Get Pretty Or Die Trying

Anonymous

suicidaloptimist — Sat, 05 Jan 2013 01:06:56 -0500

I just want to say something.

I’ve received a lot more messages because of all this than I ever expected to get. I read them all. If someone is going to spend the time and effort to say something to me, a complete stranger, then the very least I can do is give up a minute or two of my time to hear them out.

I’ve heard almost everything. Hate. Help. Stories. Preaching. People looking for advice. People giving it.

But this last one, it’s sticking with me. Maybe it’s the timing, or maybe it’s just the words themselves. But it’s sticking with me.

Someone else who has gone through this, because if I have learned nothing else from all this, I’ve learned that I’m not alone. And neither are you.

But this person, this anonymous person, they struck a chord with me. I thought I had heard it all before, all the pleas for me to stop, the reasons why I should. None of them have swayed my stubborn mind.

Until this.

Maybe she (I assume she, because of the parting name) has taken the time to figure out what words would get through my thick skull, or maybe she can just relate more so than I thought anyone could. Regardless, she did.

See, I have a lot of issues, far beyond just the diabulimia. I’m insecure, I self-harm, I battle depression, I struggle with suicide.

But she made me realize something. I don’t want to die, not this way, not like this. I’m unhappy with my life, that’s for sure, but maybe turning to diabulimia isn’t my solution; it’s part of the problem. My life is miserable because that’s how I’m making it.

I can change. I have the power to change. I want to change.

So thank you, for anonymously telling your story and speaking my twisted language in a way that I could actually take to heart. Because I don’t want to keep doing this. I want to be happy, and I think the first step towards that wondrous concept is taking care of myself.

I’m not going to find happiness in skipped insulin or being deathly thin. I’m not entirely sure where I’ll find happiness or satisfaction, but I at least know that I wont find it here.

So today I’m going to start a new chapter, a new challenge: taking my insulin, keeping myself healthy. Today I’m going to start living again.

Well, I’m going to fight like hell to try.

130 lbs.

suicidaloptimist — Tue, 18 Dec 2012 20:53:00 -0500

I look in the mirror and I’m starting to like what I see.

A flat stomach, arms that don’t jiggle, no double chin. My body has shrunk to a much better size.

But I can’t stop. If I go back to taking my insulin, taking care of myself, I’m afraid the weight will simply creep back on. Slowly but surely, an unstoppable force.

Yet, I look in the mirror and I see the damage.

The bags under my eyes, the yellowish tone to my skin. The way it’s hard to breathe sometimes, how everyday life exhausts me.

I used to care about my appearance; that’s what started this. Sure, I used to be overweight, but I looked okay. I knew how to dress well for my body, how to do my makeup to highlight the few things i liked. I always looked put together and polished.

Now, I’m thinner but I don’t care as much. I’m too exhausted to go through the effort of putting on makeup. My clothes don’t even really fit anymore, so I wear baggy shirts and baggy jeans. I look rough. Thin, sure, but pretty? Not really.

I look more like a cancer patient than the beautiful girl I wanted to become. All this damage, this stress, and it doesn’t even seem worth it.

Maybe I would have been better off just accepting a bigger size, instead of destroying my body, sacrificing years of my life, and still not finding happiness in the mirror.

Maybe this was a mistake, one I can’t take back.

The damage is done.

135 lbs.

suicidaloptimist — Thu, 18 Oct 2012 01:16:28 -0400

I don’t want to stop. I want to go further, push this even more.

I want to waste away until there’s nothing left. Become so small that I actually disappear.

No one sees how sick am; they just praise how good I luck when I’m losing weight. They don’t see that their encouragement is feeding the beast. They don’t see that their words are making it more apparent that they see nothing wrong. They don’t see that I’m drowning in this and I’m getting tired of trying to stay afloat.

Maybe if I push it far enough they’ll have to admit that maybe I’m not okay. Maybe I’m having a hard time. Maybe someone will realize that I’m not going to save myself. That I’m falling and there’s no one there to catch me, or even slow down the fall.

But I can’t count on them. I can’t count someone else saving me when I can’t even save myself.

The worse it gets, the more I’m afraid to tell anyone, because it’s just too much to handle. So I take it out on myself, and then it’s just another reason not to involve anyone else.

