Monday, December 28, 2009

Watch me.

I've got quite the lovely new camera for Christmas.

This week I AM going to lose my Christmas pounds.

I'm making a comeback, I can feel it. Fuck this New Years party shit, if I have to go and they want to talk then I'll damn well give them something to talk about.

Did I mention I have a lovely new camera?

I'll post again in the New Year, with new photos, because like I said I'm making a comeback and I can post something to be proud of.

I don't endorse such behaviors but I choose to accept mine.

It makes my skin crawl to think that I'm fully capable of being a disgusting fat over eater. Damn them and their bad foods, making me think it's ok to give in, giving in for me means I lose all control and dive in.

No No No

Guess my blood test will show higher nutrient levels because of it though, right?

This isn't a new year resolution. This is a return to form.

I think all the fat has accumulated on my face, neck and thighs. Now for anyone who feels bad about binging this Christmas... At least you didn't do it for two whole weeks. I've a lot of ground work to do here.

And my arm now bears scratches. Now that is definitely not me. Not in the slightest. I always abhorred such things. What's more is; I simply don't care. Fill me with liquor, powder my nose and let just one week glide from under my feet. Just one, just a little holiday.

See you at six and a half stone.


No excuses

Wednesday, December 23, 2009


I'm suffering a binge blip. It's longer than usual, true. But accept it. The more pressure I put on myself about getting through the holidays and seeing people is keeping me eating. When I binge I don't want to see anybody until I get rid of it again.
But beating myself up about it is keeping me there.
So I weighed myself today, with clothes on. No trying to make the figures pretty. 97. That's three pounds on last week. Although part of me is trying to fudge the numbers because I haven't digested any of yesterday's food so it could be less.
ANYWAY. Here is what I'm going to do about my monumental fuck up. I'm obviously all over the place and have reversed into eating, because I've lost all focus or drive, or care for that matter. I am going to enjoy all that Christmas crap. Eat, whatever. Still not sure how comfortable I am with doing it all over again the next day but I'll deal with it. I will then do a massive lax cleanse. I'm killing my insides with these things so I simply have to resist doing it after last night. So I must wait until its absolutely crucial. So I choose then. After the 26th I'm going back to my house again, I'm not going out for the 26th, fuck tradition, I feel so horrible and ugly, and NOBODY will see me like this. Then it's restricting. No compensating with fasts because that is keeping me in this fucking cycle. Ok so it may be slower to see results but long term it'll get me back to me. Going to keep a lunchbox of fruit and veg and can only eat from that daily portion. I can pick at it anytime I feel the need to keep me going throughout the day but it will still be controlled through measured calories that I put into it. And it will be healthy food and it'll keep me going enough to get back exercising too, and then maybe by new years I will be back on track and up to socialising. And maybe enjoy new years eve. And from then on it's plain sailing.
Am I fooling myself? Well it's better than thinking I am in a frame of mind to fast. I have to be realistic and see that it's only leading to disaster. So I guess it'll be four days to lose four Christmas pounds for new years, and ultimately five more pounds. Recovery is the farthest thing from my mind right now. I am taking control back. By putting SO much emphasis on food my body wanted everything. I couldn't just choose one thing because I wanted to have everything I deny myself, and so I had to have it all at once. 1000 calories in one sitting, no problem. Well no, fuck that I choose to not have it. It's not denial, it's a choice. I will get my flat stomach back, I will feel light as a feather. I'm making a comeback and not carrying on with this whinging bullshit. It's so unbecoming.
I truly hope you all find a way to get through the next few days. It probably won't be easy, but it IS only a few days and you have the power to get over that. Just remember that the consequences of those days are only temporary. TEMPORARY. Don't let it pull you down. I'm sitting here, aware of my increasing flesh without even feeling for it. But it is temporary.
And also, thanks for the comments, I see now that you all make sense in what you were saying, I'm just sorry it took me so long and so much gain to get there and realise it!

Ever feel...

