Body Hatred

So...it's been so long since I last wrote. My life has been crazy. Medical diagnoses, doctors appointments, therapy, being so deeply depressed I wasn't sure if I would survive...or if I wanted to. This has become my life, day in and day out. Over the past two months something else has developed. I hate my body. Not in the typical way. I hate my body because it hates me. Every time I try to go and do something normal with my friends (ie shopping, movie, etc) I can barely walk the next day. I feel isolated, alone. I feel like my body is running my life.

That is not the way it should be! The way it should work is that I control my body. I should have absolute say over what it does. my body is giving me depression, anguish, lonliness, is cutting me off from everything I love like horseback riding, being at school, running, and so many other things. I am going to deny my body what it loves: food.

Before I got diagnosed with the big stuff (AS) in June of '08, I was 5' 4" and weighed 138 pounds. Lard ass. I was bothered by my weight, but didn't really feel up to doing anything about it. Now I'm doing things about it! I now weigh 119 pounds. My low weight has been 116, which happened over Thanksgiving weekend, and my high weight in the past week or so has been 120.5...I want to get down to 105. That is my goal. I want to be underweight for my height. I want to punish my body for everything it has done to me. I WANT TO BE IN CONTROL OF ONE FUCKING THING IN MY LIFE.

Today I ate 1/2 cup of nonfat vanilla yogurt (60 cals) and a small glass of diluted cranberry juice (90 cals) so far. But it isn't even lunchtime yet of course. I want to keep my cals under 500 today. Think I can do it???? I sure as hell hope so.

I was never much of an exerciser, but now I just want to go run and run an run, to burn off all those disgusting calories in me. But my fucking body won't let me. It hurts too bad. I'm going to physical therapy today, and when I get home I'm going to do those exercises until I'm crying from pain.

I deserve the pain. I still have fat on my hips and butt, I want to see my ribs more clearly. I love the feeling of my clothes being too big, of people telling me I'm too skinny and that I need to gain weight. Hahaha! As if! I need to LOSE weight - 14 pounds to be exact.

I'm so depressed despite my Prozac and the fact that my psychiatrist just increased the dosage. The only time I feel happy is when the numbers on the scale are lower. It's the only time I see light in my eyes when I look in the mirror.

Welcome, Ana. I know that you are bad. I know that you could kill me. But, as someone who has seriously contemplated suicide, would that really be so bad? If you can help me control my body and punish it, then take me, Ana. I'm all yours.