Anna says: just let it eat you alive, you need it like poison.
And I know she's right. I shouldn't flee from my sleep, it goes against what I believe in. But what doesn't these days? I'll have to think about that, but I should try to stay awake today at least, just during the day. I'm just so sick of those dreams, of waking up like that. In panic, terror, paranoia, fear and anxiety. All the nasty things you can possibly feel multiplied by a number I can't even guess my way to. It's worse than the cravings, and that is saying a lot.
And maybe I just want to see what happens. If I really do fall apart faster this way, but would it even be worth it? I'm sensing there's a war in my head and it will kill me faster than my eating disorder ever could.
Okay, fuck it I just slept on the couch. Dreamed about Dala and how to get there. And then I dreamed about tattoos. It was alright, even good. Why fear sleep? I know I can't really fear that. Not really. I get too sides of sleep these days. On one side I'm dreaming horrible things and can barely wake up from the dreams and fear sleep, and on the other side it's the best and sweetest thing ever.
I'm very conflicted and I'm not sure what's going on. Maybe I will develop another wave of hypnophobia, but not today. It is breaking me, but yet I haven't completely fallen apart. Still I'll try to get my much needed rest from it all.
Saturday, 31 October 2015
Falling apart
What the fuck did I just dream?! It's 5:49 and I'm back up from bed in an instance. I've never woken up more scared in my entire life. Anyone seen the movie "Inception"? Well, long story very short they have dreams within dreams for up to 3 layers, I think. Well it just took me ages to wake up, literally from one nightmare within another and I'm so fucking scared right now that what if I'm still dreaming.
I can't stop shivering, I'm so cold. My headache is about 5 times worse than normally and I just pray that I've never smoked in my dreams at night cause if I haven't this is proof I'm actually awake. Is my body dying, is that why my sleep is so fucked? My malnourished brain malfunctioning? Will I never be able to truly rest again?
My subconscious is a freak show that knows no limits. No fucking limits at all. And I'm still thinking I'm still dreaming and I just can't fucking wake up. I've woken up if it was 3 or 4 times from each dream that was within another what if it's endless? The last one was the most horrifying although it's probably quite lame to you.
In it, I had just woken up from a dream in which some kind of earth quake woke me up. I was sleeping on a couch in an apartment which apparently was my home. I had my family's cats sleeping on me so I thought I was safe, and dumped a couple of them gently onto my father who was half awake in another room. His reaction was not out of the ordinary. Then as I thought everything was fine I went to lie down an inflatable mattress in a living room next to a cradle of baby dolls. I looked out the window and suddenly noticed there was something strange about it. The inflatable mattress went out of air and the dolls in the cradle started moving. I went into the most literal panic ever as I screamed that I wanted to wake up. I have a phobia for such dolls.
I'm shivering and nearly shaking just writing this, cannot control my breathing. More cigarettes to ground me, still afraid to truly believe I'm actually awake. I'm close to tears, I cannot fucking breathe right. Are there ghosts in this room, or why am I 10 times colder than usual? It finally broke me, now I am scared of sleeping again. I'll drink all the coffee I can muster, I'm not going back to that bed, not going back into my subconscious.
It's all the lies, isn't it? Me keeping all this stuff about my ED and suicide from my loved ones. Secrets in general caused fucking serious hypnophobia almost exactly 2 years ago for me. And I hate being back in that hell. Cause without sleep and without food, I won't be functioning at all.
If I'll sleep I'll sleep on Imovane, never without it, cause it takes the dreams away. I'm still cold, despite wearing my thick fleece robe over my knitted hoodie and everything else. I can't stop shivering. I can barely keep awake, my eyes just want to close, even after having a cup of coffee. My life will just fall apart from here on. I don't have a fighting chance without sleep. Not at school, not at anything. Now I'm falling.
I can't stop shivering, I'm so cold. My headache is about 5 times worse than normally and I just pray that I've never smoked in my dreams at night cause if I haven't this is proof I'm actually awake. Is my body dying, is that why my sleep is so fucked? My malnourished brain malfunctioning? Will I never be able to truly rest again?
My subconscious is a freak show that knows no limits. No fucking limits at all. And I'm still thinking I'm still dreaming and I just can't fucking wake up. I've woken up if it was 3 or 4 times from each dream that was within another what if it's endless? The last one was the most horrifying although it's probably quite lame to you.
In it, I had just woken up from a dream in which some kind of earth quake woke me up. I was sleeping on a couch in an apartment which apparently was my home. I had my family's cats sleeping on me so I thought I was safe, and dumped a couple of them gently onto my father who was half awake in another room. His reaction was not out of the ordinary. Then as I thought everything was fine I went to lie down an inflatable mattress in a living room next to a cradle of baby dolls. I looked out the window and suddenly noticed there was something strange about it. The inflatable mattress went out of air and the dolls in the cradle started moving. I went into the most literal panic ever as I screamed that I wanted to wake up. I have a phobia for such dolls.
I'm shivering and nearly shaking just writing this, cannot control my breathing. More cigarettes to ground me, still afraid to truly believe I'm actually awake. I'm close to tears, I cannot fucking breathe right. Are there ghosts in this room, or why am I 10 times colder than usual? It finally broke me, now I am scared of sleeping again. I'll drink all the coffee I can muster, I'm not going back to that bed, not going back into my subconscious.
It's all the lies, isn't it? Me keeping all this stuff about my ED and suicide from my loved ones. Secrets in general caused fucking serious hypnophobia almost exactly 2 years ago for me. And I hate being back in that hell. Cause without sleep and without food, I won't be functioning at all.
If I'll sleep I'll sleep on Imovane, never without it, cause it takes the dreams away. I'm still cold, despite wearing my thick fleece robe over my knitted hoodie and everything else. I can't stop shivering. I can barely keep awake, my eyes just want to close, even after having a cup of coffee. My life will just fall apart from here on. I don't have a fighting chance without sleep. Not at school, not at anything. Now I'm falling.
Death is my passion
I become so absorbed by my writing today, and don't worry Y, I'll write more directly to you soon enough. I read what you wrote to me and it affected me deeply. It's positive, but more, I don't have words for right now.
I emptied my insides both literally and figuratively. Funny how it sometimes works both ways. Left aren't that many feelings at all. Just an echo that lingers. I might do it again, just to numb myself completely, I haven't decided yet. I purge so differently now since my relapse. Before it was a routine, something I just needed to do cause I couldn't for the life of me stop eating. I don't know how much I ate a day, but my guess is somewhere between 3000 and 4000 calories, close to double the amount I actually needed.
Now it's different cause I don't need purging in the same desperate way. Now I use it as self harm, to mess up my heart and to calm down my emotional states. I hope it will really mess me up one day, that it will take me closer to death. Closer to life, to realising I'm in fact mortal. Cause I believe that the closer one is to death, automatically one is also closer to life. It opens up one's eyes, and one can see clearer. Until you can't see at all, cause you're dead. At least, that's just what I believe.
That death changes everything, just like love can. But being the one who's dying (more or less, what do I know), I've always felt like I'm not the one who experiences that change. I throw it on everyone else, and that's just not fair. But this time I really do experience the change, how the life in me somehow grows, the closer I get to my own death. Realising that the way I treat my body, I might not even live to Christmas. Or I might be stronger than anyone ever thought possible and live past the spring. I don't know.
It doesn't scare me, but I'm confused, not knowing for sure how much time I have left. It all depends on my body, or at least most of it does. Sometimes dying comforts me, other times I'm just empty and feel nothing either for nor against it. I regret letting any food stay in me today, I wish to go back in time and change it. But I can't, and now today is almost over.
I'm trying to see the "positive" side of things. That I didn't collapse during the meeting with my shrink and she didn't suspect anything. I managed what I wanted to achieve. Yet, the feeling of being an utter failure at my eating disorder lingers and suffocates me. I keep thinking that tomorrow I'll do better, starve more, but what if I can't? What if I get stuck in another cycle of eating and purging with an intention to fast that never succeeds?
I worry too much. Scared of not being able to lose more weight, of ending up at a plateau again. Stuck on the same weight for weeks eating next to nothing. It happens, it happens to the best. It's some kind of starvation mode where basically the body is fighting back and holding on to the little it gets, or something. I'm not exactly what it is. And I don't care much either.
All I know is that I'll do literally anything to break through if I do plateau, I won't just wait it through. I could die, and I'd much rather die on a lower weight than this. 56,3 kg forever etched into my mind. I have to break through, I'll work my ass off for it and more. There is no giving up, only keep going until I die. And suicide has always been the one thing I've ever truly striven for.
It's my passion, my force. My only reason to live is to commit suicide. And I know there possibly isn't anything sadder, but it's true. Whenever I've tried to put some passion into positive things, like drawing or writing or anything, I can never do it fully. But when it comes to suicide... oh damn my soul is on fire.
It makes me smile, cause at least there's something, anything that does set my soul on fire. Like nothing else. My passion to die has followed me for so long now, and I never feel as alive as when I know I'm going to die. It might be awful, but I've never been able to live any other way. For me, dying is not just about leaving a miserable life, it's about entering the next great adventure. That's the only future I truly want to believe in, that's the only future I want to have.
How can I explain that to anyone who doesn't read this blog? My passion for death... I can't imagine anything more dangerous, more threatening to life, and life itself. It's my greatest form of art, complete self destruction. Morbid much? I couldn't tell you even half of it. Not many would understand it, they'd just call me sick and want to lock me into a padded cell. Those people. Yeah, you know who I'm talking about.
Those can never understand, so what would be the point in explaining? Because maybe, sometimes just trying to make someone understand something I perceive as great is worth it, even if they never can. As long as I keep it from those actually holding the straight jackets, that is. No, I should choose my audience. Perhaps I already have, and you, whoever reading this, are my audience. It doesn't have to be a great number of people. Just one person would be enough.
I raise my words, not my voice. Damn, I'm nearly exhausting myself, but it's deliberating. To just think freely like this and let my words flow endlessly. I have no word limit, I could write thousands upon thousands. But always remember quality over quantity. Death is my sanctuary, above all else, and in it I will thrive.
I emptied my insides both literally and figuratively. Funny how it sometimes works both ways. Left aren't that many feelings at all. Just an echo that lingers. I might do it again, just to numb myself completely, I haven't decided yet. I purge so differently now since my relapse. Before it was a routine, something I just needed to do cause I couldn't for the life of me stop eating. I don't know how much I ate a day, but my guess is somewhere between 3000 and 4000 calories, close to double the amount I actually needed.
Now it's different cause I don't need purging in the same desperate way. Now I use it as self harm, to mess up my heart and to calm down my emotional states. I hope it will really mess me up one day, that it will take me closer to death. Closer to life, to realising I'm in fact mortal. Cause I believe that the closer one is to death, automatically one is also closer to life. It opens up one's eyes, and one can see clearer. Until you can't see at all, cause you're dead. At least, that's just what I believe.
That death changes everything, just like love can. But being the one who's dying (more or less, what do I know), I've always felt like I'm not the one who experiences that change. I throw it on everyone else, and that's just not fair. But this time I really do experience the change, how the life in me somehow grows, the closer I get to my own death. Realising that the way I treat my body, I might not even live to Christmas. Or I might be stronger than anyone ever thought possible and live past the spring. I don't know.
It doesn't scare me, but I'm confused, not knowing for sure how much time I have left. It all depends on my body, or at least most of it does. Sometimes dying comforts me, other times I'm just empty and feel nothing either for nor against it. I regret letting any food stay in me today, I wish to go back in time and change it. But I can't, and now today is almost over.
I'm trying to see the "positive" side of things. That I didn't collapse during the meeting with my shrink and she didn't suspect anything. I managed what I wanted to achieve. Yet, the feeling of being an utter failure at my eating disorder lingers and suffocates me. I keep thinking that tomorrow I'll do better, starve more, but what if I can't? What if I get stuck in another cycle of eating and purging with an intention to fast that never succeeds?
I worry too much. Scared of not being able to lose more weight, of ending up at a plateau again. Stuck on the same weight for weeks eating next to nothing. It happens, it happens to the best. It's some kind of starvation mode where basically the body is fighting back and holding on to the little it gets, or something. I'm not exactly what it is. And I don't care much either.
All I know is that I'll do literally anything to break through if I do plateau, I won't just wait it through. I could die, and I'd much rather die on a lower weight than this. 56,3 kg forever etched into my mind. I have to break through, I'll work my ass off for it and more. There is no giving up, only keep going until I die. And suicide has always been the one thing I've ever truly striven for.
It's my passion, my force. My only reason to live is to commit suicide. And I know there possibly isn't anything sadder, but it's true. Whenever I've tried to put some passion into positive things, like drawing or writing or anything, I can never do it fully. But when it comes to suicide... oh damn my soul is on fire.
It makes me smile, cause at least there's something, anything that does set my soul on fire. Like nothing else. My passion to die has followed me for so long now, and I never feel as alive as when I know I'm going to die. It might be awful, but I've never been able to live any other way. For me, dying is not just about leaving a miserable life, it's about entering the next great adventure. That's the only future I truly want to believe in, that's the only future I want to have.
How can I explain that to anyone who doesn't read this blog? My passion for death... I can't imagine anything more dangerous, more threatening to life, and life itself. It's my greatest form of art, complete self destruction. Morbid much? I couldn't tell you even half of it. Not many would understand it, they'd just call me sick and want to lock me into a padded cell. Those people. Yeah, you know who I'm talking about.
Those can never understand, so what would be the point in explaining? Because maybe, sometimes just trying to make someone understand something I perceive as great is worth it, even if they never can. As long as I keep it from those actually holding the straight jackets, that is. No, I should choose my audience. Perhaps I already have, and you, whoever reading this, are my audience. It doesn't have to be a great number of people. Just one person would be enough.
I raise my words, not my voice. Damn, I'm nearly exhausting myself, but it's deliberating. To just think freely like this and let my words flow endlessly. I have no word limit, I could write thousands upon thousands. But always remember quality over quantity. Death is my sanctuary, above all else, and in it I will thrive.
Friday, 30 October 2015
Losing ground
56,2 kg. Gah, it's going way too slowly I can't stand it! Not only did I gain 3 kg for no reason, now I can't lose it either?! I'm shutting off, just ceasing to exist. I'm sooo beyond tired of this. It's like it doesn't affect me that much anymore. When I stepped on the scale and saw that number, I just sighed and then stepped off. There's absolutely nothing I can do. I don't have the patience but have to give it time, I can't drink water yet that's what I should do. Locked and lost, nothing spins in my head anymore.
And all my feelings blow away. They leave me empty and hollow. I can hear it echo when I scream inside. I have to breathe but I can't find any peace. I'm cold, but I don't care. Let my limbs freeze until they fall off. I wish that I could disappear, unzip my skin and leave it here. Memories I never thought would fade, they fade and blow away.
And the scars on my heart become so vulnerable. I can't reach out, reach the surface. I can't hold on. And silence is my friend, on what else can I depend? Clutching at straws, but still drowning, I'm clutching at straws. Inhale the toxic smoke and pretend that it's air, every breath, every second, every thought. I crumble beneath the pain, I crumble beneath, I crumble.
For a massive, unsustainable weight loss, I cry so hard but no tears are coming. My soul is on fire, burning out. And even if I screamed, no one would hear me shout. All for the sake of a number, three digits and my heart turns into stone. Can't wish it all away, can't wash it all away. And I ask my shadow please, please stay.
All the thoughts cramming in my head. A strong wish to just go back to bed, and stay there until I'm dead. Like fever of the mind, all the reasons I couldn't find, it makes me suffer, makes me blind. Dying at a healthy weight, I fell for the bait and couldn't slow down or hesitate. And I fall, once again and once and for all.
Ice cold hands and fingers, stuck in an emotion that always lingers. Scared of not falling apart, that there's nothing wrong with my heart. I never knew where to stop or start. And I'm broken, ever changing and just waiting to be awoken. Wake me up I cannot see, that this nightmare isn't really me. Let me step aside, I no longer want to hide. But I'm cut open by the shards again, and I never know how where or when. And it's happening all over again.
I'm frozen to the core, past the point of not being able to take it anymore. Lost in riddles and rhymes I know, that all that I am can be on show. But little is there to know. I'm drowning in my thoughts again and I can't tell, when was the last tear that fell. Sweet dreams are made of these, I never knew how to my own body please. I fell for this disorder, but couldn't cross the border. Suffering through every single night, how can I still hide in plain sight.
And all my feelings blow away. They leave me empty and hollow. I can hear it echo when I scream inside. I have to breathe but I can't find any peace. I'm cold, but I don't care. Let my limbs freeze until they fall off. I wish that I could disappear, unzip my skin and leave it here. Memories I never thought would fade, they fade and blow away.
And the scars on my heart become so vulnerable. I can't reach out, reach the surface. I can't hold on. And silence is my friend, on what else can I depend? Clutching at straws, but still drowning, I'm clutching at straws. Inhale the toxic smoke and pretend that it's air, every breath, every second, every thought. I crumble beneath the pain, I crumble beneath, I crumble.
For a massive, unsustainable weight loss, I cry so hard but no tears are coming. My soul is on fire, burning out. And even if I screamed, no one would hear me shout. All for the sake of a number, three digits and my heart turns into stone. Can't wish it all away, can't wash it all away. And I ask my shadow please, please stay.
All the thoughts cramming in my head. A strong wish to just go back to bed, and stay there until I'm dead. Like fever of the mind, all the reasons I couldn't find, it makes me suffer, makes me blind. Dying at a healthy weight, I fell for the bait and couldn't slow down or hesitate. And I fall, once again and once and for all.
Ice cold hands and fingers, stuck in an emotion that always lingers. Scared of not falling apart, that there's nothing wrong with my heart. I never knew where to stop or start. And I'm broken, ever changing and just waiting to be awoken. Wake me up I cannot see, that this nightmare isn't really me. Let me step aside, I no longer want to hide. But I'm cut open by the shards again, and I never know how where or when. And it's happening all over again.
I'm frozen to the core, past the point of not being able to take it anymore. Lost in riddles and rhymes I know, that all that I am can be on show. But little is there to know. I'm drowning in my thoughts again and I can't tell, when was the last tear that fell. Sweet dreams are made of these, I never knew how to my own body please. I fell for this disorder, but couldn't cross the border. Suffering through every single night, how can I still hide in plain sight.
Lashing out
I'm still on 56,3 kg and I hate myself. My night was horrible, I woke up in panic with extreme paranoia from nightmare after nightmare. I dreamed about my eating disorder and sometimes food too. Every time I woke up I was certain that there was someone in my apartment, but I was too scared to check. I moved around a lot in my bed as I tried to escape the nightmare, yet, when the crew finally came to wake me up, I got up and weighed myself and then got back into bed where I continued to dream.
I'm tired in my mind and soul. All I wanted was weight loss and I don't care about anything else, but I can't even have that. At the ED forum they all seem to say it was the hardest weight for them to get to, underweight. It's been 4 weeks now and somehow I'm stuck on disgusting 56,3 kg. And is it stupid, that I just think "I don't want to live like this" as soon as I don't lose weight anymore?
Because I'm trying so damn hard and get zero progress. It feels like I'm climbing a mountain but the mountain just got higher for no reason. Am I dying for no reason? It all just suddenly feels so hopeless.
I still get bursts of anger, I'm still misery and despair, rocking myself while complaining over my cigarettes tasting nasty this very moment. Sometimes they just do for no apparent reason. The coffee turns inside of me. It's past 10 o'clock pm and yes I just had coffee. Had to still my way too early cravings somehow.
