Society and addictions

I don't know if I like my purging or not. I guess I like having that ability but hate the act. It's so gross and it's sometimes scary too. Three things that have or should have scared me about it: 1, when I almost passed out from it. 2, when I couldn't stop puking even after I stopped trying to. 3, when I threw up blood. Yet, despite those three things, I do find comfort in it. It's definitely an addiction too and I wonder if I can abstain from it for these two days now. Or if I'll have something small just to purge it.

I don't know if I should still count it as fasting if I get it all up. Probably not, causing eating means breaking a fast, not necessarily being on plus minus zero of eaten calories. So I'm not counting yesterday as a fast, but I do count today cause I haven't eaten anything yet. Just had a cup of coffee, some diet coke, some but not enough water and some of this vitamin drink. I could never do a water fast with my caffeine addiction.

Me and my addictions... some come and go, some always stay. My smoking feels like a permanent addiction, my caffeine habit more or less stays, and now also purging. One more horrid than the other. Other addictions I've had/gone through are cutting, alcoholism and painkillers. Am I an addict? I would say so but a fairly functioning one. I don't do any heavy stuff and I've never been hooked on actual, illegal drugs. I'm thankful for that, but I've always been curious to try.

There's a lot I've been wanting to try, I don't really have any limits when it comes to danger. I want to live a short and dangerous life, but instead I'm stuck in this rat hole with a declining eating disorder. Maybe my experimenting days are over, or maybe there will come more opportunities. Benzo... I've always wanted to try that. And I don't mean the tiny Sobril that I got ages ago, I mean the heavy stuff that has a definite kick to it. And at least that is legal, if that matters to anyone.

But mostly I've just had to make do with what's been available to me. Anyone can get a hold of razor blades and coffee, and everyone over a certain age can get a hold of alcohol and cigarettes, and everyone can get an eating disorder. Pills are harder to get but potentially you could get a hold of basically anything legal from a doctor. I've just had bad luck in that department. I think my overdosing days are over. I can't get anything more dangerous than antihistamines these days.

Right now I stick to those three previously mentioned. Cigarettes, caffeine and my eating disorder. I still don't cut. I don't need it and why just create scars for the sake of nothing? Maybe I'm done cutting myself with that realisation, I don't know for sure. But addictions of any of the already mentioned kinds have been a huge part of my life for the past 10 years. It started with cutting when I was 15 years old.

It's all just been a long escape from my own brain and the monsters living in it. An escape from my curse, actually. There's only so much I can take of it. Has it ever worked? No and yes. If it was utterly useless I wouldn't have continued with harming myself. But it was never enough. I've always been one step behind my curse.

And still I won't stop as it's still chasing me. Still making my life hell as I desperately try to control my own mind. But I can't. I know that much but I still need something that's effective enough to at least make my life somewhat livable. I don't exactly want to live a long and happy life, I've just been trying to survive for as long as I need to, or have to. To keep myself somewhat sane in this insanity of a life.

Sex has of course also been an addiction. How could I forget? Mostly with myself, it's a compulsive habit I haven't been able to break for the last 17 years. It was awful starting that when I was 9 years old, and I did it only to punish myself for what had happened to me. Once a day is apparently a lot, but I've been at it for up to 5-6 times a day when I was at my worst. And slept with strangers only because they liked me and they were available. Slept with anyone who wanted me.

Now that was never an infinite amount of people, but I think I've been with 13 or 14 different people between ages 17 and 24. It was mostly self destructive and repeating the abuse I've been through, so I wouldn't call it just an active healthy sex life. Not even close, not at all healthy also because the number of times I used protection are very easy to count. Luckily I got away with it, no diseases, no pregnancy.

Ah, the good old days! I don't even know how many different addictions I'm up at now. It's almost every addiction you could possibly have, but it hasn't been all at once. Usually I feel best with three at a time. More and I just feel like I'm completely losing control over myself, less and the darkness devours me.

I don't even know how much I can write about sex addiction here, with the new blog rules that I haven't read. Don't want my blog shut down for downright indecency but I think it's a problem more common than most people would think and it should be addressed. I'm not all that ashamed of my past and present behaviours, it's just that there's so much freaking hush-hush about it. It drives me crazy. Why shouldn't we be able to talk about it?

Perhaps if we did not so many would fall for that way of life, or they could get help for it. I don't know, but what I do know is that keeping quiet is rarely a good idea. I mean, like at school we're not even allowed to talk about alcohol, like mentioning a drink and the whole room goes crazy. Like seriously what the fuck? Okay I know there are more than just one or two previous addicts going there, but come on? I think some rules are just made because of convenience. That anything that could upset someone should be kept quiet about.

I think that's the wrong approach entirely. Banning words? What, do we suddenly live in the 1950's?! I try to follow the rules, but I'm a compulsive rule-breaker since early childhood so it doesn't exactly come easy for me. Perhaps some people need rules, but I've always only felt hindered by them. To not be allowed to express myself my way mostly, that really bothers me.

To not be allowed to talk about and discuss things that are of importance because some dickhead thought it was a good idea not to. Maybe that's why I prefer alcohol combined with parties instead. Where words can flow almost completely freely and never once have I gotten in trouble for speaking my mind. Maybe once or twice in my whole life time but then I was too drunk, pushed into a corner and didn't know what the fuck to say, so it was hardly my fault.

The point is, freedom of speech is so important like oh my god. Sometimes I miss the old me that was less hindered by stupid rules and social codes. That me got friends for life, that me had some fucking stamina. Now... it's like this awful society finally managed to shrink me. I do still have my moments, but my words don't flow as easily anymore. Afraid of stepping on toes, afraid of getting banned, kicked out or hit in the face.

Now my only place is this blog. My only fucking place to say exactly what's on my mind at all times. That's why I let anyone read it, that's why it doesn't have a password. Cause I think you need to hear some of this honesty from time to time, whoever you may be. A friend, a stranger, a former friend, who knows. Only people I'd like to keep out of this blog are my family members and my shrink, basically. I don't want to shock them with way too much TMI that they most likely don't even want to hear about.

I don't even have an off-button when I'm on here. I could literally go on forever cause I have so much to say that can never pass my lips. Maybe this is a petty attempt to make the world a better place, at least to let some people know that there's nothing I'm scared of mentioning here. Except maybe just a handful of things, I'm writing down more than 99% of all that's crawling around inside my brain.

Sometimes I wish I could do more, other times I think I do enough. I do pull my weight in society too, even if it is just a fraction of what I could do. I live on your tax money with no intention of ever getting a job, I go to school which you also more or less pay for, I live on medication that you also pay the most of, I go to psychiatric meetings and doctors appointments that you also pay the most of.

I don't have any money. I'm a scum of society but at least I'm not intentionally making it any worse than it is. Except from those few laws I've broken. But I try to do what I actually can do, which is trying to talk to people and communicate, and I also do these kind of research questionnaires that the state or whatever randomly send to people. I get "randomly" selected about once a year since I was about 14 or 15 and I've done them all, except two cause they didn't apply to me in the least.

So yeah, I do mostly sit on my ass being half a financial crisis to society but I also do try to do good things. You can't just tell a poor, mentally handicapped person to just get their ass of the couch and start doing volunteer work or whatever. Or well, some people really do think they have the guts to do that. In which cases I usually just let my jaw drop slightly and then proceed to stare at them for five minutes, before I manage to get a grip on myself and gently explain to them why they're a complete dickhead.

