undertow

Life is interesting...sometimes its smooth sails. Boring at times, but enjoyable. Sometimes its an undertow that takes you without warning, and by the time the waves stop thrashing you crawl to the shore covered in salt, seaweed, hair in your face, exhilarated, chest-pounding, 10 miles from where you were headed to begin with. Hopefully when it is said and done your unshaken, but more often than not it leaves you dazed, inarticulate, and desperate to get your bearings before you take your next step. 


I am not sure which part of the undertow I'm in, but I know I'm lost somewhere in the darkness of it. Glimpses of light, but the salt forcing my eyes shut before I can reorient and find my direction. So here I am waiting it out, again. Desperate for my next breath, and to wash up somewhere on the shore.

Currently, I'm back in the USA. Working at a hospital before my PhD program starts. I deferred for a year because the stipend wasn't as much as I was hoping. It's pretty defeating if I'm honest. Not the lack of funding, it is what is with that... but the feeling of free-falling into a depression just is so crippling. It hurts to be back here, alone, emotionally and physically, waiting for a good day...

It also hurts how familiar this all feels. 

I keep focusing on trying to remember this isn't forever, but what if I don't make it out of this chasm again...what if October finds its way into March to repeat its self again...


I suppose I should take solace in that I'm not purging again...but I think its because things are so bad right now I don't even care 

take care beautiful people. one way or another we will find the shore one day.

with love, 
Ell

low hanging fog...

So been in living in England this summer, and it's funny how even in a bustling city people are pretty much the same everywhere. Pre-pubescent teens holding their arms across their stomach with a death grip to rival that of an alcoholic holding on to a handle of cheap whiskey, old men hunched over reading papers trying to make idle conversation with a barista who is far from interested, mom's trying to look like their nerves aren't frazzled as they walk/run after their children shhhhing with each tired step at their innocent yet awnrey squeals...nothing really changes it seems, except the postcode.

I suppose it shouldn't be surprised that is a shared experience I find for myself. Depression...hanging heavy and doesn't seem to be any blustering winds sweeping down the plains to remove it. 

Master's is almost done in other news, and my advisor likes my PhD thesis...that is great. To be honest, I didn't picture myself here, I am surprised I made it this far. I just wish I had enough.. or maybe less...something whatever it is to enjoy it. 

Food has gone back to shit. So really no recovery there right now I am sad to report after having done really for over 100 days straight since my birthday. 

I'm not sure what needs to change, but I really hope whatever needs to does because I am so so tired of this. So tired and so so lonely.

Anyways packing for Edinburgh now, and if anyone is ever wondering is it worth it to visit Scotland... yes, 10/10...the highland hiking, the whiskey, the castle, it is incredibly brooding and romantic and I am so excited to be going back.

I bet you didn't know you would be getting a side of travel advice with the usual depressive ramblings. 

with love,
~ell

Home again home again...never again

i rarely post, and I make no apologies. I love you all but inconsistentcy is one of my biggest character deficiencies

...truthfully I hate all of it...I can’t remember the last time I felt unconditionally loved by someone other than her. And that should be more than enough bc in so many ways it is. It’s a love that so many times a day I can fly. Do anything. Be anything. For her.

It’s a love so many of him(s)...okay well one, let’s call him C...demanded...punched the ground by my head when we layed in the floor of my closet in my parents house bc I didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t...give to him....

Can’t say I get the punching the ground part but I get why the support, respect, admiration means so so much. Bc it does....it means so much.

That being said...my heart has never felt so heavy. I miss my brother. I do. With all of me. I miss an easy(ish) relationship with my mom.

I miss care free evenings without a burning scratchy throat...

I miss so much...I’m home sick like a 12 year old who despite their chargrin hates to admit it that they are extremely homesick...homesick for a place that never existed...

