Okay, I'll go back to Unity for AA again today at 10:30, then I go to another one at 5:30, and therapy is around 1 or 2. That's pretty good. Apparently I can just go to Unity everyday except Saturday, but that's when there's the Young People's Group, Early Bird, and Ten-Thirty Group so that's cool I guess. I'm supposed to go to just three a week, so maybe I can stock up and just not go later? Is that bad? Hahaha... do I care?

I'm actually pretty excited. This is like a whole new world, a new place and time for my life to begin anew, and that's pretty cool with me. I wonder if Niki (the lady from the meeting yesterday who gave me her number) will be there today. Gahhh, why am I awake already? At least I can tell Ginny I've gone to meetings. She'll probably be proud of me, or call me out and say I should have been doing to begin with. My mother and I have come to the agreement that she is a total sweetheart. OH MAN, I can tell her I got a dog, but it's turning out really well and not how she expected! Fuck yeah, man. I just want everyone to be proud of me--myself included.

EDIT:
I went to another AA meeting. Okay, therapy in little over an hour at 2. I hate waiting, but at least my dog (am I ever going to quit gushing?) is keeping me company. Ugh, tonight's dinner is going to be awful. It's all foods I would normally binge on, so I might just cook for myself. I won't get out of treatment until 8:30 anyways. I should probably eat now, but... Guhguhguh, I've had too much coffee and therefore feel like food is not even close to my top priority. So, I've been thinking that maybe I should go back to school next semester. Maybe by then I'll have another little place of my own and just go to GTCC and keep a part-time job, etc. I liked living on my own as long as I was taking my meds and, y'know, just taking care of myself. I really want that new tattoo. I'm so glad I shaved my head. It does look really, really good on me... even if it will not help me while getting a job. Surely SOMEONE will just be like, "OMG YOU'RE GORGEOUS AND AWESOME, and BTW YOUR HAIR (OR LACK THEREOF HAHAHAHAHAHA) IS BEAUTIFUL!!! WORK FOR ME. :D" I think I think I'm hilarious but I'm really just lame.

EDIT:
Back from therapy! I am so digging Ginny today, or rather, now that I'm back on my meds and cooperative again. GUHHH. I just ate this piece of cherry candy. I don't know why I picked cherry since there were lemon and peppermints candies too. It tasted like cough syrup and had a nasty syrupy center. I ate a slice of cornbread and some pintos. I'd already had a ton of lentils and rice and a grapefruit. I'm saying that counts as lunch, regardless of the lack of real vegetables. Guhhh... I have had sooooo much coffee. My stomach hates me is basically what I'm saying. I'm still amazed that I can do 45lb back squat 5x. It's... so bad ass. UGHHH. I go to another AA meeting at 5:30, which ends at 6:30, at which point I have the treatment meeting. Dean is even out of town, so Terry is subbing, which basically means I hate her lectures and leadership and I don't want to go. She's not a horrible person; she is just really boring, which is totally okay. To add insult to insult, tonight is a FAMILY MEETING, so my mom is coming while my grandparents go to an al-anon meeting. This is so ridiculous. It's one thing to be supportive and go to therapy with me every once in awhile, but jesusjoseph&mary, this is insane! It's actually kind of embarrassing. Gah! I only have thirty more minutes of freedom. My mom is in therapy right now with the therapist my old therapist recommended. Apparently her therapist is suuuper touchy-feely, which makes me feel a hell of a lot better about the fact that Ginny seems to feel compelled to pat me on the back or hug me after every session. I just don't like trite displays of affection. I MEAN, FOR REAL. Oh, I almost forgot to say that I saw Dave at the AA meeting earlier and he asked me what I would have said if I'd spoken about the topic of vigilance. I didn't really know what to say, but I knew what I wanted to say, so I rambled a bit. I said something about how I have to set boundaries and lay down the law, plus some other stuff. I forgot to say that I have to constantly be honest and call myself out while allowing others to do the same. I'm pretty sure my poor dog has fleas. Blah blah blah. This is my version of journaling, and that is so, so sad.