I'm not doing anything wrong by just being me with the disabilities I have. I didn't choose to have them. I will never earn my own money, I will never have that kind of capacity to do so. It doesn't bother me, the one actually suffering from it, so why the hell does it keep bothering everyone else?! It's the society that's fucked up, not people like me just trying to live a decent life when we can't.

Wow this turned into ranting I could never have foreseen... I guess I'm just mad at people who are mad at me for stupid reasons. Am I a burden for society? Heck yeah, one of the worst kinds even. But you know what? I don't care cause I don't consider myself a property of society, I'm merely borrowing this body in this little phase called life. I don't care how many people has to work around the clock just to keep me alive, it's their fucking job. And I don't care how much tax money I waste on diet coke and cigarettes, you know you have to pay tax money, I do too.

Really trying to end this rant now... feel free to stop reading at any point cause I doubt it's gonna get better or more coherent than this. Maybe I'm just complaining that I'm being looked upon as a piece of useless trash. You would too if you were in my situation after a bunch of years. I've never been a productive member of society, never going to be. It's my life, and I neither can nor want to change it. I'm comfortable and I don't like taking huge risks that can make all hell break loose. I'm stuck, but not willing to move. I've given up and just counting the days, weeks and months.

I think I'll stop here, before this ranting becomes something else. I've covered a lot in just one blog entry today. I might come back later on to write more shit, but probably not on this topic.

But not scared enough

I just broke my 110 hours long fast with vegetable soup. I finally dared stepping on my scale and it showed me 61 kg. Not too bad considering. I mean, I had hoped for somewhere along the lines of 58 but at least it's less than 63. Oh shit I feel dizzy... maybe I ate that too quickly. I guess I'll just give it a few hours to land before I go shopping. Gotta give my body some time to adjust.

I just googled BMI 15 just to try and get an idea on how I could look on roughly that BMI. It's not thin enough... damn it. But I guess I'll just try to get to it first and then deal with the consequences if I still think I need to lose more weight. I'm still at a BMI of 21 so it's a long way to go. Would it even be possible to lose 17 kg in 6 months? And I know it just gets harder the lighter you get.

But it's October 4th and I'm officially starting the ABC diet. As I stated before, the first day is 500 calories. Then 500 again, then 300, then 400, then 100, 200 and 300 the last day of the first week. I know some people just see those numbers as maximum for each day but I'm gonna try to be as exact as I can be. And exercise or purge if I over eat. It's a 7 weeks and one day long diet, which means I can breathe out with a sigh of relief on November 23rd. And hopefully will have been able to stick to it and have lost some weight.

So, my starting weight is 61 kg or 134 lbs so we'll see how much I can lose on this crazy diet. It's only about calories so basically I can eat whatever I want during it as long as I keep it within the calorie limit, but I'm gonna try to do it as healthily as I possibly can. Lots of vegetables, lean meat and fibers, mainly. Also gonna try to cut down a little on the caffeine, mainly because having 55 calories cups of coffee 6 times a day is not gonna work. Especially on the days where the limit is 200 calories or less.

Wow, I've had my dreads in for 2,5 weeks already. They almost feel like a part of me now. Have to wash them/the roots of my own hair today. That was what I shouldn't forget. I really had to start eating today, I have so much to do that I need to function for. So I set a new record of 110 hours just before I had my soup. I'm feeling much better now, almost a bit energised even.

It feels like my ED has gotten a new kick start, with purging then fasting then starting a crazy low calorie diet as of today. I'll try to only purge if I over eat, or go above my calorie limit for the day, and not binge/purge every single day like I did before. Cause it's so addictive and compulsive like damn... I don't mind the danger of it this time, but I do mind how addictive it is and I just don't want to feel the need to do it several times a day.

Besides, it is a pretty horrible experience, much more than what can just be imagined. If you haven't done it, you just don't know how horrible it is. Cause it's nothing like puking after a night of heavy drinking or having eaten way too much or from being physically ill. It's damaging the soul. With that said I will still continue, just not as much as back in January/February when I did it 3 to 5 times a day, every single day. Now maybe... I don't know, at most a few times a week.

My main methods will still be restricting and fasting. Purging only if I binge or "binge" on what isn't technically an actual binge but too big a meal for me. Like if I do have that pizza or just lose control over my hunger. It will be my escape route that I'll take as seldom as I can. I know it's bad, I know it's a horrible thing to do. Not even on the ED forum they recommend it, but they sure do recommend decreasing calories and doing more exercise on a basically empty stomach so yeah. Purging must be so, so bad.

Although I hardly even understand half the danger about it, since my body just barely reacted to it back in February. I almost passed out at one point, but all my blood values were tip top and that's it.

And I'm sorry for last night's entry if I scared you, I just had to get it all out of me. I'm sorry.

I should try to take it slow and easy and I know I really shouldn't set such a low ultimate goal weight but it's just that I can't settle for less. No one except those on the forum and those reading this blog knows that I want to weigh 44 kg. It's just 97 lbs and after being on that forum for over a year, I know how low any weight under 100 lbs is, and how much everyone there wants to get below that weight.

There, I have to translate every kilo to pounds to be understood and it's almost starting to come naturally to me now. I keep mixing up kilos with pounds in real life and as a classmate told me about someone they knew who weighed 150 kg and I thought, oh it's not so bad, until I realised they said kilograms, not pounds.

Cause it wasn't all that long ago that I weighed 150 lbs which is 68 kg, but I've never ever been even remotely close to 150 kg. Thank god for that! I would likely have killed myself for less. Sometimes I still try to look back to how it was like to weigh 80 kg, or 176 lbs, and what is the difference from now? I feel much lighter, I don't feel quite as gross, my feet don't hurt as much at all anymore, I can sit/lie in positions I couldn't back then, I can walk around without feeling like I'm gonna pass out, I can wear skinny jeans, I get compliments for my weight which I didn't back then.

Here in Sweden having a 10-15 kg overweight is pretty much the most normal weight wise, or so I've heard. But I just hated it so much that I even risked getting an eating disorder just to lose that weight. I don't regret it even for a split second. If I could go back in time and not get an ED, I never would. Perhaps I do see it as a life experience and perhaps, even just perhaps, that's why I want to to tip the scale the other way around as well. That when the day I die I will have been in every weight category except from obese and morbidly obese. To have been overweight, normal weight and underweight.

Cause that's an experience I really want to have. I collect them, experiences, and preferably the negative and life changing ones. I want to experience all that crap an extremely underweight person typically is going through. And I do want to experience what it's like to live with an eating disorder to the absolute breaking point. At least to get down to a BMI of 15-16. Perhaps I won't be able to take it as far as into the single digits.

Depends on how long I get to live, and at what point recovery will happen. If it's gonna happen, what do I know, I might be able to escape that route, and die before I get to recover. I hope so, as I still want to take my ED with me to the grave. This relapse sure hit me hard, I've never felt so overcome by my ED before. Like it's really eating away at me, changing my thoughts and feelings until I can nothing but recognise myself.

I feel as though nothing can change my mind about this. Yes I'm scared for what my family and close friends would think if I do lose all the weight I want to lose, but somewhere in my twisted mind, I just don't think it's any of their/your business. This is the only way I can live right now, my broken heart led me back here for a reason. Because I wasn't done starving myself, wasn't done losing weight, wasn't done harming myself this way. I was never ready to recover. Perhaps it sucks, but at least now I know what I truly do feel about it.