Wrote with love and a glass of wine so forgive or don’t all the grammatical errors...


with love,
~ell

after last post...I

After last post...I felt pretty exposed...It hurt a lot. But then this came on my pandora, and honestly it hurt more...The worst line is the most piercing line. But it is to beautiful, everything about it and the memories it holds. Nothing is perfect, nor should it be. Everyone has their issues, but the first time I had this song played to be I realized that those issues are beautiful because it forges  lines like that last one...so as much as that line, this song, and those memories bring me to tears then and now ..I needed to post it. 

Love writes a letter and sends it to Hate:
"My vacation's ending, I'm coming home late
The weather was fine and the ocean was great
And I can't wait to see you again."

Hate reads the letter and throws it away
"No one here cares if you go or you stay
I barely even noticed that you were away
I'll see you or I won't, whatever."

Love sings a song as she sails through the sky
The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes
And everyone knows it whenever she flies
And also when she comes down

Hate keeps his head up and walks through these streets
Every stranger and drifter he greets
And shakes hands with every loner he meets
With a serious look on his face

Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow
Carrying with her the good things we know
A reason to live and a reason to grow
To trust and to hold and to care

Hate sits alone on the hood of his car
Without much regard to the moon or the stars
Lazily killing the last of a jar
Of the strongest stuff you can drink

Love takes a taxi, a young man drives
As soon he sees her hope fills his eyes
But tears follow after at the end of the ride
Because he might never see her again

Patience, patience, patience

Hate gets home lucky to still be alive
He screams over the sidewalk and into the drive
The clock in the kitchen says 2:55
And the clock in the kitchen is slow

Love has been waiting patient and kind
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign
That the one that she cares for who's out of his mind
Will make it back safe to her arms

Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door
Weary head hung down, eyes to the floor
He says, "Love, I'm sorry, " and she says, "What for?
I'm yours and that's it, whatever
I should not have been gone for so long
I'm yours and that's it, forever
Your mine and that's it, forever"  

with love, 

~ell  

recovery....quasi recovery....not recovered at all

Today one of my good friends messaged me. We met in treatment a few years ago. She proceeded to tell me how great her relationship with food and exercise had become, and that she was finally accepting herself. I couldn't have been more happy for her...only till we started really talking did I see she was completely deluding her self.

Recovery is not counting every bite you take, it is not constantly trying to manipulate your body to a lower weight than it naturally rests at, it is not eating one piece of chocolate and running and doing leg lifts to make up for being "care-free" and "indulging."


I am no where near perfect recovery. Not even a little bit. Almost half of all my thoughts (if not more) revolve around food and my body image. I have a running total of calories in my head at any given moment not just from what I am eating, but what others around me are eating. But the difference between my friend and I, is tragically simple.

She believes these thoughts and behaviors are perfectly normal, and that even more this will be apart of a healthy recovered lifestyle, at best this is what they call quasi recovery.

I know I toe a very delicate line of quasi recovery and full on relapse. I hate it. I challenge my self, battle myself every single day. I panic about the future and if this is the life I will lead forever because this is not a fulfilling life I want.

I want to replace the running total of calories in my head with research ideas, replaying my favorite adagios for strings, quotes from documentaries, dreams for what I will eventually achieve, and most importantly I want to love myself for the beautiful creation God made me to be.

So if you like my friend believe yourself to be in recovery ask yourself this: what are your thoughts obsessing over most of the day? When was the last time you appreciated your body for the way it looks, and what it does for you on a daily basis? Do you have to compensate when you deviate from your meal plan or do you just embrace food as one of life's simple (okay not so simple 99.9% of the time) pleasures? Are you actively trying to change your body or do you exercise with a respectful attitude towards yourself and health?

Now last question: Do you want to be living and believing these same things about yourself ten years from now?

Okay I lied one more: If you have a daughter and she felt the exact same way you feel about yourself on a daily basis would it break your heart or would you be proud of her for loving and respecting herself?

So challenge yourself with one tiny thing today. Embrace change, and fight like hell because this self-deprecating mockery of a life is not a life but a prison and isn't what you deserve.

with love,
~ell

the best news (entirely and completely sarcasm)

The best news! My depression his setting record lows and I cannot seem to break the vicious cycle that is on repeat in my head.