It’s just a matter of time before there’s nothing left of myself to destroy.

Tick. Tock.

137 lbs.

suicidaloptimist — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 14:20:34 -0400

I’m tired. So tired, all the time. When I’m awake, all I want to do is crawl into bed, and once I’m in bed I never want to leave.

I don’t have the energy to deal with life. It’s taking all of the little energy I have just to keep up this facade of being fine so that no one realizes what’s actually going on with me.

My friends, they don’t understand diabetes. Most of them don’t even realize the difference between type one and type two, let alone how my feeling constantly ill could be connected.

Only one friend is even familiar with diabulimia. But not from me, at least not knowingly. He said he had two diabetic friends in high school, one who kept strict control and another who abused diabetes to lower his weight for sports. This friend, he doesn’t even realize that there’s a term for that abuse, and that he knows someone else with it.

But maybe I could actually tell him. I’ve toyed around with that thought, explaining things to him and maybe I could have someone to talk to, to confide in. Someone to help, to make sure this doesn’t kill me.

I’m just afraid to. I love this friend though, he’s my family. Well, we’re in the same professional fraternity and share a pledge father, so he really is my brother. And I love him, and trust him.

I just don’t trust myself. I don’t trust that I won’t scare him off or be too much to handle. Because while he is family, and I know that he is always willing to help me, this isn’t his problem; it’s mine.

I created this mess for myself. Me. Alone, no help. I did this. I am responsible, I take full blame. I was the one who was idiotic enough to begin this downward spiral, so I’m the only one obligated to deal with the consequences. I’m the one who has to get myself out of this or die trying.

And I don’t mean that last bit in a melodramatic way. I mean it in a very real way. In that, if I keep this up for too long, this diabulimia will kill me. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, maybe not for a few years. But every day this diabulimia is bringing my death closer and closer. It’s speeding up my life while I’m simply wasting away.

I realize that this is no way to live. This is a sad excuse for a life. But it’s all I have right now, and I’m so tired. I don’t know if I have the energy left to save myself.

It’d be so much easier to just give up.

138 lbs.

suicidaloptimist — Tue, 25 Sep 2012 02:10:02 -0400

It’s hard for me to believe that anyone finds me attractive, because I see myself everyday and I have yet to find anything that would lead me to the conclusion that I’m attractive. It’s absurd.

Yet some people seem to believe it. Like now; there’s this boy. He’s a genuinely nice guy, and funny and sweet and cute. He says he likes me, and he’s done a good job of proving it by always being around. But when he starts to call me ‘cute’ or ‘beautiful’ I cover up his mouth or laugh and call him insane.

I can’t believe those words. Because I’m not cute. I’m not beautiful. I’m me.

It doesn’t matter how persistent he is, or how clearly I can see that he believes what he’s saying. I don’t believe him, and I don’t think I can.

I’m incapable of relating the concepts of beauty and attractiveness to myself. They just don’t fit together right.

It doesn’t help that his ex-girlfriend was gorgeous. She was tall and lean, smart and tan.

Very different from me. Short and fat. Idiotic and pale. Insane and unstable. A cutter. A failure. A diabulimic. A lost cause. A waste of life. Nothing more than suicide waiting to happen.

I don’t know what he sees in me. I truly wish I could understand it, but I don’t. I’m starting to think that maybe this is an eating disorder. Or rather, that I actually have it and I can’t just flirt with bad ideas without getting caught up in their snare.

I don’t know though. Because I really am unattractive. It’s not a distortion in the mirror—I’m fat. Thunder-thighs, cellulite, pot-belly, fat rolls. I’m not an attractive girl. So maybe it isn’t a ‘disorder’, it’s just the sharp truth.

This guy, he can’t really like me. I must be just a rebound from his beautiful ex. Yeah, there’s no way I could mean more than just a rebound.

So I guess it’ll be fun while it lasts, and there’s always cutting and diabulimia to help me through when reality crashes down.

"I’m not going to kill myself. But I’m sure as hell not going to save myself either."

suicidaloptimist — Tue, 18 Sep 2012 16:47:00 -0400

““I’m not going to kill myself. But I’m sure as hell not going to save myself either.””

- A friend confronted me today, because he noticed that I’ve been acting off lately. He was concerned. I tried to explain that he shouldn’t waste his time worrying about a lost cause.

