A Friend Decided to OD

...on some morphine.

So, I innocently logged on to skype at about 1 am, and friend #1 sent a distressed message. After a few exchanges, I found out that friend #2 finished his bottle of morphine about an hour earlier. Thus, began my evening trying to understand the situation.

I checked up morphine overdose, and he reported several symptoms, like feeling exhausted, nauseous, difficulties breathing. He has a pacemaker heart implant, so it was purposely keeping his heart rate up (which morphine would make low). Friend #1 and I proceeded to try and convince friend #2 to go get help, whether it be call poison control to know how to counter the morphine effects or go to the hospital. But neither friend #1 or I knew friend #2's location, address, cellphone, or anything to be able to forcibly sent police or help his way.

Friend #1 was able to get a hold of friend #3 through facebook. Friend #3 was facebook friends with friend #2's twin brother. friend #3 sent #2's brother a message to try and have him help friend #2, but she didn't get any reply. Apparently, #2's brother was out bowling late into the night. Out of desperation, I call poison control. They only said, "send him to a hospital, or try and contact the local police to get him in the hospital." It wasn't any help.

A few hours has gone by. Friend #2 still didn't want to go to the hospital because he didn't want to go to the psych ward. He's been there too many times, and he hates it there (which is understandable). But he's still said warning signs, like having to remember to breathe. Friend #1 and I were quite nervous, and we've tried to keep him awake until we hear from his brother (and hopefully manage to send him to a hospital to get OD help). Friend #1 and I keep talking to #2 to keep him awake, just in case he stops breathing in his sleep.

Eventually, #2's brother returns. They share the same bedroom, and his brother (being paranoid about #2's health) does keep a close eye for signs of complications. #2 warned me and #1 about his heart acting up if he doesn't get sleep, so we told him we'll let him go once we're sure #2 will tell his brother he feels ill and having some breathing problems. It's been about 4 hours, which I was told was the half-life of morphine. Friend #1 and I decide it was safe to leave #2 alone for the night.

Regardless, the whole situation was scary. I binged/purged halfway through it. I was shaking from nervousness while talking to the poison control. Even my gut was messed up when it was all over. But I kept a level head during the entire thing. I was determined not to let the anxiety and panic incapacitate me from being able to help the situation.

This entire experience made me even more sure about doing my pharmacology & toxicology major. I want to know more about this kind of stuff so I can be even more prepared for these kinds of situations. I want to be a doctor and help people like friend #2. This situation absolved all doubts about the path I'm taking. I want this, and I want to document this experience so I can remember this moment when everything became clear to me.

It is now 5:47am. Happy thanksgiving.

The sounds of food

...are driving me insane. My roommate is sitting on her bed, munching on some delicious smelling Cheez-Its. It's the only sound in our entire room. And I find it triggering beyond belief.

A few days ago, I did a stupid and tried purging a brownie that absolutely refused to come back up. The strain landed me a headache for two days, a stabbing pain in my stomach, and absolute fear of eating again.

I still don't trust myself with food, and I'm struggling to eat a healthier amount as recommended by my nutritionist. I can't tell if I'm feeling hungry or just a craving. I know I should eat... it's almost dinner, and I've had only 230 Calories. I'm supposed to shoot for at least 1350 Cal every day this week, but at the same time, I feel like I'm not allowed to. That there is some stupid, supreme power bearing down on me that forbids me to eat, and resisting it is futile.

A week ago, I would have been thrilled to make it to dinner with only 230 Calories. I wanted to end my binging and purging and just go back to restricting so I may get back to losing weight. But now, I'm wishing I can let myself eat and relieve the hunger sensations.

But I can't. I'm too afraid. I want to cry, and then cry in shame that I'm crying about eating. It's humiliating and pathetic. I want someone to convince me that it's acceptable to eat, but I feel like it would be a fruitless task.

Ouch

I'm abusing my mouth. On Tuesday, I ate so many salted sunflower seeds that I gave myself salt blisters on my lips and tongue. On Wednesday, I binged on.... a shit-ton of stuff, many of which was scratchy and tore up my gums. About an hour ago, I purged violently, and my throat and salt blisters are on fire. Worst thing: my roommate walked in while I was purging. I didn't even get everything out, and the room has a slight stench of vomit. I swear, she knows about my ED.