Like you've let yourself go so much, binged so much, gained so much, and let go of all the values and standards that are so important to you, like you've completely and totally let yourself down, are totally trapped, weak and pathetic, and can't stop it, like you can't just fucking stop your disgusting vile ways...
That you've called the Samaritans in some sort of desperate episode?
Well I did.
Not even sure how it occurred to me but I did.
I can't escape food. Tonight I ate absolutely everything I could find. How can someone diagnosed as anorexic go from one extreme to the other? When will it stop? I wish I had a cell to lock myself away until I get a grip on things again. Feel comfort in that emptiness. I feel like I'm losing everything. Because right now I am stumbling every day, and my body is filling out with this horrid horrid fat, and my bones are disappearing and god my mind, my mind just won't control my actions.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Fuck, why can't I write a positive post.

I am officially trapped. And I've done it to myself. Food has wound it's dirty fingers around me and is moulding me into this horrific species of being. And I let it. I'm changing. I can see it. Feel it all around me. I've become so weak. I wished I lived alone. I wish I could be away from it all. I hate it all. I'm further away from accepting recovery than ever. I don't deserve it. I can fatten myself. I'm really just this disgusting creature crying to get out of my small body. And it's succeeding. So quickly. I can feel the fat between my thighs growing, the space decreasing, my stomach sticks out. I want it gone. I want it all gone. I want to disappear. I want the feeling of being hollow. Instead I'm turning into a growing wreck. Fuck this all. I want it all gone. This month has been the worst for me, I've let everything go and I'm so afraid I'm not strong enough to fight back.

This cannot happen to me.

So far around the bend.

Still not there yet...
I'm in a shameful place.
I've been binging constantly. Maybe I've lost my anorexia and have turned into a compulsive eater. Everything I stood for is gone. And I hate it. And with Christmas it's going to be even tougher.
I woke up today ready to fast and then just had breakfast anyway.
At least when I get my bloods checked on Wednesday it'll probably look better because I have to have got something from the last two weeks right? But a part of me wants it to be bad, I know it sounds insane but at least if my results aren't great I can feel like I haven't lost my will completely. Fucking stupid right.
Somebody please give me strength here. I'm fallen. I'm gaining like nobody's business. I'm too scared to properly check but I think I'm back to seven stone.
I don't deserve the treatment being offered, I seem to be doing fine putting on weight all by myself and lots of it.
What has happened to me?
I keep thinking I can survive on restricting, but I can't get back to that until the holidays are over because I need to fast to compensate for the dinners I'll have to eat. And I can't fast. All my unsafe foods are going inside me. Where the fuck are my standards?
Fast until Friday. Can I do this? Will it even change my gain at all? I'd give anything to be back at ninety four. I can forget about losing anymore. God just let me back to what I was a week ago. Please. I absolutely hate myself. Why am I doing this to myself? I want it back.
And the worst thing is I told my mam last night that I was diagnosed with anorexia, then I went to the kitchen and ate a lot. A lot. Oh fuck I've eaten so much recently. I feel like a hypocrite. What the hell is wrong with me here. God maybe if I just admitted myself when it was offered to me I wouldn't have gained as much there than I am doing at home. Now that's bad.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Coming soon.

I know I haven't written anything in some time.
But I'm mentally preparing myself.
Or have been hiding away.
I feel shameful.
I feel I have lost my grip.
I have let myself down. Right down.
I will write something soon. Of epic proportions.
In length, probably not quality.
It's been a long week. And yet a long week of nothing.
But my thoughts have been long and rambling.

Monday, December 7, 2009


Starting a week fast, ate a lot yesterday because I'm sick, needed the energy.
Whatever, I'm back in the game.
Won't be posting until Friday. Hopefully I'll have something postive to say then.
Wish me luck and support.
And know that I'll probably post sooner, but if that's the only willpower problems I have then that's fine by me.

I've been walking to this lately...

Only when I dream but there's no way out
You learn to talk, you learn to shout
Focus on depth that was never there
Eliminate what you can't repair
Nothing ever happened to me
Nothing ever happened to me
Life just passing, flash right through me
I never, saw it coming
Waiting for something, for nothing
I never, saw it coming
Waiting for something, for nothing

Saturday, December 5, 2009

All this alcohol will just make me gain.

I don't feel like I deserve to cry.
I'm not low enough to have reached rock bottom yet.

Friday, December 4, 2009

No wait, I've got the fear. Somebody? Anybody?

