So I find that lying gets easier and easier. And is necessary. And it doesn’t either bother me. I don’t even think about it. I just do it.
Tonight for example. I showed my mum my dinner I bought and purposely cooked dinner in front of my mum so she knew I was eating. I then took this upstairs to eat whilst watching tele. I proceeded to pick and nibble my way through my dinner. (A bowl of vegetables) only managing a third. So to make it believable I ate. I’ve hidden all but 3 bits of vegetables in my bun upstairs and will take the bowl down and leave it on the side with the 3 bits remaining so it looks like I’ve eaten. As to take an empty bowl down looks suspicious and to down what I actually left isn’t possibly. As I pretty much ate nothing. So instead this was it looks like I’ve really really tried.
It doesn’t bother me. Doesn’t bother me at all. Like earlier I bought a Milkshake. Had two tiny sips. Chucked it down the sink but left the empty bottle on the side to show I’ve had it. Even ran the tap to hide the strawberry milk left in the sink.
So not only am I a failure. Am an anorexic. A diasapointment. I waste of space. I am now a compulsive lier. Great.
Food food food and food. It’s all I think about. I even dream about it! For 2/3 nights I’ve dreamt about food, dreamt I’ve eaten so much then woke up panicking and realised it was just a dream!
Food is pretty much my only thought of the day. It’s constant. It takes over. I can’t think other things because I’m thinking of food. Thinking of what I can eat, what I will eat, how to get out of eating, looking at food and wanting it but not being able to have it, from not fancying anything to fancying everything but still not giving in and having it. I plan my next days food, or lack of food, and when I will and won’t eat the day before.
I’m away at my grandparents and they were out today, they got back and asked if I’d eaten. I fully informed them I’d eaten out. Had mushroom risotto. When in fact I’d had nothing. But telling them this little white lie will make them believe I’ve eaten and as it was a cooked meal at lunch time will mean it will be acceptable to nibble my rabbit food at dinner time. They asked if I want cheesecake later, my reply “I’ve gone off cheesecake” I bloody love cheesecake but can’t eat it. I lied yesterday too, telling them I had chicken and chips so didn’t need anything. I planned my eating and my lies before I came. I was fully prepared to buy a ready meal, cook it and throw it away whilst they were out to make them think I’d eaten but instead I said I ate out.
My costa is now no longer a skinny hot chocolate, it’s a a quarter of a bottle of Pepsi max. Determined that the whole bottle will last me all day, or at least till dinner time.
I hate lying to people but it’s only white lies and i can’t eat so I have no choice but to lie I can’t let On To them I’m not eating so a lie keeps the peace. I already know tomorrow I can safely get till about 6 without food. I’ll just have a drink and I’ve got some jelly sweets I can have if I need a sugar rush. But I’ll limit that and then beat myself up after eating 6 sweets. Just like I did today.
When will this stop. When will I be able to eat what I want, not have to lie, not have to pre plan my food my lies my eating stories. When.
So yesterday I had an appointment to see if I was suitable to attend a day clinic. Full time, Monday-Friday, 9-5. They said I am, they want me to start, my community worker wants me to go. But it’s just not going to happen. Several reasons. 1. Work. I’ll be off work, for a minimum of 4 weeks up to 16 weeks. They won’t accept that.
2. I can’t afford it. With no income I can’t afford the commute there and back every day
3. I’m not that bad. I don’t need to go to, what I referred to as , ‘eating school’ you have set meals times, “games time” afterwards, and others groups. You have a timetable. Like school.
4. I couldn’t admit to my family that I was attending “eating school”
5. I won’t be able to stick to the regime
6. I just don’t need it. I’m fine.
This meeting lasted about an hour, and was full of emotions. I was crying one minute laughing the next. (Laughing is my defensive mechanism)
Talking about it, talking about how I can’t eat. Sounds so stupid. But the fact is I’m surviving on not much and I’m still here. Therefore I’m fine. I always will be fine. I saw someone who wasn’t and that made me feel fat. Made me realise that I am more than fine. Yes I’ve barely eaten for 48 hours, yes I take laxatives everyday but yes I am fine.
I no deep down I’m not fine. But I am that’s all I ever say. When anyone asks me. I’m fine. I live at the blood centre getting blood tests done, obs, appointments but I am fine.
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 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.
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.