Hero, Keep Hope

Somewhere,
maybe in a place beyond my seeing,
the sun is rising
and turning the morning sky
from midnight to blushing.
Russet boughs
curve to hold
the pale limbs of my being
and I feel
weightless.
Someone,
maybe with a voice I’ve forgotten,
once suggested
lovers are born to suffer.
But while the sun’s breath
reaches down to caress
the sweep of my brow,
I cannot believe
that life is suffering,
but that life is
beauty as we know it.
Because of the neutral,
the gentle going
and the youthful changelings,
I do not long for perfection.
I want nothing more
than what should be,
no matter what it may bring to me.

why am I awake? it's so fucking early. it's like eight in the morning and i don't think i fell asleep until around four. what the butt.

i had the weeeiiiirdest dreams. i broke into my old apartment and got busted, but the lady was really nice, even though i think she called the cops. and i saw my highschool and some teachers i don't know. some of them were just frew crew girls, and one of them looked like my favorite waitress from the diner i used to be a waitress at. i saw my college roommate and her friend, the guy i slept with for awhile. my favorite part was probably how fucking haggard my principal looked. seriously hilarious. i have such dramatic/funny dreams! i'm just going to blame sobriety and medications.

i think my dog woke me up by making noises in her sleep. i took her outside and she just ate grass. goddammit.

I NEED TO GO TO AA MEETINGS. guhguhguh.

EDIT:
i went to an aa meeting! at nine in the morning! woo fuckin' hoo! i even spoke up and talked a bit. i got a nice lady's number and she said to call her before i drink... as in, i can still drink, but call her first, which obviously means i won't drink afterward because i would feel horrible. everyone seemed so sweet and a bunch of people talked to me after the meeting was over. i really, really want to get a hold on myself. this war is everlasting, but i can win the battles day by day. admitting to a group of strangers that i'm a bipolar eating disordered addict always brightens my mood. ...ha.

EDIT:
I went to Salem Lake with my dog. She just kind of sniffed around. I don't know if she likes water. It certainly would make baths simpler. On a bright note, I can do a 45lb back squat. Basically, I can squat the weight of a (very) small child. How awesome, am I right? I'm pretty sure I need coffee and chocolate right now, but I don't really do chocolate, so maybe a mocha? 24oz soy mocha sans whip? Sounds sooo good. It's so fucking hot here and I still have cold hands and feet. At least I had an excuse when I was anorexic. But... fuck this. I can't believe how silly all of this is. I FEEL LIKE SUCH A LOSER. I'm looking at old photos and it's like watching a train wreck.

I'm so emotional and periodic. My dog was tragically happy to see me when I got back from getting coffee. It makes me so sad. We're going to be the most codependent couple ever. I have to type without moving my arm because she is lying on it.

I'm so exhausted. I might be anemic. I don't know.

I ate pretty well today, I guess. I JUST WANT TO BE MS. OLYMPIA. Didn't y'all get that memo? Mia for Ms. Olympia!

I can do a 45lb clean and jerk 3x (10x at 30lb) and a 30lb back squat around 10x. I've gotta say that even though I'm just beginning, I feel pretty good. I'm trying valiantly not to hurt myself accidentally. I don't know... Is this healthy? I need to ask Ginny. I wish I was still seeing Debra, but we didn't actually talk about nutrition and fitness that often. It's kind of the general consensus that I know my shit and just have to choose to help myself, which is kind of true and kind of complicated, e.g. my declination of keeping hydrated despite my knowledge of its benefits. Sometimes I wish I could feign ignorance, that blissful state of illogical whimsy. But I can't. Still, at least my grammar needs a good brushing up. That's something.

EDIT:
Let me just say that I am proud of my body. It has done more than I deserve. It has treated me well, and I believe it will treat me even better when I learn to give it what it needs. So far, so good.

from the depth
of bone deep churning
crawls the cadaver
distant
mourning
she keeps her head
held high in awe
of the beautiful world
she bid farewell
best wishes
and peace elapsing
beneath her
feet
of the ram
the rhyme
space and time
she snaps
collapsing

my baby is home!

