Wow. So much has happened in the last 48 hours, it’s been very intense and I can’t get my head around it all yet. So for now I’m just going to focus of a topic of discussion I had yesterday with me counsellor.
she asked if I wanted to get better. Of course I do. She asked if I wanted to end up in hospital. Of course I don’t. But do i?! All my life I’ve felt pretty invisible like I’m no one to anyone, people would easily forget me etc. But this past year, or if I’m honest few years I’ve been really struggling. But I’ve just carried on plodding along. Putting myself in the background like always. But if I ended up in hospital I think maybe people would start to see me. Maybe they would realise just how much I’ve been struggling for years now. Maybe I would finally be visible.
It’s close. It’s very close. I struggle with my breathing. My chest hurts. Etc. I’m notattention seeking. I’m not that kind of person. If I was I would have told everyone about the other day I wouldn’t have swallowed all those pills. I’d have just said it. But I did I. And I still think of doing it. Become the actual ghost I feel like.
So today I ended up in A&E. Completely Self inflicted. I don’t need to go in to what I did. But I tried. I failed. I think I just wanted to scare myself. But that didn’t even work. I didn’t scare myself and I’m not bothered by what I did. It’s doesn’t phase me. To me it no biggie. Don’t think it’s fully sunk in yet.
Anyway just checking in. I’m ok. I’m still here
I want to die. There I’ve said it. What I’m living now isn’t a life. Isn’t why I was born. Isn’t what anyone should be living. I’ve had this demon for 10 years now and it’s just getting worse. My fight has gone. I have no strength left to fight. But then I don’t have the balls to die. So I’m stuck. I’m stuck mearly breathing, being invisible, plodding along under cover.
I live envious of every one. Jealous of everything and everyone. Another proposal, another wedding, another baby, another house another new job. Any life event. And these are people who aren’t even my friends. There’s just the Facebook friends. They fake friends. I don’t have friends. It’s just me. I can’t stand my own company. I hate it. I’m so miserable so alone so fed up. This is why my parents had me. They didn’t create me for this. To live this life. This isn’t what they would want. They created me to live a life happy. Be successful Achieve things, fall I love , create a life, carry on the family. Grow and learn and achieve. Not this. Not be a failure. I’ve let them down. I’ve failed. I’ve failed and so many things but mainly I’ve failed at life.
Ever get the feeling you weren’t meant to live a long life. Living to 100 terrifies me. It doesn’t excite me. I don’t look forward to it. It scares me. I can’t imagine that. I’m failing everyone else too. I’m not worthy of the air I breath. I’m taking up someone else’s air. Someone who deserves it more. Who wouldn’t let this win. Who wants to live there life.
You read stories of people dying or getting killed. Why can’t it be me. Then I wouldn’t have to do it to myself. Why can’t someone kill me. Then I wouldn’t be selfish. My parents wouldn’t know it what I wanted. They wouldn’t hate me. They wouldn’t me any more disappointed in me than I already am.
Ultimately I would get better. But that hasn’t happened. And won’t happen. I don’t have the motivation. So if that can’t happen. Nothing will. I want to close my eyes and never open them again. But I won’t. I promise. I won’t. I can’t.
Stuck like glue.
Wasting a life.
So tonight I’ve been dreading. I was meeting up with friends for dinner. I didn’t want to do dinner but when your out numbered you have no choice. I already said no to one restaurant as there was no salad on the menu!
So I get there, haven’t spent all day thinking about it. Thinking about what I can and won’t it. And what I will have. Studying the menu with a fine tooth comb. I opt for chicken and chorizo salad and ask for no dressing. So what I actually eat is just the leaves. I play with the chicken prodding and poking it, the same with the chorizo and just eat the salad. I effectively have just paid £13.95 for a £1 salad bag from a supermarket. And leave the restaurant hungry. But can’t help thinking I over indulged in a salad. A salad. A salad with zero dressing.
I then spend the entire evening listening to the girls talk about there weight loss and there happy happy lives. Yeah I’ve lost so much weight I’m close to being admitted to hospital, isn’t really a conversation I want to have. So I just sit there nodding and smiling at the right times. Congratulating the pregnancy and the new job, sitting uncomfortably while they eat staters and proper food just waiting to leave.
That was my evening. An evening which should have been enjoyable turned into that. Fuck you life. Fuck You.
For 2 days now, there has been one solid thought in my mind. I just keep thinking it. Over and over and over again. It won’t go away. And that’s death. Suicide. Hurting myself.
I just keep thinking it. Thinking about it. Thinking how it wil feel. Thinking how I would do it. Thinking how if I can just bring myself to hurt myself. Not kill myself. Just hurt myself that A; I’ll have something to hide behind. I will be physically ill. And B; if I can do that maybe one day I can go a step further and kill myself. I don’t know why I keep thinking these thoughts. But there persistent. Constant. Won’t go away. Always there.
Since bed time on Saturday evening I have eaten no more than raisins. And I don’t mean a big bag of them or even half. I mean about 3 0r 4 handfuls. Since 10pm Saturday. And yesterday I went for a run. I think this is my way of harming myself. I think this is the thing I can do. This is the thing I’m good at. Not eating.
