can't account for the fact that abruptly stopping all exercise and upping my food intake has lead to increased hunger and weight loss, but the fact is this: regardless of what I was eating a month ago, the current plan is not enough.

December Decisions

I have a lot running through my head lately. I'm going to try to be coherent and articulate but, well, you know.

First, I'm getting a ton of pressure from R. I hadn't seen him in two weeks, during which I somehow managed to lose a couple of pounds. This was completely unintentional, since I thought I ate pretty well - or at least hit my baseline - during Thanksgiving. According to R, this is my lowest weight in the twelve-ish weeks that I've been seeing him. (I guess that explains why I've been feeling weak, exhausted, and constantly starving all week, but apparently my deductive reasoning skills are wanting.) So I've been given another week to hit the meal plan and gain it back, or else we need to talk about Next Steps.

He's really pushing the IP thing, to which I am incredibly resistant because I don't think it's necessary. And also because it sounds horrendous. An alternative suggestion was for me to do a few weeks of IOP before the start of the spring semester, which seems slightly less awful but not by much. He isn't telling me to make a definitive decision just yet, but to start thinking about it. I'm also not sure how to talk to my mom about this, since we only discuss the ED very briefly. She seems to be under the impression that things are going fairly swimmingly. I think it's hard for her to understand that just because I'm under the care of a highly experienced therapist, eating three meals a day, and not a straight up skeleton doesn't mean that I'm not struggling.

Second, I think I want to break up with S. He's done nothing wrong - in fact, he's done everything right. The flowers, the chocolates, the dinners, the constant texting, the nightly phone calls, the chauffeuring me around town, the offers to "listen if you ever need to talk about stuff that's bothering you." Because he's not an idiot and he can tell that stuff is bothering me.

I've spent a lot of time and brainpower trying to decide this: Do I want to end things because I truly don't like him enough to stay in a relationship? OR is it because I'm just generally numbed out to everything right now? He is a wonderful guy and I don't want to push him away if it's a matter of ED sucking out all my emotional energy. I've been making a huge effort to accept all food-related invitations, just to reassure myself that I can, and that my reservations aren't motivated by anorexic fears. But the bottom line is that I'm not excited to see S anymore, hanging out with him feels like a chore, and it's not fair for me to string him along when I'm nowhere near as committed as he is.

Anyone still reading? Sorry for the epic posts lately. I'm feeling wordy, apparently, and my mind has been ready to explode. I also just realized that all of my aforementioned drama involved the men in my life, so I'll end with a list of happy girlie things:
- I had a great conversation after class yesterday with my favorite female professor, who made me feel smart and worthwhile.
- Tomorrow night, my roommate and I are going to a concert and I'm SO excited for it.
- My boss asked me to continue interning with her for another semester, which means that I get to finish the projects I've started this fall.
- My foot is finally starting to feel better. (Knock on wood!) A girl from class asked me to try a new gym downtown with her, so we're checking it out this weekend.

Happy Friday!