I'm watching Scrubs and she's lying on my bed. She is being suuuper calm about all of this and just trots after me everywhere I go. I am definitely head over heels for this dog. I've got to be strong so I can stay here and take care of her. I can't go inpatient. I need to be here for her. I've got to make the rest of her days happy and peaceful and fun. I have to make sure I'm taking care of myself. She is another reason why I need to recover and be healthy. This is a great example of taking care of myself for others. Because even when you live for others, it's better than not living at all.

oh god. tonight is the end.

tonight i take my meds.

tomorrow?
-pills
-coffee
-meal plan
-work out
-meeting(s)


my grandmother bought me brown rice, grapefruits, and lentils.

they gave me a nicely sized puke bucket for my room.

this is so ridiculous. I HAVE A PUKE BUCKET?!

... so, i'm in love with this girl.

Tonight was the my second night of treatment. The director, whom I believe is a very caring and gentle person, asked me to speak about what he and I had spoken about after yesterday's meeting. We had spoken about my fear of recovering from substance abuse because focusing on it may cause my eating disorder to slip out of therapeutic focus and therefore out of control. I actually spoke my mind. And the world didn't fall apart AND/OR explode. Everyone was actually really, really nice and open and awesome. They were even encouraging and supportive... maybe even a wee bit helpful.

I'm going to keep going to IOP. I'm going to go to NA and AA meetings. I'm going to keep seeing a therapist, whether it be Ginny or Kelly once Kelly comes back. And if all of this isn't enough, I'll find an IP program that fits me... and I'll go inpatient. Because I can do this, and I believe in myself, I will do this. If I can, I deserve to give myself a chance.

I have a problem and I will find the solution.

...Even if the solution might not involve becoming a vegan bodybuilder. I'll give it a go.

i just woke up. i mean that literally, of course.

i think what really bothered me was that my therapist didn't seem to understand that i am so, so heavy with guilt and shame. it's not even my trauma in a way. i was just the one that let it happen, or at least i feel that way, and now i live with that. every day, or every day that i think about it, i just feel weak and stupid. it doesn't matter that i was only a little kid. i knew better, and i should have handled it better.

i should have been able to save her, but i couldn't, so i force myself to pay the price tenfold. even i can tell you that. i just care so deeply that it really does hurt. my entire body hurt earlier, tiny spasms tightening my muscles until i was wound so tight i thought i would just snap in two.

it's not like i can even tell her, "i'm sorry. we were just kids."

it's just not one of those things.

so i'm here, reaching a final stage as a catalyst, becoming the warrior, the archangel, the protector, the savior. i am no survivor, but you can bet your life that i will be here to help the survivors through. i will sacrifice everything and give my all in penance for my weakness.

...i'm sorry. i was weak, but now i'm strong. i couldn't help you end it, but i'll help you finish it. i'll make sure nothing bad ever happens to you again.

now i can help. please, let me make it better.

i just told my therapist one of my worst worst worst secrets.

...after the session ended, and she told me to wait two years.

fuck traumas. fuck crying.

fuck bodies and the corporeal reality that binds them!

CREATE. CHANGE. DESTROY.

RINSE & REPEAT.

dear body and particularly muscles,

today, for breakfast i had:

1 cup oatmeal made with 1 cup soymilk + 1 scoop soy protein powder + 1 tbsp honey... and some other stuff, most of which involved soy.

next time you think of crapping out on me, think about what i went through for you this morning. no, i haven't slept since yesterday, but for the love of god, that oatmeal was atrocious.

considering the things i go through for you, and the things you go through for me... we make a pretty decent combo. with my whatever and your stuff, it's a pretty good deal we've got going.

right? right.

xoxo
Mia

p.s. thanks and everything, i guess. just watch yourself. :D

oh. god.

someone remind me why i bother trying to communicate to people in the body-building community?

because they are such, such dicks.

really, if i want to be talked down to like i'm a frigging piece of shit under your shoe, i'll talk to my parents.

thanks.