Make it a better year

I just want to look good and I don't think I've ever been this aware and picky about my looks before. Like really, since I started losing weight almost 2 years ago. I've always kept that picture in my head what I eventually want to end up looking like. But it's been taking so long and I've given up a lot of times on the way. But I practice what I preach even though it takes longer than expected. I am gonna look at least close to that sometime in the future, that much is for sure.

Now I've lost the weight and it's time to start exercising to gain some muscle mass. People who knew me way before should not be able to recognise me when I'm done. That's also kind of a goal. I don't want to look like a curvy girl anymore, now I need to look like a lean guy instead. And I say "need" because it transcends wanting, wishing and hoping. I simply need it in order to not hate my body. I might not be able to love it, but I just want to wake up one day and look in the mirror with a smile on my lips.

Maybe that is much to ask for, I don't know. But I'm aware of that my standards reach the stars in altitude and although I'm not crawling under the ground anymore, I still have a long way left to go. I'll be trying to get my stomach flat through exercise and eating right, instead of slipping back into disordered eating and downright starvation. I got my chance to recover and I'm taking it.

Still gonna be vegan but not skipping essential food groups to get thin, I'm opting for lowering my body fat percentage through exercise and gaining muscle mass instead. A sort of goal would be 10-15% body fat and lean muscles, while I'm now having maybe 20-25% and basically no muscles at all. I may appear thin to others, but I don't know. I think I might be that so called "skinny fat" with relatively high body fat percentage, or so it looks like to me. It's hard to say, cause I still think I look huge.

But yeah, achieving my goals in a healthier way is my goal now. Starting by just trying to eat healthy with more fruit and vegetables; and less chocolate and bread. I seriously eat too much bread, it's insane. I get lazy with cooking (shame on me, not cooking every single day) but when I do cook which happens quite frequently, I pack my meals full of various healthy things and it also turns out tasting rather good. I'm still trying to learn more about veganism and what I might need more or less of.

My dietitian is on leave/holiday but will be back sometime in April so I can pump her of information about food related stuff too. She seems to know at least a bit about veganism, or well, more than I do. I will refuse to let this become a bad year just because it started out badly with my eating disorder, I will try to change things around for the better.

My mother and basically everyone else around me are still on me about gaining weight. Like nope, nope, nope won't ever happen unless it's muscles. But I will try to avoid the scale for a while and go with my measurements instead. I don't fucking need to gain weight, when will people realise that?! I'm 57 kg and 168 cm tall, it puts me at a BMI of frigging 20,2 which is completely within the normal range. I could even lose 5 kg and still be within the normal range. Or well, 4 kg then. 52 kg would be underweight then, of course.

Okay, I just go on talking for all eternity today, but I don't care. Not like many people read this anyway. But I need to finish it off now cause I want to continue drawing, colouring my drawing. I hope this continues to be a good day, although I'm still feeling a bit icky about something I did yesterday. Am I turning evil? I hope not but sometimes I kinda start doubting if I'm really a good person or not. The things I do and say. I have unsorted darkness in me and it's been leaking out to left and right these last few years or so. I can't control it. Oh well, I'll be stopping by soon again.

Maybe soon in patient

I should never have started purging. Now look at this mess.

I listen to my suicide playlist, not because I want to die, but because I want to feel something. I fell asleep on the couch again, too tired to physically exist. Now I'm up again, and imagining every possible scenario that could happen if I do decide to go in patient. Everything they could possibly do wrong.

I honestly don't know what good they think it would do to force me there. Or if I would go freely just so that they won't force me.

I don't know what I'll do. Last thing I want is to be force fed. It's literally a recurring nightmare of mine.

I'm scared of the results from my blood tests, scared of how bad they will be, or what the fuck if they are still within the normal range?! I'd suffocate then, feel like a complete failure cause then I obviously can't even purge right. Can't starve right, can't purge right...

I still can't make up my mind, still want to see those results first, cause if they are in the normal range, I so definitely won't go in patient. But if they're completely out of whack, I might consider it. I really don't know what I'll decide for if they're just a little whacky.

I purge every day, I drink every day, I starve every day. My life has literally never been messier but I won't accept any help. Still every essence of me cries out "help me" but I only want help if K tells me I should. I only live for him, I might as well die for him too. But I can't die from him... I can't leave him.

All the time, fucking constantly, people seem to assume and ask if I'm suicidal, and maybe I am, I'm just so damn good at hiding it from myself.

But death scares me, being away from K scares me, further away, that is. I'm already so fucking far away what difference does it make? I'm flickering, shifting fast between wanting to die and wanting to live. I really, I think for the first time now, live on the border between life and death. I balance it carelessly, unable to make a decision.

And I don't know if I wish to be immortal or for this to eventually kill me so I won't have to do it myself. I'm putting suicide out of my hands. It's a god damn fucking relief, to be brutally honest. And now I feel something, all the things there even is a name for.

I'm too young to die, and now I'm just getting all the more sure that I won't live to 30. Eating disorder suddenly, drastically shortened my expected life span. If it wasn't bad already before, I mean. It's just suddenly so damn real and it freaks me out.

I'm just so fucking scared but I don't know of what exactly, cause it isn't stopping me. I get more scared after every time I purge, last time close to tears, yet I keep at it again and again and again. I want it to kill me, but I don't want to die.

The ambivalence is eating me alive. It might be one of the hardest decisions I've ever stood before: live or die. I can't decide. I can't fucking decide so I let my eating disorder decide it for me. But I'm losing control over it and I'm afraid that if the day comes that I decide to live, it will be too late.

Mortal fear

Today's first purge and I'm a mess. Got up more fluid than I thought I had in me. That's gotta be noticeable later, the loss of all that fluid.

I am beyond broken.

And it feels like I just shatter even more for each purge. It is self violating, and more than just awful. I take the caring words that others have said with me to the toilet, shrug and then go ahead and do it. It doesn't matter what anyone says, only what K says and so far, he hasn't said a word about it. I lay my happiness, my life, in his hands, in his words. His words are the only words that matter.

I'm gonna have my blood tests taken tomorrow already and I worry about the result, but mostly I'm curious, in my own fucked up way. I want them to spike through the fucking ceiling. I want for once in my life to not hear that nothing is wrong with me when I feel like utter shit.

That these heart palpitations, chest pains, and headaches, this dizziness, nausea and weakness are not just anxiety making things feel real. I want my potassium hitting rock bottom, I want them to tell me that I'm more than just moderately dehydrated and lack in every single vitamin and mineral. Why am I so fucked up?

Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of all mental illnesses. I don't know why I just thought of that. But I still don't think it can kill me, cause I have been told so by my hallucination of Satan himself. Suddenly, that sentence made me feel further from sane than I have ever been... Cause yeah, if a hallucination says so! Not.

I'm still struggling with realising that I am in fact a mortal being, I have absolutely no wish to be immortal, I just don't think I can die no matter how much I sometimes want to.

But I believe that the time has come, when I'm starting to realise my own mortality. Maybe a little young for that? I'm just 25 years old, but could die from my eating disorder. I've heard of bulimic's who died of a heart attack from their purging after just a few months of purging. Now, since I'm being supervised/monitored, I'm in contact with doctors and such, I believe I'll have a little longer than that. But I can't know for sure. It scares me, yet I do everything I can to further worsen it.

And maybe, it's possible all those listed physical symptoms that I'm experiencing are just anxiety, mortal fear, catching up with me for real this time. That this disorder is gonna kill me, and that I want it to.

Emptiness

I miss K so incredibly much that I've forgotten how to feel anything else. I'm just torn, so very torn apart. From everything, really. And all that remains is a hollow feeling of emptiness and loneliness. I drink myself apart, write myself to pieces and I can't get anything right.