139 lbs.

suicidaloptimist — Wed, 12 Sep 2012 20:44:19 -0400

Some of my friends started a ‘no-carb’ diet this summer, and they’re still on it. It’s all they’ll talk about it seems. And I just sit there quietly while they go on and on about losing weight.

At least, I sit there quietly for as long as I can. Because this last time, I got sick of it and told them that if they hate their diet so much, why not quit or find a better one. Then one friend pointed out that I too have lost a decent amount of weight recently, and he asked what diet I was on.

As a reflex I said that I wasn’t on one. But that’s not really true I suppose. If diabulimia counts as a ‘diet’. So why they’re challenging themselves, I’m slowly wasting away and killing myself in the process.

But in a way I still felt almost superior as they talked about foods they could no longer eat. Because I can eat whatever I want and as much as I want and still watch the weight melt away.

But I can also feel the exhaustion, the lower quality of life, the constant aches. I know that I’m killing myself but i just don’t care. I don’t care.

I want to feel miserable, because at least that’s feeling something. At least that’s an actual sensation, and not just a numb nothing. I’m trying to get away from the self harm, so I’m choosing internal damage instead. I’ll kill myself from the inside out. And at least this has the added benefit of making me more attractive. Or at least less unattractive.

Cause I don’t care how bad this is for me. I don’t care how much I get hurt. I don’t care if I end up in the hospital again. I just want to feel something. Feel alive. Feel human. Even if that feeling sucks, or hurts, or is miserable. At least it’s something to hold onto.

this song. Unrelated but relevant to my life currently. The...

suicidaloptimist — Mon, 03 Sep 2012 02:47:58 -0400

this song. Unrelated but relevant to my life currently. The first time I heard it was when my now best friend first played in on guitar last year. I used to listen to it and think of how awesome my best friend was, how he could make me happy even on my worst days.

Now, it’s just sad. Because that friendship has been ruined by one drunken mistake. With him taking advantage of the fact that I’ve been not-so-secretly in love with him for a year, and me choosing to ignore that he’s in love with his girlfriend, not me.

I’ve never hated myself so much.

'I’m still planning on being diabulimic'. You don't plan on having an eating disorder, which is what real diabulimia is. And you certainly can't plan when you have it and when you don't, you can't put an eating disorder on hold when it gets a little rough. I don't mean this to sound like hate, but as a person who has been struggling with diabulimia for the last 7 years, I found some of your posts very ignorant. Skipping insulin until you reach your desired weight is NOT diabulimia.

suicidaloptimist — Mon, 03 Sep 2012 02:28:00 -0400

I’m sorry you feel that way. Or rather, I’m sorry that I came across that way. I don’t mean to be offensive or ignorant, I’m just trying to explain how I feel the best I can, and perhaps I don’t always choose the right words.

I think that in the beginning, I thought that I really and truly could turn it on and off, go from skipping insulin back to a good little diabetic at the flip of a coin. I think I had to believe that there was a turning back, and easy way out, than that was the only way I could reason with myself to ever experiment with it in the first place. I was young, naive, and very very uneducated.

To be fair though, there are very limited sources on this topic and so I had no real idea what I was getting myself into until it was too late. Now, after a year of not being able to stop for more than a day or two here and there, I’m starting to realize that I can’t stop. Or at least, I can’t just chose to up and quit. It’s become a part of who I am, and integral part of my very being. Without it, I’m not sure who I would be. And then there’s the vanity that is oh-so-alluring. It’s hard to reason even trying to stop when People have been complimenting me on how much weight I’ve lost over the summer. It’s intoxicating.

But even past that, I don’t know how to feel healthy. I don’t want to. I hate the crippling sickness, the muscle aches, the headaches that seem constantly present, but I’d be lost without them. In a sick way, they feel comfortable, familiar, like home. And I’m scared to abandon them and feel something new and unknown. I’m scared of even trying to get better, when sinking further and further into this just seems so much easier.

And then there’s the part of me who’s enjoying it. Or at least, thinks I deserve it. I deserve to be sick, to feel like hell. I don’t deserve happiness, I deserve this hell that I’ve brought upon myself. I’m trying to find an out from this life I’m leading, and the diabulimia feels like the perfect companion for my journey out.

