Getting My Shit Together

I wanted to write about this a little while ago and at the moment I really feel like I'm slipping again, so maybe talking about it will help me get my shit together... again.

Basically last weekend I decided to get a few things done that I've been putting off for... over a year, really. Little things like making a bank account (no more hiding money in my Bible), sorting out my own insurance papers for therapy, and making my own appointments and financial plans and everything gave me an overwhelming feeling of maturity and independence. And sure enough, a few days later, my mom commented on how it was nice seeing me take charge of my own life again.

I matured quickly, I think. When I was a lot younger I was... socially awkward isn't the right word. Annoying, more like. I was the weird kid who thought she was super funny and felt the need to voice every thought that half formed in her head. And I had friends, but most of the people I just annoyed. But at some point, and I don't really know when, I sort of brought my head down to Earth. I was still loud and talkative, but not obnoxious like before and most of what I said actually made sense. Teachers, people at church, and my parents friends all loved me. That's sort of a big thing to say, but I really was that star child- perfect grades, active in church, a good circle of friends, athletic, plenty of extracurriculars... Does this sound like the stereotypical profile for someone with an eating disorder? Would it be even better if I mentioned all the problems I had at home that no one knew about because we were just the model family?

Anyways, once my eating disorder came about I slowly lost all of that. First I quite school clubs, then sports, then my grades dropped (although they never went low enough where my mom could really complain; but still, they dropped). Up until we moved I stayed super involved at church though and had better friends than ever, but as soon as we did move both of those dropped to about zero. And I completely stopped taking care of myself. If my mom wanted something to get done, she could do it herself. I could take care of myself, or so I thought; I didn't need much.

The things is, I knew the whole time that everything I was doing was immature and illogical. I know that what I was thinking was wrong. But I didn't care. I thought that either I could be an exception (not likely) or I could die. Except that I never really thought I would die (except for a short phase where I completely romanticized the idea of killing myself and would come up with different plans for how to do it sending what message) because I figured if it ever got "too bad" or if I got sick of making myself sick I could stop. But I knew I didn't want to and by the time I did decide I wanted to be done, it was harder to stop than I would've thought.

Anyways, the fact that  I actually got around to doing all this and started really working on my future and making sure that I have one is a really good thing. I'm cursing myself now for wasting so much money on binge food, blades, and cigarettes, but that is what it is. I'm actually really lucky that I have another year and a half of school before I go off to university; almost all of my friends in America are moved out and living on their own and I can't imagine what I a train wreck I'd be if I had to do that this summer too.