I fucking hate food right now. Fucking hate it. I wish I could go life without needing to think or come into contact with it ever again. It's damn vile stuff. But because of how this stupid body works, I'm forever forced to ingest this poison.

I'm going to wait a few hours and have a damn salad or cooked vegetables. I want something light, something clean. I want to rid myself of all this vile stuff.

I'll write up a meal plan that I can actually follow, something that isn't dictated by my nutritionist. The whole seeing a nutritionist just gave me anxiety about my eating, which made me purge much more than before. Follow a strict regime that's a compromise of what she wants and what I want, and hopefully go a week binge and purge free.

Stupid Brain. Y U No Logic?

Not going to lie: September had been a bitchy month for me. It started out in panic, but now I feel numb and emotionless. I have little motivation to do anything other than what's necessary at the moment (homework, cleaning, going to meetings).

I'm seeing a therapist and a nutritionist. My therapist makes me feel so illogical with my thoughts, whereas my nutritionist makes me feel like I fail at a task as simple as eating (no shit, that's why they call it a fuckin' eating disorder). The worst part is that I think since I'm back to my numb-to-the-world state (instead of suicidal), so I feel like there's no need to keep going to the therapist. Plus, I have troubles physically speaking to people about my feelings, so most of the sessions consist of me saying 2-3 sentences, then long pause.

Plus, I'm in a weird relationship with my ED. I both want it and don't want it.

I want it because it's my sense of control. When I restrict and purge, it feels like I'm able to make this pile of flesh do what I want it to do, not what it wants to do. I feel powerful when I can skip meals and feel absolutely fine. I feel like a god when I hear friends say, "OMG I'M SOOO HUNGRY I DIDN'T HAVE LUNCH TODAY." When I restrict and purge, I feel like I'm "winning" at something.

On the other hand, I absolutely hate binging. Hell, I hate food in general. Food is my drug and poison: I feel like I must have it, but whenever I do consume it, I feel ashamed and physically sick. But at the same time, there is this desire for more. So my body wanders the kitchen or cafeteria in a trance, grabbing all sorts of food to binge on.

I hate the feelings of guilt and shame whenever I eat, but at the same time, I want to be able to eat without feeling horrible about myself. But I also don't want to stop restricting because I feel like it's the only way I can get a body I'm proud of, but now whenever I do restrict, I feel like I'm failing my nutritionist. Regardless of what I do, I never get what I want, and I never feel happy or confident in my decision to eat or not to eat.

And this is leaving me in a foul mood. Quick to want to kill somebody over nothing, quick to criticize my own decisions and impulses, quick to want to stop feeling this mood, and therefore quick to shut off my emotions and wander through life like a numb shell of a person.

Blood Drive

My campus had a blood drive today. I was hesitant at first on whether I should donate or not, but then I realized I would feel ashamed of myself if I backed out--I've already been consistent with donating every 8 weeks, and there won't be another drive for a while. So I signed up for a 4:45pm appointment. After a lunch (hummus, lettuce, tomato, feta cheese sandwich) and some fat-free Greek yogurt, I walked in to donate.

It went much better than last time. Last time, I was dehydrated (it was an extremely hot week, and I was outside a lot). I had barely enough blood iron (12.6), and it took me 11:40-something to donate. This time, I had 13.7 for iron and 5:24 for donation time.

Even though the main campaign for blood donations focuses on making people feel good about themselves with things like "donating a pint of blood can save up to 3 lives," it doesn't have that effect on me. It's more that I hate my body so much I might as well give some of it to people who would want it.

When I was younger, I was scared to donate blood. The thought about having someone stick a needle in me or drawing blood frightened me. But now, I have a masochist enjoyment of donating. The pricks when they test the iron and when they place the needle are not much different than if I SI myself. Feeling the blood draining from my arm and the lightheaded sensation after was euphoric. One of the blood tubes rested against my arm, and I could feel the warmth against my skin as it exited my body.

Even afterwards, I can feel my heartbeat not only in my chest, but throughout my legs and arms. It's like an awareness that I am indeed alive. And though I may feel exhausted walking, I can still push myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Unless, of course, it's thundering outside, and my laptop is in my backpack. Then I get the smart idea to run back to my dorm.