I know that I shouldn’t say or feel these things, but what’s the point in lying? Maybe it is ‘wrong’ or ‘bad’ or ‘sick’, I don’t know, but I am certain that it’s honest.

143 lbs.

suicidaloptimist — Thu, 30 Aug 2012 12:00:46 -0400

It’s been a while. It’s been a whole year and then some since this all started. So much has happened since I began, so much has changed and yet, I feel like I’m stuck in the same place.

I’m not taking my insulin, but it’s not even an active habit, I’ve just stopped caring. I no longer bolus. I’ve kept my basal rates the same so that I don’t get too sick, but I’ve just stopped actively caring.

I can’t even remember the last time I bolused, or tested my blood sugar. All I know is that it was more than three months ago.

I think that I’ve just given up. I’m not doing this to lose weight or be attractive. I’m doing this because I want an out. I know I’m going to die someday, and I’m just helping that day arrive a bit sooner.

I’m just tired of it all. Tired of life I suppose. Now, I’m not actually suicidal, at least not in the traditional sense. I’m not going to do anything to kill myself immediately, because I can’t put my parents through that, not again. And I don’t want people to think that I merely gave up.

Except that I have. That’s exactly what’s happening. I have such apathy for life. I used to have this immense zest for life. I used to be always laughing, playing, feeling. Now I just feel numb; it’s like on the inside I’ve already died.

I don’t want to be dead. But I don’t want to be alive either. I don’t want to be stopped and I don’t want to be saved. I just want to fade away into obscurity. I want to disappear, to cease to exist.

I want nothing. I crave nothing. Not in the sense of nothing being a lack of things I could want, but that I want the idea of nothing itself. The limbo of being less than even a memory, wiped clean from the world. Solitude from even myself.

And so, I’m not going to act on this. I’m not going to do anything. I’m not actively trying to kill myself except that I’ve also stopped trying to keep myself alive. I’ve given up control and just waiting for death to take the lead from life.

So maybe this path started out as something much different, but it’s changed everything. I wonder sometimes if I would be in this state now if I had simply never started the diabulimia in the first place.

But who knows? Maybe the diabulimia kept the apathy at bay until apathy could take control over everything else.

But then again, who cares?

156 lbs.

suicidaloptimist — Sun, 08 Apr 2012 23:22:36 -0400

Thus far, I’ve managed to not gain back all the weight I lost. Though to be fair, I’m still not exactly taking care of my diabetes. I still frequently forget to bolus or just skip meals altogether. It’s just that now I’m not actively doing it on purpose. It’s more that it’s become a habit to ignore diabetes completely and I haven’t adjusted away from that yet.

And I still lack the motivation to really try to improve my care. I’m just so tired of it all, and constantly frustrated with it. I know that millions of other people have to deal with this too, but for me I just don’t want to anymore.

When I was diagnosed, they told me that with the way research was going, they’d have a cure in about ten years from then. I was eleven, and that was nine years ago. They have a year left to make good on their promise, and it’s not looking like they will.

I know that it was just a rough estimate and only ever an empty promise from the start, but for so long it was my light at the end of the tunnel. A beacon of hope for me that someday, in the not-too-distant future, I would no longer have to live with this disease.

I needed that hope. I needed something to look forward to. I still need that. It just feels like the closer I get to my imaginary finish line the more it looks as though it’s only getting further away. Or as though it’s not even there at all.

I feel as though there’s nothing for me to even put my hope into anymore. But I so desperately need an end. So I’m done. I’m quitting.

Either that finish line arrives and I’m free of this sickness or I’m just giving up. I’ll be done even making a half-assed attempt to take cared of myself. I’ll just ignore diabetes completely and let it kill me. Either way, I’m getting out of being diabetic. The only question is whether it’s because I get a brighter future or none at all.

I know that’s a real shoddy way to look at it. But I’m so tired, and weak. I’ve used up my supply of willpower and now I just desperately want an end. I really do hope that my solution comes in the form of a cure, but it feels like that might not be the way it all turns out.

I just don’t want to do this anymore.

13.2

suicidaloptimist — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 11:31:12 -0400

So I just had my A1c done, and I got a 13.2…not exactly something I’m proud of, even though it was expected.

