Truth 5: The (Lack-of-Actual) Prozac Diaries
December 28, 2011
Did well with food today.
Did well with my finger till after the food was over.
Then it became compulsory.
Same with last night- chewed off skin around my pinky and now I have a band aid on because I can’t bend.
Did well hiking with my family and not only thinking of food
Did well playing card games and Clue without desiring food
had only 2 bites of brownies- don’t feel guilty
Had 3 crackers after lunch- felt guilty
Counted how much time we hiked, tried to compare with calories
Wish I could remember anything we talked about
feel better not being too full
How do you love yourself despite imperfection?
I cant stand feeling full. I hate it.
How do you learn to love what you hate?
When I see fat, I see judgment
Not in control
It’s so vain- all of this.
How can I not care about others bodies and care so much about mine?
Wish it was easier than it is
Pity myself a little, for putting myself in this kind of situation
For letting it get to this kind of point
January 23-29, 2012 Running Schedule
Morning- Ran 6.5
2 mile walk to school
Afternoon- Ran 4.5
11 miles running, 2 miles walking
Morning- Ran 3.5
Afternoon- Ran 3.5
7 miles running, 1 mile walking
Walked to and from Raul’s, the kids school, my school- 4.3 miles+
Morning- 47 minutes- ran 27, walked 13
Afternoon- 33 minutes – Ran 28, Walked 5
5.3 miles running, 1.6 miles walking
Walked to and from Raul’s, the kids school, my school- 4.3 miles+
Morning- 67 minutes- ran 60, walked 7
Afternoon- 40 minutes- ran 25, walked 15
10.6 miles running, 1.7 miles walk
Walked to school, Raul’s, the kids school- 4.3 miles+
Friday, 27- Need 5 more miles! Back hurting, knee problem.
Morning- Walked 4 miles on the treadmill
Afternoon- Ran 1 mile
Walked 1 mile to Raul’s
Morning- Ran 35, walked 10
Afternoon- Ran 4.5 miles
Ran 8 miles
Sunday, 29- Nothing
Walked 6 miles
Total: 44 Running miles
September 8, 2012
Unhappy living like this. I cannot continue this way.
I’m going to lose everything.
I’m going to lose myself.
I have to make my life better.
I HAVE TO DO WHAT I NEED TO DO TO MAKE LIFE MANAGEABLE.
LINDSEY, stop living like this.
YOU ARE BETTER THAN THIS.
YOU ARE BETTER THAN ALL THIS.
DO WHATEVER YOU HAVE TO DO TO MAKE IT BETTER
WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER ABOUT YOUR LIFE.
-Eating well, having a lunch pre-made
-Working out- in the morning and right after work
-Drinking a coffee
-Having a clean room
-Dinners at home
-Going to bed before 1
Not feeling disciplined makes me feel like I’m losing my mind
Losing control of my life
I have to find the discipline in my life
I have to feel okay.
I have to be in control.
Lindsey, you have to be in control.
MONDAY- Food Journal
Greek Yogurt- 100 calories
3 strawberries/9 blueberries/10 grapes/ 1/2 banana
Piece of Toast- 90 calories
1 tbsp. Jelly- 45 calories
Coffee w/ hazelnut
1/2 banana- 60 calories
3 strawberries/9 blueberries/10 grapes
Apple- 90 calories
10 almonds- 110 calories
1 bread- 90
chickpea tuna- 130
3 Pita chips- 40
July 5, 2013
Don’t remember anything about last night.
Spent the whole night with my family-
Hiding food- Sneaking it into my clothes
I ate 5,000 calories.
And now here I am, 5:00am
Bile hanging from my mouth
Because my body rejected it.
July 22, 2013
I am moving to New York today.
Scared, and excited, and nervous, and unhealthy, and my throat hurts from throwing up, and my cheeks are bloated because I can’t stop eating- and when I’m nervous, I binge.
Dave has a heroin problem- I’m terrified. I’ve never known heroin, never seen it. Never understood it. And there he was, smoking it in front of me. The foil streaked- Standing in the door of his bathroom, watching his eyes turn to glass, his sad, shamed, way of looking at me and not looking at me at all. The tar moving around the foil, I remember thinking ‘This is what it does? This is what happens.” It rolls around the paper, and he chased it with his rolled up parking ticket, blackened at the edged, he chased it with his mouth the tar streaking the foil, the foil crinkling as it passed.
It was very silent, standing there. My eyes bearing into his head. I wondered what it’d be like if he died then. If he fell in front of me. Would I hate myself for letting him do it?
Do I hate myself now because I know and I’m leaving?
He looked so sad though, standing there. How lonely a drug can be. How lonely throwing up is.
I ate a whole bag of white chocolate pretzels while I sat outside his room, hearing him suck in, hearing the locusts, I wondered if I’d catch a whiff. I wondered if the smoke from heroin travels.
We slept in the same bed that night, my head on his shoulder. Interchanging the shoulders, the frame, the unique way in which people breathe as they sleep.
I wondered if he would die that night. I wondered if his heart would stop, while I laid on it. If he’d drift off and not come back. If his lungs would collapse, if his cough would ever go away, I wondered how he got here.
How do you get to this point?
And then I look at myself, and I wonder how I’ve let myself get to this. Why am I throwing up in a bathroom twice in one day. Why do my teeth hurt, why does my stomach bloat because I hurt it. Why do I hurt myself.
Why does anyone hurt themselves?
Why can’t we do what animals do, and protect?
Isn’t that the point?