It doesn't help that something I wanted so much, needed even completely fell through. Even though I did handle it gracefully in the moment (or at least the best I could given what a huge wave of disappointment I was drowning in) I was met with only criticism and even a bit of projected anger for their own mistake.

Making me defensive, but yet I am the one who was attacking and lashing out. I never realized how much I crave the approval and accreditation from others until I consistently don't get it from someone.

I try so very hard to be enough, to behave the way they want, to be independent, but even when I am nailing it flawlessly for days the next mistake I make is the first comment I receive on my behavior.

Oh but if I try to be that critical of anyone else's behavior it is me attacking them, or not being understanding, or me not caring at all.

Not to say I am not grateful for the many relationships I have in my life, but geez sometimes I just need them to quit caring about telling me how wrong I am and just give me some credit for the other 99 things I get right.

On top of all those feelings. I just had a fight with my mother, and I now have zero desire for Christmas.

Sorry for ranting, sorry I wasn't more uplifting. But I do want to say thank everyone who reads this. Thank you for being you and for trying your hardest, even if you fail, because you are enough.

with love,
~ell

to much...

I have been through to much...
I have done to much...
I am to much...
I haven't been through enough
I haven't done enough...
I am not enough...


The never ending cycle waging its war in my head. The sides both fighting for the same destruction keeping in a perpetual state of confusion. One bomb after another, blowing apart my self esteem, self assurance...

Arguing which I deserve, and which I have not earned.

How can I feel to much and not enough at the same time...How can I hurt so much, but believe I deserve this...

I don't want to need...

I don't need...

I need to be more independent...

I am to needy...

I want to be better...for me, for them, for him, for everyone

I just need to get it together...

with love,
~ell

The most rambling post that you will ever read

Everything stresses you out. Getting dressed in the morning is so overwhelming. Nothing fits. It all looks horrible on you which is ironic, because when you bought it everyone told you how great it looked, and let's be honest you asked at least 3 different people. Shopping is its own rant entirely, because yes you know exactly what you want, it may even be a great deal, but the sheer thought of how it looks on you...what if it accentuates your thighs or curves or makes your arms look bigger, what if it looks great? And then how can that be possible because your are size 2, 26 waist and all of you is to much. 

You flutter between 120's and sometimes on a bad bad day you creep all the way up to 130 again...so how can anything look good on me...I used to be a lovely weight, and I also used to be a sickly weight. I don't want to be sickly again. 

My dietician and therapist agree and say the lowest for my height they would consider safe is 117...I don't know that still seems...I just feel at 115 I would feel a lot more safe and more comfortable...I mean honestly I am not even supposed to know my weight, or my targets. That was the plan to give me 'comfort' and 'freedom' after therapy...More like send me into a full blown panic... But most of my goals and coping mechanisms I decided on in treatment have fallen by the way side....so yes I keep digressing and jumping around but it will continue...

 I have my first therapy session next week, and its been a while. So maybe just maybe things will be okay...I just have to survive my family trip to Washington D.C....

It's intimidating the idea alone. I am not sure how I will handle the trip honestly. I love my family, but they are going through a lot...They are a continual emotion roller coster. They hurt one another unintentionally most of the time, my mom is excited which is great she hasn't seemed this happy about anything in a long time. I am rooming with my sister which scares me....

She is a sweet caring and wonderful person to everyone, but me. I don't know why she just seems so put out with me most of the time. I mean I am older than her, and I feel like I am the one not good enough to be around....

And I am just idk I hate being in photos, and it will be photo central...

Why can't I just be excited...I am actually only taking comfort in the fact that they will have a gym, and my parents will not want to go out and eat that often so that will be perfect for being able to not worry so much about eating so I won't feel as much pressure to purge hopefully.   

I hate purging, it makes me feel drained and unable to focus, it hurts me, it hurts my loved ones, it controls what I can and cannot do sometimes trying to find 

I really am stressed...I just want it to go well, I don't want to hurt or dissapoint any one...Food is becoming hard, and challenging. I hate dealing with this. I hate running and working out, and running some more, then eating a normal (honestly less than normal most of the time) meal plan and then feeling anxiety. 

