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. 


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?!?! 

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. 

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. 

Planning and plotting 

A month today and I’ll be discharged. I’ll be free from this hospital. I’ll have my independence back. I’ll have control over what I eat (or don’t) I’ll be the one In charge of my food. People won’t have to watch me eat. I won’t have to be supervised after meals. I’ll have the Control. The ball. Or should I say food will be in my court. A month today. 28 days. And the planning has already begun. I’m not better. I’m not different to when I was when I came in. Yes physically I’ve changed I’ve put weight on my figures different. But mentally I’m still the same. Mentally I still don’t want to eat. Mentally I’m a mess. I bought an advent calendar but can’t even bring myself to eat one teeny tiny chocolate a day. How pathetic is that. It’s ridiculous. I’m a 27 year old woman and I’m scared of what an advent chocolate will do to me. How crazy! 

I’m plotting my discharge. I’m not going to eat. On a good day I’ll be lucky to have one meal. I won’t do breakfast. I’ll use work as the excuse then lunch time if I go home I’ll fake it. If no ones in I’ll leave a plate on the side (dirty) to make it look like I’ve eaten and if someone is in I’ll have something light and make an excuse for dinner. I’ll pretend to eat out or eat a slimming world meal. I’ll get round only have one meal a day. I’m going to restrict as soon as I leave the four walls of this hospital. I need to. I have to. 

I stood yesterday seeing if my thighs touch. If I squeeze my thighs they touch. I remember the day the were miles apart. That’s what I want back. I want to be able to see my rib cage. I’m jealous of the “celebrities” in the jungle who are losing weight. I want to be them. I need to be them. I need To lose weight. And I will. I have 28 more days here Ona weight gain diet then the Control is my hands and I’ll restrict. The weight will fall off. That’s the plan anyway! 

What a day 

So what a day today has been. Today I planned to skip breakfast and lunch and have a light meal for dinner. But instead I did myself breakfast, and I ate lunch. Today has been a good day. A great day in fact. Today I got a job offer. Which I’m accepting and today I got a discharge date. Yep. A discharge date. I’m getting discharged. 

So let’s start from the beginning. Breakfast. I planned to skip it. But I woke up this morning and thought to myself. I can skip it. And loose weight and stay in hospital or I can eat it and gradually start to get better and aim to get discharged. So I ate it. 

Then I had the job interview which went really well and I got offered the job. He has loads planned for me from qualifications to being the person who opens up every day. 

Then I had a date. Yep. A date. With a real life gentlemen and it went great. He’s lovely and I didn’t stop smiling for the whole time. I already can’t wait to see him again. 

Next step. Lunch. I planned my trip back to hospital around lunch time time so I could easily skip lunch. And dessert. Instead I got back to the hospital and choose to have lunch. Yep. I chose it. I chose to have it. I chose to have it to take a step closer to discharge. I want to get better. I don’t want to remain in hospital for months on end. I want to get better I want to take this new job. I want to date. I want to live. I want to be normal. I could have easily missed it and skipped lunch but I didn’t. I didn’t take the easy option. I took the hard one. It’s not been easy at all today. I’ve felt incredibly guilty after ever meal I’ve had. It’s been a struggle. But for the first time in a long time I’ve felt I want recovery. I felt I can do this. I felt I can get discharged. Everyday will still be a struggle. Everyday I’ll still battle with myself. Food will never be my friend food will always be my enemy. I won’t be able to eat chocolate or pizza I won’t be able to go for three course meals. I’ll feel fat everyday. Ill see fat. I’ll feel guilty after every meal I’ll feel ashamed but I can do this. I can take a step towards recovery every day. I can and I will. Today has been a tough day. It’s been a challenge. It’s been hard but I’ve got through it and come out the other end. For the first time in forever I feel I can do this 

I don’t know 

I don’t really know what to blog I just know I need to blog to get my feelings out. 

I feel so low. So depressed. And so fed up. I really wish Sunday had worked. I’m so fed up with my life right now. I really am. I feel so stuck. So lost. And so alone. I feel no one would even notice if I disappeared. No one would even care. There wouldn’t be an aimee shaped hole. Every body would just get on with there lives regardless. 

Tonight I have to eat a roast and I’m dreading it I’m getting so worked about it. I really am. The thought is horrendous. I really don’t want to eat it. But I’ll make up for it by not having breakfast tomorrow. I don’t care anymore if I lose weight. I want to. I’m going to discharge myself from the hospital. That’s my plan. That way I can restrict and diet like mad. I’m not ready to leave but feel I have to I need to get on with my life I can’t remain in hospital forever. I need a job I need an income. I need to live. Or die. I feel I’m just stuck in the middle. In a bubble. Waiting for it to pop. I feel I’m just merely floating through life. I’m not living that’s for sure. I’m a waste of space not worthy of life. I’m pathetic. I really am. I’m lost and need to be found but don’t know where to begin