I now understand why they say don't do exercise for the rest of the day. Although during the run, I felt perfectly fine. I had good rhythm, good posture (at least as good as you can with a backpack), and excellent breathing. It's afterwards that my legs suffered. It was like a 5 minute jog, yet it felt like I ran a 10k race.

And the effect didn't hit the moment I stopped running. 10 minutes after reaching my dorm, my quads felt like stiff metal bars, refusing to contract or extend. I was in the middle of going back up to my room from the basement, and I had to stop on the floor before me and rest several minutes in their den before I had enough energy to make the last flight and into my room.

Regardless of what people say, I'm still going to keep donating just for the side effects to my body. I'm fat enough to fit the criteria, so I'm going to keep doing so until I can't "over estimate" my weight being 110.

The Fear

I really, really hate my ED right now. I'm scared to eat meals during the day, but then I lose control at night and splurge on binge food. This is a complete repeat of last year. COMPLETE repeat. I swore to myself that I'm going to be better, that "this is the year I'm going to fuckin' do it!"

But I think I fail to restrict because I'm afraid. I fear what will happen if I faint while walking to class, or while exercising. I fear every time I stand up and have to take a few breaths to stop the dizziness. I fear what will happen when I start eating after a long fast because of all the re-feeding horror stories about binging or stomach pains. I fear what will happen if other people notice me not eating. Most of all--I fear my emotions.

I notice I binge-eat when I'm stressed. It's my stupid coping mechanism when faced with deadlines and expectations. Food numbs me. Without food, I'm going to turn into a short-fused demon who will shy away from people and snap at anyone who approaches. I'll feel euphoric for half an hour, and then curl up in a fetal position crying the next. It's the same as when I refuse to sleep. It's my cover slipping off and revealing the insanity within me.

Why is it so easy for me to go 30-60 hours without sleep, yet can't even make 24 hours without food? I think it's because it's more socially acceptable to be an insomniac than having an eating disorder. People just say, "Oh, you can take sleeping pills," and shrug off the topic. There's no shame involved with insomnia as opposed to an ED. There's no fear with insomnia.

I need to accept my fears and dismiss them. It's my own punishment. I can endure it. 36 hours--only water, tea, and gum. That simple. 2pm Wednesday.

PS: For those who read my last post--I'm doing fine. I've talked to several people, and they've helped me. I'm not going to lie, though: I still feel suicidal, but to a less degree. I relax at the thought of doing it, but I don't feel the need to act it. Thanks for your concerns, though.

Ah, the Insanity!

Oh, how I embrace it with open arms!

Here's my situation: I'm currently attending a tough, (and expensive) university, and somehow received a scholarship for free tuition for up to four years. But that scholarship comes with a catch - I need to keep a GPA above a 3.0. My first semester, I took a tough class and ended up with 2.8 as my GPA. The program coordinators decided to allow me a second shot. What happened? I got extremely depressed and ended up with a 2.867 as my GPA.

Now I have to meet with my scholarship program coordinators again and convince them to give me a third chance. Haha, yeah, I'm so certain that I'm going to accomplish that [sarcasm]. I haven't told anyone about my situation, and my family believes I'm getting good grades and everything is going all peachy. They even took me on a vacation to freak'n' Switzerland over the summer. The entire time, a voice in my head kept saying, "you don't deserve this. They don't know. the money spent on this vacation should have gone towards your tuition since now you'll need it."

So, I've been having random panic episodes. Crying on the floor of my dormitory's den for an hour at 3am kind of episodes. My eating habits are all over the place: I've starved myself for two weeks, binged for a few days, done stuff to make me nauseous/purge, exercised like crazy, avoid exercise like the plague...everything.

I'm completely depressed right now. Suicidal, even. I've already planned how and when, but I'm worried it might not be high enough to actually kill. Don't worry, though - it is an if/then sort of suicide. If I get a third shot, then I get to live. Otherwise, I'm going to jump from the building's roof after I get the final verdict, which will be sometime near the end of September. I don't care if I'll hurt the people who "care" about me. Maybe they should sample some of the pain I experience. And I don't care what happens after death, even if it's torture in the depths of hell. It's not like it'd be any different from what I go through every day.

