I caught myself thinking the other day, "I wish I JUST had an eating disorder" or "I wish I JUST had bipolar." Meaning, of course, that I wish I only had to deal with one of my many mental health diagnoses as opposed to dealing with them all at once.

Things have been stressful for me lately, so I decided to take a mini-vacation and stay at my sister's — about two hours away from my home — for the weekend. I visited with her and her husband before they left for vacation, met with my eating disorders psychiatrist who lives nearby, and basically had a relaxing time sitting around drinking Starbucks mocha frappuccinos, reading my Nook and playing with her two large Rottweilers that act like overgrown babies. Then I decided to stop at this quaint, 50s-style drive-up diner . . . and proceeded to get into a heated shouting match, complete with expletives, with another customer. Why does food always have to complicate my life?

I have been struggling to eat normally — whatever normal is — for several weeks. It's not that I have stopped eating altogether, because let's face it, even anorexics have to eat something. It's not even that I'm in starvation mode — yet. It has just become easier to skip breakfast, because hey, it is 10 a.m. before I think about it and it is only two hours away from lunch. Then lunchtime comes and I "forget" to eat until about 2 or 3 p.m. That's too close for dinner, so I might as well make lunch do for dinner, too. Still, I am eating and I am committed to recovery. I know that I was not healthy before and that I need to continue to eat healthy and maintain my weight. I know that skipping meals, especially breakfast, is not a good idea. I thought I was doing okay. Then I drank several glasses of wine last night.

According to The National Center of Addiction and Substance Abuse, up to one half of those with eating disorders — including anorexia, bulimia, and binge eating disorder — abuse alcohol and/or drugs. (see Eating Disorders and Addictions) This is a dangerous combination. I didn't believe it would happen to me — until it did.

I haven't been sober more than a few days each month since October. I have only eaten a handful of what would be considered real meals in several months. I consume more calories in alcohol than food, and simply admitting that has to be one of the hardest things I have ever done.