Everything irritates me, everything's very presence irritates me. But I can't hold my anger for more than a few seconds before it changes into other emotions. I'm jumpy, jaded, irritated and sad simultaneously. It's a horrible way to be. It's like I'm trying too damn hard to be what I can't. And I don't know how to stop. This day is just backwards and inside-out.
I'm a contradiction today, or well, more than usually. I'm jittery yet tired, giving up one second yet stating I'll never give up the next, I'm bored yet full of thoughts keeping me busy. It's exhausting and very confusing. I feel like a land creature that can only breathe under water. Somehow, everything feels wrong and I disconnect.
Sometimes I'm not even aware that I do. If it's some kind of self defense mechanism maybe. But what do I need to defend myself from when I'm just sitting here behind my computer? My own damn head, my own damn thoughts and feelings. I lose sensation in my left knee sitting like this, in this position, yet I don't move or change position. Not until it gets unbearably uncomfortable.
I want to disappear from all of this, my horrible body, my horrible mind. It's only my soul that I like, cause it's the only thing that isn't messed up. It just simply is what it is. And I'm literally staring at 11 different pictures of K at the same time yet I feel so terribly lonely. I wish to crawl into a corner somewhere and stay there until I fade away.
And that latest poem of mine became just too real. So fucking close to my heart. I know that when my own writing makes me tremble and nearly cry, I know I've succeeded with the words. I'm trying to find the saddest most heartbreaking songs, just tear me up and break the walls around me. I need to shatter completely to be able to be free, but I know music can't take me quite that far, no matter how sad it is.
I'm stuck in a limbo of feelings, stuck not being able to commit to them fully. Why do I wish more despair on myself? Am I such a martyr? Is that even the right word? I don't know what would be the right word. My head feels so warm I'm nearly sweating, but my legs and feet are so cold I can barely feel them. It's a strange sensation. Maybe I should be up-side-down instead.
But I fight fire with fire, or rather suffering with more suffering. I know it doesn't make it better, but that's not even what I'm trying to achieve. I don't know what I'm trying to achieve, honestly, I confuse myself a lot. I guess I just like my suffering, as I do feel safe within it. My feelings alone make me so tired. It feels like I've gotten stuck in a thought warp, endlessly spinning in my head.
And somehow I wish that when the darkness has completely consumed me, I'll become ethereal, transparent and elusive. Not much of a person, more like something abstract. I recreate myself every passing day, sometimes more successfully that others, but who's there to judge?
Another eat/purge session, my fast isn't going so well, maybe I should just give it up and try again some other time. But I have nothing more to eat at home now, except from oatmeal porridge and some soup. I looked in the mirror and I think I look livid, like a ghost, very pale. And I don't just mean a fair complexion, but actually I kinda look like death. I kinda like it though, never really striven for that rosy and healthy look. It suits my face, looking pale.
It's gonna kill me if I continue like this. Fast, eat, purge and let no food ever stay in me. Maybe someday I'll realise that I'm mortal, but not today. I need an actual sign, something definite, like a flash of lightning from this sky that appears so clear. Maybe that is passing out, maybe it's discovering I've actually fucked up my heart, or low potassium or I don't even know half of it.
I'm in such a bad place right now I can hardly even be polite to other people on the ED forum in my own damn thread. They're going on about how dangerous diuretics can be even though I've now stated fucking three times in that very thread that I don't even have access to diuretics. Pisses me off, can't they read?
Bloody Americans have access to everything, it's so typical. And they said things like "I don't know where you live but..." yeah cause it's not like it says where I live right under my profile picture?! Gah, I should probably take a break from that forum for a while or something so I don't accidentally, verbally cut off someone's head there...
I'm just so frustrated with my body and fucked up mind that I can't even control myself around other people who are just trying to help. I'm not really known for lashing out on people like that. It makes me wonder how fucked up I've really become.
I'm tired in my mind and soul. All I wanted was weight loss and I don't care about anything else, but I can't even have that. At the ED forum they all seem to say it was the hardest weight for them to get to, underweight. It's been 4 weeks now and somehow I'm stuck on disgusting 56,3 kg. And is it stupid, that I just think "I don't want to live like this" as soon as I don't lose weight anymore?
Because I'm trying so damn hard and get zero progress. It feels like I'm climbing a mountain but the mountain just got higher for no reason. Am I dying for no reason? It all just suddenly feels so hopeless.
I still get bursts of anger, I'm still misery and despair, rocking myself while complaining over my cigarettes tasting nasty this very moment. Sometimes they just do for no apparent reason. The coffee turns inside of me. It's past 10 o'clock pm and yes I just had coffee. Had to still my way too early cravings somehow.
Everything irritates me, everything's very presence irritates me. But I can't hold my anger for more than a few seconds before it changes into other emotions. I'm jumpy, jaded, irritated and sad simultaneously. It's a horrible way to be. It's like I'm trying too damn hard to be what I can't. And I don't know how to stop. This day is just backwards and inside-out.
I'm a contradiction today, or well, more than usually. I'm jittery yet tired, giving up one second yet stating I'll never give up the next, I'm bored yet full of thoughts keeping me busy. It's exhausting and very confusing. I feel like a land creature that can only breathe under water. Somehow, everything feels wrong and I disconnect.
Sometimes I'm not even aware that I do. If it's some kind of self defense mechanism maybe. But what do I need to defend myself from when I'm just sitting here behind my computer? My own damn head, my own damn thoughts and feelings. I lose sensation in my left knee sitting like this, in this position, yet I don't move or change position. Not until it gets unbearably uncomfortable.
I want to disappear from all of this, my horrible body, my horrible mind. It's only my soul that I like, cause it's the only thing that isn't messed up. It just simply is what it is. And I'm literally staring at 11 different pictures of K at the same time yet I feel so terribly lonely. I wish to crawl into a corner somewhere and stay there until I fade away.
And that latest poem of mine became just too real. So fucking close to my heart. I know that when my own writing makes me tremble and nearly cry, I know I've succeeded with the words. I'm trying to find the saddest most heartbreaking songs, just tear me up and break the walls around me. I need to shatter completely to be able to be free, but I know music can't take me quite that far, no matter how sad it is.
I'm stuck in a limbo of feelings, stuck not being able to commit to them fully. Why do I wish more despair on myself? Am I such a martyr? Is that even the right word? I don't know what would be the right word. My head feels so warm I'm nearly sweating, but my legs and feet are so cold I can barely feel them. It's a strange sensation. Maybe I should be up-side-down instead.
But I fight fire with fire, or rather suffering with more suffering. I know it doesn't make it better, but that's not even what I'm trying to achieve. I don't know what I'm trying to achieve, honestly, I confuse myself a lot. I guess I just like my suffering, as I do feel safe within it. My feelings alone make me so tired. It feels like I've gotten stuck in a thought warp, endlessly spinning in my head.
And somehow I wish that when the darkness has completely consumed me, I'll become ethereal, transparent and elusive. Not much of a person, more like something abstract. I recreate myself every passing day, sometimes more successfully that others, but who's there to judge?
Another eat/purge session, my fast isn't going so well, maybe I should just give it up and try again some other time. But I have nothing more to eat at home now, except from oatmeal porridge and some soup. I looked in the mirror and I think I look livid, like a ghost, very pale. And I don't just mean a fair complexion, but actually I kinda look like death. I kinda like it though, never really striven for that rosy and healthy look. It suits my face, looking pale.
It's gonna kill me if I continue like this. Fast, eat, purge and let no food ever stay in me. Maybe someday I'll realise that I'm mortal, but not today. I need an actual sign, something definite, like a flash of lightning from this sky that appears so clear. Maybe that is passing out, maybe it's discovering I've actually fucked up my heart, or low potassium or I don't even know half of it.
I'm in such a bad place right now I can hardly even be polite to other people on the ED forum in my own damn thread. They're going on about how dangerous diuretics can be even though I've now stated fucking three times in that very thread that I don't even have access to diuretics. Pisses me off, can't they read?
Bloody Americans have access to everything, it's so typical. And they said things like "I don't know where you live but..." yeah cause it's not like it says where I live right under my profile picture?! Gah, I should probably take a break from that forum for a while or something so I don't accidentally, verbally cut off someone's head there...
I'm just so frustrated with my body and fucked up mind that I can't even control myself around other people who are just trying to help. I'm not really known for lashing out on people like that. It makes me wonder how fucked up I've really become.
Thursday, 29 October 2015
Holding back less
I want to tell you so much Y, but my words are against me today. I'm so torn up and disappointed in myself I can't even think clearly, but I'll try. You should know I read the messages you wrote to me on tumblr and I read them over and over again. I listened to the song as well. I don't want to abandon you again. But I feel like there's a wall between us and I want to break it and reach through.
I cannot let go of you. I'm not sure why but there it is. I know you're not the same person as when we first met, and neither am I. I think we both needed to change in the directions we did. And that we're not done changing yet, perhaps we never will be. I don't want you to leave and I feel as though, I do need your love. I don't know what it means yet, I don't know what I feel except that I'm just connected to you somehow.
My latest poem was not directed to you, but more or less everyone else. You're not standing in my way, you're not doing anything that I have anything against. I would have tagged you like you tag me if it had been directed to you in any way. Not sure if you did interpret it that way or not, but just thought I should mention.
Not holding back as much anymore, as if my reasons to do so somehow slip away. I feel more safe somehow. Not so scared of saying the wrong thing, cause you know what I've realised? Maybe there is no wrong things to say. (As long as they're not lies). I look at you too, and I can't look away.
I cannot let go of you. I'm not sure why but there it is. I know you're not the same person as when we first met, and neither am I. I think we both needed to change in the directions we did. And that we're not done changing yet, perhaps we never will be. I don't want you to leave and I feel as though, I do need your love. I don't know what it means yet, I don't know what I feel except that I'm just connected to you somehow.
My latest poem was not directed to you, but more or less everyone else. You're not standing in my way, you're not doing anything that I have anything against. I would have tagged you like you tag me if it had been directed to you in any way. Not sure if you did interpret it that way or not, but just thought I should mention.
Not holding back as much anymore, as if my reasons to do so somehow slip away. I feel more safe somehow. Not so scared of saying the wrong thing, cause you know what I've realised? Maybe there is no wrong things to say. (As long as they're not lies). I look at you too, and I can't look away.
140 hours
God damn it this is by far the hardest moment of my fast so far. I just think "I have to eat something, I'll go empty my fridge, I can purge it but I just have to have something!" and I can't stop the thoughts. What the fuck do I do? Should I break my fast or try to calm down? Why now? I can't fight these thoughts, they're overwhelming. 140 hours, I'm caving in.
Boiled egg with chicken soup and some lettuce. Hopefully it will come back up again. It was all I had at home. I'm feeling dizzy. I just gorged on it without thinking anything except "oh my god" over and over again. Now my stomach seems mildly upset. I just thought that since I'm gonna purge it, it doesn't matter what it is I eat. I'm gonna continue fasting after this, I already regret my decision.
I'm feeling the emptiness and guilt drowning me already. I haven't even purged it yet. Suddenly trying to imagine what it would be like to purge in someone else's presence. I hope I'll never have to do that. Okay that was easy. A little too easy almost. It came out of me quite forcefully. But ew, let's not discuss that. Though it does disgust me less and less, for some reason. Perhaps I'm just getting all the more used to it. Numbed by it.
Okay what is my stomach even doing? Not liking my treatment of it perhaps. I doubt that it will, but I hope this can startle a quicker weight loss perhaps. Like some kind of boost to my system that seemed to have died a little. Re-awaken it or something. I'm so miserable right now. Trying to calm my agitated soul down with some tea. I could need someone's arms to crawl into right now, but I only have my own.
My body is trying to fight this with everything it can. Once again, there's a war between my mind and my body. But like never before, this war is new and it's intense as fuck. And I'm stuck somewhere in between the two sides, just letting them fight, see who wins. But my body can't win and the mind can't survive without the body. It's a fight that will most likely end in death.
I ruined my 140 hours long fast, what was I thinking? Just food, food, food, food. My mind was racing with only one thing on it. I couldn't take it anymore. But I let no food stay in me so did I actually ruin the fast or not? Damn it, sometimes purging complicates more than it simplifies. Should go to bed soon, can't stand being awake in this state.
I'm a mess. I hope fasting will go better tomorrow and that I've lost more weight. I hope so much it's breaking me. I try to live on hope cause my body is so fucking unpredictable. Think I actually lost more weight when I ate between shorter fasts which is just insane. According to science I should lose more the less I eat.
I'm drifting away. Empty, so fucking empty. Thinking I just have to lose all this weight, the same kilos again. And it just leaves me feeling so hollow. And in my thoughts is that tiny little hope that I'll just suddenly weight less than 54 without having to see 56,2 and 55,6 and 54,2 again on the scale. Or whatever decimals but I usually lose like that. It would take me days. Days after days after days when I should have weighed less than 52 kg already.
Why does my body have to be this way, why does it defy all kinds of logic like the fucking rest of me? Why is nothing ever simple?! I want to disappear into another universe. Everything inside me just hurts. Now I really just want to sleep forever. Starve it better, starve better, try again, fail again, fail better. What else can I do?
It feels like I just want to give up and sleep everything away, but I just can't. I'll never reach underweight, will I? It seems so very far away. I don't know what I weigh, everything is a mess.
Boiled egg with chicken soup and some lettuce. Hopefully it will come back up again. It was all I had at home. I'm feeling dizzy. I just gorged on it without thinking anything except "oh my god" over and over again. Now my stomach seems mildly upset. I just thought that since I'm gonna purge it, it doesn't matter what it is I eat. I'm gonna continue fasting after this, I already regret my decision.
I'm feeling the emptiness and guilt drowning me already. I haven't even purged it yet. Suddenly trying to imagine what it would be like to purge in someone else's presence. I hope I'll never have to do that. Okay that was easy. A little too easy almost. It came out of me quite forcefully. But ew, let's not discuss that. Though it does disgust me less and less, for some reason. Perhaps I'm just getting all the more used to it. Numbed by it.
Okay what is my stomach even doing? Not liking my treatment of it perhaps. I doubt that it will, but I hope this can startle a quicker weight loss perhaps. Like some kind of boost to my system that seemed to have died a little. Re-awaken it or something. I'm so miserable right now. Trying to calm my agitated soul down with some tea. I could need someone's arms to crawl into right now, but I only have my own.
My body is trying to fight this with everything it can. Once again, there's a war between my mind and my body. But like never before, this war is new and it's intense as fuck. And I'm stuck somewhere in between the two sides, just letting them fight, see who wins. But my body can't win and the mind can't survive without the body. It's a fight that will most likely end in death.
I ruined my 140 hours long fast, what was I thinking? Just food, food, food, food. My mind was racing with only one thing on it. I couldn't take it anymore. But I let no food stay in me so did I actually ruin the fast or not? Damn it, sometimes purging complicates more than it simplifies. Should go to bed soon, can't stand being awake in this state.
I'm a mess. I hope fasting will go better tomorrow and that I've lost more weight. I hope so much it's breaking me. I try to live on hope cause my body is so fucking unpredictable. Think I actually lost more weight when I ate between shorter fasts which is just insane. According to science I should lose more the less I eat.
I'm drifting away. Empty, so fucking empty. Thinking I just have to lose all this weight, the same kilos again. And it just leaves me feeling so hollow. And in my thoughts is that tiny little hope that I'll just suddenly weight less than 54 without having to see 56,2 and 55,6 and 54,2 again on the scale. Or whatever decimals but I usually lose like that. It would take me days. Days after days after days when I should have weighed less than 52 kg already.
Why does my body have to be this way, why does it defy all kinds of logic like the fucking rest of me? Why is nothing ever simple?! I want to disappear into another universe. Everything inside me just hurts. Now I really just want to sleep forever. Starve it better, starve better, try again, fail again, fail better. What else can I do?
It feels like I just want to give up and sleep everything away, but I just can't. I'll never reach underweight, will I? It seems so very far away. I don't know what I weigh, everything is a mess.
Wednesday, 28 October 2015
Degraded to their liking
And I keep thinking that I can just ignore it forever. The demands the crew has on me. But fact is and remains that if I don't start doing better I can lose my apartment. I never thought I would ever need to fear eviction in such a place. I'm seriously too fucking broken for a special service apartment even. Like how the actual fuck?!
I don't understand the shards that are left of me, I'm just the shatter of a person. If I do lose my apartment, I'll try my best to move to Uppsala again but it's more likely I'll just end up with my parents again. I can't live with them anymore. I'd sooner die. Imagine them having me around constantly complaining about the rules and letting them constantly see me being devoured by my eating disorder. I wouldn't get any peace, they wouldn't get any peace.
I'm 26 years old, I just can't fucking live with my parents! Even my sister is getting her own place now. I feel like such a failure. I'd run away and never come back, if my parents wouldn't let me move to Uppsala if I do get evicted. I don't care if I die there cause of the mess I am. I'd want a big two room apartment like I have now, quite far from the city core. I must be allowed to smoke indoors. The rent can't be too high, that's why I'd be looking to live a bit farther from the city core.
The apartment itself and being at least remotely close to my friends and all the happenings is more important than living two meters away from everything I need. I'd even be okay with living in another village fairly close to Uppsala. As long as I'm in Uppland and not on fucking Gotland. As long as there are buses or trains that can take me where I want to be. My demands are not sky high, I just want to live on a place of the Earth that I don't fucking hate.
Yeah, the issue whether I'll be evicted or not doesn't seem to have been completely solved quite yet. I thought it had been, but nope. I'm trying to just go with it, take things as they come, and then try to do what needs to be done. There will be another meeting with the crew, the leader of their pack, me and my mother possibly sometime next week.
I will ask them then, exactly what do they want from me. How clean should my apartment be for their liking? How often would I need to let them in? How much do I need to be pushed, degraded, humiliated, for them to not throw me out on the streets? Cause that's what it all comes down to, that's how I see it. It's me not living up to their expectations and high demands. Me, too fucking broken for a special service apartment.
I don't understand the shards that are left of me, I'm just the shatter of a person. If I do lose my apartment, I'll try my best to move to Uppsala again but it's more likely I'll just end up with my parents again. I can't live with them anymore. I'd sooner die. Imagine them having me around constantly complaining about the rules and letting them constantly see me being devoured by my eating disorder. I wouldn't get any peace, they wouldn't get any peace.
I'm 26 years old, I just can't fucking live with my parents! Even my sister is getting her own place now. I feel like such a failure. I'd run away and never come back, if my parents wouldn't let me move to Uppsala if I do get evicted. I don't care if I die there cause of the mess I am. I'd want a big two room apartment like I have now, quite far from the city core. I must be allowed to smoke indoors. The rent can't be too high, that's why I'd be looking to live a bit farther from the city core.
The apartment itself and being at least remotely close to my friends and all the happenings is more important than living two meters away from everything I need. I'd even be okay with living in another village fairly close to Uppsala. As long as I'm in Uppland and not on fucking Gotland. As long as there are buses or trains that can take me where I want to be. My demands are not sky high, I just want to live on a place of the Earth that I don't fucking hate.
Yeah, the issue whether I'll be evicted or not doesn't seem to have been completely solved quite yet. I thought it had been, but nope. I'm trying to just go with it, take things as they come, and then try to do what needs to be done. There will be another meeting with the crew, the leader of their pack, me and my mother possibly sometime next week.