For the few who read this, have a nice day!

"So you need to talk to me more"

So, my mom wonders why I don't talk to her. Well, here's a perfect example why I don't like talking to you.

An example of chainmail

You recently complained (more like bitched) about me not talking to you. As a people-pleaser, I'm now putting an effort to talk to make you happy. I just spent three hours working on my chainmail shirt, and I figured to talk to you about it since I'm really excited and passionate about it.

What do you do? you frown, look worried, and give vibes of discomfort. You tell me how I should make my shirt when those suggestions are impractical for the chainmail function and requirements. As I try to explain it to you, you go on a bunch of tangents, ask me multiple questions, and interrupts me with ignorant comments and suggestions that WOULD have been prevented IF I finished talking.

When I say "no" to your suggestions, you appear offended. You tell me I should look "feminine" with my armor, but that won't work. You think I'm sword fighting to find a boyfriend/husband, but that is NOT true. Nearly all the people in the club are older than me by at least 10 years, and I DON'T want to date any of them.

You freak out about me needing armor. I don't want to tell you that yes, the people will hit hard, and yes, I have a chance of bruising (like an entire black thigh). But that's WHY I'm putting a lot of effort in good armor. I worry that if I tell you, you'll tell me to stop.

And the worst thing: you're ALWAYS psycho-analyzing EVERYONE. Including me. You're trying to find meaning to EVERYTHING people do, and you form generalizations and conclusions that infuriate me. Especially that you basically called my a lesbian, bisexual, transvestite, or transgender because of my sport. Just. No. Quit being a homophobe. I am a straight girl, and just because I do masculine activities does not make me otherwise.

So, I thank you in making me feel like crap in the 15 minutes we conversed. It was a LOVELY conversation. Can't wait to starve myself to death.

Back from Vacation

I went to visit family in Switzerland, and I fell in love with the country. It's so beautiful with the mountains, lakes, and architecture, oh, did I forget to mention the abundance of hot guys?

The food was delicious, and I could tell that the Europeans take much more pride in their culinary arts than the Americans. Everything I ate even felt "cleaner" to me, but I'm not sure if it's due to the lack of additives and preservatives, or if I developed a bias towards European food.

The unfortunate thing is that I ended up gaining weight on the trip (big, sarcastic gasp!). It's only two pounds, but that put me back on my plateau weight that I worked heard to break through. All well. Two weeks in Europe is worth two pounds. (I'd draw the line at six pounds, and I feel pathetic about that).

And now my big concern is the next year of college. I move in on the 29th, meaning I have 17 days (including today) to drop as much weight as I can. I dream of dropping 6lbs by then, but that seems unrealistic for me.

Food plan: Avoid all sweets and simple carbs for the next two weeks and exercise as much as I can. If I have two weeks to kick my ass into shape, NOW is the time.

ED Dreams

Well, I've entered the phase where all I want to do is exercise all day. I haven't yet built the stamina for that, and my body is making sure that I'm aware of it.

I love to run. The sights, the smells, the sense of travel. It's so euphoric. But I've been cursed with horrible shins--every cross country season, I've ended up with a few stress fractures. I'm trying to slowly build up my bone strength by running a pathetic 1 mile every other day. But my shins still hurt. And I've only ran for about a week.

And then I found the elliptical machine at the gym. That baby feels like I'm running through water. Slow and sluggish, but surprisingly pain-free and fun. Today, I swore to myself that I wasn't leaving the gym until I burn 500 Calories. I did this with about 1 mile of running (treadmill) for a little more than 100 Cal, 3 miles of elliptical for about 320Cal, and then biked until I spent about 100Cal. I felt dizzy during the end of the elliptical, and my vision started to fade. I told myself "Breathe! Breathe! Get that O2 to the head!" I might have subconsciously slowed down a little, but it was enough to not completely black out.

When I returned home, I was feeling alright. My Calf muscles were sore, but nothing too bad. The only bad thing was the dream during my nap shortly after settling down on my bed. I don't remember much about the dream, only that I was binging on GIANT marshmallows, running through the neighborhood around the gym and purging in a bunch of trashcans throughout. The strange part was explaining why I was throwing up to my friends as they wandered around the neighborhood.