I mean, I knew that I’ve really been ruining my blood sugars but I guess getting that terrible of a number back might be the push that I needed to remind me that diabulimia is a long term thing, not just something I can abuse without serious consequences.

So I’m going to start making an honest effort to be a better diabetic, because I REALLY need to. I want to bring my A1c back down to a healthy rate, instead of a destructive one. I’ve already switched back all my basal rates to what they should be but it’s time I start actually using my boluses.

Plus I’ve been feeling like shit lately. Tired all the time, constant headaches and it’s making school nearly impossible. It’s hard enough dragging myself out of bed to make it to class but then it’s even more difficult to try to focus when I feel queasy and have a terrible migraine.

I’ve put back on about 5 lbs just by fixing my basal and while that doesn’t exactly make me happy, I know that it’s a price worth paying. I’ll just have to start watching what I eat and working out like a ‘normal’ person. I mean, I’ve never wanted special treatment just for having an incurable disease, so I guess it’s time I start actually acting like it. It’s time for me to lose weight the way ‘normal’ people do, instead of abusing my disease and cheating the system.

I know that I’ve never wanted to live to be 100, just because that’s not my life philosophy to keep my body in some pristine state just so that I can live an uneventfully safe life. I want to be young and reckless. But it’s hard to really enjoy life when I feel like shit all the time. I can’t even appreciate my youth while I’m wasting it on some asinine goal of being ‘pretty’.

I guess I just need to learn how to be more comfortable in my own skin, while also enjoying life when I feel 100%. Last year, I had so much more fun when I weighed more but also was healthy enough to enjoy myself.

So it’s back to that. Yes, I’m not entirely happy being so overweight but damn it I’m even less happy being sick all the time.

Life goal #3 : Be a good diabetic.

**Life goal #2 is to not fail out of my college, and #1 is to date one of the Brazilian exchange students that now go to my college ;) because after all, I’m a typical girl sometimes.

Smile

suicidaloptimist — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 00:56:00 -0500

“Men only like skinny girls because they’re too weak to argue and salads are cheap.”

-A great friend

Some friends are great at cheering a girl up.

Finals week.

suicidaloptimist — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 10:44:00 -0500

I changed my basal rates again.

This time, back to what they should be. This morning I also bolused for the first time in what feels like and eternity.

I can’t handle studying, finals, stress, and diabulimia at the same time. Plus I’m going home for a week after this, so I’m going back to taking care of diabetes. At least temporarily and maybe permanently.

I just can’t keep up with it all. I have enough stress with school, and now drama in my personal life, so I can’t handle constant DKA on top of it all. I’m still trying to lose the weight so i’ll try the more conventional way of watching what I eat and such.

Anyways, I haven’t lost any more weight in the past week even with the diabulimia, so it’s starting to really seem as though it’s not worth it. I feel terrible and can’t focus when I feel sick all the time.

I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep up being a good diabetic until I turn back to skipping insulin, but for now I’m going to try. I need to. I’m going to fight to keep myself in a more healthy state, but I don’t know how well that’s going to work.

I’m just so exhausted from this whole process. I need to get myself in check. So it’s back to good blood sugars and taking the insulin I know I need. I don’t know how much damage has already been done but maybe if I stay good, I won’t do any more damage to my body. But I don’t know.

We’ll see how this whole taking care of myself and my disease works out. I really do hope I can keep myself from going back for at least a while, but I know it’ll be so tempting, especially if the scale starts telling me that I’m gaining weight again. But right now, I don’t have space in my life for vanity to be a priority, or even really a thought. I can’t handle this like I thought I could.

A part of me wishes I never started, because I don’t want to stop. No matter how much I know I need to.

155 lbs.

suicidaloptimist — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 03:02:34 -0500

I kind of feel like I’ve hit a wall.

My blood sugars are still high nearly all the time, but I’m barely losing weight. I think I might have to decrease my basal rates pretty soon if I don’t see results.

I’m not too keen on the idea of feeling even more sick, but then again, so far it really hasn’t been too bad. I mean, I’m always tired and a bit out of breath, but I don’t feel too overly terrible. It’s been manageable.

But I’m afraid that if I decrease my insulin I might cross that fine line of control and real danger.