I will ask them then, exactly what do they want from me. How clean should my apartment be for their liking? How often would I need to let them in? How much do I need to be pushed, degraded, humiliated, for them to not throw me out on the streets? Cause that's what it all comes down to, that's how I see it. It's me not living up to their expectations and high demands. Me, too fucking broken for a special service apartment.
Reach out to me
What have I become, my sweetest friend? That last energy drink is hard to wash down. It sticks like glue and makes me feel sick. 27 days and I don't feel like myself anymore. Where are you, and will I hear from you by the time of Christmas? I miss you so much, but I can't pick up the phone. I hope your life is good, I hope it's a lot better than mine.
Cause I always got the sensation that you somehow felt bad when your life was better than mine, I don't know why and I could be wrong. But if you did/do, I want you to know that I don't think you should feel bad for that at all. I'm happy for you, I truly am. You're like the only person I could ever be happy for. I think about you a lot, I miss the old days. You know what old days I'm thinking about. We used to laugh, even when we were miserable. I used to laugh, cause I had you by my side.
I miss all that we had, the good and the bad. Now I'm sitting here alone in my apartment, listening to sad music, chain smoking and starving myself to death. I don't know what I've become, I don't know who I am. I think I know too much. And that too much became everything became nothing. So ultimately, I know nothing. I often find myself writing to you here, not knowing if you ever read what I say.
Maybe you're still working too much and studying at the same time. You have your life, I understand. I can't even imagine how hard it must be to get educated, get an income, have a rent you have to pay for with own money and all that stuff. By my terms you're doing great, but understand it must be hard. We live in different worlds now, and you're so painfully far away.
Everyone is, but mostly you. I don't know if I any longer regret moving here, but I do regret not staying there. Maybe it would have gotten better for me in Uppsala if only I had given it more time, waited it out. Or maybe it would never have gotten better. How can I know. All I know is that I'm in a much safer place now. It's degrading and demanding too much of me, but I'm safer.
And maybe I always hated safety. Demanded to be able to drift away as much as I wanted to, demanded the danger. Now I'm safer whether I like it or not, but still suicidal, painfully lonely and so very lost within. I still torture myself cause I know no other way to live. I don't know what I want with this message, I don't know anything anymore.
Cause I always got the sensation that you somehow felt bad when your life was better than mine, I don't know why and I could be wrong. But if you did/do, I want you to know that I don't think you should feel bad for that at all. I'm happy for you, I truly am. You're like the only person I could ever be happy for. I think about you a lot, I miss the old days. You know what old days I'm thinking about. We used to laugh, even when we were miserable. I used to laugh, cause I had you by my side.
I miss all that we had, the good and the bad. Now I'm sitting here alone in my apartment, listening to sad music, chain smoking and starving myself to death. I don't know what I've become, I don't know who I am. I think I know too much. And that too much became everything became nothing. So ultimately, I know nothing. I often find myself writing to you here, not knowing if you ever read what I say.
Maybe you're still working too much and studying at the same time. You have your life, I understand. I can't even imagine how hard it must be to get educated, get an income, have a rent you have to pay for with own money and all that stuff. By my terms you're doing great, but understand it must be hard. We live in different worlds now, and you're so painfully far away.
Everyone is, but mostly you. I don't know if I any longer regret moving here, but I do regret not staying there. Maybe it would have gotten better for me in Uppsala if only I had given it more time, waited it out. Or maybe it would never have gotten better. How can I know. All I know is that I'm in a much safer place now. It's degrading and demanding too much of me, but I'm safer.
And maybe I always hated safety. Demanded to be able to drift away as much as I wanted to, demanded the danger. Now I'm safer whether I like it or not, but still suicidal, painfully lonely and so very lost within. I still torture myself cause I know no other way to live. I don't know what I want with this message, I don't know anything anymore.
Tuesday, 27 October 2015
What am I becoming?
Ugh, I'm watching a stupid pro-ana documentary and I'm dying halfway through. What's wrong with people? What's wrong with me? I'm getting less and less pro-ana the worse I get. I just think it's sad to want a mental illness, but I do understand the desire to get that thin. I just don't understand how people who don't have an ED, who are healthy, can want to become skeletal.
115 hours now. Where did the 114th hour go? I've just downed my 7th glass of water. That's 1,4 litres for today. Gotta be enough even if it isn't. God I hate water. Wonder if I'll have a heart attack after this 5th energy drink... great. It's my 7th caffeinated drink for today and I'm not sure it will be the last one.
I'm feeling confused. Can't remember when I bought what and also I can't remember writing down the calorie content of my last cup of coffee in my book but obviously I did. Lately I've been forgetting to make sure I stay below my calorie limit. I just keep drinking things and writing them down but I don't check how far I am from my limit. My mind isn't what it used to be.
One thing that really did touch me in that documentary was one of the pro-ana's mother. How scared she was for her daughter. That really got to me. Also they featured young anorexics, meaning children. One was only 11 years old, but somehow that didn't affect me emotionally. I was just thinking about how much I recognise myself in their how they were thinking.
Something that really got me thinking was one of the pro-anas who was a little older, maybe 25-30 years old or so, it was hard to tell. She was apparently underweight with a BMI of 18,1 and the scary thing... I thought she was fat. Now that really messes with my brain. She had large breasts, wide hips and a little bit of a tummy and maybe that's what I was hung up on. If it wasn't for her breasts she would have looked a lot like me.
Or how I see myself rather. But she must have been really tall if she had that BMI at 62 kg. If I had that BMI, I would weigh 51 kg. Something is really disturbing about this. The way I'm thinking, how my brain is wired at this point. I usually don't think people at healthy weights are fat, so why did I suddenly think of an underweight person as fat? It goes against all kinds of logic.
I honestly would have guess her BMI was more in the range of 26-27. That's just so fucking surreal. Now I can't stop thinking about it. I feel horrible for even having those thoughts, but mostly I'm just scared for what I've let myself become. I get these moments sometimes, like "what the fuck am I doing, what the fuck am I thinking" -kinda moments.
Am I taking it too far, have I already taken it too far? Yes, yes and yes. I'm almost underweight now and I won't eat until I am. That is taking it too far, but I don't care. In my mind, it's the only right thing to do. Hitting a new lowest weight in the process. I am becoming my eating disorder. I let it twist and turn and fumble around inside me. Like a parasite. I let it thrive.
And oh boy is it thriving! I'm as idle as I can be, just nodding and accepting everything it throws at me. If it was an actual parasite it would be in heaven right now, I'm pretty sure. Found the perfect victim. Am I a perfect victim for an eating disorder? Already had bad self image and some kind of body dysmorphia, already vulnerable with other mental disorders, already self harming, already wanting to die half the time.
Tempting me with a thinness I've always wanted somewhere in the back of my mind, and with a sense of control I've never had. Become complete again with me, it says. And of course I obey to its every whim. But still aware of that it's all lies and flatter, a cruel joke that will kill me one day. I have nothing better to do, than to let it slowly tear me apart.
I'm at its mercy, letting myself be tortured by myself and this unknown force known as mental illness. Atypical anorexia, soon I won't be so atypical anymore. I've soon gone 5 entire days without eating, I can feel my mind warping into something unknown. Half the time I don't even recognise myself anymore, what I'm becoming. What I'm losing to this eating disorder, what it's doing, not only to my body but my mind and soul.
I'm staring into an abyss and it's staring right back at me. Maybe I gazed too far and too long. I let it change me. Please, I whisper, turn me into something else, I cannot stand to look at myself anymore. With time it changes me, whether I want it to or not. Did I choose my eating disorder? I gently ask myself almost every day now. I wanted anorexia the day I chose to lose weight, but is this really what I wanted? Was it a choice truly, or was I just prepared for the risk I took?
It's spinning madly in my head, the thought that I could have avoided all of this. It's clawing and cackling: suit yourself, suit yourself. If only I hadn't been so desperate to lose weight in the first place. But there's no regret and the thoughts aren't mine. I fear for my soul but not for my body.
It will wither and die either way, we all die of something sooner or later, I just happened to choose my death. Or did I? Back to the question whether my eating disorder was a choice or not. Maybe I didn't choose my thoughts and feelings, maybe I didn't choose to wish to become thin no matter what? Maybe the obsession wasn't a choice, but giving in to it was?
115 hours now. Where did the 114th hour go? I've just downed my 7th glass of water. That's 1,4 litres for today. Gotta be enough even if it isn't. God I hate water. Wonder if I'll have a heart attack after this 5th energy drink... great. It's my 7th caffeinated drink for today and I'm not sure it will be the last one.
I'm feeling confused. Can't remember when I bought what and also I can't remember writing down the calorie content of my last cup of coffee in my book but obviously I did. Lately I've been forgetting to make sure I stay below my calorie limit. I just keep drinking things and writing them down but I don't check how far I am from my limit. My mind isn't what it used to be.
One thing that really did touch me in that documentary was one of the pro-ana's mother. How scared she was for her daughter. That really got to me. Also they featured young anorexics, meaning children. One was only 11 years old, but somehow that didn't affect me emotionally. I was just thinking about how much I recognise myself in their how they were thinking.
Something that really got me thinking was one of the pro-anas who was a little older, maybe 25-30 years old or so, it was hard to tell. She was apparently underweight with a BMI of 18,1 and the scary thing... I thought she was fat. Now that really messes with my brain. She had large breasts, wide hips and a little bit of a tummy and maybe that's what I was hung up on. If it wasn't for her breasts she would have looked a lot like me.
Or how I see myself rather. But she must have been really tall if she had that BMI at 62 kg. If I had that BMI, I would weigh 51 kg. Something is really disturbing about this. The way I'm thinking, how my brain is wired at this point. I usually don't think people at healthy weights are fat, so why did I suddenly think of an underweight person as fat? It goes against all kinds of logic.
I honestly would have guess her BMI was more in the range of 26-27. That's just so fucking surreal. Now I can't stop thinking about it. I feel horrible for even having those thoughts, but mostly I'm just scared for what I've let myself become. I get these moments sometimes, like "what the fuck am I doing, what the fuck am I thinking" -kinda moments.
Am I taking it too far, have I already taken it too far? Yes, yes and yes. I'm almost underweight now and I won't eat until I am. That is taking it too far, but I don't care. In my mind, it's the only right thing to do. Hitting a new lowest weight in the process. I am becoming my eating disorder. I let it twist and turn and fumble around inside me. Like a parasite. I let it thrive.
And oh boy is it thriving! I'm as idle as I can be, just nodding and accepting everything it throws at me. If it was an actual parasite it would be in heaven right now, I'm pretty sure. Found the perfect victim. Am I a perfect victim for an eating disorder? Already had bad self image and some kind of body dysmorphia, already vulnerable with other mental disorders, already self harming, already wanting to die half the time.
Tempting me with a thinness I've always wanted somewhere in the back of my mind, and with a sense of control I've never had. Become complete again with me, it says. And of course I obey to its every whim. But still aware of that it's all lies and flatter, a cruel joke that will kill me one day. I have nothing better to do, than to let it slowly tear me apart.
I'm at its mercy, letting myself be tortured by myself and this unknown force known as mental illness. Atypical anorexia, soon I won't be so atypical anymore. I've soon gone 5 entire days without eating, I can feel my mind warping into something unknown. Half the time I don't even recognise myself anymore, what I'm becoming. What I'm losing to this eating disorder, what it's doing, not only to my body but my mind and soul.
I'm staring into an abyss and it's staring right back at me. Maybe I gazed too far and too long. I let it change me. Please, I whisper, turn me into something else, I cannot stand to look at myself anymore. With time it changes me, whether I want it to or not. Did I choose my eating disorder? I gently ask myself almost every day now. I wanted anorexia the day I chose to lose weight, but is this really what I wanted? Was it a choice truly, or was I just prepared for the risk I took?
It's spinning madly in my head, the thought that I could have avoided all of this. It's clawing and cackling: suit yourself, suit yourself. If only I hadn't been so desperate to lose weight in the first place. But there's no regret and the thoughts aren't mine. I fear for my soul but not for my body.
It will wither and die either way, we all die of something sooner or later, I just happened to choose my death. Or did I? Back to the question whether my eating disorder was a choice or not. Maybe I didn't choose my thoughts and feelings, maybe I didn't choose to wish to become thin no matter what? Maybe the obsession wasn't a choice, but giving in to it was?
Counting and breathing
Chicken soup, fries, burger, salad, pizza... just thinking about every kind of fucking food I'm craving right now. It feels like I'm dying. 90 hours without food now and I'm beyond starving. I'm having tea right now, a new kind that I'm trying out. Green tea that's supposed to taste like strawberry cupcakes. It's not that similar but it's kinda nice anyway. Think I left the bag in too long as well.
I just let my suicide playlist run in the background. Yep, I'm in that kind of mood right now. I'll take Imovane tonight anyway, even though I said I wouldn't. My mother agreed that would be a good thing too. She'll just get me more of those pills when I run out of them.
I'm so tired in my heart. My body aches, but I feel no hunger. Just drowning. 91 hours and counting. Hour by hour until I'm gone or it's just suddenly Friday. I so hope and I'll pray to Satan that I'll reach underweight before then. It would almost be like a dream come true. I'm living on hope and I'll just keep hoping.
I've never been underweight in my entire life before, and finally here's my chance. It's my sweet obsession, my saviour and most definitely my enemy, this eating disorder. I love it and I hate it. It's saving me and ruining my life. I don't think most people could understand that, but I know some might.
The thought hasn't been that far, recently. That I can reach down to 52 kg and live to see it. Then all the people telling me I need to gain weight will actually, at least in a medical sense, kinda be right. But I won't listen to them. All I hear anyway is that I'm being successful but can always lose more weight.
I want more, more, more to fuel my passion. I wonder how much longer I could fast, before crashing. Maybe just a few more days. I'm getting all the more malnourished and my fasting times will get more and more dangerous for my crumbling body. It can't be tortured forever, obviously. I'm in extreme calorie deficit and even other anorexics have begged of me to please fucking eat something.
You know it's bad when they do. I'm not trying to compete with them, I'm only competing with myself, and possibly with my sister but I'm pretty sure my BMI is lower than hers now. Yep, if I calculated her height right, she has a BMI of 21,5 while I'm at 19,1. I'm finally thinner than her, what a success. Does that make me horrible somehow, that I'm comparing myself with her as much as I do?
I don't know why I so obsessively want to be the thinnest of my family members. If maybe it could be because most of them and my relatives are overweight and I'm so scared of ending up like that again. I don't know if I'm feeling better now, or just emptier.
Just holding on to the thought of becoming underweight, let it spin in my head for a while. Having some real tea now, tired of those paper tasting bags. It's some kind of black tea I don't even know what it's supposed to taste like. And I'm like the only one who doesn't "fika" in the mornings at school these days. They keep telling me to have some coffee at least but I don't like drinking coffee unless I can smoke simultaneously. And tea makes me tired so that wouldn't be good.
Woah, 92 hours how did that happen? Soon it's been 4 days and 4 nights. Soon I've broken my old record but then I likely won't break this new one. I need a whole fucking holiday away from school to be able to fast longer than just over a weekend and there won't be any more such holidays this fall. Not until Christmas and then I definitely won't be able to fast.
At least I'm not panicking over my body anymore. That's something. Aha, Evanescence's song "Lithium" is back on Spotify. It's been gone for a while. So surprised to finally hear it. I just recently realised that none of my favourite music groups/artists have released an album since 2012. I wonder where they're all at. Not that I care so very deeply, I've got enough music for my lifetime and I always find more anyways. I really don't mind nagging the same old favourite songs over and over.
I feel there's an ocean inside of me and it's calm right now, at least on the surface. I disappear into an oversized hoodie that once was in my size and into a cup of lukewarm, gently sweetened tea. Light up another cigarette, another burning comfort slowly turning into ashes. My thoughts are on hold, my feelings linger.
I should clean up. Shave, take a shower, wash my hair and hope my blonde stripe won't be defiled by the black dye still on the rest of my hair. Residue from last time I dyed it, always a constant annoyance whenever I wash my hair. I can't afford to re-bleach the blonde stripe again. It would break and be non-existent.
And I leave my hair the way it is now. Its broken messiness reflects my insides somehow. I keep it in a messy middle part, rarely even brush it and just let it fly around in the strong winds always so present on this island. I love this hairstyle, but I wish it was at least shoulder length. That I could feel it gently tickle my cheeks the way I love and hate at the same time. I should have saved it out sooner but it just kept on breaking.
And I wish I didn't hate my body so much. I really do try to see what is positive, what I actually do like. But it's hard and it slips away. I finished my tea and the taste remains only slightly in my mouth, mixed with cigarette smoke. Keeping a careful eye on the numbers telling the time in the lower right corner on my computer screen, wanting the hours to pass a little faster.
Calmer now, but a racing calm that cannot last. I'm always thinking I could die at any moment, is that silly? And the tragedy is that I never do, like Marla Singer says in the movie "Fight Club". Love that movie by the way. The narrator versus Tyler Durden is so me and Anna, and Marla is the most amazing female movie character that I'm aware of. Too bad I can't watch it now. Would be unfocused 5 minutes into it, barely.
Sometimes I miss it, you know, being able to watch entire movies. I can manage a TV-show episode every once in a while, but I really have to force watch it then. Like the last 30 minutes of a 40 minutes long episode. It's hardly even worth it. Oh, did I mention that Marla is played by the actress Helena Bonham Carter? She's definitely one of my favourite actresses.
So, here I am, fantasising about movies instead of watching them cause I no longer can. I'll try though, to go through all of my favourites one by one not too long before I die. Just for the road, so to say. I have no idea what I'll be able to remember from this life by the time it's over. So better try and refresh my memory of things I do want to remember, I mean.
This playlist is literally over 3 hours long, I rarely listen through it all. All 47 songs. It's like coffee for my soul though. Strong, painful, forceful, soothing, agrees with it. And I seek the saddest types of comfort. When I'm dark only darkness can soothe me. I'm a fight fire with fire type of person. Sometimes it even works.
I'm leaving the spaces blank tonight. Won't try to fill the void. Let it rip and tear inside me, I'm not afraid. So used to it by now, I can stay in the moment without fighting it. Just like my shrink always tried to tell me, I don't think she meant it quite this way, with suicide hanging over my head.
Getting all the more tired now. Almost 93 hours now, I should take my sleeping pills and try to gather this day's last thoughts. There, the regular dosage plus one Imovane and 5 Ex-lax. Hopefully the latter will help me with my current weight problem. If I'm just constipated that is.
I'm not overusing laxatives, only take them when I kinda need them. It's a bad thing to get addicted to. But it's a, maybe unknown, fact that starvation and constipation kinda go together. It's not uncommon at all. And isn't it weird that I feel worse when I'm restricting than I do when I'm fasting? Perhaps it's because I don't purge when I'm fasting. Well, I haven't gone as far as to purging liquids yet. Only once though, Bailey's, cause the calories freaked me out.
Past 93 hours now. I should take that shower before my pills kick in, but I don't know if that's safe. Don't really want to risk passing out there. God damn it, when did something as simple as taking a shower become a dangerous task? I'm always afraid of collapsing in my bathroom. So I guess I'll do it tomorrow instead then, shower, I mean. As long as I get it done before Friday I don't really care.
Now I really want to watch "Sucker Punch" but I just fucking can't. Besides it's late and I just took my sleeping pills. Just 4 more songs on the playlist now. I think this will be it for now.
I just let my suicide playlist run in the background. Yep, I'm in that kind of mood right now. I'll take Imovane tonight anyway, even though I said I wouldn't. My mother agreed that would be a good thing too. She'll just get me more of those pills when I run out of them.
