Living and dying in 2 different worlds

The moonlight offers her condolences on such a dark night. How did she know? Why don't more people know? If they did, would it matter?

I haven't posted lately for a couple of reasons. One, I'm tired of hearind my own complaining, whiny voice and the voices of others.

Secondly, I havn't been around for portions of the last few days. I believe it was yesterday that I "came to" purging what I assume was dinner. I went away again and "came to" this morning, not feeling great, but not feeling as depressed as I had previously. I even decided to shower with my expensive Vanilla shower gel and use my Vanilla dry mist oil and my Vanilla butter cream. I only use those things when I feel I deserve it, such as if I feel thin or I worked out or my legs aren't as hairy as they are now. I know: TMI!!! :)

I know I should always treat myself as if I'm deserving and worthwhile and always use my special and favorite products, the shower gels and creams that make me smell and fell good. The other alternative is to marinate in my potty pot. It's so hard to treat myself well when I fuck myself up and I don't lose weight or I go off my restrictive meal plan.

I don't really know how to express myself tonight. I've worked really hard today at using effective coping skills and not just running to the bottle of tranquilizers. There has been so much switching today. I didn't dialogue with them; the thought didn't occur to me, but that would have been effective. I'm not sure why there was so much switching, but I just worked so hard not to run away and to stay present. I did laundry, took a shower, did a search-word puzzle, and went to the gym. Now I'm blogging to cope with the day and the switches.

I still feel very hopeless about the switches and can recall having serious suicidal thoughts this weekend. I'm really not whining or trying to be discontent. But you can't argue with logic or with facts. I think to where I was mentally the summer of 2007 and I ended up in the hospital because of my thoughts. I think back to my state of mind in February of 2008 and I ended up in the hospital. And I look at my thoughts now and they are tiny little replicas of what landed a suicidal maniac in the hospital. It's called hopelssness.

For me, it's more than the D.I.D. or the E.D. individually that trips me up. It's their cunning cooperation with each other that brings me down. I can't cope with them singularly but there seems to be few people that know how to treat someone with both and it feels utterly helpless. My thoughts are getting in the way of what I really want to say. Literally, my head is getting fuzzy.

Bottom line: I don't think anyone knows how to deal with a patient like me...not that I'm anything special, but I'm not sure anyone knows what to do with me at this point.

I'm clueless as to alot of things, but to this I'm sure. I scared to death as to the future. I'm elated that I'll go back to school in August, but so scared of it that I may not make it to August. The very thing that will save me will kill me in the end.

I'm sure of this: I am REALLY ready and willing to let go of the eating disorder. I am ready to deal with the issues behind it. But that presents it's own problem. To deal with the eating disorder, you have to deal with my two alters that have eating disorders, and they need more help, more help, more help.

Lastly, I'm sure of this: At some point, we will die. The thought travels repeatedly through our head. And if a stronger change hasn't happened in us before August, I see a messy repeat that we will not be able to back out of.

Well, that's that. I don't know if it was pretty or coherent, but there it is. Half the time when I go back and read a post I'm wondering what in hell I was thinking or who was out at the time to write such crap, such nonsense.

I'm scared. Oh, God, I'm scared.