But being thin…looking pretty…I can’t help but want that. I can see some results already. All of my jeans are loose on me and wont stay up without the help of a belt. I used to be a solid size 13, now I’m about a size 9. And when I turn in the mirror, for once my stomach doesn’t stick out so far. My boobs actually stick out farther than my gut, by quite a bit, despite the fact that I know my boobs have also shrunk. Which is a bit annoying when my strapless bra is now too big around to stay up.

But I’m still not satisfied. Yes, there’s been a huge improvement. I’ve lost about 20 lbs. But I still don’t fully like what I see in the mirror. I wouldn’t mind losing the gross flab of fat on my arms, or having my thunder thighs slim down as well. I also would love to lose the pot belly and have a smooth stomach for once. I wouldn’t mind if I still have a bit of a pudge, but not this much.

I’m happy with the weight I’ve lost so far, but I’m not done yet. I want to lose more. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get there.

157 lbs.

suicidaloptimist — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 04:06:00 -0500

I’m definitely struggling.

I feel so sick all the time. I just want to lie in bed and sleep, just do nothing. I don’t want to go to class, interact with people, even move, and least of all consume more sugar.

I’m forcing myself to eat enough sugar to keep my levels high enough, but it’s the last thing I want to do. But I know that when I don’t eat sugar, my blood sugar drops too low and I won’t lose the weight. It just feels nearly impossible to find a balance.

I’ve mostly been resorting to just drinking lots of sugary drinks. I figure, if I can’t bring myself to eat anything, then I can at least drink excessive amounts of juice. I don’t even struggle taking down liquid sugar, because I’m always so thirsty anyways. My only problem is that then I tend to feel very sick after downing four glasses of apple juice in the morning. Yesterday it got so bad I had to skip my morning classes because I was throwing up. It got to the point where I felt nauseous every time I so much as moved, and even breathing too deeply made my stomach churn.

This is turning out to be very unpleasant. And I can’t afford to keep missing class because of this. I have finals at the end of February and I don’t know how I’m going to manage passing them while also feeling like death because of this diabulimia.

Logically, I know I should just stop right now. Get myself back on track and get healthy. But I don’t want to, at least not more than I want to lose weight.

Or maybe I honestly can’t just stop. This whole time, I’ve thought of diabulimia as being under my control; a switch that I can flip on or off and be done with. That’s just how I need to think of things though. If I let myself believe that it’s not under my control, I’d probably freak out and lose it.

I come from a very black-and-white way of thinking. I’m of an engineering and science mindset where things are clear-cut. So I have to think of the diabulmia as black or white, on or off. Something I can simply choose to change and then be done with it. I need that control, even if it’s only an imagined control. That’s just how I think.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up before I need to get healthy again, but I guess I’ll just have to wait it out and see what the breaking point is actually going to be.

Hey, we seem to be on the same page, and I have no one else to talk to about this because no one understands. I was recently diagnosed as a type one, as in one year ago pretty much. I was doing fine in the beginning, but then I started to gain weight, and I was at my heaviest which wasn't obese or anything but yeah you know what I mean probably. Then I discovered that missing insulin wouldn't allow my body to take any of the food I eat in, and now I'm getting worse and idk what to do? :(

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 17:39:41 -0500

My honest advice is to try and stop the diabulmia before it really sets in. I remember that phase of gaining weight after my diagnosis. I had lost all my baby fat while I was sick, and then gained it all back, plus a lot more. In my case, a huge part of it was that they had my diet scheduled out for me, and had me eating too many carbs. So my advice would be to talk with your doctors, or dietitian (if you have one; I did in the beginning), and ask them if you can change your meal plan. As in, plan for less carbs and try to avoid weight gain the natural way. Try to really watch what you put in your mouth, and if you stick to lots of veggies you won’t even have to give insulin for those. I know that it’s so much easier to just skip the insulin, but even if you do go with that and then lose the weight you want, it’s just going to come back if you don’t fix the initial problem. So I would suggest trying to find a food plan that works better for you now, so you won’t be as tempted to skip doses and also so when you go back to taking all your insulin you won’t immediately gain it ba ck.

But that’s just my unprofessional opinion. And good luck, I really hope things work out for you, and I’m always here for whatever support I can offer.

159 lbs.

suicidaloptimist — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 04:11:43 -0500

It’s been a rough week.