About to purge my dinner now. I'm getting tired of it, but also addicted to it. I've purged every day for almost a month now. It makes me feel even more hollowed out. Even emptier. Not right in the moment, but right in the moment after, and it stays for hours, that feeling.

Yeah, that emptiness. Sometimes it eats me alive, consumes me, other times it's what I strive for. Feeling empty. It's what I drink for. And usually it's right when I stop drinking that last glass for the night, right after a purge and all I have is diet coke and a cigarette, is when that feeling hits me. It's like a graceful calm, an echo, a shadow lingering or like sounds slowly fading away.

And I become one with it, that feeling, what I've been longing for all day. But it's not satisfying. I want something else, deep at heart, I want something else. And that is the opposite, to feel everything so deeply, to feel alive. But I only want to be that way with K. Without him, I want nothing at all. And I believe it destroys me. That craving for what I cannot have, and my striving for the second best which is the exact opposite.

I am killing myself slowly, cigarette after cigarette, drink after drink, purge after purge. Those are my most dangerous behaviours right now, and they become my very essence. The reason, the cure, the medicine, the ultimate self destruction. I feel as though I'm just withering away, and I watch it, how awfully I wither with not a hint of grace. Destruction, it's rarely pretty.

But I'm still waiting, hoping, dreaming. But mostly I'm just killing time, and myself in the process of not caring what becomes of me in his absence.

The mess that is my life

I hate myself for making such a mess out of everything. What have I become? I nibble on the healthy food that I don't particularly like, then binge on the unhealthy food and purge it. Take a bloody photo of what I look like right after and drink myself to an early grave, all the while I also try to cause myself severe dehydration by restricting my water intake to zero, only drinking soda and booze while purging massive amounts of fluids every single day. A pack of cigarettes on that.

I'm a hazard to myself, like Pink sings in "Don't let me get me" that I have on my playlist of eating disorder related songs. But I'm listening to Sisters of Mercy while I miss K tremendously but still am incapable of saying "tja" to him in chat like I always do. Like we always do. Have I lost my spark? Is everything downhill from here?

I tried to be the strong one between us two, I really did and somewhat succeeded for months. But then I just crashed. I can't carry my own burden, so now how can help him carry his? I want nothing else. If I can help him that would be the meaning of my entire life. But how can I? I'm lost in my tangled chaos and it's only getting worse.

Where are we going from here? Marillion sings in their song "White Russian" and I can't help but wonder what will eventually become of us. I only see darkness but cry desperately for the light to find us, but mostly for it to find him. I live for him, I have no wish any longer to live for myself and I do think that the only reason I would "give up" my eating disorder would be if he told me to. I need his blessing, kind of.

But what if I die before that can ever happen, what if he dies? Death, it scares me more than anything, particularly his. And I do have reasons to worry, I really do. I've only told my shrink because of confidentiality and she has no idea who he is, his real name or exactly where he lives. It's safe there, that information. But I fear as I get all the more scared of the worst I won't be able to keep my mouth shut about it. I fear my own confidentiality.

Am I not trustworthy anymore? No, I am not. For information just kinda leaks out of me and I don't know how close up all those little holes allowing it to seep out. And I still kick myself for the information about K that I've let out to those that really, really had no business knowing about it. What would I do if he ever finds out? Should I just tell him in a desperate attempt to let him know just how terrible awful I feel about what I've done, to let him know that I love him more than anything by stating that I'd do absolutely ANYTHING to make up for the mistakes that I've made? But a part of me believes that those mistakes, they can never be made up for. And that keeps me up at night. And it should. It fucking should.

For I feel like a terrible person tonight. For every sip of drinks that I take, for every tear that ran down my face when I purged, for every bite that I took of the sandwiches that later ended up in the toilet. I feel awful for what I'm doing to myself and I feel horrible for what I did to the man I would literally give anything for. Not just my sucky life, but literally everything.

Is that love, or just desperation, obsession, compulsion? Do I love him and everything that is him, or am I lost in a chaos of feelings and love an idea, or an ideal? How can I ever know. Though I know, I just know that this love will last forever. I might move on one day, pretend that I do! I might fall in love with someone else who would love me too; I still so strongly believe that I would still love K, even if I'm no longer in love with him. Does that make sense? He's in my soul since July 2013 and that's a bloody long time for someone like me. Me, who always keep falling in and out of love with any stranger.

I have to stop writing soon, these words become my enemy and I cannot grasp their concept. They demand me to explain and explain but I'm grasping at straws and it just becomes like this unsolvable mess. My whole life is a mess and at the same time as I try to understand it I also know how it happened all along. I was after all there every step of the way. But I cannot understand it, no matter how hard I try. Am I really that sick of living? That I deliberately try to cause severe dehydration even though I almost collapsed from it the summer before last? I don't even know why I drink, but to numb every feeling known to man and mostly, it is love that I try to drown. How sad isn't that?

Cause I can't... I just can't stand loving someone who shows no affection in return. I think I know why, but I'll keep that to myself. That much I'm able to shut up about it. That much, I'm still able to stay loyal to him.

Like a monster

I wonder if I'll ever go in patient for my eating disorder. It's kinda leaning towards that. I didn't tell my mother half the things we discussed during that meeting yesterday. That they want me to talk to a doctor asap. That they wanted to take tests to see how my potassium levels and such are.

I don't want to scare my mother, on what's really going on. I'm scaring myself already as it is. But if I ever end up so bad I have to get rushed to a hospital, I will freely go in patient, cause this shit is literally killing me and I'm just now starting to realise that. That's the only reason I would ever admit myself to a psychiatric ward again though. Me and psych wards just don't go well together.

I don't even know if I want to die, I don't know if I want to live. I keep dancing on the border and I keep risking my life for stupid things. Like being thin is such a stupid thing. Isn't it? My latest obsession is killing me. And I'm doing nothing to stop it, in fact I'm just gonna keep doing what I'm doing and then we'll see where it takes me.

Haha, apparently my tumblr fan is a 15 year old guy who I think is from somewhere in the U.S. but that's just a guess. Yeah, I have a tumblr fan. He's always liking a bunch of my posts and reblogs every day and we chat almost every day too. Wonder if he realises that I'm 10 years older than him. Damn, now I feel old... but it's nice, having someone to talk to in an often quite casual manner. I hope he's not developing a crush on me though... really don't think I could handle that.

So much has gone on lately, and I can't tell you half it (not yet at least), but these last two weeks have been like a monster swallowing me whole. Eating disorder, anxiety, school, relationships and stress would be a good sum up. I'm slowly shutting down, can't deal with the world. I miss K, where are you when I need you? I'm always here when you need me.

But that's the thing about one sided relationships, isn't it? If I can even call it a relationship. Well, it's a friendship at least, that much I can call it. Only in my dreams there is more. And how it ravages me. I'm breaking apart, I'm falling and he's not there to catch me. Other people are, but it's just not the same. And how I dream of falling into his arms... My dreams are killing me. Them too.

No, I know I'm not dying yet, probably still quite far from it. I don't even know about my potassium levels. They could still be good. I accidentally told them I started purging the 18th January when it was actually the 28th. It's a 10 days dif, would that be important somehow? I mean, did I worry them too much by screwing up the dates? I don't know.

I'm drinking water now, just a few sips, that's all I can muster, while waiting for my sleeping pills to kick in. My heart hurts, figuratively, maybe I should add this time. I just want to get away from everything right now. The whole world can just go and fuck itself sideways. I've had enough of it. Good night.

