Today it is sunny, and I made myself get up, have my drugs, have a shower, change my clothes, do the laundry, do the dishes, and reply to some email. Then I have to walk the the dog, return the library books and pick up my script from the pharmacy. That's more than I've accomplished in several days.
I'm trying to hard to hold things together at the moment, and not do anything idiotic like OD or cut myself up or whatever, but it's really taking a toll on my eating disorder, as I knew it would. I guess because not eating for 3 or 4 days only makes me feel like shit, it doesn't hurt anybody else - it doesn't seem nearly as bad a 'slip' as cutting and taking drugs where other people are inconvenienced and it goes on your medical records and whatever.
It is interesting for me to notice though how finely balanced my body is, even at this heavy (close to 60kg, ugh) - even skipping meals for a few days makes me noticably cold, goosebumps etc alternating with extreme sweats and heat, and a perceived muscle weakness in my arms etc.
It's my own fault so I won't go on about it, I just have to slap myself a little and remind myself that if 15 years of that thinking didn't make me happier, it's unlikely to now! I just want so badly not to feel the way I do, and my sister's suicide has effectively closed off that option to me - and I just feel so goddam trapped because there's absolutely no reason to believe that I won't continue to feel like this for another 15 years. To be honest, I guess I'm hoping for a 'natural' death from heart failure or something obscure linked to anorexia.
Well isn't that damn cheerful. Sorry. On another note, I will be flying up to the Tron on 25th December and leaving on the 9th or 10th, so I really hope I'll be able to catch up with everyone that I didn't see or saw only briefly when I came up for the funeral.