Somebody tell me that I'm not going to wake up in the morning with a huge stomach, and a couple of extra pounds.
I've done a 180 in the space of an hour, I'm now a needy pitiful mess.
I don't feel ok about this anymore. I can feel it all inside me. Swollen and heavy, and vile.
Can't do anything about it until the morning. Shit.
Can I feel better by this time tomorrow?
I walked eleven kilometres today. But I consumed, and please, I know it's disgusting, I consumed about 1400 calories. Fuck. That's so so over the top.
I'm scared. So much for being so naive as to think that that amount of food, especially junk food wouldn't fuck me up. How fucking smug was I with being a filthy creature, thinking I could just wipe it from my memory.
I know after this I'll be back to my normal habits for a while but how long will it take to get over this. I want to be 89.
What's the worst case scenario?

So, um, this is a little strange.

I guess it pays not to weigh yourself everyday.

I've had a relatively good week, then had my counselling session today which basically told me to cop on and face my problems otherwise there's no point in going into treatment because essentially it's up to me. Right, ok so I see her point, but I just wanted to keep pushing and deal with that when it comes, because I don't know what I want. It's hardly like I want to eat because if I did then surely I wouldn't need to go for treatment.. Urgh.. I'm just not in the place this past while to want to think about it.

Anyway, it's all irrelevant now because I ruined my good streak and binged. And I mean massively. Made good use of all that available food here. Feel sick. Need it out. Quick. But it's not coming up. And all along the earlier conversation swirls in my mind. Maybe it'll be ok, show that you can handle the anxiety. Don't panic. Just accept. It won't come up. But you know that if it means an extra pound or two it's probably for the best. And at least the purge motivation is out of your system again for another little while. And this is a natural reaction to your body when it's in starvation mode. But I haven't been starving. I been careful to have a couple of hundred calories a day to at least have something. But she said it's what happens. So I should accept?

So I can't get rid of it. Must show myself the error of my ways. Take off clothes. Get on scale. Ok I know it won't be accurate because it'll show all the extra weight from what I've eaten because I haven't digested at least some of it yet. At least to get the relief of some of it gone. But no. I must see the damage.

Completely expecting the worst.

But the scale reads 92 pounds.
Oh. Holy. Fuck.

And that's after binging. I must have done so well this week. So I should be freaking out but instead I'm ok. Is what I'm saying even making sense? How did this happen?

Don't get me wrong; I still feel vile having this weight inside me, and want it gone. I know I've slowed things down, and taken a step back from what could've been a successful loss. But I guess it could be worse. I'm ok with this weight. For now. And like I said before, I've a binge out of my system for another while. I can get back to avoiding that horrid food. Fast, do what I feel comfortable with. And it'll give me energy. I think I'm finding a pattern that really works for me. I've been waiting to crash for over a week now and I'm still doing ok. Back to fasts and I guess I'll take each day as it comes. I think I can survive on this. Fuck am I just talking complete nonsense? Yep, probably. But this is working for me. Even if I break once a week, in the grand scheme of things I'll keep my weight down. Maybe. I don't know. I don't care for facts or numbers anymore. I just want to do what feels right to me. And feeling empty feels right. So bye bye today. You were just a fleeting moment.

And so what becomes of treatment beginning next week? Surely my current attitude isn't very conducive to making myself better. Or maybe this is me tricking myself into thinking I don't need it. Because right now I'm not content but I'm getting close.

@Loola, thanks for the comment, for some reason I can't seem to figure out how to post on your blog so I'm going to stick it here, but anyway, thank you, I really appreciate what you said. But I don't feel courageous, I've just made myself a small safety net because nobody else will call me up on my actions or address the matter. Seriously I think I'd have to be in a hospital bed before anybody around me would raise the issue (so I suppose it works out fine for me to continue as I see fit) so at some point I have to take responsibility. Which is ironic considering my post above. But I hope at least you can feel less lost in this whole mess, in the end it's only you that can choose to change no matter what anybody else tries. That's something I'm realising more and more these days. x

Thursday, December 3, 2009

There's Thirty Four of you?!

Well that's something I never expected in just a few short weeks of blogging. So I'm extending a massive thank you to all you guys for taking some time out to follow, and especially the comments; sometimes it's nice to feel like my rants are bouncing somewhere.

