Fat failure 

Im a fat b***h. I’m a fat failure. That’s what I am. A fat ugly horrible person. That’s me. And I hate it. I hate the person I am. I hate my life. I hate everything about me. The way I was in a relationship. The fact I’m alone. The the way I am the person Ive become. I wish it would be over. I bought tablets the other day as I had a headache but had to give the rest over otherwise I’d have taken them all and take yet another overdose. It doesn’t scare me. I don’t think it ever well. I’m So desperate for my life to be over. Or at least change. This weekend has been full of Unknown calories and it terrifies me. I’m dreading weigh in tomorrow. Dreading see the number on the scales. Pure dread. It will effect t my day so much of I’ve gained. And I know I have. I’m so desperate to lose weight. So desperate to see my ribs. For my stomach to cave in. Not stick out. To see a thigh gap instead of see them touch. To see my cheekbones instead of have a rounded face. I’m desperate to go back to how I was. 

I sit here and wrote this and feel so alone. I know Facebook glorifies everything but I’m sick of people younger than me having the time of there lives. Having babies. Getting engaged going out partying. Whilst I’m stuck in hospital. My life on hold. And what’s worse is even when I’m out of hospital. I’m not going to be living. As anorexia will still be there and have hold of me. I’ll be restricting like mad. I’ll still be alone. I’ll still be the failure I am. I still won’t have a life. 

The unknown 

The unknown. It’s horrible. I’d rather know. Tonight I’m home visiting family and we’re going out for dinner. Going out for dinner where the calories aren’t on the menu. You can’t even really guess. It’s weird. I’m ok drinking alcohol which is calories. But food. Now that’s totally different. Yesterday I barely ate and today I skipped breakfast in preparation for dinner. I hate how my life really does revolve around food. I also ate lunch out today. I ate it. Then had to go back to the counter just to see how many calories were in it. I have to know number. I need to know them. I need to know I’m under the amount I should have. I’ve never been this bad. But it’s awful now. The unknown is far too scary. It’s terrifying. I should be looking forward to going out with mr family. But instead it’s shear dread. I’m anxious. I’m sweating. I’m

Agitated. Already planning if they have a salad. Planning to have a side Instead of a main. But I know o won’t be able to get away with that. My mum was ill so I was hoping this would mean dinner would be cancelled but it’s not. It’s still on. And where nearly there. Wish me luck guys 


Today’s been awful. I can’t even describe how awful it’s been. There are no words. Today I got threatened which being put under section, today I was confined to my room, not allowed to go out. Today I should have had 2200 calories but instead I haven’t even had 600. Skipping lunch. Skipping desserts and skipping half my breakfast. Of course skipping snack too. Today’s been indescribable . I’ve cried so much I nearly made myself sick. But the worst thing. No one cares. The staff here couldn’t care less. They really couldn’t. And on top of that I have no one to talk to. Yes I have my brother and family but I can’t keep telling them I’m rubbish. They’ll get sick of asking, sick of my response. I want more than anything to fall asleep and not wake up. I really really really do!! A short blog but I just had to get it all out. I had to write it down. Empty my mind of today. I had to tell someone 


I’m feeling so lost. So confused. So alone. And so depressed. My mess have changed yet again and I haven’t settled into them to yet. I seem to be up and down. All over the place. This morning I was fine. This afternoon I cross the road without evening looking. This is more than mood swings. Sometimes I think I’m bipolar. I really do. I wish my meds would kick in and we could find some that actually work. But anyone. Enough of that. Back to the title of this blog. Lost. That’s how I feel. I feel completely lost. My discharge date is Coming around just as quick as Christmas is. So, I should feel happy. But I don’t. The nearer it comes. Each day that passes the more dread I’m filled with. Im not excited to leave. Im terrified. Just because I’m leaving people assume I’m recovered. But I’m far from it. In reality recovery has only just begun and this is the hardest step to master. To keep eating when all of me is telling me not to. I should feel happy. If I don’t. I don’t get it. It’s like I’ve become institutionalised to the hospital. I’ve become comfortable. It’s the only place I’ll allow myself to eat. But even in here I’m still struggling with food intake. Each day writing down the calories of everything and trying to consume less each day. It’s like it’s actually getting so much harder the further I go. It should be easier. I should feel excited. But I don’t. I don’t get it. I don’t understand. I just feel so lost. Anorexia is still a massive part of me. It still controls me every day. Still has its grip on me. When will it go? When I jump in front of a train. When I cross the road without looking. Is that the only time I’ll be rid of it?!?! 