From the bottom of my heart

My heart is dying and soon also literally. I'll be causing irreparable damage to myself. I just don't care, but it still rattles me. Beyond my comprehension, do I really want to die like that? -I ask myself, for what more can I do. I've never been more of a danger to myself before. I'm scared, but I don't know how, or what of. I can't reach the right words, I can't think clearly. God damn I need more booze.

I might be over reacting, but my eating disorder is really starting to get dangerous now. I've been writing about this all day but I just can't get my words right. I don't want it to sound too worrying, or too casual. Purging like this will have very serious complications eventually and drinking on top of that, dehydration is not far into the future. I just don't care, but I'm scared.

Because suddenly it's real, you know. I've had an eating disorder for at least 5 months now and I was never before worried about the health risks, not truly. Now I am... fuck, I can't hold myself together. There are things I can do to lessen the risks, or to prolong it kinda, but I don't want to. I want it to hurt me, I need for it to.

But here it is: By purging as much as I do, my potassium will drop significantly, and it can cause arrhythmia to my heart. That's what's scaring me, that's what I don't care about. I'm torn today, so very torn. Between wanting to die of something other than direct suicide, and being scared of dying.

But my heart is strong, I've never once had a problem with it before in my life, so there's still a part of me thinking that I'm immortal. But I think for maybe the first time ever, I'm starting to realise my own mortality, and maybe that is what truly is scaring me.

Mess

I failed purging just now. I failed it so miserably. I tried possibly over 20 times before I just gave up. Hit something, cursed, screamed. I'm so fucking disappointed in myself I feel like fucking killing myself. I'm such a failure, can't even purge successfully. My gag reflex doesn't exist. Or, it's very damn weak. You could probably face fuck me for an hour and I wouldn't even gag. I just wish it was a bit more sensitive, you know. That reflex. Instead it takes showing down a fucking fire truck down my throat for anything to come back up. And I'm all out of fire trucks. And efforts. I'm just so damn exhausted, pissed and feeling the hopelessness just rain over me.

I'm tired of living today. Today, life is not worth fighting for. Today my life is so god damn sucky that I wouldn't even trade it with my worst enemy. Cause here, have a mass load of incurable and intolerable anxiety, here have some horribly annoying and distressing eating disorder crap, here have the worst fucking memory of your entire life summed up in tens of neat little flashbacks. Today, I wish I wasn't alive. This day can go and fuck itself.

Fuck, my throat hurts now, and drinking alcohol really gives it that extra sting, you know? I swear a lot, I know that, it's just that today has been really awful and I can't deal with it. My anxiety levels hit the roof, my purging and my whole eating disorder is a joke, I'm dreading Valentine's Day like never before and I'm just... a complete fucking mess.

Still in this mess

I know I haven't been writing so much about it lately, but my eating disorder still takes up a lot of time and space in my mind. It's just that I don't have much to say about it, just a lot of thinking. I seem to have actually gained a few kilos (ugh, damn I hate it more than you can imagine, but that's the reality of it) and I'm more than desperate to lose them again. And more, but I guess you already figured that out.

If it's at all possible I'm gonna stay under 400 calories of food for today. I'm still drinking every night (for almost 3 weeks now, except from last Saturday when I ran out of booze) and I don't count my drinks into my daily calorie limits. Although I probably should, cause these fake white russian's must be quite calorific.

I'm gonna try an every other day plan kinda thing, to eat little to no food every other day and eat more the other days. Fast on Saturdays, eat 300-400 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Eat at most 900 on the other days. Mix it around, see if I can get my body to stop fucking up my weight and make me lose some again. It's worth a try... at least I have to start somewhere and no matter how much I want to, I can't shock my body right back down to 500 calories a day.

I've been trying so hard for months now, to get back into downright starvation, but it's just so damn hard. And I literally think I get fatter every day. It's horrible, I'm such a mess, but everyone is so happy that I'm eating more. Well, I'm not! I'm fucking miserable at the weight I am now. Especially since I've gained. I just need a few things: a flat stomach, visible ribs, visible hip bones, a bigger thigh gap, hips visibly more narrow than my shoulders. And I think that is very doable, if I could just stop fucking eating.

Well, I've still never been that thin, so guessing at what weight I will achieve all those things is close to impossible. But I think 44 kg is my ultimate goal weight, cause damn if I don't have all that by then something's definitely wrong with my body. That would probably be the average weight of a 10 year old... But I take it one thing at a time, at first, my stomach just has to get flat. That is my number one priority.

Cause it's so annoying that I have to dress a certain way to hide my belly fat. It's close to traumatising every time I take a shower and I see all that fat. All I see is the fat, yet everyone seems to think that I'm thin. Last time I weighed I was at 56,4 kg and that is just... I don't know, it's a fairly low number, so how come I'm so god damn fat?! And why am I literally the only one who thinks I'm fat? I don't understand my own eating disorder, I really don't.

It just fucks with my head 24/7 and I just have nowhere to turn. My shrink whom I really do like doesn't know much of a daft about it, my dietitian just wants what's best for my body and my doctor is only interested in how it can get better for me if I change for the better. Honestly... I just want to tell them all to fuck off and let me starve myself until I die from malnutrition.

Cause I don't care about getting better. I hate my body beyond anyone's comprehension, I hate it so god damn much. I hate it more than I would normally dare to admit, cause I feel like I'm supposed to like it more now, after having transitioned from female to male. But truth be told, I don't think I've ever hated my body this much before. It's not doing anything right! I want to be thin and handsome, look like a cis-dude would look like at my age, weight and height. But instead, I just feel like I look like an intersexual freak from outer space. Honestly, all I ever want is for it to change. I can't stand it the way it is now. I really can't.

This is just a complain message to you all. I'm really not getting anywhere right now. I'm waiting until the spring or so before I go under the knife again just to be 100% sure that that is what I truly want and need, as what is left of my transition. My starvation isn't going much at all in the for me right direction right now. I'm just making new diet plans that I never manage to follow. But this is an update, and that's really all I wanted to give you.

The damage I do

So uhm, what to write here today... can start with the boring stuff: the lock to my apartment door has now been permanently changed and I (hopefully) don't have to worry about getting locked out anymore.

Good stuff: my ID-card is now finished and I'm gonna pick it up on Tuesday or Wednesday, and it will say that I'm male and have my new personal identity number on it. Yay! It still makes me smile just thinking about it.

Weird stuff: I've noticed that my digestion is going way better since I started consuming oatmeal porridge like crazy. I get fibres and things are just going real smooth. I've never really thought about how good it can be to have a high fibre diet. That it's good for weight loss too. I get about 20-30 grams per day now, which actually happens to be the recommended amount, though I am getting little else.

Depressing stuff: I'm still fat and I hate my body more than ever. I can't even stand to look at it. I binged last night and I'm denying it somehow.

Annoying stuff: I didn't think of weighing my dreads so I don't know how much that adds to my actual weight... so now I have to go even lower because I still need to see the number 52 in kg on the scale. Nice surprise when I take them out again later on, I hope. That I'll weigh less than the scale has told me, I mean.

Funny stuff: Nope, can't think of anything.

And to finish it off: I sort of plan to fast on Sunday or Monday or both days to get down at least half a kilo. And I need to fix this about the binges, I really really need to. They're destroying me, both physically and mentally.

