That drunk feeling. That feeling when your slightly tipsy. Isn’t that the best. It’s becoming addictive. I crave it. I long for that feeling. Of a slightly fuzzy head. Of feeling good about myself. I long for it. It makes me feel better. My worries disappear. My head feels foggy. Things feel cloudy. Things feels better. I understand how people can get addicted to it. It’s a good feeling. It makes everything feel better. So much better. It takes away the pain you feel. It takes away everything. Leaving you happy. Leaving you feeling better about your life. Better about yourself. It’s an addictive feeling and I can totally see how it could become a problem. I really can. It just makes everything so much better. It’s the best feeling. It really is.
So I have it all planned if tomorrow goes how I think it will I have it all planned. Does it scare me? No. Should it? Yes. But that’s how fed up with life I am I guess. This weekend has been great. I’ve visited my brother and had a lovely time. Ana was still there. Trying to ruin my holiday. Fighting every thought was hard but I was determined it wouldn’t ruin the weekend. Every time I ate I felt guilty. I felt a fraud. I felt fat. But I did it. I was determined. And I did it. I managed to not let it ruin a day And that im proud of. I’m dreading tomorrow though. Weigh in day. Normally when it’s the weekend and I get weighed when I go back to day patient I’ve lost weight. But this time I know I will have gained weight. I know it. And I’m dreading it. I’m dreading the impact it will have on me. The way it will effect my mood. Ruin my day. Everything about it. I know I have to gain weight to leave day patient but it’s so damn scary. I don’t know what to do or how to get over This. I don’t know when the feelings will go away. People say it’s like a flick of a switch. Well I’m still waiting for mine to be flicked. When will it happen? How will it happen? I don’t know. Tomorrow isn’t going to go well. I’ve a feeling I’m going to be kicked out of day patient care. Suck a strong feeling. But if I am I have it all planned. I know what to do and how to do it. We shall see what tomorrow brings. We shall see.
Ps I apologise of this makes no sense. I may be drunk on my own waiting for my flight home
So I’ve pigged out. And now feel fat. Fat doesn’t even cover it. I know feel obese. Greedy. Ashamed. Guilty. Fraud like. I feel I’m failing anorexia. She’s shouting at me. Telling me off. Calling me a failure. Calling me a fake. She’s creaming and she’s so loud I can’t think or hear anything else. All I can hear is how I’m letting her down. How I’m a fraud and am failing at her. What was it I pigged out you may ask. Well. It was 5 marshmallows. Yep. That’s it. 5 marshmallows and I feel like this. 5 fat free marshmallows and I feel disgusting. I’m sucking in my stomach. Holding it in. I feel like making myself sick. I feel so greedy. I need these marshmallows out of me. Not a million years ago and I’d have eaten a whole bag of them and not feel anything. But now I eat 5 and hate myself. Detest myself. Want to cut open my stomach and physically pull them out. I feel revolting. All over 5 marshmallows. Today I’m off from day patient and didn’t have breakfast or snack. And had a lighter lunch. So I know my intake is less than it would have been. Even with the marshmallows. But I still feel fat. I’m calculating everything down to the precise calorie. So far I’ve had 552 calories and still have dinner to go. So I’m going to hit 1000. 1000 less than I should be on but this doesn’t register. I still feel fat. I still feel horrible. How does hat make sense. My brain is fucked. Is completely ruined. It doesn’t register I’ve eaten under the intake. It doesn’t register I still got into size 6 jeans. It doesn’t see the number. It doesn’t pay attention. All it sees is I’ve eaten 5 marshmallows and that I’m fat. Greedy. Ugly. A lier and a fraud. If I could physically remove my brain and switch it with someone else’s I’d be fixed. Instead I end up feeling like this all day. Every day. And it sucks. Beyond belief
Loneliness. No one can understand unless you’ve been alone yourself. It’s horrible. It’s one of the biggest causes of my depression. And I feel it every day. Today I live in hope of a message from a friend or a message from anyone. 2 minutes to kill the loneliness. To feel wanted. To feel like I have a purpose. Instead I sit here. Flicking through my phone looking at other people live there lives and get on with them. I sit here thinking of suicide and how alone I am. How I have no one to talk to at the end of the day. How I can’t share my stories. How I’m no one to anyone. How it’s just me in this world and no one cares. No one would notice life without me. No one would care. I wouldn’t be missed as I’m not even noticed in life. I’m no one. I really am. I’m so alone. So empty. Desperate to speak to someone. Anyone. It’s the worst feeling. It really is.