I'm so tired in my heart. My body aches, but I feel no hunger. Just drowning. 91 hours and counting. Hour by hour until I'm gone or it's just suddenly Friday. I so hope and I'll pray to Satan that I'll reach underweight before then. It would almost be like a dream come true. I'm living on hope and I'll just keep hoping.
I've never been underweight in my entire life before, and finally here's my chance. It's my sweet obsession, my saviour and most definitely my enemy, this eating disorder. I love it and I hate it. It's saving me and ruining my life. I don't think most people could understand that, but I know some might.
The thought hasn't been that far, recently. That I can reach down to 52 kg and live to see it. Then all the people telling me I need to gain weight will actually, at least in a medical sense, kinda be right. But I won't listen to them. All I hear anyway is that I'm being successful but can always lose more weight.
I want more, more, more to fuel my passion. I wonder how much longer I could fast, before crashing. Maybe just a few more days. I'm getting all the more malnourished and my fasting times will get more and more dangerous for my crumbling body. It can't be tortured forever, obviously. I'm in extreme calorie deficit and even other anorexics have begged of me to please fucking eat something.
You know it's bad when they do. I'm not trying to compete with them, I'm only competing with myself, and possibly with my sister but I'm pretty sure my BMI is lower than hers now. Yep, if I calculated her height right, she has a BMI of 21,5 while I'm at 19,1. I'm finally thinner than her, what a success. Does that make me horrible somehow, that I'm comparing myself with her as much as I do?
I don't know why I so obsessively want to be the thinnest of my family members. If maybe it could be because most of them and my relatives are overweight and I'm so scared of ending up like that again. I don't know if I'm feeling better now, or just emptier.
Just holding on to the thought of becoming underweight, let it spin in my head for a while. Having some real tea now, tired of those paper tasting bags. It's some kind of black tea I don't even know what it's supposed to taste like. And I'm like the only one who doesn't "fika" in the mornings at school these days. They keep telling me to have some coffee at least but I don't like drinking coffee unless I can smoke simultaneously. And tea makes me tired so that wouldn't be good.
Woah, 92 hours how did that happen? Soon it's been 4 days and 4 nights. Soon I've broken my old record but then I likely won't break this new one. I need a whole fucking holiday away from school to be able to fast longer than just over a weekend and there won't be any more such holidays this fall. Not until Christmas and then I definitely won't be able to fast.
At least I'm not panicking over my body anymore. That's something. Aha, Evanescence's song "Lithium" is back on Spotify. It's been gone for a while. So surprised to finally hear it. I just recently realised that none of my favourite music groups/artists have released an album since 2012. I wonder where they're all at. Not that I care so very deeply, I've got enough music for my lifetime and I always find more anyways. I really don't mind nagging the same old favourite songs over and over.
I feel there's an ocean inside of me and it's calm right now, at least on the surface. I disappear into an oversized hoodie that once was in my size and into a cup of lukewarm, gently sweetened tea. Light up another cigarette, another burning comfort slowly turning into ashes. My thoughts are on hold, my feelings linger.
I should clean up. Shave, take a shower, wash my hair and hope my blonde stripe won't be defiled by the black dye still on the rest of my hair. Residue from last time I dyed it, always a constant annoyance whenever I wash my hair. I can't afford to re-bleach the blonde stripe again. It would break and be non-existent.
And I leave my hair the way it is now. Its broken messiness reflects my insides somehow. I keep it in a messy middle part, rarely even brush it and just let it fly around in the strong winds always so present on this island. I love this hairstyle, but I wish it was at least shoulder length. That I could feel it gently tickle my cheeks the way I love and hate at the same time. I should have saved it out sooner but it just kept on breaking.
And I wish I didn't hate my body so much. I really do try to see what is positive, what I actually do like. But it's hard and it slips away. I finished my tea and the taste remains only slightly in my mouth, mixed with cigarette smoke. Keeping a careful eye on the numbers telling the time in the lower right corner on my computer screen, wanting the hours to pass a little faster.
Calmer now, but a racing calm that cannot last. I'm always thinking I could die at any moment, is that silly? And the tragedy is that I never do, like Marla Singer says in the movie "Fight Club". Love that movie by the way. The narrator versus Tyler Durden is so me and Anna, and Marla is the most amazing female movie character that I'm aware of. Too bad I can't watch it now. Would be unfocused 5 minutes into it, barely.
Sometimes I miss it, you know, being able to watch entire movies. I can manage a TV-show episode every once in a while, but I really have to force watch it then. Like the last 30 minutes of a 40 minutes long episode. It's hardly even worth it. Oh, did I mention that Marla is played by the actress Helena Bonham Carter? She's definitely one of my favourite actresses.
So, here I am, fantasising about movies instead of watching them cause I no longer can. I'll try though, to go through all of my favourites one by one not too long before I die. Just for the road, so to say. I have no idea what I'll be able to remember from this life by the time it's over. So better try and refresh my memory of things I do want to remember, I mean.
This playlist is literally over 3 hours long, I rarely listen through it all. All 47 songs. It's like coffee for my soul though. Strong, painful, forceful, soothing, agrees with it. And I seek the saddest types of comfort. When I'm dark only darkness can soothe me. I'm a fight fire with fire type of person. Sometimes it even works.
I'm leaving the spaces blank tonight. Won't try to fill the void. Let it rip and tear inside me, I'm not afraid. So used to it by now, I can stay in the moment without fighting it. Just like my shrink always tried to tell me, I don't think she meant it quite this way, with suicide hanging over my head.
Getting all the more tired now. Almost 93 hours now, I should take my sleeping pills and try to gather this day's last thoughts. There, the regular dosage plus one Imovane and 5 Ex-lax. Hopefully the latter will help me with my current weight problem. If I'm just constipated that is.
I'm not overusing laxatives, only take them when I kinda need them. It's a bad thing to get addicted to. But it's a, maybe unknown, fact that starvation and constipation kinda go together. It's not uncommon at all. And isn't it weird that I feel worse when I'm restricting than I do when I'm fasting? Perhaps it's because I don't purge when I'm fasting. Well, I haven't gone as far as to purging liquids yet. Only once though, Bailey's, cause the calories freaked me out.
Past 93 hours now. I should take that shower before my pills kick in, but I don't know if that's safe. Don't really want to risk passing out there. God damn it, when did something as simple as taking a shower become a dangerous task? I'm always afraid of collapsing in my bathroom. So I guess I'll do it tomorrow instead then, shower, I mean. As long as I get it done before Friday I don't really care.
Now I really want to watch "Sucker Punch" but I just fucking can't. Besides it's late and I just took my sleeping pills. Just 4 more songs on the playlist now. I think this will be it for now.
Monday, 26 October 2015
My dead self image
I'm just so scared what's going on with my scale. Maybe I don't weigh 54 kg at all? What if I'm all the way up to 57 and it's just been fooling me for these past few days? If I weigh 54 or less tomorrow morning I know I'll feel safe again but this is seriously stressing me out. Oh fuck no... cravings already! I want a chicken salad so bad. I don't have chicken at home but I could go buy some... nope I'm fasting. Fasting fasting fasting. Trying to lose weight here and we're not gonna eat chicken salad or anything else for that matter.
Sigh. Just trying to reason with myself. Okay, I'd rather risk more sleep paralysis than sit awake with these cravings. Ugh I feel so fucking fat I want to sleep for a month and then wake up thin. And I can't have my disgusting thighs touching when I'm sitting down which means I have to sit with my legs very far apart. So fucking gross. I haven't been this grossed out by my body in a long time, what the actual fuck, is that scale doing with my head?!
Just... why can't today be over soon? I hate this fucking day. I want to never leave my apartment again, not before I'm at least crossing the border to underweight, but that's just 2 kg away so it probably won't make any difference in how I look anyway. But at least the numbers would be on my side. It feels like I'm 10 times bigger this autumn compared to the last even though I'm at the exact same weight again. I don't remember my stomach being this gross, I don't remember my thighs being this huge, or my arms this fat.
I remember being able to see my ribs when stretching and I remember my collar bones being more visible. I see it on photos, fuck I really am bigger now, knew my damn scale was lying. But we'll see tomorrow morning, cause I won't believe it just like that. I've been fasting for 4 days, I should have lost at least 2 kg or at least one tiny little kilo. I don't understand and won't accept it if I'm heavier than 54 kg by tomorrow morning.
But then I probably wouldn't understand or accept it if I'm lighter either. This doesn't make any sense at all. But I should be lighter and I should continue to lose through this fast. 7 days would equal a loss of 4-7 kg. I should be underweight before Friday. Then I'll have a protein shake for breakfast before the meeting with my shrink and a chicken salad for dinner after. Then back to fasting and I can lose 1-2 more kilos.
If I'm obsessing enough then maybe I can calm myself down. That I can be underweight before Friday and that I actually even should be, since I'm losing 0,5-1 kg a day when I'm fasting. I've been doing good, great actually, losing 9 kg in less than 4 weeks, sticking to my crazy "diet" of at most 500 calories a day. There's nothing wrong with my scale, maybe I just had to poo or something. I've actually been feeling the need to do that for a couple of days without having been able to. I'll take some laxatives before I go to bed, sort that problem out.
Yeah, maybe I just need to take a dump, that's logical. Cause it can't be food weight since I haven't eaten in 4 days and it wasn't water weight either cause I peed right before I stepped on that scale 5-6 times right after each other. Am I going crazy? Or passed that stage long ago? Cause this doesn't seem very logical, this how fat I suddenly feel, as if I'm at least 5 kg heavier than my scale said I was this morning. And then having it just screwing further with my head by showing me higher and higher numbers later in the day despite the fact that I haven't eaten it's just gah I'm going crazy!
Maybe I'm hallucinating too? Wouldn't that be a charm. So fucking tired of this and now I'm getting dizzy/lightheaded too. Fucking great. I should buy some juice tomorrow, just to not get so low blood pressure or something. I know it's a calorie bomb but at least it's liquid so it wouldn't be breaking my fast. Gotta make do with chocolate oat milk for now. If it hasn't expired yet, that is.
This nightmare never ends. I'm just feeling too fat to even be able sit comfortably. The amount of how much I just want to carve off the fat from my thighs is immense right now. I hate my genes, I hate all the fat on my body. So much hate... what good does it do?
Sigh. Just trying to reason with myself. Okay, I'd rather risk more sleep paralysis than sit awake with these cravings. Ugh I feel so fucking fat I want to sleep for a month and then wake up thin. And I can't have my disgusting thighs touching when I'm sitting down which means I have to sit with my legs very far apart. So fucking gross. I haven't been this grossed out by my body in a long time, what the actual fuck, is that scale doing with my head?!
Just... why can't today be over soon? I hate this fucking day. I want to never leave my apartment again, not before I'm at least crossing the border to underweight, but that's just 2 kg away so it probably won't make any difference in how I look anyway. But at least the numbers would be on my side. It feels like I'm 10 times bigger this autumn compared to the last even though I'm at the exact same weight again. I don't remember my stomach being this gross, I don't remember my thighs being this huge, or my arms this fat.
I remember being able to see my ribs when stretching and I remember my collar bones being more visible. I see it on photos, fuck I really am bigger now, knew my damn scale was lying. But we'll see tomorrow morning, cause I won't believe it just like that. I've been fasting for 4 days, I should have lost at least 2 kg or at least one tiny little kilo. I don't understand and won't accept it if I'm heavier than 54 kg by tomorrow morning.
But then I probably wouldn't understand or accept it if I'm lighter either. This doesn't make any sense at all. But I should be lighter and I should continue to lose through this fast. 7 days would equal a loss of 4-7 kg. I should be underweight before Friday. Then I'll have a protein shake for breakfast before the meeting with my shrink and a chicken salad for dinner after. Then back to fasting and I can lose 1-2 more kilos.
If I'm obsessing enough then maybe I can calm myself down. That I can be underweight before Friday and that I actually even should be, since I'm losing 0,5-1 kg a day when I'm fasting. I've been doing good, great actually, losing 9 kg in less than 4 weeks, sticking to my crazy "diet" of at most 500 calories a day. There's nothing wrong with my scale, maybe I just had to poo or something. I've actually been feeling the need to do that for a couple of days without having been able to. I'll take some laxatives before I go to bed, sort that problem out.
Yeah, maybe I just need to take a dump, that's logical. Cause it can't be food weight since I haven't eaten in 4 days and it wasn't water weight either cause I peed right before I stepped on that scale 5-6 times right after each other. Am I going crazy? Or passed that stage long ago? Cause this doesn't seem very logical, this how fat I suddenly feel, as if I'm at least 5 kg heavier than my scale said I was this morning. And then having it just screwing further with my head by showing me higher and higher numbers later in the day despite the fact that I haven't eaten it's just gah I'm going crazy!
Maybe I'm hallucinating too? Wouldn't that be a charm. So fucking tired of this and now I'm getting dizzy/lightheaded too. Fucking great. I should buy some juice tomorrow, just to not get so low blood pressure or something. I know it's a calorie bomb but at least it's liquid so it wouldn't be breaking my fast. Gotta make do with chocolate oat milk for now. If it hasn't expired yet, that is.
This nightmare never ends. I'm just feeling too fat to even be able sit comfortably. The amount of how much I just want to carve off the fat from my thighs is immense right now. I hate my genes, I hate all the fat on my body. So much hate... what good does it do?
All the things I feel
I wonder when I'll actually start seeing a difference on my body. When my bones are sticking out everywhere, perhaps. I just don't know what the fuck I'm feeling today it's like mix of every single emotion but they're all faint. Like when I walked down to the grocery store I felt awesome, then I was close to crying for no reason. For every reason. For K, for the disaster that is my life, for life and death and everything beyond. It didn't hit me very hard or I think I would have broken down crying, more like it just touched my shoulder or something.
I keep thinking how can I starve myself to death with my family doing everything they can to keep me alive? Or they will, as soon as they find out about my relapse. If I hit 44 kg or less by Christmas, or if I'm at least just barely underweight, and refuse recovery how can I just continue starving until I die? What would I say to my mother? Just repeat I'm sorry, I'm sorry like a broken record?
Or somehow try to keep it to myself, say that I'm trying to eat but in fact I'm trying my hardest not to eat? How far could that kind of deception even take me? I don't want her crying herself to sleep because her son is purposely starving himself to death and there's absolutely nothing that she can do about it. I don't want her ever knowing exactly what my intentions really are.
I don't think I want anyone in real life knowing that. Let's just let them know I have relapsed into my ED and it's killing me and I'm "not ready" to get help just yet but that maybe someday I will be. Dealing with other people's worry and care will likely be the hardest thing ever during this slow suicide. I will be dying for months before I'll actually die. I might be ready for that, but no one else will likely ever be.
So yeah, I do keep that in my mind and heart and it does hurt me that I will hurt my loved ones so much. I might be living alone and spend most of my time alone, but I still have a very strong connection to my family. They only live a few miles away (or about 9-10 kilometers) and I feel constantly watched over by them. For better or worse, they're keeping a very watchful eye on me.
I can't escape their compassion and when shit really starts hitting the fan, they will keep all eyes available on me and probably try to force me to come live with them so that they can keep me under even more surveillance. I would refuse of course, but all I'm trying to say is that I won't get away that easily. Oh damn I just feel like escaping and dying somewhere else far far away... I wish and I can dream, but it won't become that way.
If I get to decide, I would go to England. There I could disappear, in my favourite country on this horrible Earth. I've never even been there, so not sure if it would live up to my expectations. I would go if I had the money, but as of now, I can't even afford going to Uppsala, I can barely even afford a bus ticket to Visby. I'm living over my income with my cigarette habit. I could take all the money my mother gives me at the end of a month and leave with that though, but I wouldn't be able to live very long on just 5-6000 kr. Not while I'm smoking for half of that in a month.
But yeah, I dream of going knowing I might never actually be able to. Just me and Anna, to a country I've never been to before. Get lost in London, spending whatever little money I have on expensive drinks and clothes, stay at the shittiest hotel room I can find, and just exist there until I literally die. Yeah... a pretty dream. But I know at least I won't die here on Gotland, I'll try to make sure of that. At least go to Uppsala for my death, at fucking least.
My parents might not let me go, if I'm extremely thin and malnourished by then. But I'm just out of fucks to give when it comes to that. Of course they should let me see my friends just one more time before I die though. But they might not even let me go alone. I'd find a way to die alone in Uppsala even if I have my mother tagging along. If I find a roof, just sneak out late at night when everyone's sleeping and then spend half a day there until time draws near 15:22 and then... yeah. It's a plan as good as any. But not until spring/summer though.
I want one more summer before I go. And I hope it's gonna be warm and sunny and beautiful. I'll flaunt my bones wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. Scare the living crap out of people on the streets. And bathe in lakes or swimming pools on the warmest days. I didn't really enjoy this summer at all. I didn't bathe, barely went outside of my apartment at all. Never went out bare chested because I felt so horribly fat and disgusting.
My body has hindered me for so long, I hope to one day finally be able to not hate it, to not feel so very limited by it. Trapped inside it. I want to view it more as a vessel than as a prison. I remember years before my transition, when I was actually more or less comfortable with my body. I was curvy at a healthy weight and damn I rocked those curves! What made me hate them?
I lived under the illusion that I could be a girl if I just decided that I wanted to be one. I stuffed away my true identity so far down and away that I barely even noticed its existence. So heck yeah, I wore revealing clothes and really accentuated those curves. Push-up bras with extra padding, short flared skirts barely covering my huge butt, high heels, corsets to make my waist look thinner, long hair, lots and lots of make-up. I dolled up full time and yeah I freaking loved it.
I don't even know what happened, what made me suddenly snap and hate my body so extremely much. From flaunting it to hiding it in 2 seconds flat. I was never ashamed for how I chose to dress during most of my teenage years, I accept it was who I was or was trying to be. And I do blame my transsexualism for giving me an eating disorder. It just turned my self hatred up-side-down and inside-out and completely destroyed me. Maybe being transsexual was the worst thing that could ever happen to me.
Not that it's a thing that happens, but I'm sure you know what I mean. That realising my true identity destroyed me. And I'm so so so jealous of other trans people who feel better after their transition. They who can at least on some level, feel comfortable in their own skin. Maybe it's not my identity that destroys me, but my awful genes, making it impossible for me to get the body I so desperately need. And having some kind of body dysmorphia really doesn't help.
Like... I'm mostly okay with my upper body, if only it was bonier. I like my wide shoulders, my flat chest, my arms are okay too. But then the rest of me is just horrible. I literally cannot live with it. I'm starving myself to death because I can't live with how my body looks at a healthy weight. Maybe I am that vain, just focusing too damn much on what I look like on the outside so to the point it fucking blinds me.
But it affects me so much cause I know that what you look like is the first thing anyone sees. It's what people judge you by, even without realising it. And why care so much about what other people think? I ask myself in the midst of all this. Why is it so god damn important? I remember when I used to not care. It was up until I was about 18-19 years old. I didn't give a shit about what other people thought of me. I wish to go back to that mindset, but I think it's way too late for that now.
Now getting thin is the only thing I fucking care about, how did it become that way? I only wanted to get back down to a healthy weight, 60 kg was my goal. Then 57, then 53, then 50, then 47 then 44. Soon enough no number higher than 0 will be low enough. I wonder what weight I'll eventually die at. Hopefully not higher than I am now at least. I hope I'll be so thin that there's literally nothing left of me, I want to disappear. So tired of feeling fat no matter what I do, I just want all the fat on me gone. And death is my true ultimate goal weight.