Did you know it actually hurts physically when I eat more than just child-like portions nowadays? And shifting between literally starving and shoving down food like there's no tomorrow just can't be good for my body. It feels like I'm welcoming digestive problems. And then let's not get into the massive amount of emotional damage it does. I just can't live that way, I'd rather starve to death, so that's what I'm working on.

Trying to be more active here...

So today hasn't been very exciting. I lost 0,2 kg over the time I slept today (8 hours) and I'm down to 54,9 kg. I still feel the need to hide my body when I go outside; in baggy sweatpants and my big, long, black jacket/coat and preferably I only go out when it's dark. Hopefully, I just have to, have lost enough weight to get some confidence back by Tuesday, cause I need to be in Visby on that particular day. And can't go there in sweatpants.

What weight that would be I don't know, but at most 54, more likely 53 kg. If I continue to lose weight every day like this it will be possible for me to be at a more tolerable weight by Tuesday, since it's almost a whole week until then so. Did you guys realise that it's only 3 weeks left until Christmas Eve?! Cause I just did.

My current goal weight for Christmas is "as low as possible" but at most 52 kg. I just need to at least be underweight and hit some kind of goal or I'll feel like a complete and utter failure. (As if I don't already). Cause I wanted to be at 47 kg by then, but seeing as it's only 3 weeks left... that's not gonna be possible to reach.

Oh, well. Then I've also put my dreads back in to my hair just now. It was easier this time and now I know which techniques are best. It still took me a bunch of hours though, but didn't keep track of time. I just don't care to count exactly everything in my life. Some things just has to be approximate.

Cause I'm so obsessed with numbers already, they're taking over enough of my life as it is. I don't need to make it worse by counting hours or other stupid things like cigarettes or whatever. Keep it on a "need to know" basis.

I finished my short story yesterday, that one about a transsexual, goth vampire that no one cared to read. Not that I care about praise or anything, I don't know. I was thinking of posting it on tumblr as well, but thinking maybe that would somehow be outing myself because the main character is a transsexual man, like me.

I'm not out about my gender situation on tumblr, but it's been a lot more about that lately there. I follow 3 or 4 other transguys and they've all been reblogging stuff about it. I wonder when a confession will find its way out to my dashboard. I wouldn't mind that of course, but I'd still hesitate to open myself up about it too. Even if... no, I can't say it.

I'm comfortable being sort of stealth to most people these days. Someone once said something to me that sticks to me still. They simply said "be careful who you out yourself to" or something close to it, I can't find the most accurate translation right now, nor does it matter. I didn't think about it much at first, or well I did, but not that way.

What else... yeah I just started watching a new tv-show that I might or might not like. It's called "Red band society" and I only started watching it because it depicts a person with an eating disorder. It's quite new, created this year, and it's about a bunch of kids/teenagers at a hospital where they kinda live for a lot of different reasons. Like they hang and go to school there while in treatment for random things.

Oh well, I guess that's it for today. I'm still embroidering and watching "Angel", playing WoW and trying to lose weight. Everything is the same.

Save me once again

I haven't been writing here in a while because most of what I write is just the same nonsense or too private or too private nonsense. I have nothing new to report. I've a had a couple of lousy days of weight gain and desperation, binging and self hatred. I feel like I'm losing all control. Having an eating disorder is supposed to make not capable of eating, right? I wish, I so fucking wish. Instead I am eating and hating myself for it. I'd rather not being able to eat at all.

So I have no idea what to do at all. I'm stuck in this awful binging cycle even though it's not technically binges, cause it's too little. But I wrecked my metabolism so the smallest thing makes me gain. The day before yesterday I was at 54,3 kg, ate around 1.000 calories, yesterday I had gone up to 54,9 kg and ate around 1.000 calories and today I was at 55,6 kg. I eat half of my daily recommended intake and gain steadily. I hate myself so much because of this and I have no fucking idea what so ever how the hell I'm supposed to lose weight now.

I'm just stuck in self hatred but I do get support from all where around so I'm feeling a little bit better now. The crew, K, strangers on tumblr, the eating disorder forum. I'm not entirely alone and people do care. So yeah, this is me feeling better, I was quite a mess earlier today. I couldn't even tell the crew why I was so upset, I just didn't want to talk about it and what would that have brought anyway? They were just curious. And I hate it when people want to know my problems just out of curiosity, like I'm not here to entertain you.

And it wouldn't have made me feel any better, I've learned that now, some people are ju better off not knowing what is bugging me. Look, if they want to comfort me they can just as well do that without knowing what's up. I can tell when they try to mask their curiosity with care.

A few hours later and I still haven't posted this. I'm living on oatmeal porridge and nuts for today and praying to Satan that it won't make me gain. I've thought about it lately, or well, it just struck me earlier today, that about me selling my soul for a better looking body. What if I'll get it, that perfect or close to perfect body, or even worse, what if I already have it, but I'm too eating disordered to be able to enjoy it?

He's so fucking shady, Satan. Yeah, and I have noticed that before. Like how precise do I have to be about my prayers exactly?! He can read my mind, for crying out loud! Shouldn't have to give all the details. That I want to be able to not hate my body, I want to be thin and look good, I want a proportionate sized ass, I want to look like a dude even naked.

He did save my life but he hasn't been doing much of that as of lately. Perhaps because I haven't been wanting to be saved. Not by a shady entity who's too busy fucking up the few prayers I send his way, anyway. I haven't been much into practice of my shady religion lately, or well, for over a year now. No practice at all actually. I totally skipped Halloween for instance and that's a very important Satanic holiday. I was too fucked up to care anymore. I still am.

He's still my one and only god though, even though he's fucked up more times than he's saved me. But he has saved me and that's what's most important, right? When will I need him again? Probably right now, but I don't care. I'm lucid now, no psychotic symptoms in a long time, so I haven't heard him speaking to me either. Don't know if that's a shame or a relief. Perhaps a little of both.

Speak of the devil (haha, literally this time) he shows up and offers me to pay up if I want that change. Of course I said yes. He also told me that my eating disorder is not what's gonna kill me. That's a comfort, I guess. But it still leaves me with that horrible fate that apparently still awaits me in the future: suicide.

Ah well, I suppose it is a comfort. Now I can starve however much I want to. I sort of knew it though, or I kinda felt it somehow. But still, it can lead me to end up almost dying from it. Like being dangerously close to the edge. I hope so. I really fucking do. Am I that bored?

Diagnosed

I completely forgot about my blog! I should have updated here immediately as I got diagnosed with EDNOS yesterday, or "ätstörning UNS" in Swedish. My doctor said I do meet all the criteria of anorexia nervosa but not the weight criteria so I didn't get that diagnosis because of that.

Whatever, I don't really care which one I got. But I do feel a bit disappointed, even though I shouldn't cause I did get the correct diagnosis. Oh well, in a few weeks (or months) I'll have anorexia, it's just a matter of time either way.

I'm starting to doubt that I'll get to my goal before Christmas, it's only 6 more weeks and I still have 6-7 kg to go. It's possible, but as long as I keep bouncing between 53 and 54 kg it's not gonna happen. Fuck! I will be so beside myself of frustration and anger if I can't be at 47 kg by Christmas!

I still somehow think this is just a crash diet to get down to the dangerously low 47 kg, but then if I didn't have an eating disorder, I probably wouldn't want to weigh that little. It's fucking with my mind a little bit.

Now I can say that I actually have an eating disorder, which I suppose is the point with this entry. That it's not just a possible self diagnosis, it's an actual diagnosis cause I've got an actual problem. It is real, I got that confirmed now. Though EDNOS feels like an "at the time being" -diagnosis for me, like it's gonna be changed to anorexia later on.