Which leads me neatly on to this question; you're actually reading this?? God it kind of makes me cringe because my posts here always seem to pitiful to me, and added to that is the fact that the majority of the time I just punch out these blogs in two minute bursts borne out of a massive need to vent somewhere, anywhere. So I guess I'm apologising for the lack of fluidity or coherency, or even wit or intellect. I really hope it doesn't make for all that bad of reading...

And yes I've been reading blogs too, I promise to try harder with commenting, really I do, because sometimes I read an entry and it really hits home and I think that it can only be a positive thing, personally it helps a lot. And it sits far more comfortably with me than being part of any of those forums. That's not a sleight on anyone, just my own complex.

Right now, I've been awake for forty three hours, completely straight. Not so much as a nap. And I've no idea why. It's verging on the miserable though because I'm buzzing with SO many projects I want to do, I want them all now, I want to be everything. I have the potential to do anything I put my mind to. But alas I can't focus enough to concentrate on any one thing at a time. Guess that's where I need my sleep. Going to try tonight, I just don't feel tired. I also broke a little today, well a lot as far as I'm concerned, broke fasting this evening with bad, bad things. Purged most of it back, I only do that when I'm desperate but I'm damned if I'm going to let one slip knock me off track. Can't have that mass just residing there inside of me. It must go. Maybe I can be hopeful and it could just boost my metabolism, and also the lack of sleep surely is impairing my willpower somewhat. Either way it's a complete and utter fast tomorrow to make up for it. I think I find it hard to sleep when I've eaten, like if I just keep going I'll keep burning, that's kind of messed and illogical but I do see a pattern here...

Oh my goodness if you could only see the disgusting amount of junk food that's stocked up in the house right now. Fuck, it's crazy, and it's a free for all, and I really really want to just toss the whole lot in the bin so so bad. I'm happier wandering the supermarket aisles disallowing myself everything. Nothing is ok when I try and consider what would be safe to sustain me it all disgusts me. And then you walk home feeling strong and there's a motherfucking dinner on the stove and packs upon packs of crisps, chocolate, biscuits, bread, cheeses, cereals... My friends enjoy food and have a really healthy attitude towards it. To not have constant voices surrounding every single morsel bewilders me. I actually don't think it's possible I'll ever be like them.

And that's why I won't punish myself over one slip because in the face of the constant reminders I'd like to think I'm remaining somewhat strong.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Supermarket Sweep.

I'm doing good. Need to push myself so much harder though. This feels too easy. And I'm still breaking rules. But restricting is working hella good for me right now. I've decided to ignore logic and just let myself enjoy this. Before I crash back down again. I'm not weighing myself for a few days. I think the constant scrutiny of numbers on the scale is a massive factor in my emotional preoccupations so it's going to take a back seat.

I want to enjoy this. It's temporary so please let me have it. I want to bury my head in the sand until I have this hospital appointment and I actually have to confront this whole mess I've created. I feel like a fucking walking paradox. But I don't want to care.

I think that I must look like such a freak in shops. I get a welcome release from sidling up and down the aisles, checking the info on packaging. Better than eating it. I'm constantly amazed at how much shit is in things that people shove into their mouths without even thinking, like all those treats and snacks that people don't even count as having eaten. It's like a game. But I get so flustered. I must look so strange going up and down the aisles, picking stuff up and putting it back down again, leaving shops without actually having bought anything. I never buy any of that shit. Maybe that empowers me somewhat? Which is why I hate having so much junk in the house. It's always there taunting me and I don't even want it. Head fuck.

Doing good. Will do better.

And to end on a good note... The dentist assures me, even though I kept asking because of mass teeth paranoia, that my teeth will be absolutely fine. I honestly didn't beleve her for ages but I guess she's the professional. So now I can get back to ignoring all those stupid 'signs.'

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Watch me melt away.

I'll update when I feel like less of a failure.

Two weeks of commitment.

And I'm not in a place right now to read over my counsellor's notes on getting better.

I want to bury my head in the sand.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Absolutely Cuckoo.