By the time I awoke, I felt like I actually did binge/purge a bunch of marshmallows. I felt like I still had a giant lump of them in my stomach. It killed my appetite for a few hours. I can't stand how marshmallows feel in the stomach. They taste disgusting to me.

I was tricked

...into eating food. My mother came to me and asked, "hey, I've created a new diet recipe. Do you want to try it?"

"Sure."

Soon enough, my mom called me to the kitchen to hand me a mini tortilla smothered in guacamole and huge strips of melted string cheese. She eagerly watched me, waiting for me to try her creation.

After a bite and politely saying how delicious it was, my mind went into full panic mode. I mentally calculated 500 Calories in the damn thing, (although it's probably more like 330-350), and I nearly purged the whole thing right back onto the plate. I couldn't handle the thought of that thing sitting in my stomach. It made me feel unusually fat and disgusting.

So I decided it was time to get out of the house. I hopped immediately onto my bicycle, pointed it in a random direction, and just started biking. I ended up at a friend's house 6-7 miles away, and was offered a lovely glass of water, too. I went back and did a few loops around random blocks through town before I finally decided to head back home. It was a little over an hour of biking in total, roughly 350 Calories burned. I was hoping for 500, but oh well. I'll just make it two hours next time.

I Feel Like A Dwarf

When I woke up today, I was thinking, "hey! I should create an actual exercise routine instead of just blindly running and weight lifting when I feel like it." So I hopped onto the internet and googled exercises for women, and the first link took me to a website that provided different exercise routines based on body type. I wasn't sure what body type I had, so I did google search upon google search until I did practically every type of body-related quiz or calculator out there.

Accurate representation of me

My results: pear-shaped, thick-framed, endomorph. My interpretation: fat-assed, stocky, lazy body. Like a plump, thick, fluffy abomination of human flesh. And since I'm short, I feel like some ugly dwarf or garden gnome. Plus, all of these traits are basically considered "genetic," meaning no matter WHAT I do, I can't fix it. I'm stuck as a butt-ugly dwarf.

I mean, as a short person, I like to be compared to things like a "pixie" or "fairy." They're given feminine qualities, a delicate feel. They're described as mysterious, magical, and playful (sometimes even devious). Something that I want to be. Something that I want to identify with. Not this war-crazed, dirty, earthly dwarf. I don't want to be associated with a creature that hides away underground, happily digging tunnels and mining ore.

The other two, pear-shaped body and endomorph, I don't care as much. I've already concluded that I'll never be able to eat a cheeseburger without it going straight to my thighs. I'm used to being hungry, so having a "slow metabolism" feels like an inconvenience to me attaining my goal. And I don't give a sh!t about my fat distribution. It could be all on my ass, stomach, or boobs and I'd still want it all gone. And I know that with enough starving, it eventually will.

I'm trying to comfort myself by thinking of the positives of being "big boned." With thick bones, I can probably take more of a beating than other girls my size while sword fighting. Or that I'll look skinnier or bonier at a higher weight. But I don't care about seeming "skinny" or "bony." I just want to physically have less mass, have the stupid scale read the beautiful number "89lbs". And my stupid bones are getting in the way of that dream.

I ate a forbidden food

And didn't feel guilty! (sort of) It was one of those long John donuts my dad brought from work. I haven't eaten a donut in over a year.

Earlier that day, I ran several miles, didn't eat lunch, and had a light supper. I was feeling hungry, and I calculated my calorie intake to be half of my daily allotment. When the thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it as another stupid craving. But then I thought, why not? I have probably exercised more than what it contained, and so I could afford it.

I grabbed that sucker off the dining table and sprinted to my bedroom. My heart racing from the feel of danger, I took my first bite. And swallowed. And repeated.

Half way through, dread kicked in. I started thinking that this will undo all my effort. Guilt plagued my mind; my jaws stopped chewing. I felt like purging. I almost did, too, but then I remembered that night that I binged on two entire pizzas plus a shit-ton of other foods, purged in tubberware containers, and shook for several hours afterwards--the night that I vowed to be my last purge episode.

With newly found determination, I took a deep breath and scarfed down the rest of that bastard. Chocolate goodness and all. All 420 Calories of it, gone, in my stomach.