Love. Four letters. A tiny word. But a very big meaning. To love someone is one of the best feelings any human can experience. I’m not talking about unconditional love. I’m not talking about the love you have between a family. I’m talking about falling head over heels in love with someone. That someone you call your partner who you hope to marry. Who you can see yourself spending the rest of your life is. But the question is. When do you stop loving someone. When. When you’ve had a break up how long do you wait till the love you felt for that person stops. A month. Several months. A year. Well it’s been nearly 7 months and I can tell you it still hasn’t stopped. I go to bed praying the next day I won’t. Praying it will have stopped. But it hasn’t. How do you get over someone you were madly deeply in love with. When does it happen. The point is I still can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else but I can’t go back there I can’t. It wasn’t good. It was bad. It was toxic. It didn’t work. But that doesn’t stop me being heartbroken. I just want this to end 

In fact tonight I think it does. This ends now. I’ve cleared all memories I’ve binned all photos. I’m done. Tonight is the start of a new life. I’m ready. 

My Christmas wish 

Today I wished that where I was wasn’t the end of the line. Today I walked into the town and wished the train station was in the middle of a route. Not the end of the line. I wished this so I could jump. 
Today I walked through the woods and wished I could hang myself. Looking up at the branches and wishing I had the guts and a belt or something. 

Today I had a headache I wanted to hug paracetamol but I stopped myself. As if I did I’d have taken the whole pack. 

Today I wished more than once I was dead and that my life would be over. Today I wished it tomorrow I’ll wish it. I’ll wish it every day until it is over. That’s my Christmas wish. 

I don’t want this 

They think I want this. They think I’m choosing this. They think I need to simply stop thinking through the illness. They think I’m giving into it and letting it win. Well I’m not. Who would want this. No one. Who would want to stress about food so much all day every day. Who would want to laxatives if they’ve eaten over a certain amount of Calories. Who wants to check there “thigh gap” every day. Who wants to freeze in front of a plate of food. Unable to pick up the cutlery and burst into tears. Who wants to be controlled by anorexia. Unable to eat an advent chocolate a day. Having to walk so many steps a day. Having to count every single tiny calorie. Having to be on so many different medications. Having the fear of being fat. To the point it terrifies you and disables you. Not being able to enjoy Christmas or meals out. Being controlled and bound by food all day every day. Wanting to kill themselves most days. Being so alone that you have no one. Crying at anything and everything. Being so depressed you want your life over. Who wants all of this. Who would chose all of this. No one. But they think I am. They thinking I’m picking this. They think it’s me choosing this. Well it’s not. I dont want this ive just been given it and I can’t see a way out. They think it’s simple. Just change the way you think. Well it’s not that simple. I’d have done that if it was that simple. I’d have done that ages ago. They have no idea what it’s like to be disabled by depression and anorexia. No idea. So don’t begin to tell me otherwise this isn’t a life I’m living. It’s hell. I am in hell. And I want it all to be over. 


Unless you’ve truly experienced loneliness you can’t imagine what it’s like. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be on your own. To sit there and have no one. And yes. I know I have my family. I have a Mum and Dad who care about me and a lovely brother and sister in law. But apart from them it’s just me. I feel like can’t keep bothering them as they have there own lives. So I lay there. Nearly all day. In my hospital bed in hospital desperate for someone to talk to. I’m so desperate it’s awful. I lay there scrolling through dating sites. Messaging random guys as I’m so alone. Striking up conversations which go nowhere but just keep me busy. Keeps me occupied. I feel so alone. Like if I died no one would notice. That’s how alone I feel. I feel like no one would see. No one would care. If the fire alarm went off and I was stuck in the building no one would notice I was still stuck in there. I have moments in the day when I have stuff I want to talk about but no one to talk to so I sit talking to myself. The only company I have is me. This weekend has been horrendous. All my family have been busy so it’s just been me. The days have dragged. My mood has dropped. I’ve had no one. I wouldn’t wish lonliness on anyone. It’s such a horrible feeling. It’s one of the worst. I long to speak to someone. I long to have that someone special. Seeing photos of loved up people, groups of friends, babies, engagement photos, new houses, people making memories, I see it all. Then there’s me. Just me. I’m the outsider looking in on everyone’s life. And as well as being lonely. I’m now awfully jealous. Jealous of everyone’s lives. The pictures the paint. The stories they tell. The company they have the memories they make. I’m jealous of them all. I’m 27. Jealous envious lost and alone. It’s not a life worth living in purely here for the sake of my family. If I didn’t have them I’d have killed myself by now. There the only reason I’m still alive. 