Don't fall in love with me yet
We only recently met
True I'm in love with you but
you might decide I'm a nut
Give me a week or two to
go absolutely cuckoo
then, when you see your error,
then, you can flee in terror
like everybody else does
I only tell you this cause
I'm easy to get rid of
but not if you fall in love
Know now that I'm on the make
and if you make a mistake
my heart will certainly break
I'll have to jump in a lake
and all my friends will blame you
There's no telling what they'll do

It's only fair to tell you
I'm absolutely cuckoo

Friday, November 27, 2009

So thanksgiving eh?

We don't celebrate thanksgiving here... May as well have done though considering my intake.

So I lied, I said I wouldn't post until I was back to 93. I'm currently teetering around 95. Drank last night, and even though I could only handle the pub for like an hour I still came home and wrecked myself with horrible, stodgy pasta and chocolate and bread. Disgusting. DISGUSTING. And it's stupid because last night I looked good. Skinny me and I loved it. And then I wrecked it. Dammit I just wanted to get wasted, but I felt like I couldn't do that when I was out with housemates so I left. And went home and chose the completely unfavourable route to self destruct...

Completely and totally.

Moving on. This week was successful as far as restricting. So let's forget the past twelve hours right. Moving on. My head hurts. I'm going to go for a five km walk and then some. This week is uber restrict mode. I'm not letting last night stop me now. Nope. Not going to dwell on it. Fuck I would never keep that stuff in my house, it's not food I want, I hate that when I'm weak it's there waiting for me. If t wasn't I would work through and derive some sort of pride from abstaining. I am weak in this house and it hurts because everything else about living with my friends is great. But christ, there needs to be boundaries. Pasta. Ugh.

See even as I type I know I'll start to dwell on what I've wrecked last night. And no, I'll be damned if I binge twice in one week. So moving on. No weighing until Monday. Guess I'll still be 95 because of this. But at least it won't be anymore.

A strange thing came oer me this week. I have limited time. I have to go to hospital in two weeks. So I need to push harder against it because God knows what they'll try and make me put on, and fuck knows how my mind will be warped into accepting. Ok I know they're not some sort of evil organisation! And I'm putting myself in the situation but I'm not ready to let go yet so I will work harder.

I am working harder. This is mine. And it feels damn good right now. Let me just enjoy that before I crash again.

I've been reading your thanksgiving stories, and I'm truly sorry that you've been having such tough times with it. I think it's so fucked that the spirit of family around these holidays is twisted through this massive preoccupation with how much food people can stuff inside their bodies. Really it's fucked, it's too much pressure and that shouldn't be the focus. Please please please don't let one day bring you down. It's one day that you can push through. Allow yourself to just be for that one day, and move on.

Nothing 'til Monday. Weigh in. And so it will continue.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

I will not post again...

Until I am back at 93. Otherwise everything I type here feels like a lie.

I love living with my friends but they make everything so much harder with their dirty dirty food.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Mmm.. Monday.

Four day fast starts today. It'll pretty much mean that I'll just lose what I gained over the weekend. I'm sure it's pounds, multiple. I've just had a hearty breakfast, and might I say really large, breakfast, of porridge and raisins and three slices of brown bread toast. My stomach has expanded A LOT.

But I'm back in the game. Haven't slept all night. Not since Saturday night. It's now six thirty. At seven thirty I'm gonna get ready and walk to college. Then I'll walk into town to go to some galleries. Then walk back home. And back to college to do some writing. Yes I will write. All this food has fuelled me and I'm ready to get back to writing reviews, hopefully get something submitted and published. It's been too damn long. And I don't care what's in my stomach, or rather I'm ignoring that horrible, horrible weight I can feel resting there if it means I can succeed in getting things done today. I do care. But it's temporary.

Then it's just going to be sheer momentum for the week. Here's hoping all that walking will work breakfast off. This will be the week. Galleries today. Writing and research tomorrow. Meeting with ex on Wed. Two exhibition openings on Thurs followed by a gig. After my counsellor appointment. Then Friday I crash. Because I'm sure it's a possibility. Sat is the film screening. Sun is home so I can go to my dentist appointment on Mon and inspect exactly how my starvation has ravaged my body. Well at least I ate for a few days so that might slow things down. No wait, two days. But fuck, it was so so much it may as well as been a week binge. Haven't purged all weekend though.

