What a year 

So what if I eat. So what if I get to a size 12

So what if my thighs touch 

So what if my stomach has rolls 

So what if I’ve got bingo wings. 

So fucking what!!
I’m trying so frigging hard these past two weeks to stick to my meal plan. And eat. My meal plan has increased once again but I’m determined to knock anorexia on the head. I will beat it. I will ignore the voices. I will live a life. So what if I get bigger. Who actually cares?! If judged on my size then I don’t want those people in my life. If people judge me by how I look that not worth the hassle.

It’s been a year now. A year since my first overdose and a stay in a&e and what a year it’s been. 4 overdoses, a trip to a&e with a messed up heart, 8 months as an inpatient, 2 months in day care, a job lost, friends lost and so much food consumed. I’m still in day care. Ad I will be for a couple more months. My body still has a long way to go till I’m “recovered” mentally I don’t think I’ll ever fully get there. I think part of ana is going to stay with me for ever. But it’s all about silencing the voice. Standing up. And taking control. Ana has controlled my life for too long now. She’s made me loose friends, nearly miss my brother getting married, she changed me. She made me evil. I lost a relationship I lost everything due to her. And I’m slowly getting it back. I’m slowly learning it’s ok to eat. Don’t get me wrong every day is a battle and some days are impossible. I feel guilty after consuming any food and I’m getting addicted to the gym. But I’m getting there. I’m making slow progress and I’m determined that 2018 will be the death of Ana. 


I’m exhausted. And I can’t quite work out why. When I say exhausted I mean completely and utterly exhausted. I could sleep for days. Yet all I do all day long is sit on my (now fat) arse and attend groups and therapy. How does that make sense. Mentally I think it’s taken it’s toll and catching up with me. My weight is all over the place. I put on half a kg Monday and today I’ve lost that half a kg. And I can’t quite work out why!? I’m Also becoming addicted to the gym. Yesterday I went. I forced myself even though I yawned the whole entire time walking there. And tonight. I’m shattered yet I’ve booked myself on a class. I need to burn calories. It’s all I look at. Not the time. Just the calories. Going up and up. Burning off my dinner. I need to. It’s like it justifies my eating and makes it ok. I’m Also craving food like never before. All I want to do all day is eat. I’m so hungry and have a massive appetite. But do I feed it. No. Do I listen to my rumbling stomach. No. Instead as soon as I’m home from day patient care I go to the gym and just have a low calorie soup. I’m left feeling empty. Hungry. Wanting more. Wanting dessert. Wanting something “naughty” a sweet treat. Something delicious. But do I. No. All I think about all day long is food. It’s exhausting. Im either thinking about what I’ve eaten, what I’ll eat next or what I want to eat but won’t allow myself. I want to binge. I want to eat so much stuff. Chocolate. Dominoes. Garlic bread. Cheesecake. Indian. Chinese. You name it. I pretty much want it. But can’t do it. I really can’t. I’ve never thought about food so much. The thought of having soul does nothing. It’s so insignificant. I don’t enjoy it. I just have it as it’s liquid and low calorie. Anorexia sucks. 

Weigh in 

So yes I’m fat. It’s official. My weight has gone up. I’m now much heavier. I guess that’s what eating out at the weekend does. Twice. All I think about all day long is food. My next meal. My next snack. I’mConstantly hungry. Constantly craving food. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m meant to be anorexic. I’m meant to be Starving myself but instead I’m just piling on the pounds getting fatter by the day. Heavier by the hour. It’s so hard. I’m enjoying my food. But feel so guilty afterwards. And then when weigh in happens it just knocks me down. Crushes me. Ruins my day. I feel fat. A fraud. Horrendous. Yes today I’m in my new size 6 jeans which I got on without even unbuttoning them. But that means nothing. My brain doesn’t register that means I’m small. All my brain registers is I’ve put weight on and I’ve got fat. The gap between my thighs is Shrinking. The rolls on my stomach are becoming more prominent. Yes to leave here I need to put weight on. Yes to live my life and get on with things I need to put weight on. Put to hear it. To see it. Is so hard. So so hard 

My week 

This week. Well where to start. We had meal out this week and we went to Wagamamas. Which was already hard to begin with as I’mNot a massive fan of the food. I picked two options. One I would like but hover calories and one I wouldn’t like but really low calories. And I’m pleased to say (and proud of myself) I took a massive step forward and went for what I would like more. I chose taste over numbers. And for that I’m proud. 