I keep thinking how can I starve myself to death with my family doing everything they can to keep me alive? Or they will, as soon as they find out about my relapse. If I hit 44 kg or less by Christmas, or if I'm at least just barely underweight, and refuse recovery how can I just continue starving until I die? What would I say to my mother? Just repeat I'm sorry, I'm sorry like a broken record?
Or somehow try to keep it to myself, say that I'm trying to eat but in fact I'm trying my hardest not to eat? How far could that kind of deception even take me? I don't want her crying herself to sleep because her son is purposely starving himself to death and there's absolutely nothing that she can do about it. I don't want her ever knowing exactly what my intentions really are.
I don't think I want anyone in real life knowing that. Let's just let them know I have relapsed into my ED and it's killing me and I'm "not ready" to get help just yet but that maybe someday I will be. Dealing with other people's worry and care will likely be the hardest thing ever during this slow suicide. I will be dying for months before I'll actually die. I might be ready for that, but no one else will likely ever be.
So yeah, I do keep that in my mind and heart and it does hurt me that I will hurt my loved ones so much. I might be living alone and spend most of my time alone, but I still have a very strong connection to my family. They only live a few miles away (or about 9-10 kilometers) and I feel constantly watched over by them. For better or worse, they're keeping a very watchful eye on me.
I can't escape their compassion and when shit really starts hitting the fan, they will keep all eyes available on me and probably try to force me to come live with them so that they can keep me under even more surveillance. I would refuse of course, but all I'm trying to say is that I won't get away that easily. Oh damn I just feel like escaping and dying somewhere else far far away... I wish and I can dream, but it won't become that way.
If I get to decide, I would go to England. There I could disappear, in my favourite country on this horrible Earth. I've never even been there, so not sure if it would live up to my expectations. I would go if I had the money, but as of now, I can't even afford going to Uppsala, I can barely even afford a bus ticket to Visby. I'm living over my income with my cigarette habit. I could take all the money my mother gives me at the end of a month and leave with that though, but I wouldn't be able to live very long on just 5-6000 kr. Not while I'm smoking for half of that in a month.
But yeah, I dream of going knowing I might never actually be able to. Just me and Anna, to a country I've never been to before. Get lost in London, spending whatever little money I have on expensive drinks and clothes, stay at the shittiest hotel room I can find, and just exist there until I literally die. Yeah... a pretty dream. But I know at least I won't die here on Gotland, I'll try to make sure of that. At least go to Uppsala for my death, at fucking least.
My parents might not let me go, if I'm extremely thin and malnourished by then. But I'm just out of fucks to give when it comes to that. Of course they should let me see my friends just one more time before I die though. But they might not even let me go alone. I'd find a way to die alone in Uppsala even if I have my mother tagging along. If I find a roof, just sneak out late at night when everyone's sleeping and then spend half a day there until time draws near 15:22 and then... yeah. It's a plan as good as any. But not until spring/summer though.
I want one more summer before I go. And I hope it's gonna be warm and sunny and beautiful. I'll flaunt my bones wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. Scare the living crap out of people on the streets. And bathe in lakes or swimming pools on the warmest days. I didn't really enjoy this summer at all. I didn't bathe, barely went outside of my apartment at all. Never went out bare chested because I felt so horribly fat and disgusting.
My body has hindered me for so long, I hope to one day finally be able to not hate it, to not feel so very limited by it. Trapped inside it. I want to view it more as a vessel than as a prison. I remember years before my transition, when I was actually more or less comfortable with my body. I was curvy at a healthy weight and damn I rocked those curves! What made me hate them?
I lived under the illusion that I could be a girl if I just decided that I wanted to be one. I stuffed away my true identity so far down and away that I barely even noticed its existence. So heck yeah, I wore revealing clothes and really accentuated those curves. Push-up bras with extra padding, short flared skirts barely covering my huge butt, high heels, corsets to make my waist look thinner, long hair, lots and lots of make-up. I dolled up full time and yeah I freaking loved it.
I don't even know what happened, what made me suddenly snap and hate my body so extremely much. From flaunting it to hiding it in 2 seconds flat. I was never ashamed for how I chose to dress during most of my teenage years, I accept it was who I was or was trying to be. And I do blame my transsexualism for giving me an eating disorder. It just turned my self hatred up-side-down and inside-out and completely destroyed me. Maybe being transsexual was the worst thing that could ever happen to me.
Not that it's a thing that happens, but I'm sure you know what I mean. That realising my true identity destroyed me. And I'm so so so jealous of other trans people who feel better after their transition. They who can at least on some level, feel comfortable in their own skin. Maybe it's not my identity that destroys me, but my awful genes, making it impossible for me to get the body I so desperately need. And having some kind of body dysmorphia really doesn't help.
Like... I'm mostly okay with my upper body, if only it was bonier. I like my wide shoulders, my flat chest, my arms are okay too. But then the rest of me is just horrible. I literally cannot live with it. I'm starving myself to death because I can't live with how my body looks at a healthy weight. Maybe I am that vain, just focusing too damn much on what I look like on the outside so to the point it fucking blinds me.
But it affects me so much cause I know that what you look like is the first thing anyone sees. It's what people judge you by, even without realising it. And why care so much about what other people think? I ask myself in the midst of all this. Why is it so god damn important? I remember when I used to not care. It was up until I was about 18-19 years old. I didn't give a shit about what other people thought of me. I wish to go back to that mindset, but I think it's way too late for that now.
Now getting thin is the only thing I fucking care about, how did it become that way? I only wanted to get back down to a healthy weight, 60 kg was my goal. Then 57, then 53, then 50, then 47 then 44. Soon enough no number higher than 0 will be low enough. I wonder what weight I'll eventually die at. Hopefully not higher than I am now at least. I hope I'll be so thin that there's literally nothing left of me, I want to disappear. So tired of feeling fat no matter what I do, I just want all the fat on me gone. And death is my true ultimate goal weight.
As I fuel my fire
54,1 kg this morning. It's still going in the right direction and I lost another 0,6 kg from yesterday morning. Successfully entering day 4 of my fast as well, as I managed yesterday without eating anything. I made it through the entire weekend! Don't know what's wrong with me though, my symptoms have lessened since I started fasting this time around. Less headaches, not as cold, not as dizzy or nauseous. It confuses me cause I should be getting worse when I stop eating entirely, not better?
I've officially lost 9 kg in 26 days. Think I can make it past 10 kg by the end of the month. After all I've got 5 days, and 4 of those I will be fasting. I just feel so damn accomplished and proud over myself for this extreme weight loss in such a short time. And me already being at a fairly low weight, I had no idea I could still lose so fast. It must be rare to be able to lose 2,25 kg every week for almost 4 weeks straight, with a starting weight of 63 kg.
And I've wondered if anyone on even the ED forum would be worried about my weight loss, because it's been so much in such a short time, but if they would even notice I'm pretty sure they would be more jealous and happy for me than worried. I'm not yet underweight, so I don't think they would worry too much. But so far I've gotten no comments about it there, despite talking about it all the time and always keeping my signature updated with my stats.
And I can't help but laugh a little, perhaps giggle, when I see posts there from other people asking if they can lose anything from 10 to 20 pounds in a month and in my head I'm like "yeah sure you can do it, I did it" but then I remain silent cause I don't want to trigger them. I don't want anyone taking after my disastrous eating habits. No matter if they already have an eating disorder or not.
Cause even most anorexics on that site are healthier and living safer lives than me. Perhaps not the ones doing 20+ days of water fasts until they end up in a hospital, but pretty much everyone else. Oh, and I actually found someone else with the same illogical delusion thingy as I have! That about believing I can only lose weight if I'm fasting. I posted about it in a thread there and that other person quoted me and agreed. They seemed to also eat in a similar way as I do, with lots of fasting and then eating up to 500 on non-fasting days. I wonder for how long they've done that and if they're half dying too.
I can't believe I'm so close to my ugw. I've only got 10 more kg to lose, having had 19 kg to lose at the beginning of my relapse. It's less than half of it left. I'll make it before Christmas, I'm sure I will, cause now I know I can fast again without eating and purging like crazy every single day. That I've got a shit load of self control if I just try hard enough. I won't purge for at least 1,5 weeks now, is the plan. And so far so good! I haven't even had the urge or wish to purge. Only wish to fasting and not eat anything at all. To replace my meals with coffee and energy drinks, and that one cup of chicken broth last night.
It's all I've had for the last 3 days and I feel fine, better than before actually. I'm confident I'll make it through this week and by the time I get back to school again next Monday, I'll be thinner and my tightest and smallest jeans will likely sit loose on me. I'll wash them then to make them tighter again and keep them washed at least once every other week too keep them tight on me. And when that no longer helps I'm gonna sew them in tighter again. At least that's the plan.
And once again I'll only have one pair of jeans to wear but to me that doesn't matter. I'll probably go clothes shopping anyway, in thrift stores (on my own, by myself) by the time I hit 49-50 kg. I would only wear tight clothes when my mother is not around in any context, as I want to hide my weight loss from her for as long as I possibly can. But she'll probably notice it soon enough.
As will the rest, whether I'm trying to hide it or not. Hiding can only take me so far, as I can't hide my face and weight loss apparently does show in my face although I was unaware of that until I was told, sometime last year. I mean, my uncle who doesn't see me very often could see that I had lost weight last Christmas despite me wearing layers of thick and bulky clothes all the way up to my neck. I swear the only parts of me showing was my head and my hands.
I wonder when I'll actually see weight loss in my face, when I'll see cheek bones instead of cheek fat. Maybe on my ugw, maybe lower, but I don't think I'm gonna see that before then. I will get to my ugw of 44 kg before I for sure decide if I want/need to go even lower. I probably and most likely will try to get down to 40 kg at least, as that's the exact half of my original weight and that number is therefore special to me. Then perhaps down to 38 kg if I still don't think 40 is enough.
But I'd stop it there in that case, cause 38 kg is pretty fucking low and would give me a BMI of just 13,5. I would barely be able to stand on my own legs if I get that low. I'd be a skeleton in a wheelchair and that just seems way too impractical for me. Now I'm glad that my apartment actually does have some simple equipment that can aid in physical disability, such as an elevator if the 5 steps to my apartment would be impossible to get across. And inside my bathroom there are handles everywhere. The rooms are big enough to fit a wheelchair.
So it wouldn't be the end of the world if I do get into a situation like that, but I'd probably need even more care than I already do and I wouldn't like that part. So yeah, gonna try to avoid letting my eating disorder take me quite that far. A BMI of 13,5 is extremely low and considered real danger, so yeah. So I guess I'll stick to trying to get to 44 kg instead, as that seems a little less risky and me being incredibly strong, I think I wouldn't be too dysfunctional on that weight.
Everyone would hate it if I get that thin. It's like they don't even understand why I want to get to that point in the first place, or do they? I hardly think so, but you never know. I guess my mother will try to learn more about eating disorders and particularly anorexia at that point or before in an attempt to try to understand me better. I'd appreciate that a lot, but I still wouldn't want to change and recover. And I do still feel bad for hurting her, but it's nothing compared to how bad I'll feel about it when I've become that thin. Because fulfilling your parent's worst nightmare isn't exactly the most fun part.
But it's my goal that I just need so damn much no matter who the fuck I'm hurting on the way. It's my last fight, the last thing that matter something to me, excluding certain people. Cause I really have nothing else now. My eating disorder took away basically everything else and now I feel like just a shell that needs to get thinner. I've never been thin, never really really thin and I just need to know what it's like. I need to feel it, to be it, to experience everything about what having a severe eating disorder can be like. It's my fire and I just need it.
It is my fire and not eating is my gasoline. This is finally something I can do without any possible aid from outside. I'm not dependent on tools or other people, basically all I need to do is not eat, or eat very little. There's so much power in that, knowing it's a certain kind of harm that I can cause myself without needing access to anything at all. I'm creating something literally out of nothing. Time and patience are the only things I need.
I've officially lost 9 kg in 26 days. Think I can make it past 10 kg by the end of the month. After all I've got 5 days, and 4 of those I will be fasting. I just feel so damn accomplished and proud over myself for this extreme weight loss in such a short time. And me already being at a fairly low weight, I had no idea I could still lose so fast. It must be rare to be able to lose 2,25 kg every week for almost 4 weeks straight, with a starting weight of 63 kg.
And I've wondered if anyone on even the ED forum would be worried about my weight loss, because it's been so much in such a short time, but if they would even notice I'm pretty sure they would be more jealous and happy for me than worried. I'm not yet underweight, so I don't think they would worry too much. But so far I've gotten no comments about it there, despite talking about it all the time and always keeping my signature updated with my stats.
And I can't help but laugh a little, perhaps giggle, when I see posts there from other people asking if they can lose anything from 10 to 20 pounds in a month and in my head I'm like "yeah sure you can do it, I did it" but then I remain silent cause I don't want to trigger them. I don't want anyone taking after my disastrous eating habits. No matter if they already have an eating disorder or not.
Cause even most anorexics on that site are healthier and living safer lives than me. Perhaps not the ones doing 20+ days of water fasts until they end up in a hospital, but pretty much everyone else. Oh, and I actually found someone else with the same illogical delusion thingy as I have! That about believing I can only lose weight if I'm fasting. I posted about it in a thread there and that other person quoted me and agreed. They seemed to also eat in a similar way as I do, with lots of fasting and then eating up to 500 on non-fasting days. I wonder for how long they've done that and if they're half dying too.
I can't believe I'm so close to my ugw. I've only got 10 more kg to lose, having had 19 kg to lose at the beginning of my relapse. It's less than half of it left. I'll make it before Christmas, I'm sure I will, cause now I know I can fast again without eating and purging like crazy every single day. That I've got a shit load of self control if I just try hard enough. I won't purge for at least 1,5 weeks now, is the plan. And so far so good! I haven't even had the urge or wish to purge. Only wish to fasting and not eat anything at all. To replace my meals with coffee and energy drinks, and that one cup of chicken broth last night.
It's all I've had for the last 3 days and I feel fine, better than before actually. I'm confident I'll make it through this week and by the time I get back to school again next Monday, I'll be thinner and my tightest and smallest jeans will likely sit loose on me. I'll wash them then to make them tighter again and keep them washed at least once every other week too keep them tight on me. And when that no longer helps I'm gonna sew them in tighter again. At least that's the plan.
And once again I'll only have one pair of jeans to wear but to me that doesn't matter. I'll probably go clothes shopping anyway, in thrift stores (on my own, by myself) by the time I hit 49-50 kg. I would only wear tight clothes when my mother is not around in any context, as I want to hide my weight loss from her for as long as I possibly can. But she'll probably notice it soon enough.
As will the rest, whether I'm trying to hide it or not. Hiding can only take me so far, as I can't hide my face and weight loss apparently does show in my face although I was unaware of that until I was told, sometime last year. I mean, my uncle who doesn't see me very often could see that I had lost weight last Christmas despite me wearing layers of thick and bulky clothes all the way up to my neck. I swear the only parts of me showing was my head and my hands.
I wonder when I'll actually see weight loss in my face, when I'll see cheek bones instead of cheek fat. Maybe on my ugw, maybe lower, but I don't think I'm gonna see that before then. I will get to my ugw of 44 kg before I for sure decide if I want/need to go even lower. I probably and most likely will try to get down to 40 kg at least, as that's the exact half of my original weight and that number is therefore special to me. Then perhaps down to 38 kg if I still don't think 40 is enough.
But I'd stop it there in that case, cause 38 kg is pretty fucking low and would give me a BMI of just 13,5. I would barely be able to stand on my own legs if I get that low. I'd be a skeleton in a wheelchair and that just seems way too impractical for me. Now I'm glad that my apartment actually does have some simple equipment that can aid in physical disability, such as an elevator if the 5 steps to my apartment would be impossible to get across. And inside my bathroom there are handles everywhere. The rooms are big enough to fit a wheelchair.
So it wouldn't be the end of the world if I do get into a situation like that, but I'd probably need even more care than I already do and I wouldn't like that part. So yeah, gonna try to avoid letting my eating disorder take me quite that far. A BMI of 13,5 is extremely low and considered real danger, so yeah. So I guess I'll stick to trying to get to 44 kg instead, as that seems a little less risky and me being incredibly strong, I think I wouldn't be too dysfunctional on that weight.
Everyone would hate it if I get that thin. It's like they don't even understand why I want to get to that point in the first place, or do they? I hardly think so, but you never know. I guess my mother will try to learn more about eating disorders and particularly anorexia at that point or before in an attempt to try to understand me better. I'd appreciate that a lot, but I still wouldn't want to change and recover. And I do still feel bad for hurting her, but it's nothing compared to how bad I'll feel about it when I've become that thin. Because fulfilling your parent's worst nightmare isn't exactly the most fun part.
But it's my goal that I just need so damn much no matter who the fuck I'm hurting on the way. It's my last fight, the last thing that matter something to me, excluding certain people. Cause I really have nothing else now. My eating disorder took away basically everything else and now I feel like just a shell that needs to get thinner. I've never been thin, never really really thin and I just need to know what it's like. I need to feel it, to be it, to experience everything about what having a severe eating disorder can be like. It's my fire and I just need it.
It is my fire and not eating is my gasoline. This is finally something I can do without any possible aid from outside. I'm not dependent on tools or other people, basically all I need to do is not eat, or eat very little. There's so much power in that, knowing it's a certain kind of harm that I can cause myself without needing access to anything at all. I'm creating something literally out of nothing. Time and patience are the only things I need.
Trying to be strong even when I can't
Once again I'm worried about K. I can't say why but I'm guessing you could guess your way to it, as I write this. I just want for him to hold on, but I don't even know what for. Being a suicidal mess myself, it's hard for me to give anyone reasons to stay. I'd feel like such a hypocrite, you know? And I wonder how he's been lately but my guesses are, not so good. I just wish I could be there to comfort, or agree that the world is an awful place at least.
I know I might not be the best kind of comfort to seek even, as I often tend to think bad ideas are good and good ideas are pointless. After all, I've been living a whole life thinking that way. How could I ever convince him to stay when I can't even convince myself of the same thing? And all I can think is what happens will happen no matter what. And I wonder who of us will stay the longest. We're practically the same age, but is it a competition? Hardly. I don't think life should be forced, and neither should death.
But it's just... it's hard for me to let go. To accept things as they are when he's the love of my fucking life, you know? Still I'd rather stand by his side, take his hand and whisper that it's okay - rather than do everything in my power to try to stop him. I don't want him leaving, of fucking course not, but I don't want to try to force him into life either. Cause I've been there just too damn many times myself and I know what is a call for help and what isn't.
I'm trying to be strong for him, I really do, but sometimes maybe it's even better to be weak and not afraid to admit that? That I just can't handle this kind of pressure. It breaks me every time. What would anyone expect of me to do when I'm just dissolving? Can't pick up the phone, can't do anything but writing this crap while rocking myself and fighting back the tears. One day I could lose him, like really lose him and it's driving me insane.
I know I might not be the best kind of comfort to seek even, as I often tend to think bad ideas are good and good ideas are pointless. After all, I've been living a whole life thinking that way. How could I ever convince him to stay when I can't even convince myself of the same thing? And all I can think is what happens will happen no matter what. And I wonder who of us will stay the longest. We're practically the same age, but is it a competition? Hardly. I don't think life should be forced, and neither should death.
