I can't stand my body. I dont even know how i got myself into such a mess of binging and throwing up. I still have nightmares. I still feel traped. Ony now i am even more lonely than before. And i cant go back, it is not an option. am so so confused. I want so much to cut this right out of me.
I wish i could get mad, scream or throw something just once.
- Location:Desparate
I could just really do with a friend right now. One who would listen without judging. Tell me the truth and not just what they think i want to hear. Hold me for a little while because actually they dont think i am too dirty to touch.
Was having major anxiety this morning when i woke up, so i binged and threw up twice before 11am. Great way to start the day.
I think my dreams are trying to tell me something but i don't know what. I'm afraid to listen to my body, for fear of what it has to say. I have thought about just laying out on the floor and relaxing and just letting whatever i need to feel or think about come to the surface but i just cannot do it. I can't feel present in this body like that. I know it sounds silly.
I am so so confused at the moment. I am writing a report on obesity intervention and my thought pattern turned to the philosophy of life and once again questioning what the point is in the first place. I don't know, is clarity overrated?
There are three kinds of people in this world; those that say "i don't have a problem"; those that say, " i have a problem but i am not going to deal with it"; and those that say, " i have a problem and i am going to fix it"
I guess i swing between all three at times but primarily i used to be the first kind, i.e. denial all the way. Then the second, knowing something is wrong but ignoring it anyway i.e. aware of the denial. The third makes you question why? I always have to understand why?
I don't get life? Whats the point? I'm going to die anyway, why not speed it up a little?
- Mood:
anxious
I'm angry at the world at the moment. I don't like feeling anger. I don't like feeling full stop.
- Mood:
angry
I had a really strange, unsettling dream last night. I dreamnt about football to start with, but then i started dreaming about bears. To start with there was one bear and i was frightend. It started by putting its paws round the door and i could see this bear. It was agressive and coming at me. I was trying to get away and i was trying to push the door closed. Then there was a second bear, this one didnt feature that much but i was aware of its presence. Then there was a baby bear. To start i was really afraid and they were really agressive but then something shifted and they were friendly and they left, and i picked up the baby bear and returned it to the moma bear.
Metaphor much.......
- Mood:
thoughtful
Ok so things to do 2moro;
1) Get up
2)Survive
3)Go back to bed
I split him into two and i split myself into two at the same time. There was the little girl who got A's, a perfectionist, that held her own on the basketball court with the guys. That little girl sent out the message that you can knock me down and i will get back up.
And then there was the little girl who played on her own, stopped eating, threw up, felt like she was dying, wanted to commit suicide, had nightmares. But i never could speak of her. She has no voice. She was stuffed down with food and thrown up, tortured with endless exercise, she cut her own wrists.
I feel trapped in my body. A body that doesn't feel like mine. Skin stained, contaminated, dirty, disgusting.
I never listen to it, i push it through all the pain barriers. maybe if i did listen it would say, i was ***** and how would i deal with that.
Am struggling not to self harm. When i remember that hand on my leg i want to drive a knife into that leg. When i remember........it's just too horiible and dirty to type, I imagine cutting my breasts off, slashing my wrists, driving knives into my back, driving knives into my groin.
I have stopped taking my anti-depressents and started saving them up again, just incase i need them. They are looking very tempting tonight, i don't think 30 would finish me off though but i have some painkillers as well.
What if i just did it? What if the world did actually finish 2moro? I don't belive in the after life, if you are dead you are dead-thats it nothing. I think this may be wishful thinking on my part. I don't feel very real anyway, so i wouldn't really be dying because i don't exist anyway.
*sigh*
Round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows.
- Mood: distressed
Housemate just tried her dress on and j tried mine on. We are going shopping tommorw for J to buy a new one, might give it a miss. I sold my ball ticket today. I could not face going. I feel too ugly, too vulnerable in a dress, my arms have too many scars. I hate the idea that the dress would suggest my sexuality. That people might look at me. That they might notice there is something not quite right about me, that i am damaged. I didn't realise i would feel so........i dont know what i feel but i felt a pang of something when i saw them with their dresses on. I pretend i don't want to dress up, that i don't want the fairytales that seem to happen to them but it's not becuase i don't, it is because, oh i dont know why, i'm just not allowed to. Besides i don't deserve it.
So last year i avoided it altogether, this year i bought the ticket but sold it. So maybe next year i buy the ticket and actually go.
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
- Mood:
sad
I don't know weather to get mad, cry, throw things, so i throw up. Great job facing up to what you are starting to feel.
It shares your body and brain. Feeds off your shame and guilt, subsequently creating more shame and even more guilt to feed it further. it builds walls but strips you bare. You lose the highs but spare the lows. Experience the highs and you crash harder and further than ever before into the catastrophic lows. And just when you think there's no where left to fall it rips the ground from beneath you.
To start with you cling to it with both hands, thinking it contains you, keeps you safe. A quest for power, a gesture of strength, the search for an identity. Then you realise its a deadly contradiction that strips you of all those things. The hunger to prove you need nothing has turned into the need for the hunger itself. But you never saw it coming and now it's too late to let go, the train has already left the station and all those opportunities you were given to get off passed by the glass mirrors that have become your eyes, eyes that used to be windows.