Yes I got full half way through and still had to finish it. Yes I felt as guilty as hell during it and for the foreseeable future after it but I did it. I went for taste over numbers. So that was the beginning of the week. I’m struggling with weigh in and numbers going up and yesterday I had meal review and they told me my weight isn’t increasing how they would like it so I need to be consuming 3500 a day for two weeks. It was safe to say my eyeballs nearly popped out of there sockets. How an earth im going to mange that I don’t know. I’ve also been going to the gym a lot. Which I need to try and stop. 

This week has been a week of firsts. I felt full for the first time, I went for taste for the first time and my tummy rumbled for the first time. 

All steps towards recovery I guess. I’m trying to remain positive but it’s very hard!! 

Weight gain 

Im a fat cow. A fat obese cow. That’s me. I’ve put on so much weight. I stood on the scales this morning for weigh in and the numbers have rocketed. They’ve shot up into a completely different number. Not just a decimal point. A whole new number. I feel awful. Dreadful. That doesn’t even cover it. I feel ugly. Hideous. Grotesque. Words can’t explain how I feel. There are no words strong enough to explain how I feel. That’s how bad it is. I know to leave day patient care I need to put weight on. But seeing it is just awful. I knew I would put weight on but wasn’t expecting that much. It’s so much. I can’t cope with it. I know tonight I’ll go home and cut myself. Punish myself. Slice that razor across my stomach. My horrible fat bulging stomach. It deserves to me sliced. For blood to be seen to drip down my stomach to feel the sting as it submerges in water to feel the pain. I know I will. I need to. I deserve it. It deserves it. I also know I’ll go the gym. Watch the calories tick up on the treadmill. So how many I can burn off. Go up through the hundreds. Ticking by. Burning off food I’ve eaten today. I Also know my evening meal won’t be anything. I’ll have to eat. My mum will make me. But it will be the smallest portion possible. The fewest Calories. The least fatty. It will be minimal. It will be liquid. It will be soup. With barely anything in. I hate myself. Beyond belief. The stack of pills I have at home are coming even more appealing. The thought is there. I could just swallow them all. All 60 of them and see what happens. This would all be over with. Done. Finished. I wouldn’t feel like this. I wouldn’t feel anything. I won’t to feel nothing. To feel numb. Anything but how I feel now. I did this to myself. I bought this on. I need punishing. I ate over the weekend. I put the weight on. Therefore I need to punish myself. I need to. I have to. And I will.


So today I’ve eaten. A lot. Today I had lunch and dinner. And sweets. Today I’ve pigged out. Today I feel fat. Not just even a little fat. Obese fat. Today I’m convinced I’ve put on so much weight. Instantly. Today I feel a fraud. A lier. Guilty. Today I feel horrible. Today I wanted to eat but now it leaves me feeling like this. Is it worth it. Is it not easier just to not eat so I don’t have these feelings. Some days I think I’m fighting this battle and winning. And some days like today I think I’m failing. I’m longing to take laxatives. I haven’t been to the gym. I’ve just grown. The gap between my thighs had shrunk. My belly sticks out. It’s horrible. Why eat if I’m left feeling like this. 