But it's just... it's hard for me to let go. To accept things as they are when he's the love of my fucking life, you know? Still I'd rather stand by his side, take his hand and whisper that it's okay - rather than do everything in my power to try to stop him. I don't want him leaving, of fucking course not, but I don't want to try to force him into life either. Cause I've been there just too damn many times myself and I know what is a call for help and what isn't.
I'm trying to be strong for him, I really do, but sometimes maybe it's even better to be weak and not afraid to admit that? That I just can't handle this kind of pressure. It breaks me every time. What would anyone expect of me to do when I'm just dissolving? Can't pick up the phone, can't do anything but writing this crap while rocking myself and fighting back the tears. One day I could lose him, like really lose him and it's driving me insane.
Sunday, 25 October 2015
Not afraid to tell the truth
I think it's gonna be a cold winter, little but not a lot of snow. It's just a feeling I have, an unbiased and general feeling. Like a gut feeling. I hope I'm wrong though. I don't want to freeze my ass off for 3 months no matter what I do, I just don't. I don't look forward to anything related to winter anymore. Not snow, not Christmas, not New Years and definitely not Valentine's Day. Winter will just be a 3 months long nightmare this time.
And I will almost get to celebrate that 10th Valentine's Day, but miss it with about half a year, as it's the 9th anniversary this upcoming February. 9 long years will have passed, I can't fathom it. Will I ever be able to survive on that day and the weeks around it? Will I ever be able to just let go and realise that memories can't hurt me? No... I don't think so. I think I'll get myself drunk, take all the pills I have, smoke 6 packs of cigarettes, cut myself and starve myself for the last time that day. Because then there will be no more Valentine's Days.
I only have one such left to go through, and I smile a bitter sweet smile. Sweet because it's the last fucking time, but bitter because I never actually got over what happened to me that day almost 9 years ago. It still cuts me open, it still makes me bleed. And I can't cry anymore for what he did to me, but at least, one huge thing, is that his name no longer has a bad ring to it. I thank K for that, as they share the same name.
And although loving K doesn't make me love his name, it does make me not hate it anymore. I think that's a huge thing. Also, come to think of it, one of my worst bullies during elementary school also had that name. It's been ringing bad in my ears for so many years it's not so strange that I was conflicted when I fell for K. But love knows no limits and a name is just a name.
Sometimes I wish I could see him again, the guy who hurt me almost 9 years ago, but I have no idea what I would say to him. Or if I would just beat him to the ground, or share a coffee with him over small talk. I'm a complicated being. I would want for his life to be so awful and horrible by now and I would love to just laugh at him for whatever mess he would have gotten into. I remember he was extremely homophobic. I would just love to see the look on his face if he saw me now and realised, that he actually raped another guy. Now that, would be priceless.
I still think about what happened. Not very often and rarely in detail, but I get glimpses of the event. It went on for several hours so it's always something that follows me around. Sometimes I can't sleep if it's haunting me at night, other times I can't focus on what I'm doing if it's haunting me during the day. I don't get nightmares however, and no real flashbacks. Just glimpses of an old memory that always lingers.
I don't think I'll ever be able to accept it, or move on. I'll just keep thinking and writing about it without really getting anywhere. I've said all I can say about it, but I can't stop saying it. Over and over it repeats in my head, the same and only event. It was the first and the last time I saw him, but we had been in contact via internet and phone calls for months before. He was the first person I found online and followed home. Bad mistake, why did I repeat it?
I had had some, but not complete sexual experiences before I met him. He was my first time and no matter how I twist and turn it, it was that way without a doubt. And I'm sure I've gone over this before and over again, but that is not a good way to lose your virginity. The damage on my heart is permanent, I know that now, it's a wound that can never heal.
So I'll celebrate the 9th and last anniversary this upcoming February, with all the tears I can muster. I won't keep it a secret to anyone anymore, what good does that even do? I was raped and it's something I've just had to live with. I might even tell my shrink, when that time draws more near, cause all she knows is that something bad happened. And I think she could have guessed her way to what it was, but I never told her and she never asked.
Recovery... I don't think it's for broken people. And I've been shattered so many times I've lost count. Now I'm just waiting for my time to come, cause it doesn't get any better than this. I knew already years ago that 2014 was gonna be the best year of my life and I was right. It can't get better than this, cause my heart isn't in it, in anything, anymore. I'm just too broken to function, I've given up, stopped fighting. Now the only thing I fight for is losing weight and I will also fight for my right to lose weight beyond what is healthy. I believe it's my last, or one of my last, fights.
I don't have much strength left and I will only get weaker. My mind may be powerful, but this body can't last forever in this state. I have a prophecy to fulfill and it's going to be fulfilled no matter what. I'm getting more and more ready by the day. It has felt as if I've been living on borrowed time for a long while now, I'm not sure why. But I've always had that sensation that I'm not completely done yet, with life, but slowly and steadily I'm getting all the more done. Like, you know that feeling when you sit up late at night knowing you have to go to bed, but you're just not done with the day that's been yet? That feeling.
Through every suicide attempt and suicidal episode, I've had that feeling, but now... I don't know. It's like I'm reading the last pages of a book or summarising the last chapters of a book I've written. Like I just know I'm actually close to the end this time. It's a strange and sometimes a bit overwhelming feeling, but it doesn't feel bad. It's like I'm longing for that last and final sigh that suddenly doesn't seem so very far away. I have lived, not for long, but I truly have lived. And I'm still living, I still am.
And I will almost get to celebrate that 10th Valentine's Day, but miss it with about half a year, as it's the 9th anniversary this upcoming February. 9 long years will have passed, I can't fathom it. Will I ever be able to survive on that day and the weeks around it? Will I ever be able to just let go and realise that memories can't hurt me? No... I don't think so. I think I'll get myself drunk, take all the pills I have, smoke 6 packs of cigarettes, cut myself and starve myself for the last time that day. Because then there will be no more Valentine's Days.
I only have one such left to go through, and I smile a bitter sweet smile. Sweet because it's the last fucking time, but bitter because I never actually got over what happened to me that day almost 9 years ago. It still cuts me open, it still makes me bleed. And I can't cry anymore for what he did to me, but at least, one huge thing, is that his name no longer has a bad ring to it. I thank K for that, as they share the same name.
And although loving K doesn't make me love his name, it does make me not hate it anymore. I think that's a huge thing. Also, come to think of it, one of my worst bullies during elementary school also had that name. It's been ringing bad in my ears for so many years it's not so strange that I was conflicted when I fell for K. But love knows no limits and a name is just a name.
Sometimes I wish I could see him again, the guy who hurt me almost 9 years ago, but I have no idea what I would say to him. Or if I would just beat him to the ground, or share a coffee with him over small talk. I'm a complicated being. I would want for his life to be so awful and horrible by now and I would love to just laugh at him for whatever mess he would have gotten into. I remember he was extremely homophobic. I would just love to see the look on his face if he saw me now and realised, that he actually raped another guy. Now that, would be priceless.
I still think about what happened. Not very often and rarely in detail, but I get glimpses of the event. It went on for several hours so it's always something that follows me around. Sometimes I can't sleep if it's haunting me at night, other times I can't focus on what I'm doing if it's haunting me during the day. I don't get nightmares however, and no real flashbacks. Just glimpses of an old memory that always lingers.
I don't think I'll ever be able to accept it, or move on. I'll just keep thinking and writing about it without really getting anywhere. I've said all I can say about it, but I can't stop saying it. Over and over it repeats in my head, the same and only event. It was the first and the last time I saw him, but we had been in contact via internet and phone calls for months before. He was the first person I found online and followed home. Bad mistake, why did I repeat it?
I had had some, but not complete sexual experiences before I met him. He was my first time and no matter how I twist and turn it, it was that way without a doubt. And I'm sure I've gone over this before and over again, but that is not a good way to lose your virginity. The damage on my heart is permanent, I know that now, it's a wound that can never heal.
So I'll celebrate the 9th and last anniversary this upcoming February, with all the tears I can muster. I won't keep it a secret to anyone anymore, what good does that even do? I was raped and it's something I've just had to live with. I might even tell my shrink, when that time draws more near, cause all she knows is that something bad happened. And I think she could have guessed her way to what it was, but I never told her and she never asked.
Recovery... I don't think it's for broken people. And I've been shattered so many times I've lost count. Now I'm just waiting for my time to come, cause it doesn't get any better than this. I knew already years ago that 2014 was gonna be the best year of my life and I was right. It can't get better than this, cause my heart isn't in it, in anything, anymore. I'm just too broken to function, I've given up, stopped fighting. Now the only thing I fight for is losing weight and I will also fight for my right to lose weight beyond what is healthy. I believe it's my last, or one of my last, fights.
I don't have much strength left and I will only get weaker. My mind may be powerful, but this body can't last forever in this state. I have a prophecy to fulfill and it's going to be fulfilled no matter what. I'm getting more and more ready by the day. It has felt as if I've been living on borrowed time for a long while now, I'm not sure why. But I've always had that sensation that I'm not completely done yet, with life, but slowly and steadily I'm getting all the more done. Like, you know that feeling when you sit up late at night knowing you have to go to bed, but you're just not done with the day that's been yet? That feeling.
Through every suicide attempt and suicidal episode, I've had that feeling, but now... I don't know. It's like I'm reading the last pages of a book or summarising the last chapters of a book I've written. Like I just know I'm actually close to the end this time. It's a strange and sometimes a bit overwhelming feeling, but it doesn't feel bad. It's like I'm longing for that last and final sigh that suddenly doesn't seem so very far away. I have lived, not for long, but I truly have lived. And I'm still living, I still am.
The nearest future inside my head
And I know that the key to freedom is simply letting go. It's the hardest thing to do, but it is that simple. If you're holding on or fighting it will trap you, I'm sure of it as that's what I've done through most of my life. My mother is very wise and has often tried to teach me that, that I need to let go of things that are bothering me. I know it, but I can't put it into practice, I've never known how. I think that is something that can only be learned, not taught.
Self discovery has always been my thing. I've always kept digging in my heart, mind and soul to get to know myself better than I ever thought was possible. It has hurt me, but also freed me in a way. So half free, half a prisoner of my own mind, I walk on the border with one foot in my cage. I can't let go of my cage as it's my only true home but don't I also know that even if I manage to escape, I won't necessarily lose what is home to me?
They say home is where the heart is, but to me, my heart is my home. I always bring it with me, my curse and my comfort. It's so comforting knowing that wherever I end up, how ever many galaxies away from my favourite place, I'll somehow always take my home with me, wherever I go. Maybe by heart I mean soul, cause sometimes it's hard for me to tell the difference between those two. They interlock and connect with each other, but they're also very different. I don't know, sometimes I just don't know.
This might be crazy but... somehow I think my eating disorder brings me closer to that home, to myself, my inner core. That all this suicidality makes me more real somehow. I open up in strange new ways that didn't seem possible before. It's like I gaze inside and outwards at the same time, meeting somewhere in the middle. I'm not wasting air, I'm using it. What I do might not affect the world on any kind of larger scale, but I do somehow think that I contribute somehow, by just trying to be real.
I reach out to people, help them if I can or just offer support for whatever they may go through. But I wouldn't lie and tell them what others have told me over the years. Nope, it might not get better, for example. But it can. Not for me, but maybe for you. I might be a part time misanthrope but little by little I'm letting people back into my sphere or comfort zone again. People usually see that as a sign of getting better, but to me it's almost always been the opposite.
Because... how do I phrase this? It's something I can't fully understand myself, but I think it's because the more I give up, the more I'm letting go. And by letting go, I lower my guard. I never let them in on my suicidal or eating disordered thoughts though, I just share what I think is the best to share at the moment. So I still keep my distance, afraid to let people too deep in under my surface.
Not sure what could happen if I would, let them in too deep, that is. Causing worry, causing alarm and putting pressure on the other people as if they were obligated to make me feel better. They're definitely not, but they often seem to think that they are. No one is ever obligated to make anyone feel better, it's no one's duty except possibly those who work in hospitals. But just the average, random person that I happen to open up to? Heck no, you're not obligated to do anything except possibly just listen to me.
I think people put too high demands on themselves in such situations, that they're just trying too hard when really all they need to do is to just listen. Now of course I appreciate it when I'm given good advice or comfort or anything along those lines, I'm just saying that it's not required.
I keep forgetting that it's Sunday and I'm like "Why didn't I buy more cigarettes today?" and then I'm like "Oh, because the tobacco store is closed." I seem to confuse the days much more when I'm either not eating or not sleeping. I'm going on artificial sleep these nights to try and steer up a circadian rhythm again. Mostly my only reason for that is to prevent night eating. I'm horrible, I know.
But it works and I haven't eaten for 2,5 days, thanks to being able to go to sleep at more decent times at night. Although last night must have been an odd exception, cause I didn't fall asleep before 4:00 am and still managed to not go berserk in my kitchen. I don't know how exactly to count the time I went to bed because time moved backwards an hour before I went to bed. So actually I fell asleep sometime around 4:30 but my watch only showed 3:30.
But I still went up in the morning when they woke me up around 9:30 and I've managed to stay awake since then. It's easier for me to starve in mornings and during the light hours than during the dark hours. My "peak" or what to say, when I'm the most awfully starved, is usually between midnight and 2:00 am. So I'm opting for setting bedtime to when those cravings start to make me lose all that control and will power.
Uh, I find myself looking at thinspo all days now. Mostly of girls because male thinspo is much harder to find. Or perhaps I should say, male bonespo is hard to find. I don't know why I keep looking at it though, it's not like I actually need "motivation" or something. Not anymore, now my eating disorder is just too real to even try to ignore. It reminds me of how much I want to lose weight all the time, I don't need external reminders that I need to keep working for my goal.
So tired now, need more caffeine, but can't decide if I should have coffee or an energy drink. I felt so damn anorexic at the grocery store by the way, only buying coffee, tea and energy drinks. And oh, I found a solution for the bitter taste of Imovane that I could before only deal with by eating something: mouthwash! Lots and lots of mouthwash. I think I rinsed my mouth with that crap 3 times last night, after taking that medication.
Yeah, I'm the picture of health, obviously. I'll try to make it to my bed without Imovane tonight though, as I've already taken it 3 nights in a row now. I don't want to waste them or get used to taking them. I need for them to actually work when I need them. So, just Lergigan and Mirtazapine will have to do tonight.
Oh my god, I wonder how bad all my values and such would be if I took a blood test right now. Like high in cholesterol and low in everything else. It surprised me last winter that your cholesterol gets higher when you starve yourself. I didn't know that before and I do still find it rather strange. They'll probably take some new blood tests on me by the time they notice my relapse though. And nag about me taking stupid vitamin supplements and what not. As if I cared. As if I wanted to get better.
I would face it with a grin, that I've successfully damaged my body so to the point I am in deficiency. If I am, that is. Cause yeah, what I do eat is usually healthy stuff like salads and egg soups and such, but I eat so very little of it and half the time I'm literally only living on sugar and caffeine. My body has been showing signs of malnutrition for quite a while. And oh, maybe by the time they do notice my relapse they could check my heart too? See if it really is beating irregularly, I mean?
I'd likely refuse any kind of extra medications or whatever they could possibly want to throw at me though. It would only still my curiosity. I wouldn't seek that help, but I'd agree to get tested if they wanted me to. Cause the tests are (hopefully) harmless and it could be good to know just how much of having one foot in the grave I actually am. Cause I'm already close to collapsing and it could take weeks, even months, before those idiots actually start noticing that my ED is back.
I wouldn't just confess it, but I might be able to hint at it as I get closer to my anorexic BMI or something. Not that I want help ever, which you know by now, but I want that fucking diagnosis. And I know they're gonna notice sooner or later. I can't just walk around looking like a freaking skeleton and expect everyone to be fine with that. Not a chance. And I don't want them to be fine with it either, I want for people to care and ask me how am I really feeling behind all these lies?
And when they ask me for how long I've been starving this time I'll say from October 1st cause that's when I started losing weight, even though my relapse was actually in late August. I had like a double relapse. First slowly just making my portions smaller and stop eating chocolate, then suddenly and all at once. And I might also throw in that I've been doing a better job at slowly killing myself this time than ever before.
I would want for them to know all of the reality, the doctors. Might save my mother some of the awful truth. Like that about my heart, unless it's something very serious then I should let her know cause then it would actually be important. I don't know, it depends, on exactly how dying I will be by then. Who knows, maybe my shrink will notice already now on Friday? In that case I'll lie my way out of it, cause it's way too soon and I'm not even underweight yet.
I'll keep the vultures off my back as much as I can at least until I've reached 46-47 kg. Then, when I'm finally getting thin enough for an anorexia diagnosis, I'll agree to getting poked around with again. But only for a health check and a diagnosis, only that. Then leave the entire psychiatry behind me for good if I have to, if it has to come to that. I will try to be prepared for whatever storms I can be expecting, try to do my best to keep my head straight through it all. Cause it's my life, don't you forget.
Self discovery has always been my thing. I've always kept digging in my heart, mind and soul to get to know myself better than I ever thought was possible. It has hurt me, but also freed me in a way. So half free, half a prisoner of my own mind, I walk on the border with one foot in my cage. I can't let go of my cage as it's my only true home but don't I also know that even if I manage to escape, I won't necessarily lose what is home to me?
They say home is where the heart is, but to me, my heart is my home. I always bring it with me, my curse and my comfort. It's so comforting knowing that wherever I end up, how ever many galaxies away from my favourite place, I'll somehow always take my home with me, wherever I go. Maybe by heart I mean soul, cause sometimes it's hard for me to tell the difference between those two. They interlock and connect with each other, but they're also very different. I don't know, sometimes I just don't know.
This might be crazy but... somehow I think my eating disorder brings me closer to that home, to myself, my inner core. That all this suicidality makes me more real somehow. I open up in strange new ways that didn't seem possible before. It's like I gaze inside and outwards at the same time, meeting somewhere in the middle. I'm not wasting air, I'm using it. What I do might not affect the world on any kind of larger scale, but I do somehow think that I contribute somehow, by just trying to be real.
I reach out to people, help them if I can or just offer support for whatever they may go through. But I wouldn't lie and tell them what others have told me over the years. Nope, it might not get better, for example. But it can. Not for me, but maybe for you. I might be a part time misanthrope but little by little I'm letting people back into my sphere or comfort zone again. People usually see that as a sign of getting better, but to me it's almost always been the opposite.
Because... how do I phrase this? It's something I can't fully understand myself, but I think it's because the more I give up, the more I'm letting go. And by letting go, I lower my guard. I never let them in on my suicidal or eating disordered thoughts though, I just share what I think is the best to share at the moment. So I still keep my distance, afraid to let people too deep in under my surface.
Not sure what could happen if I would, let them in too deep, that is. Causing worry, causing alarm and putting pressure on the other people as if they were obligated to make me feel better. They're definitely not, but they often seem to think that they are. No one is ever obligated to make anyone feel better, it's no one's duty except possibly those who work in hospitals. But just the average, random person that I happen to open up to? Heck no, you're not obligated to do anything except possibly just listen to me.
I think people put too high demands on themselves in such situations, that they're just trying too hard when really all they need to do is to just listen. Now of course I appreciate it when I'm given good advice or comfort or anything along those lines, I'm just saying that it's not required.
I keep forgetting that it's Sunday and I'm like "Why didn't I buy more cigarettes today?" and then I'm like "Oh, because the tobacco store is closed." I seem to confuse the days much more when I'm either not eating or not sleeping. I'm going on artificial sleep these nights to try and steer up a circadian rhythm again. Mostly my only reason for that is to prevent night eating. I'm horrible, I know.