"So we're ok, we're fine
Baby I'm here to stop your crying
Chase all the ghosts from your head
I'm stronger than the monster beneath your bed"
-Emily Saliers, Power of Two

I called the guy for the IOP program. I think it's four days a week, three hours monday and two hours the rest of the time. Hopefully even I can focus that long. Hopefully even I won't need a cigarette during that time. I'm super proud of myself for handling the intake on this one. We scheduled a meeting on Tuesday at 10 a.m. and I really hope I can wake up in time.

I have the family session tomorrow, rescheduled to 2 p.m. so my grandmother can finish feeding hungry people in time. I really do love how my grandfather still works full-time and my grandmother is still a busy-bee at her church and volunteering for all of these things. Sometimes it bugs me, like when I wake up and I wonder where the fuck everyone is, but then I remember that they are off saving the world and I just make a pot of coffee for myself and call my mother. She is inevitably battling the dogs and almost dying of heat-stroke doing something productive, like working in the yard or around the house or whatever.

Me? I just hang out and write, get/drink coffee, work out and sleep. And cruise around listening to music.

I'm really starting to appreciate my body. Like, holy shit. I'm actually bulking up quite quickly. It would be scary if it weren't just so damn nifty. Within a week or two, my arms and shoulders have gone insane. My legs are getting there, but it's going to take awhile for me to actually support making my legs more muscular. They're naturally that way for the most part, just a little too tiny/lanky to be connected to the rest of my body. So, while it makes sense to bulk them up like my arms, I just can't get that idea to click. I should be biking more, but but but... I don't want my butt to get any more boyish. Seriously, this is the weirdest struggle ever.

Bulimia is still kicking my ass, but I'm hanging in there. I'm hoping going to this IOP program will give me the boost I need in all venues of my recovery.

I'm glad I can still wear a AA sports bra when I'm actually somewhere around a C. It makes me laugh.

I'm also glad that all of my quotes are from the Indigo Girls.

Sooo... I made the call to the guy that handles admissions into the substance abuse IOP program. Ginny kind of "nudged" me into doing it. She just walked out and told me to call him. I kind of realized I could fake-call him, but I didn't really want to. I hate calling people I don't know (and some that I even do), so she let me write a sort of script. I went into pleasant social-worker mode and just kind of knocked it out, but it was really uncomfortable.

I'm starting to really like Ginny. She's assertive and honest, like telling me how she could relate to me as an only child that was brought-up to think that she should rely mostly, if not only, on herself. She's had her own struggles with substance abuse. I just wish she acted more like she understood how fucking much I struggle with my eating disorders. I mean, seriously, they were my life for a long period of time. I know she's concerned, but I was used to Kelly, who was awesome awesome awesome with keying into what was underneath all of the crazy cycles I went through. With Ginny, it's more goal orientated. Like, I'm expected to take responsibility and GET SHIT DONE. For real real. She is also very forthright in telling me when she is in the right of sharing her own truths and when I am overstepping my boundaries. Like today when she said something about my laugh that involved an adjective I find particularly uncomfortable, regardless of it being positive. She told me I can be uncomfortable, but she was speaking from her own truth. I, of course, made nice and apologized, etc., but it actually made sense. She doesn't tiptoe or walk on eggshells around me. She gives me a lot of credit, maybe more than I think I deserve. She actually said she was proud of me. She actually teared up a little bit... which, of course, made me cry. I explained so much to her, like how I was raised to be a feminist and a fierce little monster with no weakness, but how in reality I am just so fucking complex with so many different facets, that even I find my self confusing.

We have a session with my grandparents and my mother on Thursday. And, I'd just like to take this time and space to give that a big GOD FUCKING DAMMIT. I even explained to her how I have to maintain a certain front and balance of certain energies and play a certain part to cooperate in a family session, or I shut down. I just... Shut. Down. Kind of like the stereotypical humanoid robot shutting down. I just collapse and crumple and become so indifferent and numb.

In conclusion, I like Ginny.