So today instead of surviving off of 4 marshmallows, a cappuccino, and a bowl of soup, I’ve had 6 marshmallows, a skinny cappuccino and I’m going out for a meal with my family I feel so fat. So greedy. Like such a pig that I ate two extra marshmallows. I’ve calculated what I’m having for dinner and including the cappuccino and marshmallows I’m still well under the target range. But this means nothing. I sill feel fat. So I had a bath. I sat there in the bath, picked up the razor and cut. I cut and cut and cut. Not on my arms where everyone can see but in my stomach. My fat. Bulging stomach. It got cut. Blood dripping down it. It deserved it. It needed it. I’ve over indulged. I needed to punish it. And I did
Im a fat fucker. Yep that’s me. A fat, greedy pig. Today for lunch we had to eat out. Apparently it’s a normal thing and they want us to be normal so I had to go with it. I wasn’t allowed to opt out. The chosen place was weatherspoons. Which has calories next to literally everything including drinks. I studied the menu for ages before we left, scrutinised over everything, mmming and ahhhing over all the choices. Calculating in my head what would sit better. I already knew I wouldn’t go for what I wanted I would go with the one with the least calories In it. Though I had to stick to a certain range so couldn’t just go for salad. I chose veggie sausage and mash. Next to it it said 702 in little numbers. 702 calories. So much! So greedy! Such a pig! I ordered it. Which was a task in itself but then the next challenge came and I had to eat it. I was expecting 2 sausages and some mash and peas. Instead I got 3 sausages, a bowl full of mash potato covered in peas and gravy. I’m convinced that 3 veggie sausages is more than 702 calories. What if I got it wrong and it was 1702. I’m already planning tomorrow. I’m off from day patient so I’m not going to eat anything but 4 marshmallows. A skinny cap. And a bowl of soup. I’ll hit 500. If I’m lucky. Where as today I hit 702 in one meal 😦 I can’t explain how I feel other than fat. Greedy. Disgusting. Bloated. Repulsive. Ugly.
So it’s only Tuesday and I’ve already had a few challenges. Yesterday was a massive challenge. I’d joined the gym and felt the urge to go. So I did. But not only did I go the gym I got changed into a bikini and stepped in the swimming pool. I haven’t been that uncovered for ages. It meant A) my stomach which is massive was showing and it meant B) my stomach that is covered in scars was showing. This was a massive achievement to get changed into my bikini. Worried all eyes would be on me. On how massive my stomach was. On the scars. On how ugly I am. But I did it! Challenge 1. Done. Challenge 2 is gonna be the killer though. To cut a long story short basically at day patient care we have to a meal out every other week and this week is weatherspoons the place that has calories next to literally everything in the menu. My worst nightmare. I’m terrified. I was tempted to call in sick. But haven’t. That’s already a massive achievement. I don’t think any one fully understands just how much I’m dreading this. Just writing this is getting me anxious. I know I won’t go for something I want u know I’ll go for the thing with the least calories. I won’t enjoy it. I’ll hate it. It’s stupid. I have to pay for a dinner I’m already going to hate and is going to be tourtorus. I feel clamy and sick just thinking about it! I’ll report back later!
I feel so low. So alone. So lost. So confused. So down. So fed up. Fed up doesn’t even cover it. I feel like life is just passing me by and it’s all I can do to get up and get through each day. Yesterday all I really wanted was to pig out on garlic bread and takeaway food, followed by sweets and ice cream. But I couldn’t. Anorexia wouldn’t let me. Instead I felt physically sick I was that hungry. Anorexia is taking my life from me. If I had eaten garlic bread or anything for that matter then I’d have instantly reached for the laxatives. I’d have deprived myself of more food starving myself and Compensating for what I’d consumed. It would be on my mind all day long. I’d feel like a fat pig. Disgusted with myself. Hating myself. I’d be sucking my stomach in, holding my hand over it hiding it. If would have ruined my day. So instead I just sit there. Hungry all day long. Yesterday I also got let down my a date. Apparently he can’t cope with what I’m going through and it’s too much for him. Yesterday I longed for a cuddle. But no one was there to offer that. Yesterday I longed to be normal. To eat when I wanted. To live a normal day. But I couldn’t. Instead I lived yet another day controlled by anorexia. Ruined. Wasted. I hate my life I really do. I hate everything about it. I don’t have anyone. I’m extremely alone. Extremely depressed. Longing and wishing that my over dose had worked. That my life was over.
Who was I kidding. I feel so bloody stupid. I met this guy. Who I really liked and I was honest. I was upfront. I told him my issues. I thought honesty being the best policy. Clearly bloody not. He said it’s too much for him to deal with and then lectured me on how I should be focusing on myself and not dating. What a dick. I felt low before this but now I feel so shit. Who’s ever gonna want to date me. I’m damaged goods. I’m messed up. I’m destined to be alone forever. My best friend has distanced herself from me too. I literally have no one. Talk about knocking you when your down. Fuck life. Fuck it all I hate it every part of it. I hate life. I bloody do!!!!!
So as I sit and write this I’m on my own in a pub getting drunk. Two doubles down. Head feeling fuzzy. Feeling alone. Feeling lost. Feeling crap. I don’t really know what to say. Today I saw my care ordinator and she couldn’t really care. She didn’t really seemed bothered by what I’d done or by the fact I sat there and openly told her that I’m going to try and kill myself again. She didn’t really care. Sums up my life really. No one really cares.
I know I’m going to do it again. It’s just a case of when. I know how. I know what I’ll do different this time. I know how to make it work this time round. And I will. I just need to find the time.
Day patient is hard work. I feel so fat. So massive. I feel like I shouldn’t be there. I feel ugly. I feel a fraud. I feel like a lier. Like I shouldn’t be there. I’m too fat to be there.
Yesterday I had a date and it went really well. I really like him. But he doesn’t know my shit. When he does he’ll disappear. That’s for sure. Who would want to get involved with me