But it works and I haven't eaten for 2,5 days, thanks to being able to go to sleep at more decent times at night. Although last night must have been an odd exception, cause I didn't fall asleep before 4:00 am and still managed to not go berserk in my kitchen. I don't know how exactly to count the time I went to bed because time moved backwards an hour before I went to bed. So actually I fell asleep sometime around 4:30 but my watch only showed 3:30.
But I still went up in the morning when they woke me up around 9:30 and I've managed to stay awake since then. It's easier for me to starve in mornings and during the light hours than during the dark hours. My "peak" or what to say, when I'm the most awfully starved, is usually between midnight and 2:00 am. So I'm opting for setting bedtime to when those cravings start to make me lose all that control and will power.
Uh, I find myself looking at thinspo all days now. Mostly of girls because male thinspo is much harder to find. Or perhaps I should say, male bonespo is hard to find. I don't know why I keep looking at it though, it's not like I actually need "motivation" or something. Not anymore, now my eating disorder is just too real to even try to ignore. It reminds me of how much I want to lose weight all the time, I don't need external reminders that I need to keep working for my goal.
So tired now, need more caffeine, but can't decide if I should have coffee or an energy drink. I felt so damn anorexic at the grocery store by the way, only buying coffee, tea and energy drinks. And oh, I found a solution for the bitter taste of Imovane that I could before only deal with by eating something: mouthwash! Lots and lots of mouthwash. I think I rinsed my mouth with that crap 3 times last night, after taking that medication.
Yeah, I'm the picture of health, obviously. I'll try to make it to my bed without Imovane tonight though, as I've already taken it 3 nights in a row now. I don't want to waste them or get used to taking them. I need for them to actually work when I need them. So, just Lergigan and Mirtazapine will have to do tonight.
Oh my god, I wonder how bad all my values and such would be if I took a blood test right now. Like high in cholesterol and low in everything else. It surprised me last winter that your cholesterol gets higher when you starve yourself. I didn't know that before and I do still find it rather strange. They'll probably take some new blood tests on me by the time they notice my relapse though. And nag about me taking stupid vitamin supplements and what not. As if I cared. As if I wanted to get better.
I would face it with a grin, that I've successfully damaged my body so to the point I am in deficiency. If I am, that is. Cause yeah, what I do eat is usually healthy stuff like salads and egg soups and such, but I eat so very little of it and half the time I'm literally only living on sugar and caffeine. My body has been showing signs of malnutrition for quite a while. And oh, maybe by the time they do notice my relapse they could check my heart too? See if it really is beating irregularly, I mean?
I'd likely refuse any kind of extra medications or whatever they could possibly want to throw at me though. It would only still my curiosity. I wouldn't seek that help, but I'd agree to get tested if they wanted me to. Cause the tests are (hopefully) harmless and it could be good to know just how much of having one foot in the grave I actually am. Cause I'm already close to collapsing and it could take weeks, even months, before those idiots actually start noticing that my ED is back.
I wouldn't just confess it, but I might be able to hint at it as I get closer to my anorexic BMI or something. Not that I want help ever, which you know by now, but I want that fucking diagnosis. And I know they're gonna notice sooner or later. I can't just walk around looking like a freaking skeleton and expect everyone to be fine with that. Not a chance. And I don't want them to be fine with it either, I want for people to care and ask me how am I really feeling behind all these lies?
And when they ask me for how long I've been starving this time I'll say from October 1st cause that's when I started losing weight, even though my relapse was actually in late August. I had like a double relapse. First slowly just making my portions smaller and stop eating chocolate, then suddenly and all at once. And I might also throw in that I've been doing a better job at slowly killing myself this time than ever before.
I would want for them to know all of the reality, the doctors. Might save my mother some of the awful truth. Like that about my heart, unless it's something very serious then I should let her know cause then it would actually be important. I don't know, it depends, on exactly how dying I will be by then. Who knows, maybe my shrink will notice already now on Friday? In that case I'll lie my way out of it, cause it's way too soon and I'm not even underweight yet.
I'll keep the vultures off my back as much as I can at least until I've reached 46-47 kg. Then, when I'm finally getting thin enough for an anorexia diagnosis, I'll agree to getting poked around with again. But only for a health check and a diagnosis, only that. Then leave the entire psychiatry behind me for good if I have to, if it has to come to that. I will try to be prepared for whatever storms I can be expecting, try to do my best to keep my head straight through it all. Cause it's my life, don't you forget.
They love me and care
No productivity today. The most productive I've done so far was taking a 3 minutes walk around in my apartment cause I've been scared of collapsing if I walk around outdoors. Passing out kilometres from home in the middle of the night just seems like a generally bad idea, I mean. Don't know if I would, but don't feel like taking the risk. Almost 48 hours on my fast now and I'm still doing okay. I count it from 3:00 am Friday night/Saturday morning if I'm thinking correctly. I know it's 45 hours right now at least, that much I know.
I'm so nervous about what the scale will show me tomorrow morning... that I've gained or never actually weighed 55,2 kg that it was all just a scam. But I'd be more than thrilled if it shows a number even lower. Hah, I was *this* close to telling my mother on the phone about today's weight loss, I've been so excited I can hardly contain myself. But I managed to keep it to myself and not cause a scene.
We mostly talked about the weather, laundry and that time goes backwards an hour tonight. I did however mention that I felt awful this morning and then threw in a joke about me sabotaging my circadian rhythm again. I'm dropping hints, but carefully so. Cause I do want her to notice that something is wrong with me, but not too soon. I don't want it hanging over me, you know. All those questions about what and if I've eaten, all those comments on how I should like not continue to lose weight.
I still remember the fear in my mother's eyes when she saw me at 53 kg last fall/winter and she thought I was way to thin already at that weight. I had not expected such a reaction from her at all, it startled me and I lied and said I weighed 58 kg when she asked me. This time I won't lie though, and I might even tell her that I did lie that time. I have a feeling she knew that it was a lie, but she never pushed me or anything. But damn I remember that panic in her eyes when she saw me...
It almost got me to stop restricting then, I felt so horrible for hurting her. I don't know if I'm just more selfish now than I was back then, or what. Cause now it's like, sorry mom but I've gotta do this. My own damn goals are more important than who I might hurt on the way. At least I can admit that, but yeah, I am expecting one hell of a circus by the time of Christmas. Cause if me weighing 53 kg, right on the border to underweight, was a shock, then me weighing 44 kg or less is gonna hurt my family and that probably tremendously.
My parents are gonna see their first born just wasting away until there's nothing left of me. I can't even imagine how much that is gonna hurt them. Right now they're happily unaware of the disaster that is my life, but that's really not gonna last forever. And an awful part of me wishes that I wouldn't have to see them again, that I could just stay in my apartment forever so that they wouldn't have to see me being that thin and living on next to nothing.
I want to protect them from me, from the awful truth that is my constant reality. I don't want them worried cause it would hurt them and that would in return hurt me. I don't know who's hurting is more painful for me to think about. They're gonna try everything to get me into recovery and how the hell do I prepare myself for that?!
I wish they could leave me alone to die but I know they're never ever going to because they just love me too damn much. I don't know how my sister would take it though, but I'm pretty sure I would scare her too. Last Christmas she wanted to fatten me up which scared the shit out of me, so I know she cares too. And me becoming thinner than she's ever been probably is gonna scare her more this time. I don't know how my father would react but my guesses are that he's gonna get angry one way or another. He, much like me, often covers fear with anger too.
I'm trying to prepare myself for a whole spectrum of emotions that could rise and boil over when
I enter that house a couple of days or so before Christmas Eve. I'm trying to prepare for the worst thing that could possibly happen, but my mind just can't take me that far. If they'll get mad at me, start crying, try to force feed me, just drive me to the hospital instead or what not. Trying to prepare for a storm you've never been in before is not that easy. It's among the hardest things I could do.
But when that day comes, and if I've been talking to my mother first, I'll just have to hold my breath as I walk in through their front door and hope I don't pass out. I'll just have to take it as it comes and try my best to cope with it, one breath at a time. I think my uncle may be there in the mix as well, and I don't even know if he knows that I have an eating disorder. It would be obvious by then though, my parents wouldn't be able to just say that I've "lost a little bit of weight". I don't want to hide from him either though, I like him, almost a bit too much.
Always had that in the back of my head for a couple of years now, how I see him. Yeah, I do like my mother's brother a bit too much compared to what is considered normal. I'm not in love with him, but yeah, my knees tend to get a little weak whenever he's around. I'm less than half his age and he's a close relative of mine so wouldn't go down that path, but it has been and is spinning around in my fucked up mind.
I let it just be in my thoughts, how incredibly handsome I find him and all the nasty things I would like to do with him, but never act on it, never even hint or let out as much as a whisper. Just be friendly but keep it that way, I've got this weird infatuation under control. Don't really know what to call it, it's not even a crush, it's like... I'm just oddly and inappropriately attracted to him.
Anyhow, where was I? Got off track there a little bit, but I think it's safe for me to let you know about that, since I've been so good at not acting on my strange thoughts or feelings or whatever it is. I can't promise though, that if he would ever... then I might, but only if he would be the one taking the first step. And that would also be a secret I'd take with me to the fucking grave and beyond. But as of now, nothing has happened between us and it's all just in my head. And there's nothing illegal about my thoughts, as long as they're just thoughts.
Side tracked. But maybe I'd just rather think about my uncle than about spoiling Christmas with my eating disorder. Just letting those thoughts spin around in my head, around and around until I'm all dizzy in a good way. Sometimes I try to shove away those thoughts, desecrate them, make them go away for good. But they won't leave no matter what I do, and why should I? They're perfectly harmless.
Yeah, those thoughts never really harmed me. They've confused me, fucked me up and shaken me around though. We were never that close when I grew up, just saw him a few times, so I didn't really know him as a kid. It's just lately, basically from just a few years ago, that he has been in my life. Maybe that could be a reason for me developing those thoughts. Me wanting a stronger connection with a relative (other than my family members) that is actually a decent person, compared to the rest of the pack. It's a theory, at least.
I've gotta leave these thoughts for now, they're stirring up a chaos. I don't think I've mentioned that before, but I could be mistaken. I've written sooo much crap on this blog other the years (it's literally over thousand entries) so it wouldn't surprise me if I actually have mentioned these thoughts about my uncle here before. They're driving me half mad sometimes. And other times they're more like a comfort. Gotta stop thinking about it, just fucking gotta.
Alright, gonna go to bed soon, just took Imovane so gotta be quick to edit this now. Also I'm feeling the cravings starting to sneak up on me again so gotta go to bed before I empty my fridge, freezer and all the cabinets. Preaching self control here, and it's just getting harder...
I'm so nervous about what the scale will show me tomorrow morning... that I've gained or never actually weighed 55,2 kg that it was all just a scam. But I'd be more than thrilled if it shows a number even lower. Hah, I was *this* close to telling my mother on the phone about today's weight loss, I've been so excited I can hardly contain myself. But I managed to keep it to myself and not cause a scene.
We mostly talked about the weather, laundry and that time goes backwards an hour tonight. I did however mention that I felt awful this morning and then threw in a joke about me sabotaging my circadian rhythm again. I'm dropping hints, but carefully so. Cause I do want her to notice that something is wrong with me, but not too soon. I don't want it hanging over me, you know. All those questions about what and if I've eaten, all those comments on how I should like not continue to lose weight.
I still remember the fear in my mother's eyes when she saw me at 53 kg last fall/winter and she thought I was way to thin already at that weight. I had not expected such a reaction from her at all, it startled me and I lied and said I weighed 58 kg when she asked me. This time I won't lie though, and I might even tell her that I did lie that time. I have a feeling she knew that it was a lie, but she never pushed me or anything. But damn I remember that panic in her eyes when she saw me...
It almost got me to stop restricting then, I felt so horrible for hurting her. I don't know if I'm just more selfish now than I was back then, or what. Cause now it's like, sorry mom but I've gotta do this. My own damn goals are more important than who I might hurt on the way. At least I can admit that, but yeah, I am expecting one hell of a circus by the time of Christmas. Cause if me weighing 53 kg, right on the border to underweight, was a shock, then me weighing 44 kg or less is gonna hurt my family and that probably tremendously.
My parents are gonna see their first born just wasting away until there's nothing left of me. I can't even imagine how much that is gonna hurt them. Right now they're happily unaware of the disaster that is my life, but that's really not gonna last forever. And an awful part of me wishes that I wouldn't have to see them again, that I could just stay in my apartment forever so that they wouldn't have to see me being that thin and living on next to nothing.
I want to protect them from me, from the awful truth that is my constant reality. I don't want them worried cause it would hurt them and that would in return hurt me. I don't know who's hurting is more painful for me to think about. They're gonna try everything to get me into recovery and how the hell do I prepare myself for that?!
I wish they could leave me alone to die but I know they're never ever going to because they just love me too damn much. I don't know how my sister would take it though, but I'm pretty sure I would scare her too. Last Christmas she wanted to fatten me up which scared the shit out of me, so I know she cares too. And me becoming thinner than she's ever been probably is gonna scare her more this time. I don't know how my father would react but my guesses are that he's gonna get angry one way or another. He, much like me, often covers fear with anger too.
I'm trying to prepare myself for a whole spectrum of emotions that could rise and boil over when
I enter that house a couple of days or so before Christmas Eve. I'm trying to prepare for the worst thing that could possibly happen, but my mind just can't take me that far. If they'll get mad at me, start crying, try to force feed me, just drive me to the hospital instead or what not. Trying to prepare for a storm you've never been in before is not that easy. It's among the hardest things I could do.
But when that day comes, and if I've been talking to my mother first, I'll just have to hold my breath as I walk in through their front door and hope I don't pass out. I'll just have to take it as it comes and try my best to cope with it, one breath at a time. I think my uncle may be there in the mix as well, and I don't even know if he knows that I have an eating disorder. It would be obvious by then though, my parents wouldn't be able to just say that I've "lost a little bit of weight". I don't want to hide from him either though, I like him, almost a bit too much.
Always had that in the back of my head for a couple of years now, how I see him. Yeah, I do like my mother's brother a bit too much compared to what is considered normal. I'm not in love with him, but yeah, my knees tend to get a little weak whenever he's around. I'm less than half his age and he's a close relative of mine so wouldn't go down that path, but it has been and is spinning around in my fucked up mind.
I let it just be in my thoughts, how incredibly handsome I find him and all the nasty things I would like to do with him, but never act on it, never even hint or let out as much as a whisper. Just be friendly but keep it that way, I've got this weird infatuation under control. Don't really know what to call it, it's not even a crush, it's like... I'm just oddly and inappropriately attracted to him.
Anyhow, where was I? Got off track there a little bit, but I think it's safe for me to let you know about that, since I've been so good at not acting on my strange thoughts or feelings or whatever it is. I can't promise though, that if he would ever... then I might, but only if he would be the one taking the first step. And that would also be a secret I'd take with me to the fucking grave and beyond. But as of now, nothing has happened between us and it's all just in my head. And there's nothing illegal about my thoughts, as long as they're just thoughts.
Side tracked. But maybe I'd just rather think about my uncle than about spoiling Christmas with my eating disorder. Just letting those thoughts spin around in my head, around and around until I'm all dizzy in a good way. Sometimes I try to shove away those thoughts, desecrate them, make them go away for good. But they won't leave no matter what I do, and why should I? They're perfectly harmless.
Yeah, those thoughts never really harmed me. They've confused me, fucked me up and shaken me around though. We were never that close when I grew up, just saw him a few times, so I didn't really know him as a kid. It's just lately, basically from just a few years ago, that he has been in my life. Maybe that could be a reason for me developing those thoughts. Me wanting a stronger connection with a relative (other than my family members) that is actually a decent person, compared to the rest of the pack. It's a theory, at least.
I've gotta leave these thoughts for now, they're stirring up a chaos. I don't think I've mentioned that before, but I could be mistaken. I've written sooo much crap on this blog other the years (it's literally over thousand entries) so it wouldn't surprise me if I actually have mentioned these thoughts about my uncle here before. They're driving me half mad sometimes. And other times they're more like a comfort. Gotta stop thinking about it, just fucking gotta.
Alright, gonna go to bed soon, just took Imovane so gotta be quick to edit this now. Also I'm feeling the cravings starting to sneak up on me again so gotta go to bed before I empty my fridge, freezer and all the cabinets. Preaching self control here, and it's just getting harder...
Saturday, 24 October 2015
Dizzying numbers
I woke up feeling so horrible this morning. Dizzy, nauseous, extreme headache, felt like I was gonna puke involuntarily. Had to go back to sleep. My scale was stupid showing 57,7 kg and I'm just not accepting that I gained half a kilo on virtually nothing. Can't be real weight, but it still upsets me. I'm still very tired, but not feeling sick at least. My guess is that it was dehydration, but I'm not sure, cause I didn't fix the problem, just fell asleep on the couch.
Okay my heart is more crazy than usual today. Don't think it likes me fasting and drinking so much coffee. I can't listen to music on the highest volume for the first time in months. I can only listen to calm music too. I'm so weak, can barely even walk to my kitchen to fill up oat milk in my coffee. I went back to my short story, read it through and edited a little. I like it, but I don't know how to continue. Perhaps I need to wake up a little more first. Trying to drink coffee with artificial sweeteners again to keep the calorie count as low as possible. Though it's half disgusting going down and I hate the after taste.
I'm half not functioning today and feel like I could literally sleep forever. I actually managed to not eat anything yesterday and successfully entered day 2 of my fast. And I can't for the life of me figure out why I gained when I should have lost. The only thing I can think of is water retention because I really haven't been drinking enough water for a while now. It feels like I'm falling apart, one day at a time and that it won't get better than this, likely just worse.
But I'm dealing with my down fall, I'm not panicking or anything, just take it as it comes. I sleep a lot most days and try not to restrain myself, or I mean, I never restrain myself more than I simply have to. Like I have to be at school at least half the time or so and I have to buy my groceries almost every day. It's getting harder to walk or do anything, my body is under so much pressure right now I'm surprised I still haven't passed out from eating and purging like this.
I have no idea how this weekend is gonna progress, if I manage to fast it through, I mean. It's been a while since I've had what I would consider a long fast, which would be more than 2 consecutive days. Now I'm opting for at least 3 days, and at most 10 days but it will likely end up something in between. I tell myself I'm strong and I can do this, but I cannot know for how much longer. My heart is a mess, my head is even messier, half the time I can barely even move.
Still I fast, even knowing that it can quite possibly lead me to a hospital visit. If I'm this dehydrated and refuse to drink water, who knows what can happen? I do, I've been there before. I have collapsed from dehydration before, or at least I think that was it, and somehow managed to recover myself from it without any aid from a hospital. I don't even know if it was dehydration, but I hadn't drunk any water and barely anything else for 3 days. It was like half a glass during that whole time. Mostly though, I don't know why else I would collapse.
I've never put myself in this kind of danger before. Never pushed my body to its limits like this before. Not even last fall when I starved myself in a similar way. I had a problem with binging and would usually binge at least one, sometimes up to three days a week. Restrict or fast the remaining days. I did manage to lose 1 kg a week on that though, until binging/reactive eating completely took over. Then I maintained with the aid of purging almost everything I ate, then I gained from recovery.