I've never really felt this lonely before. I don't consider myself having that many real friends anymore, just a handful if even that. And I don't know what to say to them. I can spew out words like this for literally all eternity and I do but when it comes to actually talking to people, I run out of words.

Passively talking on online forums has become my thing, replying to other people's posts or making my own topics. Making blog entries here or on tumblr. But actually talking, texting or chatting, has become so hard. I want to reach out, want to know what to say but the words fail me and I give up. Even talking to my mother is hard. I don't want to talk to her about my eating disorder and that leaves little else to discuss.

I still worry about Christmas. Not just how much I will weigh by then but also all of the other stuff, like mostly how to go about the food and sweets that will be served right under my nose for the entire holiday. But I've been trying a new tactic to handle that anxiety: thinking about the good stuff about Christmas instead of about what will be expected of me foodwise. Like, it is my favourite holiday and it always has been, there's gotta be things I can still do to make it worthwhile, right?

Like I use to love knitting especially that time of the year and making some seasonal stuff. Gloves, scarves, socks, décor of various kinds. This year I'm also gonna embroider and I've already started a Christmas themed picture. And I can draw similar things too. I can drink cinnamon spiced tea, listen to such music and watch such movies. I can buy fancy cigarillos to smoke or something.

There are a lot of other things to Christmas than just what you stuff your face with, I just have to convince my parents of that too. They are all about stuffing their faces. For like 2 weeks straight. I was too, so I don't blame them, but I'm starting to see "faults" with that now. Of course I don't want them eating disordered too, but they could be okay with realising there's more to that holiday than eating. Just saying.

So anyway, I do find it helps to try and focus on like embroidering and what movies I want to watch, instead of how I'm gonna bring my scale without my family knowing I brought it with me, for example. They do have a scale but you have take out the battery after every time you use it so I'm like gah... I'll bring my own instead. Really should see if it fits into my bag though.

So yeah... still just eating disorder constantly spinning in my head and how to live a half-assed life with it. Cause I've given up on ever living a decent life, that just isn't meant for me, obviously. And obviously I can get by with a half-assed life instead. It doesn't have to be perfect, it's liveable and that will just have to do.

Cause I'm confident that I'll survive this too, I might even get past it one day. Or if it kills me, I don't know, I don't care. Cause what if I do get treatment for it and it becomes a thing of the past? I'd still be a mess. And right now, I'd rather be in this mess than the mess I was in before.

That's the reality. I can't just get free from all of my problems and become a happy and smiling chap, I have to choose between different messes. This one might be more dangerous, more risk taking and deadly than just an emotional chaos. But I'd rather die from an eating disorder controlling that chaos, than suffer in that chaos without my eating disorder. Cause it's not about what is the safest, it's about what is the easiest to live with.

Broken

I'm so fucking broken today. Last night, before I went to bed I did the huge mistake of weighing myself, and since then it's just been tumbling downhill. I had gained 0,8 kg over the day when I was fasting. That shouldn't even be possible.

However I tried to tell myself it was only water weight and that I was fine but I was so upset I could just barely hold it together. Eventually I had to give up on trying to go to sleep and got back to my computer again, contemplated if I should just skip sleeping altogether, while stuffing myself with 4 large toasts cause I felt like such a failure. But eventually I shuffled back to bed at 5:00 and woke up around 9:00. No difference in my weight what so ever.

Around noon I went for my big shopping spree and since I got back home I haven't stopped eating. Food and chocolate, food again and more chocolate. Then I've drank Bailey's as self medication and to make myself sick. Until now. Now I looked up pro-mia (pro bulimia) websites for tips on how to throw up. With a half bad result, I might add. Suppose it takes practise and isn't as much of a quick fix as I (admittedly) thought it would be.

And now I'm sitting here, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. I was so angry, so sad, so terribly upset over my weight gain that I completely flipped. I wanted to punish my body for its greed, make food disgusting by forcing it down when I'm already full. And just keep pushing it to the limit until something must have snapped, cause I stopped. I didn't go for that pizza, I didn't finish the chocolate cake.

I'm gonna throw it all away tomorrow, but right now... I don't know what to do. I just feel empty, emotionless, like a void, numb. I did eat my way to numbness, that much I managed.

I've never been so upset about a weight gain before, but I know why:
1. it happened after a fast
2. it took me back up to 54 kg
3. it pretty much fucked up my chances of getting to below 52 kg by Tuesday
4. it might mean that I'm back on the plateau
...at least those are my strongest reasons as to why I think it upset me so badly.

Yeah, I'm gonna fast and poop all day tomorrow, cause hell yeah I'm taking laxatives as well to get this shit out of me. Then I'm gonna fast for as long as I can with as little as I can, preferably living on only water and sleep. But I can't function without caffeine... But then again I don't have a reason to be functioning at all, so I guess it doesn't really matter.

Nothing really matters anymore. Only K and my weight loss matter and K isn't here, is he? Damn, I think I'm already getting hungover. Stopped drinking a couple of hours ago. Just couldn't handle that sticky sweet Bailey's and that was all the booze that I bought. I guess my taste has changed since I started starving myself.

One way or another

I'm so fucked up and this is crazy. I'm gonna give my disgusting body what it wants, in masses, shoved down the throat. Not exactly what you had in mind? Well, too bad for you, it's all or nothing and there are no longer any inbetween's. That time has passed and now there's only disordered eating one way or another.

I think I got tired of sandwiches this morning. Good. Then I'm gonna buy food and sweets for a week and have it all in just one day. Any leftovers go into the trash. I'm gonna eat myself past the point of anxiety and panic, all the way down to numbness. Cause that happens too, when all the emotions run out, they leave me with a bitter and ice cold emptiness.

Okay, the eating has officially started. I've had my salad and two large pieces of chocolate cake and I've just gotta rest with a cigarette or several before I dive in again. My plan is to not purge during the day, but start drinking around 17-18 o'clock so that I'll get so wasted that I'll puke up all that I've eaten. And then take laxatives right before I crash in my bed.

I hate myself so much. What am I doing to myself? Starve for weeks and then go all in for a massive binge with the only purpose to harm me. Food is good for you, they say, but I'm turning it into yet another form of self harm, whether it be physical or mental.

I just feel more self destructive than ever, abusing food like this. I have a tendency to blacken good things so that they become bad, to turn everything into negativity. Now chocolate that's always been a treat, almost an addiction at times, already is and will be associated with fear and disgust when I'm done with it.

The word "chocolate" now means binging, fat, dangerous, sickening, guilt and shame. I immediately associate it with lack of control and weight gain, therefore it's been ruined. I don't think I'll ever be able to truly enjoy chocolate again, because of how I feel regarding it.

How can there be so many thoughts and feelings stuffed into just one person? Sometimes I think I got a little too much. But I'm so used to it now, and I can do nothing about it, it's just the way it is.

To the limit

I hope to one day be completely medication free, to not have to start every morning with a cocktail of drugs when I'm so tired I'm barely coherent. But I'm a mess and even though most of my mental conditions have not been chronic or life threatening, it's always something and it's always powerful enough to tip me over the edge.

With time I hope to learn how to live with my darkness, my demons and ghosts and the endless traffic of thoughts in my head, without having to medicate it away. Right now and for the past 10 years that seems and has seemed impossible. Most of the time I don't even want to.

I imagine a future me looking back at who I am now. What will I see from there? I wonder, cause I think maybe I will think it was more horrible than I think it is now. Cause I'm so deep into it, I've got extreme tunnel vision and everything else just seems so... vague.

