trading in half-truths.

when the stomach flu hit i didn't think i'd ever get out of bed again.

but as most things do. it passed.

health returned.

and yet.

i remained. in bed.

and i slept.

some days are nothing more than experiments in resisting the urge to weep.

i can admit that i have an eating disorder. but i cannot admit depression.

i can admit that i am person who feels great sadness. and often. but i cannot admit depression.

and yet, i am...sad right now. winter blues? post-holiday decline?

the big eating disorder summit (yup, they have one of those) will take place in salzburg this year. and one of the main issues up for discussion is the newly recognized binge eating disorder. the question on the table: binge eating without occurrence of depression is not actually an eating disorder--instead it is just... overeating? not just, because things aren't so simple. but it boils down to depression as the defining factor--the tipping point.

and yet i cannot admit i am depressed.

i was. once. when this all began.

terribly so, in fact. which made the eating disorder difficult to diagnose. everyone said it was depression. anxiety. and i knew. instinctively, as my world fell apart, i knew: they were wrong.

and the depression subsided. and a slow recovery began.

and God, this recovery has been slow. i am slow. on the uptake. a late bloomer. always have been. so this should come as no surprise. and in effort to prevail i slowly, ever-so-slowly persist.

so when this funk began in october, i declared it just that: a funk. and moved on.

but breathing has been a bit harder these few months.

this is all to say.

that yes, i live in constant pursuit of laughter. and yes i do believe that anything is possible. and yes i cling to hope. just as i cling to the notion that everything happens for a reason. and hell, i have no idea what will come of all of this, so how can i judge it harshly?

but that is only half the story. that is the story i tell here because i want to believe it as much as i need others to believe in me.

but there are mornings that i cannot get out of bed. mornings when the sheer weight of my failures seems unbearable. when i don't think i'll have the energy to get out of the subway car at the necessary stop. when i can't ever imagine getting better. or imagine this ending.

so you should know. there is another side to the story. a mr. hyde to my dr. jeckyll.

*turns out yesterday was blue monday--the most depressing day of the year. i really love this blog and always enjoy what the women have to say. the latest entry covers a bit of all this.