Back in business, one stone up, too many friends down. There’s been so much shit going on recently, with other people and with myself, and so my eating disorder has come back to play. Going on an epic pill shop tomorrow, and renewing my gym membership. Gluten, sugar, salt, meat, butter, oil, alcohol and caffeine have been banned. 

I need to regain my control; I need to regain myself. I haven’t felt like myself for months, and I’ve realised it’s because I haven’t been myself - the real me is the girl who fasts for days and vomits for hours. I was being someone else to please everyone around me, and while I deeply regret the fact that I’m about to hurt them, I can’t maintain this lifestyle, and I think the longer I try to, the harder I’ll fall when I inevitably return to my disordered eating.

I fell into the old trap of mistaking gluttony for being eating disorder-free. Or at least I think I did; I can’t really remember what being eating-disorder free feels like. But whatever you want to call it - being greedy or being normal - it’s over. I’m not going to deny the fact that I enjoyed eating a whole range of stuff, and that I loved having enough energy to live my life, in every sense of the term, but in reality, all of that has nothing on the feeling I get when the number on the scales goes down.

It’s surprising how quickly and ferociously my old habits and thoughts have come back. I only started restricting properly yesterday, and I had a panic attack after eating my only meal today, which came in at 400 calories. Every time I considered eating anything else, I thought of all of the people in my life who things are going wrong with right now, and how hard they’d be laughing at me if they could see me having that apple. So I popped a few pills instead. And I read through hundreds of pages of the material they gave me when I was in treatment, but all it did was make me angry that I believed the bullshit, patronising junk they spat at me, and make me determined to get thinner than before.

I’m not sad about becoming unhealthy again, I’m not scared of the road I’m about to go down, but at the same time I’m not looking forward to barely being able to get out of bed again. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. 

…and I’m back, 15 pounds heavier yayyyy.

anawonderland:

Bear in mind, people with eating disorders tend to be both competitive and intelligent. We are incredibly perfectionistic. We often excel on school, athletics, artistic pursuits. We also tend to quit without warning. Refuse to go to school, drop out, quit jobs, leave lovers, move, lose all our money. We get sick of being impressive. Rather, we tire of having to seem impressive. As a rule, most of us never believed we were any good in the first place.

-Marya Hornbacher

So I’ve been eating more (without purging) for the past 2 weeks or so, for a number of reasons:

1. My housemate/best friend told me how upset it made her to see how fucked up I was a couple of weeks ago, but I didn’t think that what I was doing was that bad at all. I.e. I’m insane and have no concept whatsoever of normal and healthy behaviour, so I should probably stop doing things like overdosing on diet pills and fasting for x days at a time. 
2. I don’t want to be doing this to my family. My relationship with my parents is pretty fucked, but I still don’t want them - or anyone else - to have to deal with this.
3. I’m only 21; I don’t want to fuck up my life/body even more. The only thing I want in this life is to have kids, and if the past 5 years of wrecking my body haven’t fucked up my chances, then me carrying on like this most certainly will. And I’ve had enough of palpitations, the fuckers.

This evening, I looked in the mirror and cried because I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life by deciding to start eating again. Like I said, I’ve had a couple of wobblers where I’ve told myself that I need to stop eating again and do I really need to eat more than once every 2 days. But this is something else. Energy? Check. Clear mind? Check. Irresistible urge to fuck myself up? Alive and fucking kicking.

I recognise this kind of freak-out, and I know what comes next. Can I just be sane and stable, please? These extremes and mood swings are laughable. For fuck’s sake. I wish I could go back to the days when it was just about my appearance. Now it’s purely based on me not being able to deal with being happy and having a life, and doing everything in my power to fuck myself up before someone else gets there first.

Now it’s so much scarier.

I don’t wanna sound patronising, but I don’t feel comfortable encouraging you to be unhealthy, so I’m not going to say.

I felt like complete and utter shit all weekend; initially just physically because I took 2 weeks’ worth of diet pills in about 36 hours, and then emotionally, because I didn’t lose a single pound. I was so distraught that I started considering ways to kill myself. That’s when I decided I needed help; even I have enough clarity of mind to know that overdosing like that and being so distraught over maintaining that I want to die, are not normal behaviours. So I planned to go and see my doctor sometime this week, and in the meantime I went food shopping with my housemate. I got a decent amount of relatively healthy stuff, in the hopes that having more than 4 Quorn sausages, a packet of mushrooms and a couple of tins of beans at home, would help me on my way to eating normally. I even bought some chocolate, to see if I could manage to have it in the house and eat it in moderation without losing my mind.

No such luck. I think the only good thing that we can say has come out of this attempt at recovery, is that the chocolate is still intact. Now that I’m allowing myself more than 200 calories a day, I’ve been bingeing like an absolute motherfucker. Not just because I’m greedy as fuck, but also because I have this unbelievable and insatiable hunger. Food is on my mind more than ever now. Yes, I know recovery is a long process, even never-ending, and yes, it’s only been 2 days. But I know how this goes. My stomach is distended beyond belief, which I prepared myself for, but when that goes down and the weight spreads to my entire body, I’m going to have a fucking breakdown. 

I can’t take this. I can’t take gaining, or even maintaining.

I don’t know how to get across the extent to which this is not about how I look. I could care less if I look “hot” in a tight dress and heels on a night out, or if a load of guys are lusting after me (neither of these things are the case…just sayin’). I just can’t take how repulsive and undisciplined I am.

If I had the self-control, I would most definitely be eating normally, and enjoying my life. In fact, that’s my absolute dream. But I’m just fucked. I spend half of my time binging because I feel the need to punish myself/it’ll give my metabolism a boost/I’m a greedy cunt, and the other half of my time is spent starving and blacking out. I don’t know why I keep thinking that I can get over this; I’m too weak/fat to stick recovery out, and the only things that my efforts achieve are increases in my weight, self-loathing and desire to completely fuck myself up.

I’ve decided against getting help now; no amount of talking and no type of drugs can change the fact that I’m inherently repugnant. The only help I need comes in the form of cigarettes, Coke Zero and stronger diet pills.

whatshouldwecallme:

(Source: lmaogtfo)