Your voice becomes weaker and is heard less and less. The eating disorder takes on a personality of its own. It's jelous, it hates your friends, so you have to cut them out. You have to lie or their suspicions that you were bad all along will be confirmed. You must lie or they will convince you i'm not good for you but that is because they are jelous that you have me. They want to make you fat and you are already so disgusting.
Now it courses through my viens, the hate pours through me, burning until i give in and let it run red. And each new cut must be bigger and deeper than the last. And sometimes you pray for the courage to press down harder and end it all. Your feet twitch with anticipation at the side of the road or the train platform. Your hand shakes reaching for the car door on the motorway. The gas oven looks inviting. Your shoe laces seem like possible weapons of self destruction. And sleeping pills never tasted so good. At some point you realise you lost that control but you don't know which voice to believe now.
What others see as a weekness or 'disorder' is actually a creative survival technique. It is not a problem to be overcome but a coping mechanism with negative side effects. The illusions about food did not let me down when i was defenseless. And parting with an eating disorder is like parting with a best friend. In fact at times it has been my only friend. In the meantime i lost myself. I slipped away so quietly, that i never had a chance to say goodbye.
I stepped outside myself and a new low grade anxiety took up residence in the open space. I reserve what intimacy i have for bathroom floors, just accepting the inability to trust or get close to anyone as a personality flaw. Trying to kill the thing on the inside by hurting on the outside. And when you don't want to feel, it is true that death can seem like a dream.
- Mood:
blank
And if you stay outside yourself, you're not responsible for what happens.
And you can't remember something that didn't happen.
But if you watched it happen, you might remember certain things.
But when you watch things you interpret them differently, so it might not have happend like that.
And memory is funny so you only remember bits and there are huge chunks missing.
Is it that you are not remembering or forgotten the missing bits or is it because they didn't really happen, so you can't possibly rcall an event that didn't happen.
And sometimes you recall things that are trivia to a situation and thats all you remember. Like how sharp your hip bones were because you hadn't eaten for a week.
But we all have imaginations.
Can you just think things up from scratch or do you need an input to imagine further.
And when you close your eyes and you see things as if it were you, is it your imagination or a memory. But then you know its not you because you are watching, so you know you can't be inside yourself.
Is it possible to remember taste, smells, touch. But those things are real.
You can't smell, taste or touch whats not real.
If all you know is you don't like that taste, that smell or that touch and you don't like dreaming that dream, how do you know why you don't like it, if you don't remember if its a real dislike or an imagined dislike.
Are you missing huge chunks out of your memory because you are not inside yourself, so nothing is happening to you.
But if you're not inside yourself, where are you.
You have to be someplace you can see what happens. Even though whats happening isn't real because you're not inside yourself.
But something is inside the space you left behind, but it doesn't quite fit right.
Perhaps that why you remember things that didn't really happen.
And why you can't get back in.
Or perhaps you can't get back because you don't want to because you are the missing pieces.
And if you are inside yourself it might have happened.
But if you werent inside yourself at the time it can't have, can it?
But you have to find a way to stay outside yourself.
Find an obsession that fills you.
Occassionally you feel ehat you can't remember as reality inside you. In your blood. Memories seep from your viens.
Sometimes you bleed just to know you're alive, because you can go days or weeks without feeling. If you don't feel surely you're not alive, you miss days and weeks, you can't remember last year. So where were you at that time?
And sometimes you bleed to stop feeling. Whatever you feel its all turned into hate for the thing you are not inside of anymore.
The thing inside you, which wont let you back in.
Soon all you feel is hate
So you try to kill the thing on the inside by hurting on the outside.
Or is the thing on the inside trying to kill you?
If you don't have a physical space to come back to where do you go.
People mistake it for you but if they look closely they realise how cold it is.
There's really no way to reach me, i'm already gone.
- Mood: numb
- Mood:indescribable
First post, not really sure what purpose this is serving, if its for other people to read then i guess i should start off with a bit about me - Rite now i don't think there is much to say because my eating disorder consumes me, it is me, without it i can not be.
Can't live with it, can't live without it.
I don't think i want to die. sometimes i think i do but i think when it comes down to it i want to live. But i'm not alive, i just exist and some times i even wonder if i exist at all. Its kinda like when you look in the mirror and you say your name over and over, eventually it gets to the point where none of it seems real.
I have a fascination with death, i want to walk the lines, see how far i can push it and still come back. Death almost becomes a friend - if things get any worse i can always choose to die - i am controlling it.
Sometimes in life its all too little too late, the damage is done. When you have been down so long how do you come back.
I'm certainly down, but i'm not out - not yet. courage doesn't always roar, sometimes courage is a quite little voice at the end of the day saying ' i will try again tomorrow'.
Today i can't even look at my body, i hate it, i hate mirrors. I can't stand what feels like a body i don't even recognise as me. Its like it doesn't belong to me. So when i declare war on my body, binging and purging, ripping it apart with razor blades, scrubbing it clean till it bleeds, i'm not attacking myself, im attacking what other people recognise as me, but its not.
Word to the wise its not easy showering in the dark or with your eyes closed.
- Mood: dirty
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