I've never felt the need to write up details of my personal life on here before. And I don't expect I will much. But this morning I'm buzzing. Must not weigh until Thursday. Otherwise I'll just see my gain and be crushed. No No No.

I will go upstairs and get dressed. And I will NOT buckle to the desire to wear baggy clothes to cover my bloated stomach. What's the worst eh? I'm back to seven stone? Seven stone is my barrier weight. It allows for little mishaps like this weekend. Over that and I'd absolutely die. Back down to 93 on Thurs and I'd be the happiest girl alive.

And I don't care about the torrential rain and wind, I'll walk, and walk. I like it that way. Anyone for Mondays?

Saturday, November 21, 2009

And so begins the cycle back down to 93.

Maybe I'll just aim for 90.
Then I'll put on my new killer heels and drink it all away.

Ha. I'm not ill.

One week of not eating and restricting.
Starvation sets in.
Body takes over mind.
Get this - Right now I just ate the 'RDA' worth of food. That's an believable amount of food, of really bad food. In an hour. Anything I could find. Anything bad. All the junk food. Whatever is in the house. More than I have eaten in the past seven days. I saw myself do it, I didn't care.
Can't possibly fit another thing into my overly swollen stomach. And I feel delerious. Bye bye 93. You'll be a long, long way away now. I'll stay alive until my hospital appointment this way. Baggy clothes for the next week. I feel FULL. I won't purge. Whatever. Fuck that. I'll just hide away for the week.
See, fucking call me anorexic now, go on.

I didn't think so.

Making myself blog.

If this is such a push, then why in the world can't I push myself to do everything else?

It's six on a saturday and I'm in college, in the library. Because I needed to leave that house. No energy to exercise but I can justify the walk because it has a purpose. Which is bloody ironic considering I've withdrawn from this semester and therefore have no need to be here until after christmas.

I'm really trying with this whole positive, motivated week. But christ it's hard.

I can't eat and forget about it. I can't. I'm not binging, I'm being controlled, but it's still all too much. Too fucking much. Keep telling myself I should. But the fucking guilt. Takes all not to make myself purge. So it's back to the laxatives. But I haven't binged and I use them when I've over done it. But two hundred calories is too much. It's not about the calories though. It's just too much. Not enough. I'm cracking.

I think my muscles are wasting. Still can't fix myself. This is a joke. Need to cop the fuck on. My mood swings are are taking over. Like now, I am not good. E. stayed at mine last night. I felt like I let her down by not being more cheerful. I even felt annoyed that she didn't ask why. And why the hell should it matter. Why would I want others to ask. Fuck. I think because it seems to be the topic of the month that it escapes that it shouldn't be apparent to other people. God does this self absorption ever end. I didn't want to tell my story. It's hackneyed and tedious. So why dwell on whether other people ;pick up on it or not.

For half of the day I m fine. I am functional. But bouts of this come about and I am confused. Always when I get some space to myself. I need the eleventh sooner. I'm not sure how the meantime will pan out. I can now see where my body is slipping away. But I can't stop.

What the hell happened? I need to get back to reading, and to writing, and to something productive. I have succeeded in making myself an extremely undesirable object. I do nothing, I fail my potential and those lines that define my whole body are delicious to nobody but me.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Kate Moss...


Thinspiring much?

Sorry, I've just feeling lousy this evening. Need to perk up. Just keep telling myself it's all in my mind. Things could be worse.

It's just right now I feel that this 'illness' or 'disorder' or whatever the hell you want to call it is the most vain, pathetic, self indulgent, self absorbed role to deal with. I don't feel proud. I feel guilty for being like this.

But I don't want to stop.

So really I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I'm sorry if you're following this blog and looking for some sort of motivation but this is just where I am at the moment. It's not all that pretty.

I'm just at a low point. And again, I'm sorry if my posts seem tedious and repetitive to read but the once familiar highs of this, this thing, aren't what they used to be.

But I'll keep pushing. Maybe tomorrow will feel better. Maybe I just shouldn't think anymore.

Really and truly I wish I didn't sound so whining. I know it's unbecoming, and I really hate dramatics. I guess that's why I vent here; so I don't blow up in the 'real world.' I'd never want to be seen as that sort of girl.