Being home is proving to be more stressful than school....I just don't want to slide, I don't want to start purging 3-4 times a day every day again. I don't want to end up back in treatment. I am just...I am lost...

Thoughts?

with love, 

ell

Fake it till you can't anymore...just rambles....

Its rainy and stormy here...I suppose that is a good thing because it matches the way I am feeling...Just shadowed and gray, and the tears match the wet marsh that is my parents back yard...

I start a new job tomorrow...this is my first new job that I have started since I was about 16. I mean I have worked other places during the school year, but I depend on my summer job so this really is a big and important switch...I am afraid. I am scared. I just want to keep my head down do a good job, and move on.

Living at home has so far been as bad as I expected. I found out that my dad has been taking business trips every other week because he doesn't want to be around my mom.

My sister has made me feel awful since getting back. We have seen each other 5 times this year. 1) Fall break 2) Thanksgiving 3) Christmas 4) random weekend 5) when my cousin came back from the marines.

She refuses to hug me, talk to me when we ride in the car together (30 minutes both ways), and she has made me feel nothing but terrible about not having finished school yet.

I feel my self slipping. I have no one to talk to. I was at such a low point today I told my dad today of all people (because the man is wonderful and a great dad, but we just have a strained relationship and sometimes I feel like I am just in the way/not good enough/a disappointment, and just not someone I have really ever felt I could talk to) but today I told him I was slipping I am afraid. He just looked at me and said he knows this summer will be hard, but that I am stronger and I will do great. He then told me I never deserve to feel this alone, because who couldn't not love me faults and all.

I cried when he left. That is the nicest thing he has ever said, but I cried because I don't feel that way. I don't feel like people accept me faults and all. I feel like I am an after thought, that I want to much from people, I need them to much, and they don't need me. I feel like I almost want to binge on affection the way I binge on food, but I never want to purge the affection.

It scare me how much I need people, one person in particular. I love him. I text him. I call him. I bother him to much. I need him.

I am strong and independent and if for the worst most awful thing were to ever happen and he and I were no more, I know I would be okay. I honestly don't know how I could ever be whole again, but I would be okay. I know this so I do not feel like a pathetic teenage girl who believes they need someone to be happy, but I do love him and he is such a huge part of my life that brings me joy.

And that scares me, and it makes me excited because the fear and anticipation and the joy means it is real. That it is the most valuable thing in my life.

But what if he doesn't feel the same. I mean what if the loneliness I feel is because he is pulling away. What if he realizes that he doesn't have to deal with this and me....

so I'm slipping. so I'm spinning, and I am not sure how to stop. I don't know how to fight this loneliness I feel, and it's not a just oh i'm sad I'm lonely.

It hurts, I feel cold inside. I feel gray, I feel a storm of emotions that I hide because I honestly have no one to talk to about it, and at night I water my pillow with tears trying to grow dreams of a warm home, being held every night, feeling like I am no longer in the way, and that I am valued, desired, more than good enough, the best part of their day.....those dreams have the potential for coming true just not in this home. If only I were better at being patient, then maybe it wouldn't be so hard to not mind not being wanted right now, because I know in the near future I would be have a home with the man of my dreams.

The man I am with now. The man who I love. If only being patient were easier for me.

So right now I am slipping, I am fighting it, but its hard. Food is hard. Life is hard. Missing him is the hardest.

with love,
~ell

Residential and what not

Im out of treatment, residential was awful, php/iop was worse. yet here i am again. Not doing so well, and planning to lose more weight.
Where is the logic?

My mind says "Hello eating disorder, I'm so sorry I gave recovery that bullshit try" sobs uncontrollably "please for give me, tell my parents im sorry, I can't look like this anymore. Recovery is not for me."
Eating disorder replies, "Oh silly girl I never left. Come here."

If anyone reads this, please say hi, if not so i'll follow your blog, but because I could really use the company.

with love,
ell