So yeah, not even last fall I was this dangerous to myself. Back then I didn't have my purging as I thought I would never sink that low. Haha, funny how I could change my mind on that. Cause I should have known that no state of existing is too low for me. There's just no such thing. I'd do anything to lose weight, I'd do anything for achieving anything I want. If I want it bad enough, nothing can stop me.
So in that sense, I can get very, very dangerous to myself. I have no self preservation. All that means something to me is my goal and getting to it. That doesn't only apply to my eating disorder though, it applies to almost anything. My will power can become so incredibly strong that when I want something, I'm willing to go completely out of my way and everyone else's way and not even death can stop me. That applies to good things too, like when I stopped smoking in a week for my surgery, or how protective and caring I've been towards K and other people I love, or how I got better at drawing, or when I stopped cutting myself for my psycho ex, it could apply to literally everything.
I've never understood that will power, but in a way I kinda do. It's simply that I won't let nature or other people, or gods, or my mind or my body, stop me by any means. It's my world and my rules and I decide in it. If I say I'll do something that seems impossible, you could almost count on it that I'll succeed. It might take longer than for the average person, or 10 times faster, but I'll make it.
I believe that's what making me having an eating disorder so dangerous, my will power to change my body. That it's so incredibly strong and I'm basically unstoppable. Only death can stop me now, and I'm counting on that it will, eventually. I'm not impatient to die right now, I wouldn't be upset if I was to, but I'm more focused on losing weight than dying right now. I still see death as a sweet relief from it all, no matter which weight I'll die at. Cause just knowing that I've tried my best and more to become thin, and dying from an eating disorder, is almost as good as mission accomplished.
If I die before I reach my goal, that is. Cause then I'll know I did more than just tried, I pushed my body to the absolute breaking point. And sometimes I wonder: is it self hatred or obsession that motivates me? Have I just gotten stuck on a goal that I think I have to achieve no matter what just because? I do have my reasons, a lot of reasons for wanting to get thin, but sometimes they just feel like they're additional, if that makes any sense.
I lost my main reason, to simply look more like a guy than a girl. I don't really care, but I still hate my thighs and that's the body parts I mostly want to lose weight from. But I knew already from the start that it's impossible to target weight loss. And so seeing my bones and become emaciated became more important over time, I wanted to lose weight everywhere and not just on my thighs.
And I know that if or when I become emaciated enough, my huge thighs will have slimmed down significantly. I will lose my horrible pear shape eventually, if I just keep at it.
I'm on the verge of a breakdown, I can feel it. So many things going through my mind, I can't share them, rather keep those things to myself, for now at least. It's better that way too. I'm so very tired, despite having slept for 13 hours or so and having had 2 cups of coffee. I feel so weak. Like it's hard to just sit up straight and take in any kind of information at all.
Okay... my crazy scale just said I'm only weighing 55,2 kg right now. Should I believe in it? I just peed out probably a kilo, but how can I have lost 2,5 kg in just a few hours?! I knew there had to be something weird about my morning weight though, that it was way to high, but which is more likely? That I gained half a kilo from yesterday morning or that I lost 2 kg from then? I guess I'll just have to wait and see, how much I'll weigh tomorrow and such. And in pounds, could I have gone from 126 to 121 in less than a day? Okay, I can't let that go right now.
I've heard of that it's possible your weight can fluctuate up to, if it was 5 pounds or 5 kg a day, must have been pounds, so in that sense it can be possible, I guess. Or I just finally got rid of my water retention or water weight just like that. Let's hope for that and this is my real weight. I don't look any different though, my stomach still isn't flat, my thighs are still huge, and so on.
I do still wonder when people will actually start noticing my weight loss. If I will have lost 10 kg by the end of the month, they should be able to notice it, right? Don't know what would be wrong with them otherwise. I'm looking at old photos that I took of myself when I weighed 53 kg last year, which is my lowest weight. I hope to take new such progress pictures at 50 or 49 kg when I get there, then again at 44 or 45 kg.
I'm not even cold today and I have no idea why. Maybe it's just been warmer weather today or something. I miss the coldness but it's still nice to be warm. I usually like being cold because I feel like I'm doing "right" then, but now since I'm fasting I'm just thinking it's very weird that I'm not cold. I'm just hella confused. I'm so hyped to update my signature on the ED forum again, but know I should wait. Or I might have to change it to a higher weight later on and that wouldn't feel good. If this weight is just a tad too optimistic, that is.
I'm so impatient and I feel so close to my lowest weight now, possibly only 2 more kg to go. Cause then, I'm also just 3 kg away from underweight, which is amazing if that's true. It left me with a lot to think about and reflect over, if this is real, that I weight 55,2 kg already, and how much faster I could potentially lose weight now. Just think about it, what if I do fast for 10 days? And have I really lost 8 kg in a little more than 3 weeks? That's almost a new record in fast weight loss for me. I think that if this weight is real I could very likely get down to 53 kg by the end of the month.
I have exactly one week. For some reason I lose much more weight when fasting this fall than I did the last. Maybe somehow miraculously my metabolism is better this time around? I don't remember how many calories of liquids I used to allow myself on fasting days last year though. Could check, cause I have it written down though.
Sorry for all the weight rambling if I bore you, but it just got me really excited. If I can lose 10 kg in a month, I could be on my ugw already in the end of next month, and how surreal isn't that? Haha, just thought of the beginning of my relapse, that back then I thought I was just gonna take it slow, nice and easy to 55 kg by Christmas. Haha. As if I had that kind of patience. Now, reaching that goal already in October...
Yep, I'm so gonna freak out my family if I weigh 44 kg or less by Christmas. It's like, I can plan and do things up until that holiday, but I really don't know what to do during it. I'll tell my mother on the phone or something about my relapse by the mid of December or so if she still hasn't figured it out by then. Just as a fair warning and then maybe we could even figure something out, on what to do with the not so ready to recover me over the holiday.
I won't just gorge on everything like I did last year, I really am afraid that if I start eating I won't be able to stop. And I'm thinking that anorexia diagnosis could happen sometime in November or early December, at latest in January. Cause I'll keep seeing my psychologist as long as she still wants to see me. And she will probably notice my extreme weight loss if or when I get to below 49 kg. Then she'd send me back to the eating disorder team where they'll weigh me and realise I have an anorexic BMI and I'll get that diagnosis and continue to refuse recovery. At least that's what I think will happen.
So not looking forward to having doctors and shrinks poking and prodding my weight and eating habits again, so I'll try to just get whatever diagnosis and then slither my way out of it as quick as I can. Still scared that maybe they can force me to recover somehow, if I get bad enough, or to a weight low enough. And I'm also taking a chance with my shrink possibly not wanting to see me anymore if she thinks she can't help me cause I'm just too eating disordered, too anorexic and refusing to get better. Then why see her?
For comfort, support and because I like her. Why shouldn't that be enough? I don't want to see a dietitian again, and I definitely don't want anything to do with that other person in the eating disorder team that I saw last winter throughout the spring and some of the summer. I hated her guts and just smiled politely every damn meeting I had with her. I'll decline, refuse and if I lose my shrink in the process, so be it. It's been a good couple of years and I'll take all the advice she's given me with me. But all good things come to an end, it's always been that way.
I don't know what the future will bring, or even if I could go to my meeting with my shrink on Friday if I'm still fasting by then. Perhaps have something small like a salad or a protein drink right before. Just to lessen the risk of me passing out. I don't want to go visit my family anymore. My eating disorder won the bet and I'm staying at home, fasting, or trying to. I'll see them by Christmas instead. It will be hard, still missing the cats, but I'll manage. I do see my mother at least once a week and hear from her every day, so it's not like I'm completely separated from them anyway.
But this might be a new low, staying at home to starve because I don't want to be forced to eat if visiting them. Like I just know I'd have to eat if I go there. I'm opting for being emaciated by Christmas. I can do it, I know I can. Not that I have a precise weight for what emaciated is though, I probably won't be able to see it myself, but others might, and I might have to rely more on their words than my own by then.
Today I'm all eating disorder and I feel confident, impatient, like I'll actually be able to reach my goal this time, more tired than usual, weaker than usual, but better in my mind. Like I don't feel so sad today, almost a little cheerful. But planning weight loss to a certain date is not that easy, I have literally no idea what I could be weighing by the end of this year. If I get past my ugw or not even to it. If I have a new even lower ugw. Then I might set it to 40 kg, or 38. 38 kg is almost 84 pounds. That number has been spinning in my head lately but I don't know if I want to get to a weight that low or not. It all depends on how fat I'll feel at 44 kg.
But I have to get there first before I actually start setting new goal weights. All these numbers make me dizzy, or it's because I'm starving, I'm not sure. However I really should end this entry before it gets too long for me to handle.
Okay my heart is more crazy than usual today. Don't think it likes me fasting and drinking so much coffee. I can't listen to music on the highest volume for the first time in months. I can only listen to calm music too. I'm so weak, can barely even walk to my kitchen to fill up oat milk in my coffee. I went back to my short story, read it through and edited a little. I like it, but I don't know how to continue. Perhaps I need to wake up a little more first. Trying to drink coffee with artificial sweeteners again to keep the calorie count as low as possible. Though it's half disgusting going down and I hate the after taste.
I'm half not functioning today and feel like I could literally sleep forever. I actually managed to not eat anything yesterday and successfully entered day 2 of my fast. And I can't for the life of me figure out why I gained when I should have lost. The only thing I can think of is water retention because I really haven't been drinking enough water for a while now. It feels like I'm falling apart, one day at a time and that it won't get better than this, likely just worse.
But I'm dealing with my down fall, I'm not panicking or anything, just take it as it comes. I sleep a lot most days and try not to restrain myself, or I mean, I never restrain myself more than I simply have to. Like I have to be at school at least half the time or so and I have to buy my groceries almost every day. It's getting harder to walk or do anything, my body is under so much pressure right now I'm surprised I still haven't passed out from eating and purging like this.
I have no idea how this weekend is gonna progress, if I manage to fast it through, I mean. It's been a while since I've had what I would consider a long fast, which would be more than 2 consecutive days. Now I'm opting for at least 3 days, and at most 10 days but it will likely end up something in between. I tell myself I'm strong and I can do this, but I cannot know for how much longer. My heart is a mess, my head is even messier, half the time I can barely even move.
Still I fast, even knowing that it can quite possibly lead me to a hospital visit. If I'm this dehydrated and refuse to drink water, who knows what can happen? I do, I've been there before. I have collapsed from dehydration before, or at least I think that was it, and somehow managed to recover myself from it without any aid from a hospital. I don't even know if it was dehydration, but I hadn't drunk any water and barely anything else for 3 days. It was like half a glass during that whole time. Mostly though, I don't know why else I would collapse.
I've never put myself in this kind of danger before. Never pushed my body to its limits like this before. Not even last fall when I starved myself in a similar way. I had a problem with binging and would usually binge at least one, sometimes up to three days a week. Restrict or fast the remaining days. I did manage to lose 1 kg a week on that though, until binging/reactive eating completely took over. Then I maintained with the aid of purging almost everything I ate, then I gained from recovery.
So yeah, not even last fall I was this dangerous to myself. Back then I didn't have my purging as I thought I would never sink that low. Haha, funny how I could change my mind on that. Cause I should have known that no state of existing is too low for me. There's just no such thing. I'd do anything to lose weight, I'd do anything for achieving anything I want. If I want it bad enough, nothing can stop me.
So in that sense, I can get very, very dangerous to myself. I have no self preservation. All that means something to me is my goal and getting to it. That doesn't only apply to my eating disorder though, it applies to almost anything. My will power can become so incredibly strong that when I want something, I'm willing to go completely out of my way and everyone else's way and not even death can stop me. That applies to good things too, like when I stopped smoking in a week for my surgery, or how protective and caring I've been towards K and other people I love, or how I got better at drawing, or when I stopped cutting myself for my psycho ex, it could apply to literally everything.
I've never understood that will power, but in a way I kinda do. It's simply that I won't let nature or other people, or gods, or my mind or my body, stop me by any means. It's my world and my rules and I decide in it. If I say I'll do something that seems impossible, you could almost count on it that I'll succeed. It might take longer than for the average person, or 10 times faster, but I'll make it.
I believe that's what making me having an eating disorder so dangerous, my will power to change my body. That it's so incredibly strong and I'm basically unstoppable. Only death can stop me now, and I'm counting on that it will, eventually. I'm not impatient to die right now, I wouldn't be upset if I was to, but I'm more focused on losing weight than dying right now. I still see death as a sweet relief from it all, no matter which weight I'll die at. Cause just knowing that I've tried my best and more to become thin, and dying from an eating disorder, is almost as good as mission accomplished.
If I die before I reach my goal, that is. Cause then I'll know I did more than just tried, I pushed my body to the absolute breaking point. And sometimes I wonder: is it self hatred or obsession that motivates me? Have I just gotten stuck on a goal that I think I have to achieve no matter what just because? I do have my reasons, a lot of reasons for wanting to get thin, but sometimes they just feel like they're additional, if that makes any sense.
I lost my main reason, to simply look more like a guy than a girl. I don't really care, but I still hate my thighs and that's the body parts I mostly want to lose weight from. But I knew already from the start that it's impossible to target weight loss. And so seeing my bones and become emaciated became more important over time, I wanted to lose weight everywhere and not just on my thighs.
And I know that if or when I become emaciated enough, my huge thighs will have slimmed down significantly. I will lose my horrible pear shape eventually, if I just keep at it.
I'm on the verge of a breakdown, I can feel it. So many things going through my mind, I can't share them, rather keep those things to myself, for now at least. It's better that way too. I'm so very tired, despite having slept for 13 hours or so and having had 2 cups of coffee. I feel so weak. Like it's hard to just sit up straight and take in any kind of information at all.
Okay... my crazy scale just said I'm only weighing 55,2 kg right now. Should I believe in it? I just peed out probably a kilo, but how can I have lost 2,5 kg in just a few hours?! I knew there had to be something weird about my morning weight though, that it was way to high, but which is more likely? That I gained half a kilo from yesterday morning or that I lost 2 kg from then? I guess I'll just have to wait and see, how much I'll weigh tomorrow and such. And in pounds, could I have gone from 126 to 121 in less than a day? Okay, I can't let that go right now.
I've heard of that it's possible your weight can fluctuate up to, if it was 5 pounds or 5 kg a day, must have been pounds, so in that sense it can be possible, I guess. Or I just finally got rid of my water retention or water weight just like that. Let's hope for that and this is my real weight. I don't look any different though, my stomach still isn't flat, my thighs are still huge, and so on.
I do still wonder when people will actually start noticing my weight loss. If I will have lost 10 kg by the end of the month, they should be able to notice it, right? Don't know what would be wrong with them otherwise. I'm looking at old photos that I took of myself when I weighed 53 kg last year, which is my lowest weight. I hope to take new such progress pictures at 50 or 49 kg when I get there, then again at 44 or 45 kg.
I'm not even cold today and I have no idea why. Maybe it's just been warmer weather today or something. I miss the coldness but it's still nice to be warm. I usually like being cold because I feel like I'm doing "right" then, but now since I'm fasting I'm just thinking it's very weird that I'm not cold. I'm just hella confused. I'm so hyped to update my signature on the ED forum again, but know I should wait. Or I might have to change it to a higher weight later on and that wouldn't feel good. If this weight is just a tad too optimistic, that is.
I'm so impatient and I feel so close to my lowest weight now, possibly only 2 more kg to go. Cause then, I'm also just 3 kg away from underweight, which is amazing if that's true. It left me with a lot to think about and reflect over, if this is real, that I weight 55,2 kg already, and how much faster I could potentially lose weight now. Just think about it, what if I do fast for 10 days? And have I really lost 8 kg in a little more than 3 weeks? That's almost a new record in fast weight loss for me. I think that if this weight is real I could very likely get down to 53 kg by the end of the month.
I have exactly one week. For some reason I lose much more weight when fasting this fall than I did the last. Maybe somehow miraculously my metabolism is better this time around? I don't remember how many calories of liquids I used to allow myself on fasting days last year though. Could check, cause I have it written down though.
Sorry for all the weight rambling if I bore you, but it just got me really excited. If I can lose 10 kg in a month, I could be on my ugw already in the end of next month, and how surreal isn't that? Haha, just thought of the beginning of my relapse, that back then I thought I was just gonna take it slow, nice and easy to 55 kg by Christmas. Haha. As if I had that kind of patience. Now, reaching that goal already in October...
Yep, I'm so gonna freak out my family if I weigh 44 kg or less by Christmas. It's like, I can plan and do things up until that holiday, but I really don't know what to do during it. I'll tell my mother on the phone or something about my relapse by the mid of December or so if she still hasn't figured it out by then. Just as a fair warning and then maybe we could even figure something out, on what to do with the not so ready to recover me over the holiday.
I won't just gorge on everything like I did last year, I really am afraid that if I start eating I won't be able to stop. And I'm thinking that anorexia diagnosis could happen sometime in November or early December, at latest in January. Cause I'll keep seeing my psychologist as long as she still wants to see me. And she will probably notice my extreme weight loss if or when I get to below 49 kg. Then she'd send me back to the eating disorder team where they'll weigh me and realise I have an anorexic BMI and I'll get that diagnosis and continue to refuse recovery. At least that's what I think will happen.
So not looking forward to having doctors and shrinks poking and prodding my weight and eating habits again, so I'll try to just get whatever diagnosis and then slither my way out of it as quick as I can. Still scared that maybe they can force me to recover somehow, if I get bad enough, or to a weight low enough. And I'm also taking a chance with my shrink possibly not wanting to see me anymore if she thinks she can't help me cause I'm just too eating disordered, too anorexic and refusing to get better. Then why see her?
For comfort, support and because I like her. Why shouldn't that be enough? I don't want to see a dietitian again, and I definitely don't want anything to do with that other person in the eating disorder team that I saw last winter throughout the spring and some of the summer. I hated her guts and just smiled politely every damn meeting I had with her. I'll decline, refuse and if I lose my shrink in the process, so be it. It's been a good couple of years and I'll take all the advice she's given me with me. But all good things come to an end, it's always been that way.
I don't know what the future will bring, or even if I could go to my meeting with my shrink on Friday if I'm still fasting by then. Perhaps have something small like a salad or a protein drink right before. Just to lessen the risk of me passing out. I don't want to go visit my family anymore. My eating disorder won the bet and I'm staying at home, fasting, or trying to. I'll see them by Christmas instead. It will be hard, still missing the cats, but I'll manage. I do see my mother at least once a week and hear from her every day, so it's not like I'm completely separated from them anyway.
But this might be a new low, staying at home to starve because I don't want to be forced to eat if visiting them. Like I just know I'd have to eat if I go there. I'm opting for being emaciated by Christmas. I can do it, I know I can. Not that I have a precise weight for what emaciated is though, I probably won't be able to see it myself, but others might, and I might have to rely more on their words than my own by then.
Today I'm all eating disorder and I feel confident, impatient, like I'll actually be able to reach my goal this time, more tired than usual, weaker than usual, but better in my mind. Like I don't feel so sad today, almost a little cheerful. But planning weight loss to a certain date is not that easy, I have literally no idea what I could be weighing by the end of this year. If I get past my ugw or not even to it. If I have a new even lower ugw. Then I might set it to 40 kg, or 38. 38 kg is almost 84 pounds. That number has been spinning in my head lately but I don't know if I want to get to a weight that low or not. It all depends on how fat I'll feel at 44 kg.
But I have to get there first before I actually start setting new goal weights. All these numbers make me dizzy, or it's because I'm starving, I'm not sure. However I really should end this entry before it gets too long for me to handle.
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