And I don't think mirror pics are that bad if you're taking them with a Canon Rebel.
I feel like the Canon Rebel cancels out the shitty idea of mirror pics. AND LOOK HOW CUTE I AM. How can you hate on me when I'm just so damn adorable?

p.s. Ginny asked me "por que" today and I had to do my little "SCORE!!!" hand-motion it was beautiful, trust me.

no matter what, i will not miss looking like an awkwardly lanky horse.

therapy soon soon at twelve. need to get coffee first.

i went to the club last night with my ex guy-thing, a girl i've slept with, her boyfriend whom i've made out with, and our mutual and adorable friend. he was the cuuutest thing up on the platforms. me and the girl were up there for awhile. i lost track of my ex. he was an awkward dancer.

sometimes i think eating disorders are religious cults.

like tonight, where i just ate a caesar salad, pita with hummus, boca chik'n patty, and glass of sweet tea. it was one of the most moving feelings i've had in quite awhile.

it's like some bizarrely devout form of edible catholicism.



...i think i'm falling back in love with my once-beloved camera, the rebel rebel.

"and i get down on my knees
and i pray the same as you"
-Amy Ray, Let it Ring

sometimes i feel beautiful. i look in the mirror and i think that this is really what all the fuss is about, because it's true--i'm beautiful. i have such dramatic features, such a fierce and delicate composure of plush lips and sharp teeth. i look in the mirror and i flex and i turn to the side and i turn around to look at my butt and i stretch my legs out and i flex some more. i turn my face in every direction, and i really do think i'm beautiful. i make faces at myself, and even the snarls are beautiful. even the imperfections are endearing, and i think that seeking mates must be more than just seeking symmetry. sometimes, these things are what keep me going. other times, it's the desire to see these things, to know that i am strong and perfect and the best i can be, but when i can just look at myself, just run my hands over my body and feel my skin, those are the times when i am happy. sometimes i am just happy to be in my body, to be my self. i am not a brain, and i am not a body, and i am not my mind. i am a composition of all of these things mixed together, feeling and chemistry mixed together in a way that makes me tick tick tick through life. sometimes i accept life for what it throws my way, and for being beautiful despite (or because of) the fact that it can be so gruesome. it is intense. but, i have the chance to love myself, and i promise for my own sake that i will grasp that love in my hands as tightly as possible. i will squeeze every drop of love from life, and i will go past the present and into the future, knowing that i have done the best that i know.

voltaire spoke truly when he said,
"we're neither pure; nor wise; nor good;
we do the best we know."

i have chosen recovery, as voluntarily as i can choose to sacrifice such a leeching part of myself. i have chosen hope and happiness and health. i have chosen to love myself, to support myself and accept the support of others. i have chosen strength and pride.

i know i can do this because i believe in myself. i am dedicating myself, i am devoted to myself, and i am doing the best i know.

I have the idea for my new tattoo almost ready, hence the sketch above. It will be a muscular female body with a (male) lion's head. She will be in a stance almost as if braced for impact and battle, so feet apart, etc. She will be the symbol for my becoming/being a lion-hearted girl. It will be a gift to myself for battling through recovery and general life struggles, a symbol of all I overcame in the past and all I'll overcome in the future. I just need to get an artist to come up with a plausible rendition, get it priced, get the moneys, and get it done! Hell yes!

so, today I've quite randomly had in this order: a chik'n patty (protein), oatmeal (starch and protein) with skim milk (dairy protein) and soy protein powder (obvious protein), a tuna salad sandwich (starch, fat, protein), and a slice of bread (starch) with peanut butter (fat, protein). I'm back in protein-loading mode, apparently... which I guess is okay. The only parts I'm missing (and I mean missing as in, damn, I wish I had these) are fruits and veggies. Because of my grandparent's bizarre grocery lists, I have managed to get nothing but small amounts of bananas, strawberries, and blueberries in my system for the entire time I've been back. The only vegetables are nasty, nasty salad mixes or unfrozen stir-fry. I told my grandmother today that I need some fucking grapefruits and blackberries... like, ASAP. She said something about how she'll pick me up some blackberries and a few grapefruits next time she goes shopping. What. The. Butt. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? There are probably some old canned peaches or pears hidden in the cabinet, and I know there are some applesauce-like substances in the fridge, but I NEED FRESH PRODUCE. It's a source of hydration and natural sugars for me, which is good because I rarely use actual sugar, and I have a seemingly moral opposition to drinking water. Haha, this is the dumbest little rant in history. Waaaah, I want fruit. I'm such a little bitch. And on the subject of vegetables, it's weird that I even want vegetables. I kind of dislike most of them, except for: carrots, broccoli, water chestnuts, cauliflower, spinach, and romaine lettuce. All other vegetables (except for delicious ones that I've forgotten) can burn in hell.