I thought it was over then, but oh no. Right before I left the house to hang out with friends, my mom called me over to the living room. She stared at me, told me to turn around, and then asked, "Have you lost weight?"

Sheepishly, I nodded. "yeah."

"Well, it shows. Your jawline looks tighter."

WTF? I barely lost any weight, and she says she can see results? She lies. Or she's been watching me like a hawk and has a better sense of my body perception than I do (which is probably true). But I doubt it's noticeable. She probably just said that since I said I lost weight. It might be her form of encouragement. I don't want encouragement, but I acknowledge her effort at trying to be supportive (in an ironic sort of way).

As I turned around, my dad remarked, "How about that donut?" He knew I ate it (by process of elimination), but my mom then tensed up and started asking him a bunch of questions. He realized what he did, so I thank him for the sacrifice: he said that he ate the donut. My mom probably lectured him about bringing donuts, so I can only imagine. I owe him one, though.

So, do I have regrets? No. It was nothing more than just another experience. It had both positive effects and negative effects. But it was a decision I'm glad I did.

PS: Even after this ordeal, I felt like I was heavy. but the scale said otherwise. I claim that the scale is lying, too.

Well, That Was Triggering.

So, my mom is now starting to diet and exercise. I say good for her, especially since she has many weight-related health issues that may disappear after losing some weight. The only problem is that she is going overboard about talking about her diet.

She's pretty much the only person who cooks dinner in the house, so everyone in the house now has to follow her dinner diet plan. I at first was thrilled because now dinners are foods I consider "safe," like chicken, fish, and lots of vegetables and salads. However, she's now starting to preach to everyone in the house about dieting, exercising, and how to lose weight. I already KNOW all that stuff, and can even explain the biological mechanisms involved. I don't want someone to constantly be spewing out dieting tips and tricks ten times a day. It's very triggering, and I DON'T want to think about that stuff any more than I already do.

The worse thing is that she is now telling me that I should lose weight ("You don't say?!"). I already think that. You don't have to tell me every other day, pinching my arm fat IN PUBLIC while saying that. I used to actually like how my arms look, but after that, I absolutely HATE THEM. Thank you, mother. Thank you very much. You're not helping me with my self loathing, especially when telling everyone in the family, "We've joined forces in our dieting efforts."

And asking me a bunch of food or diet related questions was the most painful experience. "What's your food weakness?" "What was your heaviest weight?" "How much do you weigh?" "How long since you've last exercised?" Every single question brought up feelings of shame, guilt, and inadequacy. I just want to be left alone, left to my own devices with food. Since the end of the spring semester, I've not binged/purged at all. I've actually been able to eat "forbidden" food like cereal without guilt. But because of your words, mother, I've mentally beaten myself up and resorted to hard-core restricting.

The crazy part of me is thankful, because I now have the strength and determination to follow a 500-Cal or less per day plan. But the sane part of me (lol I have a sane part?) is cursing you for instigating unhealthy behaviors again.

Dang. I suck.

In terms of food, I have such horrible impulses. Like, HOLY CRAP WHY DID YOU JUST INGEST 65 GUMMY WORMS FOR A WHOPPING 2100 CALORIES WITHIN THE LAST HALF HOUR? Seriously! That's 1.3 POUNDS OF PURE SUGAR I INGESTED.

The smell of sugar is nauseating to me. Probably due to purging after binging on them countless times over the last few weeks. Usually, if I binge on gummy foods, it takes me four times as long to ingest that amount of gummies.

This is the same thing that happened to cereal almost a year ago. I binge on so much of it for such a short amount of time that now I can't stand the concept of eating cereal. Thinking about it makes me retch.

It's quite peculiar how my list of food aversions grows over the years. Here's a brief list and how it happened in no particular order:

