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.