Must perk up. Must. Must. Must. My housemate will be home soon and much as I want to scream out every single sordid detail, she's been working all day and who wants to come home to that? Besides I can't put that pressure on someone I live with, it's unfair. So happy me. But I'm drained; I've been happy me for the past 48 hours to my family. I've been chatty me over coffee with friends today. I have to be outgoing me when I go out tomorrow night.

I feel weak. But I can't bring myself to swallow much these days. I can't. Part of me feels like I should. But I hate it.

Maybe I'll just get a good night's sleep.

Down to 93.

I just wanted to feel like I could melt away and instead I'm crumbling.

No dramatics, no romance, no glamour, when you hit the low points there's nothing attractive or redeeming about this.. At least that's how I view it. It feels pathetic and well, shit basically.

Maybe I'm just stuck in a mood swing.

Maybe tomorrow... Must stay optimistic. Yeah, tomorrow I'll be productive and strong.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009


What can I eat tomorrow?

I know I have to. But what?

I'm trying to work it out.

I need to eat. I don't feel all there. Something bad will happen to me if I don't.

So one slice of brown bread, maybe with cheese?

But that'll be too many calories. I need to drink coffee so I have to allow for those calories.

I don't want to eat. But I know I'll have to.

But I know I'll feel awful afterwards.

But if I have it in the morning I can work it off throughout the day. If I don't I think something bad will happen to me. I need to function. So I need it. I should have it now but I can't possibly lie in bed with that in my stomach. I need to function, things to do tomorrow. Tonight was good, met friends, talked, just a small get together, totally laid back, but I was beginning to find it hard to keep it together.

Maybe just the bread. But I should probably have the cheese, for the dairy, for my teeth. Fuck, my teeth. Two weeks until I can get an appointment to sort it out. Please let them be ok until then. 'Til then really strong antibiotics. Which I've been explicitly told have to be taken three times a day with food. They're strong. They'll make you really ill otherwise. Apparently. I just looked at the dentist, scared because I can't possibly eat three meals a day right now. I've taken one so far on my empty stomach and I'm ok. One more before bed. So shit, I really should put something in my stomach in the morning.

But I feel so uncomfortable about doing it.

I need to eat. I can see that. I'm not doing so good. I'm confused. I can't seem to reconcile these two trains of thought. I know I need to eat something but I can't.

It's ok, one thing in the morning. I have to. I just need to work out what. It'll be ok...

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

I know this is so very very long but I'm starting to feel scared.

Confused. That's how I've felt this week.

To say it's draining would probably come close.

I really do feel like I'm accelerating into some sort of culmination... Of something. I'm just not sure what. See I've been very confused.

I'll try not to ramble.

I failed these past few months. No, I'm not dragging on about eating. I mean I've properly failed. And I can be a reasonable person; I understand that this has been hurried along by my disorder.

(I still feel strange referring to it as a thing, a disorder.)

I'm taking the semester off college. There's no other way. I could see myself falling; work, studies, socialising, goals and aspirations and normal fucking life. I did try to combat it. I really did. I availed of the health service in college. I didn't especially want to talk about it, I've always hated sharing because I never feel like I can adequately share it to myself let alone anybody else.

Yet two months later and here we are. I'm running out of patience. How long until I can function again. I just feel useless and lazy. I've seen the doctors, I've got the meds, I've changed the meds, I've got the higher dosages, I'm seeing the counsellor, I'm also seeing the psychiatrist, I've spoken to the student advisors, I've taken their advice, I'm taking time off on 'extenuating circumstances' so my grades won't be affected, I had the referral to the hospital, I've waited through the long waiting lists, and now it looms.

And herein lies the confusion. I truly know that the path I have found myself on is unhealthy. I don't know if that's because of my treatment changing my mindset but this past week it's been an abrasive mix of feeling success for any losses and regaining control, with unexpected flashes of what I'm doing to myself in the eyes of others.

I am back on track, I'm back under seven stone, circling around 95, I feel in control. I've actually felt elated, ready to get back to my writing, be productive, see people. I can fucking do this. I can make it work. I can even be so productive that I won't have time to spend every waking minute considering something weight related, I'll just busy myself and achieve again.