• Jelly beans - ate an entire bag in one afternoon one summer in middle school. Ended up puking about two hours later.
• Cereal - Ate an entire 4 boxes in three days. Stomach and gut felt horrible.
• Apples - an apple was my entire lunch for about two years in high school. I hate eating them, but I will still force myself to eat them like a parent who forces kids to eat spinach.
• Cheese - Ate half a block of marble jack cheese on an empty stomach. I felt nauseous (didn't throw up) for about 18 hours afterwards. Can no longer eat cheese alone, but I can eat it with bread or crackers.
• Gummy worms (or other shapes) - Read first paragraph. Eating over a pound of that stuff in less than half an hour.
• Juice - When I realized that I ingested 800 Cal from lemonade during one family outing.
• Milk - Was eating the 4 boxes of cereal as mentioned earlier with milk. It's now only an ingredient for cooking.
• Instant ramen noodles - Eating four cooked blocks right before bed. Stomach was foul in the morning.
• Peanuts/mixed nuts - Eating a 5 pound jar of mixed nuts within 5 days.
• Potato chips - Eating almost an entire family-sized bag in one sitting. Self-loathing got me there.
• Muffins - Periodically, I'd eat a pre-packaged muffin for lunch in high school. And then I found mold growing inside, and I can't consider eating them anymore.
• Frosting - When I baked a cake, I had about a cup of frosting leftover. I didn't eat anything for about 12 hours, and then ate it all. Stomach wasn't pleased.
• Oreos - Shortly after the frosting incident, I could no longer bring myself to eat the frosting of oreos. I can still eat the cookie part, but I feel guilty for wasting all that frosting.

For a while, yogurt, peanut butter, and white bread were on there. I have overcome most of the food aversion reactions (like nausea), but I still tend to avoid them. Greek yogurt is actually sour enough that I can eat it without a problem, but I still have some hesitance for the regular, sweetened yogurt.

Hopefully, tomorrow I will be in complete control of myself and will avoid this tragedy in the future.

And Here's a Counter Example...

...to the previous blog post.

I've ended up not posting at all during the first semester of college, the entire winter break, and an entire six weeks into the second semester. Mostly, it's because I was too stressed to do anything during the first semester, too bored and lazy during winter break, and too depressed during the start of the second semester. And now, I have the determination and conviction to pick up my blog from where I left it.

I've had a running with a weight plateau, and I'm absolutely determined to break through it. My plan of action is based on the following rules:

1.  No more sugar. My sugar cravings and binges have gotten out of hand again, and I need a period to detox from the sugar spikes. This includes (but isn't limited to) gummy worms, ice cream, cookies, muffins, chocolates, brownies, pies, cupcakes, and candies.
2. Go for the most protein-dense dish or a salad. I often run into the "All the food options are bad for me" mentality, and end up spending 5-10 minutes staring at the different stations, knowing I need to eat something so my friends won't comment on an empty food tray. This rule should help my indecisive mind to get something I won't regret later.
3. No more den-food. Den food is rejected food from fellow floormates that don't want to throw it away. The food is usually chips, popcorn, yucky candy, a slice of pizza, or other high calorie foods. The ONLY acceptable den food is fruit or wholesomely cooked dishes (both rare occurrences). I'm going to absolutely hate this rule since it's banning me from free food, and free food is the best on my college-budget.
4. No eating four hours before bed. If cravings hit after 9pm, chew gum, drink water or tea, or exercise. Chewing and tea will give flavor, water and tea will give fullness, and exercise will relieve stress and make me sleepy.
5. No snacks during study group. Everyone can see all the food you eat, and it would be horrible to trigger a binge in front of them. Gum or sunflower seeds instead before caving in to the pressure.
6. Sunflower seeds for salt-cravings. They take a long time to eat, making it tough to binge on. Plus, binging/over eating them causes salt-blisters on the lips, which become painful enough to want to stop eating for a few hours.
7. Drink water! When I wake up, around noon, before dinner, and before bed. Two cups each time, and I should meet my daily intake easily.
8. SLEEP. Insomnia and binging go hand in hand. Sleep will help my mind stay awake and alert in academics. It will also help my body recharge after workouts.

There may be more rules added, but these address my downfalls and provide solutions. Other than that, I plan on a 1000Cal cap on my daily intake, and won't punish myself unless I go over 1600 (Which is supposedly my BMR, although I'm absolutely positive convinced it is too high for me). Punishment means brushing teeth with the yucky (but thorough) toothpaste. On days that I go below the SGD calorie cap, I earn sushi the following day. I absolutely love the vegetable sushi, but it's quite expensive. I never know when I should have it, or at least when I deserve something so wonderful--this will fix that.

Well, I'll post when I have the chance. Hopefully, the stress doesn't get to me and I can notice a change by the end of the month.