Have you ever...?

Have you ever felt so confident in your ability to walk along the cliff's edge that you decided it'd only be a step or two more if you went ahead and stepped off?...you'd probably fly, after all...

I've been trying to write this post for a while. It's 2:31 PM on the first day of the first month of the first year of a new decade.

Talk about your time for fresh starts, huh?

Last night was an absolute abomination. I truly don't want to even begin trying to count the calories in last night's binge. Suffice to say... well, I've been seeing quite a bit more of Mia lately than my good friend/worst enemy, Ana. I don't know where she's been lately, that Ana. It's like she's decided to go ahead and take her holiday break right along with everyone else. She's probably off chillin' in Cancun *right* now, gracing the sunny beaches full of skinny bodies with her glowing presence. She knows I don't deserve her attention right now. Oh Ana, please...Please don't give up on me. I honestly am so, so sorry.

The problem is this (and I'm positive that my words will fail me here, as they have been apt to do as of late for some ungodly reason...I hate it):

Yesterday, I had one of the *THE* worst days I've ever had in terms of depression and self-loathing. It was horrible. Suicidal thoughts, anyone? No, I suppose not technically suicidal, if I'm not contemplating actually offing myself. Just imagining how much better life would be if I didn't have to live it anymore.

I should have blogged about it yesterday. The level of pure, unadulterated self-hatred was astounding. And the resulting madness was pretty impressive in its own right. I am my own undoing nearly every single time I come undone; this I know. My introspection goes too deep and suddenly I'm analyzing my every thought and emotion like it's my job. Too bad I don't get paid like my doctors and therapists do (when they could never do it like me).

"I'm just so sick and tired of feeling like shit ALL the time. I hate hating myself this much. I am literally *THIS* close to seeking help for this, finally... I just want to feel normal...I can't stand despising the woman I see in the mirror EVERY...SINGLE...MOMENT...of every hour, every day..." That was me yesterday. That's not even the half of it. Words don't work...ya know?



I know what it is to be happy...I do...just NEVER about myself. I can be happy when my daughter throws her skinny little arms around my neck in the purest embrace and whispers that she loves me...I'm the happiest when her smile is the direct result of something little I did, just for her. I know happiness when I consider how incredibly lucky I am to have such an amazing man in my life, and that I am the only object of his love and devotion is something for which I will FOREVER be grateful. When my cold nose finds warmth in the smooth place on his neck behind his ear...I am *HAPPY*...So happy.

When I look in the mirror and see...god...all that I see... My eyes search for some kind of something, any indication that I'm smaller, that I'm making progress, that the binge from the previous day hasn't completely wrecked the tiny castle of hope and thin that I've been building for so long...All I see is hatred for the disgusting failure of a human body I inhabit. The bulging fat beneath flawed skin, stretch marks deep and purple where my flesh had to expand to hold that tiny miracle I love every day...Cellulite that's been there for years, mostly due to heredity... God, the fat... The deafening absence of thin. I choke up, my throat closes to pull hot tears back and away from my eyes. I can't cry. Not when I'm at home. Not when someone might see and wonder and inquire, because then I'd have to lie, and I'm a horrible liar.




I hate seeing the jiggling masses of my thighs when I walk, when I step. I raise my arms above my head and fold my elbows across my face, hiding my eyes. Hiding the mirror from my eyes. Beautiful eyes, everyone always used to say. Blue. What's so great about blue? Perhaps the color does distract you for just a moment from all of the ugliness that surrounds them...They have their merit.

As my arms pull up, I see them. The ribs...they're there. They exist. Imagine that. They're beautiful and pure and yet dull, now, as I've put on at least a few pounds of fat (I know it must be...I just know it). That scale is so unreliable. I can't trust it. Perhaps my reckless bingeing as of late is somehow related to the fact that I feel that I'm growing so much fatter anyway...may as well shove some more food down there to hurry the process so I can feel something, anything...even if it's more disgust, more hatred.

I took some pictures yesterday, as I was contemplating the fact that I've probably simply gained fat and lost muscle tone over the holiday break. Perhaps I'll post them. Just for shits and giggles.

Ugh. I have so much to write, and yet here I am, sitting in bed, feeling guilty about not being sociable. We're still at the friends' house. Last night's celebration was a blast, indeed, as I had decided prior to coming over that I'd give myself this LAST day to have whatever I wanted. I wanted to try and eat and drink and be merry with everyone else. Maybe try to remind myself of what everyone else feels on an occasion like this.

*sigh...* I'm not everyone else.



I ate and drank to my heart's content. Then...Binge time. Eating what you'd like is one thing... sneaking upstairs multiple times while everyone else is still down playing Rock Band so that I can eat and eat and eat and eat more and more until my stomach literally feels like it's going to reject anything else I attempt to swallow. Eating what I like...having some appetizers and a brownie and some wine or liquor or beer and champagne like everyone else...
Letting my ED take over... Different story. I ate until it hurt. Then I ate more. Then I drank more. And I didn't purge.

I woke up this morning, dehydrated and fatigued and dizzy. My abdomen was swollen, and as I stood up, my heart pounded hard in my chest. My pulse skyrocketed. I imagined my bloated body putting such a strain on my heart that it couldn't keep up with digesting the spoils of the night prior AND keeping me upright.

My poor babe...He outdrank himself last night. Beat his own record... at least any he's set for as long as we've been together. Spent the night on the bathroom floor, after his friend and I spent a few hours consoling him through the vomiting. Ha. Is it completely wrong that, as I sat there stroking his back and listening to him puke up nearly a liter of Long Island Iced Teas, I thought multiple times of how I'd love nothing more than to be able to purge as *quietly* as he throws up? Barely a sound out of that guy, I swear. Not fair. :P I'm terrible.

I'm sorry if this has been somewhat incoherent or rambling...incongruous, even. I'm a bit out of sorts. Yes, even more so than usual.

So. Where do we go from here? Have to pick up the pieces and push on. You only fail when you refuse to get up, right?

Since this morning's fail breakfast (I won't even go into it...Crepes? Peanut butter? Syrup? Let's leave it there) of about 700 calories, I haven't eaten. I don't plan on eating anything else for the rest of the day. I know it doesn't necessarily "balance" out, but the thought of putting any more food into my body is nearly enough to make me sick.

As the day of our departure to go back home draws nearer and nearer, I find myself both relieved and excited to get back to my beloved gym and daily exercise routine...and of course, slightly disappointed that I'll have more than likely merely maintained my weight since we left nearly three weeks ago. God, it would have been so good to have gotten down to the 120s by the time I got home. Shit, who knows? With my resolution to do away with binges ENTIRELY, maybe I'll be able to turn this around and come out on the other side of 130. That would be...wonderful.

Ah, I've just realized that I'm probably boring half of you to tears. I'm sorry. I just had to take this opportunity to write, as my daughter is mostly entertained by the kids here and I actually have a few moments to myself and my thoughts...Dangerous, I know.

I've done quite a bit of blog fishing today, and managed to pick up some nice ones to follow for the new year. I know, the list of the blogs I follow is growing immensely, but I promise, I do find time to read them all at some point or another. It's just so nice to know that I'm not completely alone in my lunacy, my obsession.

Thank you all, and happy new year. <3