So today I cooked a meal for my mum and Dad. And for me too. We all had the same. Pasta bake. I knew I was having it so I made sure I skipped breakfast and lunch in preparation for it. But. And here’s the big but. I did it. I had a plate full of pasta bake then went bake to the dish I cooked it in and had some of the left overs. And I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t feel bad. I enjoyed it. I liked it. Yes I may have starved myself all day but I ate a normal dinner. Cooked it and portioned it out. And on top of all of that I ate it and went back for me. It felt good. I felt normal. I actually enjoyed a dinner and that’s a massive step 


So today I went to the gym. And obsessed over the calories. Watching the number tick up and up and up. Not stopping till I’d burnt off enough calories to counteract the two snacks I had today at eating school. I felt disgusting that I hadn’t been to the gym in two days because of the weather. I felt fat. Ugly. Obese. Lazy. I knew I needed to go today. I had to. It wasn’t an option. It wasn’t a choice. I planned how much I’d burn off. I planned what I’d do. Tomorrow and Sunday I’ll be back there burning off more calories. It’s obsessive and I’ve barely the energy at weekends as I don’t eat but I’ll force myself to go. Today I had my month review at day patient and I confessed I joined the gym. They told me to quit. They all shook there heads. All disapproved. They sat there and listened to how I was obsessing over it, how I was counting calories in everything. Counting them in food counting what I was burning off. I guess I told them about the gym as I wanted justification. I wanted them to turn around and say “but your not fat” “you don’t need to go” “you look lovely as you are” but they didn’t. They all just shook there heads and didn’t really say much. I don’t know what I was expecting. My review was ok I guess. I didn’t really get much out of it. My weight is now lower than it was when I joined day patient. I know. I know. It makes no Sense. But weekends and days off I starve myself. Though they don’t seem to care. It’s hard. I eat whilst I’m there. Because I have to but as soon as I’m not there I stop eating. Losing the weight. I’ve been day patient for 5 weeks now and my weight has decreased. I’m not making any progress and I’ve no idea what to do 

The gym

The gym. 
So I signed up to the gym about 2 weeks ago now and aim to go 3-4 times a week. Today I booked a class but because of the weather I’m not going. How do I feel? Fat! I have enough of the fat feeling after everything I eat but now I get it when I don’t go the gym. What have I done. It’s constant now. I feel that because I didn’t go the gym I’m going to get fat. My thighs aren’t getting tonned and my stomach still wobbles. I haven’t eaten much today. I’m lucky to hit 500 calories so I know the gym isn’t necessary but I still feel so guilty and horrendous for not going. The fat feeling is constant. It’s always on my mind. I’m terrified of it. Terrified people are looking at me and seeing I look fat. Terrified that I’m too big for day patient care. Terrified I’m a fraud. The truth is though without day patient I would just waste away. Day patient was shut today so all I’ve eaten is 8 marshmallows. 4 for breakfast 4 for lunch and then a small bowl of soup for dinner. This will be identical tomorrow as were shit again. I just can’t seem to eat without being in hospital or care. It’s like that’s my only safe place to eat. The only place I give myself permission to eat. Without it I can’t cope. Every time the weekend comes round it’s exactly the same. Things need to change but I don’t know how to make it change I don’t know how to make it better. It’s getting worse. I can’t apply for jobs. I’m constantly in limbo. My life is on hold. I have no income. No job. No life. No friends. Ana has stripped me of everything. And now I’m top of it all I’ve joined a gym and am becoming obsessed with it and feeling disgusting on days like today when I don’t go 


So today I had to hand over all of medication. Today I bought it all with me. To overdose. But I spoke to a member of staff and confided in them. They took my medication off of me. I told them I’d written my suicide letter. They hugged me. I told them I keep thinking it and want to die. They listened. For the first time in a while I feel they actually care. But it still doesn’t change my feelings though. I still want to die. To cease existing. To stop breathing and it all to be over with. I still believe no one would miss me. No one would notice. I want things in my life to change. But hey haven’t in 28 years so what’s going to make it change now. Nothing. Therefore the only option is death. And I really want it. I wish I hadn’t confided in staff. I wish I still had access to my medication. I just want to get drunk. To get that fuzzy head. To feel better about myself. I have zero motivation and could easily just stare at my four walls all evening. I have no get up and go. I’m meant to be at the gym tonight but don’t want to go. Yet ana is screaming at me telling me to go. Telling me I need to go. I need that exercise. I need to burn those calories. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do