I’ve been sick constantly. Nothing super serious, but a really bad head cold. I feel miserable most of the time. I’m always exhausted.

The diabulimia is only adding to the sickness.

I’m back on hardcore antibiotics, because the infection that hospitalized me in August has started to come back. So they make me feel even more exhausted and nauseous.

It’s been hard to force myself to even eat anymore, though I’ve had no trouble wanting water. I’ve been parched, and consequently making a lot of bathroom trips.

It’s been hard to find a balance with my sugars; I’ve had to drop my basal rates even lower to compensate for my lack of sugar intake. I’ve only been ‘eating’ breakfast lately, and that usually just consists of me drinking as much juice as I can before I have to leave for a bathroom break.

But I think I’m getting a rhythm down, and I’m back to actually losing weight instead of just maintaining it.

I still don’t really see any results except for the bags under my eyes and yellow tint to my pallor. But I think I’m getting towards my goal.

My jeans feel looser and I have to pull my belt much tighter. My shirts are starting to feel a little baggy and my hips look a tad slimmer.

That makes this all worth it to me. Because the scale and my clothes are reminding me of why I’m putting myself through this hell. I’m on my way, and it’s all just part of this horrific process.

I don’t know when I’ll stop, or if I’ll ever really be able to. But for now, I’m just hoping to get down to a size where I feel comfortable, before I let the diabulimia send me to a hospital or really hinder my daily life.

I’ll reach my goal eventually, I honestly think that. I’m just still not sure what the total cost is going to be.

Misconception.

suicidaloptimist — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 02:14:17 -0500

I hate when people just have no idea what diabetes actually means. Or they don’t realize that type 1 and type 2 are very different things.

It’s just so frustrating dealing with other people’s ignorance about the whole thing. I mean, I can’t really blame them, because why should they know anything?

To be fair, I had no idea what it meant to be diabetic until I was one.

So I can understand, but it’s still annoying.

Like this time, I let the DKA get a tad out of hand and started vomiting. It was nothing too bad, just very unpleasant more than anything else.

The worst part was trying to explain to my RA afterwards that no, I am not vomiting because I’m drunk. Come on, it’s a Wednesday night, of course I’m not drunk. So please stop getting bitchy with me for drinking when I wasn’t.

I’m not sick because I’m drunk, I’m sick because, well, I’m really sick. I already cleaned up after myself, and really I at least made it to the bathroom and everything. I took care of it all myself, so I’m not going to apologize anymore, especially while you’re treating me like some drunk immature kid.

I sick, okay? I threw up because I have an incurable disease that’s out of control right now. So stop judging me, and get off my case. I’ll take care of myself and in the meantime, maybe you can educate yourself a little on what type 1 diabetes actually is.

Easy.

suicidaloptimist — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 18:27:29 -0500

Anyone who thinks diabulimia is easy, is entirely wrong.

It’s incredibly difficult. Perhaps it is an ‘easy’ way to lose weight on paper, but the reality is vastly different.

Aside from just the nasty complications of being in a constant state of DKA, even the logistics are rather difficult.

I mean, you have to keep your sugars high enough at all times so that you force yourself into DKA. But a side effect is that you lose all desire to really eat from the nausea, and thus your sugar drops since you aren’t consuming any more. Or really, it just drops enough for the DKA to stop and also for the weight to start creeping back.

But you also can’t let the hyperglycemia get too out of hand or you’ll end up in the hospital. So you have stay healthy enough to keep alive and keep outside people from taking notice of your perpetual state of illness.

It’s an immensely difficult balance, and you have to deal with that whilst also feeling akin to death.

And now currently I’m also at college, where I frequently lack time to even sleep, so it’s all just adding up to feel pretty impossible. I’m somehow keeping my head above water with the massive amounts of schoolwork, but as a result I’ve managed to only get sleep for one of the past 52 hours. Literally. One hour-long nap, and nothing else.

But the diabulimia is making me so exhausted, I feel like I could sleep for days.

I can’t deal with this all very well. So I need to speed up the process. If I’m going to do this, I have to stop half-assing it so much. I’m dialing back the basal rates by 20%. And yes, I legitimately did the math for that.

I have no idea how this is going to turn out. But I have a feeling it’s not going to be good.

Whatever, I just want some sleep.