On a more normal note, I'm so proud of myself. I'm eating better (even if in a weird, weird way) and working out. Actually, I'm improving greatly with each day as far as working out goes. I just feel like I need to up the endurance aspect to a more marathon style, but I dislike the idea greatly.

This is where the rest of that paragraph would go if I hadn't deleted it after I typed it... because it was silly. It was about strength vs. endurance and all that shit. I just don't care enough. Maybe that's the problem. I lack motivation? I sure don't feel that way. It's probably my need for immediate gratification.

Blah blah blah. I see Ginny on Monday. I get to tell her about my accepting the need for treatment. And the tattoo idea. And my missing Kelly. And my working out. AND ALL OF THIS RANDOM-ASS POSITIVITY.

...where the fuck are these moods coming from?

I <3 BEING BIPOLAR.

i must become
a lion-hearted girl
ready for a fight
before i make
the final sacrifice

new tattoo, anyone?

It's official: I have a problem. I have a drug-related problem, and I'm going to change that. I'm going back into treatment, probably a local OP program and insurance will apparently cover it.

On a brighter note, I discovered one of the best mixes I've ever heard, which I will share. The sixth song ("Rabbit Heart"/"Raise It Up") is one of my all-time favorites now. It's... stunning. I hear the video rocks, too.

I'm scared, but now is the time to become stronger. I'm working out again... mostly weight training, but that's what I need right now. I'll run when I give a shit. I want my muscles back. I need that protection, that cover, that defense. I need my security and safety. I need my own armor and I will have it.

I'm not eating as much, but I'm eating strangely.

I don't know. This is a lot of uncharted territory as far as I'm concerned.

okay, so even though I fucking hate being stuck in Winston, it's not like I was even hanging out with my friends that much before I came back... it's not like anyone really noticed my sudden shift of geographical location.

I went to the club with Heather the other night. She got us free tickets to a strip club, a fact I find quite hilarious. I've never actually been to a strip club. I'm expecting a drunken night of grit and grime to ensue, honestly.

There are a few bright sides. I'm getting back into weight training. I really could give less of shit about cardio right now. I want to quit smoking before I start sprinting again, just because I hate that winded, "coughing up shit from the last five years" feeling. I think I'm coming to terms with the fact that I will never be pretty-tiny. When I was at my lowest weight, I looked weird--just straight-up freakish. I would much rather be solid and strong anyways. That's what really makes me jealous... Like my aunt that can bike 300 miles a week and looks like she's only in her mid-thirties max. I just want to be... toned? Defined? I don't know if that's a healthy mindset or not. Part of me really doesn't give a shit as long as I'm not binging/purging, etc.

I go to therapy soon. I'm seeing Ginny twice a week for two half-sessions instead of once a week. She wants to check in on me more often to make sure I'm safe, etc. I'm supposed to start going to NA soon or something. I'm not actively seeking stimulants or anything else anymore. That coke ordeal was pretty intense and I really would rather not have to get involved with that. The only thing I'm taking right now is my meds and my vitamins. I kind of hate the fact that I've started taking "diet pills." It seems like such an easy way out, especially after doing things the hard way the first time around. I really, really don't want to admit that I'm in over my head with this. It's really like I just can't quit swapping one addiction for the next. I honestly think that my problem with substance abuse is more about availability. Like, I will not turn down most drugs if they're offered to me... and that's bad, I know. I still feel a little amazed that I snorted coke. Seriously. I kind of never thought I would snort anything, but apparently I ignore that rule for the rush of stimulants.

GAHHHH. all i want is to live in a gym. or have a gym in this house where i live.

time for therapy.