So there's this girl, Mia... :/

...and she's been hanging around quite a bit more than I'd prefer as of late.

I can't put my finger on it quite yet, but over the past few weeks I've experienced what I'm beginning to term, in my mind, an enormous shift of purpose. I can't tell yet in what direction i'ts taking me, but if the past few days are any indication, it's nowhere good. :(

Restriction has always been my forte. Sure, I have binge days. That's relatively normal, up until a point. There was a short, glorious period of time during which I wanted nothing to do with food and all of its horrific calories...I was just fine with subsisting on the bare essentials, and it was lovely. Didn't last long, of course. That'd be too good to be true.

No, lately, things have been changing. I've been eating a ton more (or what feels like a ton more) and exercising less and somewhere along the way, my drive to keep going, my will to starve, is fading. I'm not comfortable with this. I know it would be more than prudent of me to roll with this, take it as a chance to seek out recovery, wherever it may be hiding, but I just...can't. I'm not ready.

The c&s shit has gotten out of hand, and fast. I am able to admit this, and I'm not at all proud of it (who would be?)...but even as I recognize it as a problem, I am not yet taking mental steps to stop myself from getting worse. I used to use it whenever I felt like bingeing but was conscious enough to spit before swallowing, and it saved me quite a few calories on numerous occasions. Now...Well, now I do it so much that it's interfering with my thoughts at home and at school: I think about what I can c&s next, at home, or at school, hiding in the bathroom and waiting for everyone to leave so I have some privacy... I'm actually spending extra money on binge food only to spit, and this is happening multiple times throughout the day and night. Not...good...at all. What's worse? I'm progressing to the point of saying fuck the spitting part...Eating feels so goddamned good...I want to swallow this stuff. Of course I can't let it get me fat. Next logical step? Purge that shit. Right? Wrong.

I know I'm walking a fine line here. I know this is more dangerous than I can even comprehend. I've made a promise to myself and to K that I will not let bulimia take a hold of me...and yet here I stand, at the precipice of something so enticing and so harmful...even deadly...I read all of your wonderful blogs and I see the pain that so many of you endure daily, the misery bulimia has brought you. How is this not enough to push me far, far away from even considering this? I HAVE to talk myself out of this...and I need to figure out a way back to hard restriction, reduce the c&s cycle til it's gone completely. My mouth has even begun to feel a little tender when I eat due to the constant, rapid chewing and pushing out of food..mostly sugary, baked items. Shit I'm not allowed to have.

Fuck, I'm sorry I'm so messed up. I really am. I can just picture some random stranger finding my blog, reading this with absolutely no understanding of the mental and emotional anguish behind the disorder itself...Thinking to themselves in disdain and condescension of my weakness, my stupidity, my obvious innate desire to hurt myself. No shit, sherlock. That's what it all comes down to; I believe, in my heart of hearts, that I deserve to be punished, to feel pain, and I long for it, because at least this pain serves to mask all of the unending suffering I won't ever escape, the internal, eternal torment of my past and present...

God, P.D., breathe.

I sit here at school, after class, with two large, saran-wrapped slices of store-bought cake (one chocolate and one carrot) sitting in my backpack, neatly wrapped up in the plastic bag in which they came. I stare down at them. I need them. I want that food in my mouth, in my throat, in my stomach, and then I will hate myself. The hate for the fat that they would add to my thighs will propel me into the nearest bathroom, or even my bedroom, wherever I can be alone and not overheard...And I will fail to get all of it up because I suck at purging, and my mascara will run a little bit and I'll pull my hat down further over my forehead to hide the bloodshot glaze of my eyes...I have the power to stop this binge from occurring. In reality, I know that I have the power to stop Mia from entering my life...I just...have to find it. I have to find this strength. It's not okay for me to break, not here, not with this.

Thank you for reading, lovelies... <3


EDIT: Add-on...8:46 PM: So...I binged, right? But...as fail as that is...I promised Della (and myself) I wouldn't purge. I'm so sorry, Della...and everyone else. I purged half my dinner. Half. Before I came to my senses and pulled myself back from the edge, yet again. And here I sit, feeling so fat and ugly and foolish and HUGE...Yeah, cuz I binged again. F-u-c-k. You can't see how much it hurts from the outside...it's stretching my insides to their limits. Ugh. End edit.

Well hell, you thought you were rid of me...

But I had forgotten that I wanted to post these... Just some stuff I had written a while back, but it's all relevant.

I don't know what's happening to me, but the overwhelming weight of this depression is clouding my thought, my ability to reason with myself, and I'm suffocating every moment in this devastating tailspin of confusion and loss of self...

I'm eating now, constantly, to make up for lost time and months of relentless restriction... it's never enough, the bingeing is endless and uncontrollable, and the agony of disappointment in myself is only exceeded by the wrath of an infuriated master... She can hardly believe her piercing eyes, and yet She refuses to turn away. The gaze of Ana, in all her emaciated perfection, is burning white-hot and searing, blistering my soul with her condescending disdain... Her realization is evident, painfully obvious to both of us: choosing me was a mistake, her miscalculation was fatal... My heart, body, mind, and soul... She wanted it all, and I promised it to her in full and sincere abandon. Words continuously fail to delineate the sheer anguish of this affliction, and yet I try...I try and I try, bleeding, hating, faltering... wanting...needing...crying and screaming, pounding the walls of my own sanity and consciousness with scarred fists, clenched in frustration, in loss... If I've lost myself, then I've lost everything...