All I want for Christmas 

So I’m dreading Christmas this year. All if it. Not just the food. But mainly the food. I’m dreading the long leave I’ll get. I’m not looking forward to it. I’m dreading that I’ll be made to eat by family when I don’t want to. And I’m dreading what it will do to our relationship. Every time I get home leave I always lose weight. I never put on. Let alone maintain. I never want to eat as soon as I leave the hospital. And as much as I’m looking forward to being able to skip meals left right and centre I’m worried what statin this will put in my relationships with members of my family who are trying to get me to eat. I’m worried I’ll get annoyed at them I’m worried I’ll start to resent them. Christmas Day itself is whole other world. Everyone will be acting what they want when they want snacking on food throughout the day. Eating a big Christmas meal followed by a rich yet scrumptious dessert and I’ll be there parsnips over the calories eating a tiny portion of the meal and not touching dessert. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. I’m having to make a list of snacks and calories so I know what I can allow myself to have throughout the day. I’ll have to keep referring to it to check I haven’t gone over. It shouldn’t be like this. Christmas shouldn’t be a list of foods written down with the quantity I am allowed and the calories each tiny little snack has. I’ll have to keep a meabtl tally in my head of how many chocolates or crisps I’ve had to make sure I don’t go over. That’s if I can even bring myself to eat any. Which right now I can’t. Right now I have an advent Calendar in my room untouched. I can’t even manage to fit A tiny chocolate in my daily allowance of food. How pathetic and sad is that. Christmas should be a time to look forward to. But instead I just have pure dread. Yes I’m happy I’ll get leave but with that leave I’m dreading what happens. I’m dreading I’ll lose so much weight I won’t be allowed to be discharged. All I want for Christmas is to be discharged. That will be the greatest gift I can get. Actually. Scrap that. Yes I want to be discharged but that won’t solve anything. I still have the urge to restrict every second of every day. So the greatest gift I could get this year is to be “normal” that’s what I want. I don’t want any presents I don’t want money I don’t want gifts. All I want is to be normal and rid of this dreadful illness. And illness that can’t be solved with tablets and illness that isn’t always visible and illness that people think we put on. That’s what I want I want rid of this. I want to live a life doing what I want not bound by calories and food. Not having to check everything a million times to see what’s in it not being controlled by numbers and trying to eat less and less each day. Not measuring myself not weighing myself not staring and my thighs and seeing if I still have a gap there. I want rid of all of these feelings and I just want to be normal. That’s my Christmas wish this year. That’s all I want.  


The reality is I’m a lier. The reality is I’m kidding everyone. The reality is I’m not fine. 
I’ve lied my way to a discharge date. I’ve kidded them that I’m done. That I have control. That I can do this and beat this. I’ve fooled them all. I’ve pulled the wool over their eyes. They’ve fallen for it. They’ve fallen for my lies. There sending me home. There getting ready to say there goodbyes to me and send me on my way. But the reality is. I’m not ready. Today being the prime example. 

Today I met up with my best friend and is was great. We went shopping. But (and if I’m honest I planned this) I missed lunch. Completely. I didn’t have anything. I knew I wouldn’t. I knew it would be an easy miss. And tonight back at the hospital I’ve ordered a light meal instead of a main meal. As soon as I leave the hospital my mind is restrict restrict restrict. They think I’m coping they think I’m managing but I’m not. On discharge I plan on restricting loads. Skipping meals left right and centre. Skipping at every chance I get. 

I don’t understand why it’s so different. I can eat in the hospital but the moment I leave I can’t. I feel fat. I feel greedy. I feel ashamed. I don’t need food. I can function without it. I like the hunger feeling. It’s like I’m punishing myself and I like it. I get a kick out of feeling hungry. I want to. I need to. I have to. It’s what I deserve. I deserve to be punished. I deserve this life.