But that's the thing about obsessions, and right now I have an obsession with food and weight. And I wonder for how long it will last. Maybe just a few months, maybe even decades. If I live that long, that is. With all my chaos and an eating disorder right on top of it, I'm ready to collapse at any minute. It's just that I haven't realised it yet. Not really.

Right now I'm just letting myself submerge into the ocean of numbers, fears, frustration, anticipation and excitement. I do it as if there is no tomorrow. I'm careless, so very careless; restricting my food intake to dangerously low amounts (almost) every day, go several days a week without any food at all, play around with laxatives and other ways of purging, binge eating, exercise on an empty stomach, pushing myself to the limit and one day I will have reached that limit.

It's just a matter of time if I keep going like this. And I just don't care. Not about my health, my well-being or my life. It is a vicious circle and a downward spiral that I'm choosing to keep spinning in. Out of comfort, control, safety. It holds me tight around the neck and I pull it tighter just to make sure it won't loosen its grip on me.

Hold me tighter, I beg it, and the whole thing turns into an obscene bdsm scenario. I'm the masochist and the sadist. Eating disorders are not separated from the individuals, or at least not in my case. I am not my eating disorder, but it's not anyone else forcing me to live this way.

It's me who calls the shots. My fucked up mind is my own and I am my mind. The thoughts that I'm fat and disgusting and don't deserve to eat are my own. And I give in to them, making them worse on purpose because I need this. I need it so damn much.

I'm very mean and brutal with myself, playing along, excited to see where it leads me in the nearest future. I've never quite given a damn about distant futures. They were never meant for me.

So I live my life day by day, one step closer to total self destruction. I have no idea if I will survive this, it feels like a 50% risk of me dying from it. Cause it can only end in 1 of 2 ways. And I still can't make up my mind if I want to live or die, or if neither has any meaning to me.

The appointment

I hope I can maintain this fast for today and not give in to the temptation to have a sandwich or whatever. But I'm so bored with all the drinks, I want something fun to put in my mouth... ugh, gotta wait until tomorrow. Then I'm gonna eat and cry, take laxatives (I bought more), take anxiolytics, eat some more, cry some more and eventually pass out in my bed. Jolly good times.

I have hair plans. What I'm gonna do with my hair when it's grown out a little bit more. Like after New Years or something. I want to shave both sides of my head so that I'll have like a short mohawk that I'll save out to medium length. That one I want to dye black with a little green in the front. Also when it gets long enough to braid I want to finish making my set of fake dreads and put them in my hair. They're gonna be super long, super thin, single ended transitionals going from black to emerald green. And I'll tie them up like a super long, falling mohawk. Gonna look awesome.

That kept me up half the night, by the way, those hair plans. Then I dreamed about being thin. Woke up sad that I was still fat. I think I've come up with yet a new meal plan for a future. That is to fast every other day and to eat the remaining days. Which would be focus on surviving while eating and focus on weight loss while fasting. I think that would be easier to stick to and I could still be able to get the results that I want. Hopefully...

I've been planning food and exercise constantly for almost 2 months. It's been taking up so much space in my head that I forgot how to live without the numbers. Without constantly thinking about my weight, calories in, calories out, what I want to eat, what I'm gonna eat, what I'm not gonna eat, when I will eat, when I won't eat, when to fast and for how long, how to break a fast, when to exercise, what to do while exercising, how to lessen my appetite and how to control my cravings and the ever so present hunger. Constantly.

It's one hell of an escape mechanism, I can tell you. Because you get so totally absorbed that you can't even function right. I can't focus enough to participate in normal (boring) conversations, do any of my hobbies or interests, eat anything without counting the calories or worrying about the amount of calories in it, take walks or doing anything without thinking about how many calories I might have burned, have a cup of coffee without thinking it can suppress my appetite, and I can't accept free food or sweets if I'm offered any. It hinders me ridiculously much, but I feel safe.

Oh, I had almost forgotten. Today I got an appointment with a doctor at the eating disorder clinic, scheduled for the 11th of November. That's on Tuesday. I won't meet the weight criteria for anorexia at that date, but hopefully I'm gonna be at least underweight. It's just 1 more kg that I have to lose to get to that point, so will hopefully be able to manage that.

I'm so excited and scared and nervous! It's my old doctor, I had no idea that she even works in that department these days. It's almost kind of ironical that I'll get her as my doctor again, isn't it? I wonder what to expect. She'll probably mostly just ask a bunch of questions and ask me to explain my situation to her as well.

Maybe I'll be weighed and measured too, so that she will know my BMI. I wanna wear light clothes, but I don't know which ones that would be. I've gotta try on an outfit and see how much weight it adds. Cause you know, I always weigh myself naked to get the number as accurate as possible. I will be underweight by the time of that meeting, but will I show up as normal weight because of the clothes?

I worry about really superficial things, haha. They might not even weigh me at all, might just ask me and take my word for it. But yeah, I worry about that. Also I worry that my doctor will say that I don't have an eating disorder at all and that it's all just in my head and send me off to a dietitian or something. I'm so worried about not being taken seriously and the only thought that crosses my mind is: what am I gonna wear?

Death for a better body

Who ever wants to gain weight? I ask myself sometimes. Cause to me, I just can't understand it, how anyone would want to become bigger or curvier. I suppose what I don't understand is super, ultra femininity and masculinity.

I want to be somewhere in between. I don't want curves, I don't want muscles. Just skin and bones. Well, a dick would be nice too though. But I can't have everything. I don't understand the ideal of curvy women and muscular men. Not when it's to an exaggeration, how people can strive for that. Sure I like women with nice curves and sure a little muscles on men can be really hot, but come on. There's gotta be a limit to it!

I'm not sure what I'm getting it. What I find attractive on others isn't necessarily what I find attractive on myself. Just because I don't want to look like Brad Pitt doesn't mean I don't find him attractive. I've always had that hammering in my mind though, because I'm pansexual and transgender, gender has just been one big chaotic confusion to me ever since I was little.

Somehow I still look at girls, as I did long before as a child and young teenager, to see if I could be alright with looking like them, minus their breasts. Because it's easier to find a boyish looking girl and imagine having her body, than a really handsome man because he would obviously have what I envy so much, what I can literally never have.

And that hurts, what I can't have. Longing for it, wishing I had it, yearning for it, dying to have that. It can even make me cry myself to sleep because my body is so fucked up I literally can't stand it. I think I look like a hairy woman without breasts and I can't fucking deal with it. What I want to see is a man without a dick, it's basically the same thing now, but I can't even see that. If I could, I think that would have been more than enough.

But I can't. All I see is errors and failure, ugliness and fat. All I want to see is a man in the mirror. A slender man, he doesn't even have to be that handsome, just... it's these fucking hips and thighs. They ruin everything. Everything.
And I'm just so very scared that they will never go away with this weight loss. That I'll sit here in two or three months close to 40 kg, crying myself to sleep because the dream was a failure, my body is still disgusting and there's literally nothing that I can do about it.

Could I end up committing suicide for a body that I can not obtain? It's possible. It is actually possible that my transsexualism will be the reason that I will end my life. That's just too damn sad I can't find words for it. That no matter what the state and I myself could ever do to help me live with myself, it was never enough. That it didn't improve my life enough to make it endurable.

Anorexia can't destroy my life, it was already destroyed. It can make it even worse, but you see, that's where I don't care anymore. Cause it's always gonna become worse in one aspect or another. It never ends.