But therein lies the problem. I've never lost all of myself; I've come so close, only to be jerked back to reality and to life itself by the ones who love me most... They don't even know...My little girl, my amazing, innocent, sweet babygirl, she knows absolutely nothing of what she does for me, nor of how many times she has saved my life. Why do I try so hard, strive so earnestly for what will surely hasten my own death? The glimmer of reason that remains has not yet been extinguished, and it reminds me each time to put the pen down...don't sign it all away...

But I love Her so, I need Her, and I want Her to forgive me for eating this way... save me from the cage that is this cumbersome, leeching body... I hate Her so, I reject Her, I push Her away and scream for my freedom, begging, pleading, needing...

I don't even know what I need anymore.


*****



This one never really got the chance to be given a proper beginning or end; I stopped myself from completing it when I realized that I was only doing more harm in writing it at all.


...Crimson hate bleeds from every pore, springing, flowing, trickling down and over so many imperfect curves...dreadful, disgraceful curves...pooling, forming tranquil lakes of loathing around my feet into which I dare not tread...

But you cannot ignore the storm for long. Ominous clouds gather in sanguine skies; the bloodthirsty demon awaits the inevitable. Lightning strikes and again I fall, thrown savagely to the depths of a darkness so black I'd rather close my eyes than look into its emptiness.

Furious fingers search fervently, craving that cherished gauntness, tight, smooth skin over perfect bones...It's never there, never enough...Will I ever just disappear?


Funnily enough, I don't feel anywhere NEAR this down right now. Nope, I'm all excited about camping and celebrations of Halloween and fall and all that good stuff, plus I've got tons of studying to do for next week's exams so there's simply not any room (at the moment) for depression. Cheers to that.

Trying to keep up with this...

Today I ran three miles. I ate very little for breakfast and felt relatively good about myself, despite the undeniable failure of yesterday.

Then I came home and ate a bit... Not a binge, necessarily, but I definitely ate more than I needed to feel full. Compulsive overeating, I've discovered, is pretty hard to accurately explain with mere words...If you've experienced it, then I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Here, lemme rant. Please? All right then.

You know what I hate? Here are just a few things:
* "Oh, you are SO lucky! You're so thin, it must be nice." Two words: Fuck. Off. Seriously. I am NOT so thin, nor am I effing LUCKY. There is not an ounce of luck involved here, nor is there happiness or satisfaction or contentment. Thank you very much for checking your ignorance before you open your mouth.
* "Why can't you just...stop eating? When you're full, you know, just stop." RIGHT. If life were really that simple, that easy, do you think either one of us'd be here right now? Honestly.
* "You're beautiful, just like you are. You shouldn't compare yourself to others, it's not fair." All right, on this one...I'll give a little slack. It sounds like the speaker is genuinely trying to 'help.' Sort of. Thing is, we need more than compliments as we struggle with this; we need understanding and acceptance of the problem itself, not closed minds and outright denial of the disorder's existence. I have problems. I know I do. I have problems that prevent me from seeing ME the way you do. My issues don't let me see other people as just that...other people. Instead, many of these individuals...someone I see at the supermarket, a group of girls running past me at school, and of course, the models in the magazines... these people are aspirations, goals, women I desire to emulate in their appearance, weight, level of fitness, etc. They are idols and they are enemies; they are thinspiration and they are unattainable perfection, tormenting me in their beauty, that which I feel I am simply unable to achieve. *sigh* I'm done ranting. For now.

So today I didn't overdo it as badly as yesterday, but I did, once again, break my own rules, my own agenda, and that disappoints me. I've taken numerous steps today to try and proactively pull myself up out of this rut, this angst, before it spirals down into something so much deeper and darker because I know that's what waits around the corner if I let it overcome me. I'd prefer to repeat corny-sounding affirmations over and over to myself for hours, staring at my reflection in the mirror and telling the failure that looks back at me that she's beautiful. She's an intelligent young woman with numerous talents and goals, she's a wonderful mother, and she's beautiful. Ugh. I can hardly choke it out. But I do, because it's supposed to help. We'll see. Anything I can do to avoid the depression...the emptiness...the one that drives me to eat and even worse, drink...A lot. I won't do it.

What I WILL do is go running again tomorrow. I'll eat nothing else for the rest of the night except for celery, because I've already had more than enough of everything else for today. I will stretch for an extra long time tonight and in the morning before I run, as my shin splints are getting worse (and I'm still not willing to give up my cardio).

Time to go get the little one. I'm looking forward to her bright, excited smile as I walk in the door to pick her up; she loves me so unconditionally... She's my number one fan, and always will be. For that, I am inexplicably grateful.

Be well, all. Thanks for reading...(If, in fact, anyone is reading). Hmm. G'night.