I will be fine though. I’m not worth a worry. I’m not worth anything. It’s just a dip. Just a bad day or two. It will all be fine. I’ll pull myself out and plod along. I will. I will. I will. Well I think I will.
Ok so I’m really not sure what I’ve just done but I’m not even shocked I didn’t stop half way through or think what the hell am I doing. I did it until all 56 capsules were open and the powder was all in a glass. They’re all now dissolving in a glass of Pepsi max with some alcohol added. I’m not shocked I’ve done this. It hasnt really bothered me.
I’m not gonna take it. That would be stupid. But why have I done it. And more so why has it not bothered me. Why could I easily sit there and pop open 56 caplsues into a glass so easily. Why?!
Please don’t worry anyone I’m not gonna drink it. I promise. I think I did it to shock me. But it didn’t. I’m fine. I promise. I will be.
So……. I haven’t really eaten all day. Let alone all week. No dinners. But today I had two mushrooms for dinner with spinach then I masssivelt overly indulged I had some Ben and jerrys.
This was followed by frantic sit ups, one and half laxatives and already decided I’ll be going running tomorrow morning!
Wasn’t even the whole tub, or even half, but to me regardless of how much I had I still had ice cream. And failed myself. I failed myself for caving. Failed for eating ice cream and for that reason i will punish Myself. I will take the laxatives, run tomorrow suck my stomach in all night and vow not to eat much at all tomorrow!
What has my life become
Had the doctors today. Not much to say really. He said it got to the stage where I have no other choice but to take medication. To help my mind which will help me eat. I’ve been prescribed anti-depressants before and I’ve never kept up with taking them. I don’t want to rely on a pill to be better. So I don’t see how I’ll get over that this time.
He weighed me. Which he always does. And I’ve lost weight. Which I always do. I’m now under 7st weighing around 6st 10lbs with a bmi barely hitting 14. I was shocked with this yet slightly pleased. Slightly feeling Accomplished. If I had stood on the scales and my weight had gone up I’d have been annoyed. But it gone down and I was relieved/pleased. So I’m now dangerously underweight but can’t stop this. I need to get out of this.
He said he’ll have to send me for a bone scan soon if this carries on and is desperate for me to take these meds. And eat!
I don’t know how to get over this or why I have it. I’m so drained today and fed up I’m getting in. Pouring myself a drink and going to bed
So today I had my 2nd meeting with my eating disorder lady today. I’m not sure how I feel on the meeting but we talked loads and I admitted stuff I was scared to admit I was thinking.
So I’ve lost more weight, and admited that I get an acheivement out of losing weight and not eating. I’ve always been a failure and for once I’m a good at something. Not eating. And that’s an achievement. She said I don’t have an eating thing as I call it. But I have anorexia.
It’s been labelled. But how in my messed up mind to I find that some sense of achievement.
She asked if I want to get better. What a stupid question. Of course I do. But how do I. How do I eat more when I feel achievement when I don’t eat. She mentioned admitting me to hospital. A day centre or even full time. I’m adamant that I’m no where near that, I’m adamant I’m fine and I don’t need help. She’s adamant that’s not the case. She said I need motivation to get better. I said I have zero. She said you’ll end up dead. I said I couldn’t care. I’m worthless. And waste of air.
I’m surprised how easy it was to talk to her. She wants me to eat a yoghurt a day. Sounds stupid that that’s hard! She wants me to tell my parents. She wants those things and to see improvement or I’m in hospital.
I’m scared but not scared. It’s like it’s just a threat. Just to frighten me. She’s not really going to do it. Im not there yet. But I know if I was there I’d be visible. Unlike this invisible thing I am at the moment. So maybe I do want it. I don’t know !!!!!!!
Ok so here goes trying to explain it all. Well the food side of things. It’s like I’m constantly at war with myself. So I’ve lost loads of weight in 6 months. I look at pictures now and I’m disgusted with how I look. I look awful, I look ill. You can tell I’ve lost weight. And that there is the problem. So I look at these pics and see I’ve lost weight and see how Ill I look but I look at them and get a sense of achievement too. I’ve acheived something, I’ve lost weight. I’m almost proud. Well I am. I want people to comment and say I’ve lost weight. I want people to notice it. But then that’s crazy as I look awful. I’m ashamed of them I look so hideous but weirdly proud too. And I want to carry on achieving. If ive achieved that in 6 months what can I achieve in another 6 months. I want to beat myself. I want to carry on.
It’s like when people ask if I want to get better. Yes. Yes I do that answer is simple. I do. It’s a stupid question to ask. Of course I want to get better. I don’t want to live like this. In a prison. In hell. I want to eat normally I want to go out for dinner I don’t want to be controlled and defined by this. But at the same time. I don’t want to put weight on. Im Petrified of that. Petrified of gaining weight. Its like it’s a challenge. It’s like I’ll feel I’ll have failed if I gain weight. But I need to. And I want to get better. I do. I know it sounds like I don’t but I do. I really do. It’s horrible. Every thought is food. I don’t enjoy going out for dinner. I’n hungry all the time. My body is screwed. I’m ugly. I’m hideous. I’m a failure.
This illness is horrible. It’s a constant war. A constant battle.