And we get off on all these tangents
and we’re so fucked up for knowing they hurt.
Is there any other way to word this?
I looked at him, and his immaculate life, and his freshly-shaven face, his ironed clothes, pressed and folded, his new house, his nice car, and Jesus, what happened to you.
How can you have this whole other existence?
When did I lose you?
When did you lose me?
When did we stop being kids, where did we lose those people?
Cause if we stuck those two people in front of each other, I don’t know that they’d recognize each other.
I sat there that night, watching him smoke heroin in his bathroom, and all I could see was a little boy, with bushy hair, taking the stairs two at a time, a Smoothie King in his hand, a cut off shirt, muscles full and healthy and vibrant, his way of entering the room grinning and sweaty and tackling me into the couch, my arms around his neck, smelling his work out. Feeling his muscles through his shorts, his hairy legs colliding with mine. His little-boy happiness to be there on top of me, on a couch that was too short for him, his feet dangling off the ends, my feet tucked under the crevices of his knees. Blissfully unaware of everything we would be, and could do to destroy ourselves, unfazed by drugs, and death, and bulimia.
I watched him smoke that heroin, and all I could see was that little boy in a big truck.
And I’m so sad that little boy grew up.
And I hope that little boy finds his soul.
I just know this isn’t the person he is. If it doesn’t kill him, he’ll be better.
But, isn’t that what we say about everyone? Isn’t that what we say to avoid facing the reality. Aye, look to the future mate, look so far ahead you cant feel the presence, and only what you’ve created in your head.
November 20, 2013
So disgusted by myself it makes it hard to shower at night.
Hard to look in the mirror
Hard to get dressed.
Trying not to throw up.
I can’t- it has to stop.
And I’ll just get fatter and fatter-
and it’ll never stop
and one day, I won’t be able to do the things I want to do.
I’ll hate myself.
But I have to stop.
December 16, 2013
I’m going to Rehab tomorrow.
December 17, 2013 2:00pm
So now what do I do?- Just waiting around for a Tums.
Waiting around for a Tums because we’re not allowed gum.
You’re here Linds- you made it. Where you always wanted to be- Having someone else tell you how to live your life.
You got what you wanted- you’re here.
And what the hell do you do with yourself?
December 17, 2013 10:00pm
Of course I choose you to write my first letter-
Laying here in a bed surrounded by floral pink print comforter and beginning to have what people refer to as
“the reality check.”
I’m sick Kimmy, ya know? I’m really sick and what wasted time I’ve spent getting to this point.
I cried tonight-finally. I cried at dinner. Over a cup of yogurt with 150 calories and 27g of sugar.
Has it gotten to this point?- Appears so.
A girl with cuts all over her arms and scars to the tips of her shoulders- she sat with me.
I tried not to cry Kim, I tried not to do it. But with each bite, tears rolled down my face- and this girl-
this beautiful little girl- she looked at me and she told me jokes.
And I cried and laughed and other girls sat next to me and I ate that meal for an hour.
It took me an hour to finish Broccoli, Tofu, Veggies, Rice, and the Yogurt.
-And none of those girls left me.
They just sat there and talked to me- knowing I suppose- as they all had been there too.
None of them had to stay- they were done. But they let me take my time anyway.
It was really nice.
It was surreal.
And I wonder, sitting here, what am I actually crying about that is more than 27g of sugar?
Being here is hard- harder than anticipated.
I’ve never seen such sick people in my life.
Feeding tubes, and wheelchairs, women who look deformed from anorexia.
Scars- and hair loss
Baggy T-shirts and tired eyes.
This little girl-
This little little girl
with cuts and scars.
She spoke to me first.
Had no idea she was 14.
Cuts everywhere. All over her legs- in little horizontal lines on her thighs.
On her arm.
At medicine time, she puts scar tissue cream on her body. 14 years old-
There is this lady- she’s lovely.
Quiet, contemplative, nice to me.
– late 30s, a mother, a wife-
And Kim she weighs no more than 80lbs.
She is attached to an IV. She is never allowed to do anything without supervision.
And she’s so lovely-
She’s someones mother.
I worry how long I’ll be here. I thought this would be fast but frankly- the more I come to terms with the severity of my body dysmorphia
I fear it could be longer.
I don’t want to be here long.
But, it’s weird sitting here with nothing to eat.
Oh Kim, I’ve binged for so long I don’t remember how to go to sleep with the feeling of being dinner-full.
I’ll get to do some exercise. Once I’m off level 1, I’ll start exploring my relationship with exercise which will be nice.
Right now, I’m not allowed to use the bathroom for 2 hours after meals unless someone stands outside.
It’s degrading- But I get it.
I need to go to bed, now.
Love you always,
January 14, 2014
Losing track of days and dates-
But I think that’s okay.
Tired of feeling guilty about my life
Tired of unreal expectations.
It’s gotta end- Linds.
It has to end.
Just want to feel comfortable in my skin.
I hope that can happen-
Cause it feels like it’s starting to.
And that’s a nice feeling.
January 16, 2014
Did you know that turtles mate for life?
This woman just told me that her husband bought her a turtle bracelet-
to remind her she was his turtle.
And I wish everyone had someone to love them.
I wish everyone was truly loved by one human-
That we could just know.
Remember to remember what you saw when Lilly’s mother held her face in her hands.
That be the real deal, yo-
I love everyone here-
And I miss my life.
I hope I never forget what it felt like tonight,
sitting with these girls
and watching Aladdin.
I deserve a happy life, I think.
This is Rehab: Truth 5
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