I'm not sure, I'm still feeling in control but it's being tested. Ninety five isn't my lowest so I wasn't expecting health worries. And it wasn't so easy to ignore. My teeth began to ache two days ago. I panicked. I panicked so bad. I felt like I may lose my teeth. This is not something I expected. It actually feels like I'm losing my teeth. I know I'm unhealthy but all the signs are usually easy to ignore, to blind yourself to. Not when it's your teeth. And this followed a more open meeting with my counsellor so I guess I was was veering on the vulnerable side. It shook me. Later I was showering and when I bent over I caught my the reflection of my profile in the mirror and I noticed just how much my spine stuck out, I hadn't seen it that prominent ever. This shook me more.

But see I can't stop because I'm back on track. The last few days I've done really well. Maybe not sleeping wasn't a highlight but food lost that temporary grip it had it on me. Today I had to come home to my family and my mam straight away made a throwaway comment on how thin I am. She didn't push it but obviously she notices something. I love coming home to see her but at the same time I'm afraid to my core of hurting her. She'd made dinner. Now see I've perfected the art of talking about food, different recipes and various things that 'taste delicious' with everyone as some sort of a defence mechanism, I hear myself all the time getting into conversations about it and wondering if they seriously believe that I could honestly feel that way and be so casual on the subject.

But she'd made dinner. And I'm ruining myself. And it's one meal. And she'll see me eat. She won't have cause to worry. One meal. No sides. Just shepherds pie. But there's meat. And I don't know what to do. This time it's not a case of telling myself I shouldn't want it and more of telling myself that maybe I should. I wasn't battling with fears of binging, it was different, it was weird. A part of me thinks well you may not want to but you will have to exist with some sort of health, who will want to see you naked? You love your bones but what man will? So I eat it. It tasted great. It felt awful. I needed it out of me. I can't rationalize that it's just one meal and christ maybe I really need it. No it's ruining everything. I need it gone, I need to have never been inside me. Impossible. I need the feeling inside me to leave, I want that hollow feeling to come back. I purged it. I don't want to have to purge. If I could just be left to my own rules. Eat if I feel like I need to without the pressure of what others will think if I'm not seen eating. Then I'd be fine. Just great. But I purged because I had no other option, and even then it's always too late. You can never fully rid yourself of the crap you put in your body. I'm scared because I know I need to slow down, but I don't want to. I'm scared no matter what I do. And I'm scared of my hospital referral because nobody has told me what actually will happen or how I'll be treated and suddenly I just don't feel at all ready.

Fuck, I don't want to let anything go. I just want to find a better way of coping, a balance so I can succeed in my life. Shit, I'm scared because I don't think I'll ever be able to gain and ever, ever be ok with that. But maybe, and here's the unexpected thought.. Maybe I need to stop losing?

And now I'm at home, and I haven't told my mam yet about college because I feel like I'm letting her down. And of course she'll worry and stress because she'll start to think that things are a lot more serious than just some depression that I'd be getting help with. And I cannot not not tell her about eating issues. That is too much. I don't want to be watched at home. I want to enjoy my time here when I visit. And she's really does not need the added stress. Besides I can hardly say 'hey, thanks for that lovely dinner you just watched me eat, by the way I'm anorexic.' It would seem a little strange and not make much sense. But how exactly do I convey that it was crucial for me to take time off without explaining why it was crucial for me. I do my best to be cheerful and together whenever I'm home so I don't want to break that for her.

I feel like an incredibly selfish daughter. All I want is to go back to my house, go out, get drunk, get fucked until it all stops. I haven't been doing much of any of those lately. I need the release. People will start to think me strange. I used to always go out but I somehow have turned reclusive. It became easier.

Now I want it all back, I'm back, I want it all, and if I'm going to crash then fuck I'm going to do it properly. The need feels overwhelming, I just wish I didn't have this conscience that tells me that whatever I'm doing will affect those around me.

I wish I was on my own to do as I pleased. Not forever. Just for a break. Seriously, just a break. A break by me, with just me, to get away from me. Do whatever I please. I wish I could let go.

Yes, I'm an incredibly selfish girl.

Sunday, November 15, 2009


..Such was my progress pre binge, I'd guess this was when I was at 96.

Feels weird posting images of me.

..Any thoughts? love love how heels transform your legs!

I want to self destruct.

I really do.

I wish I wasn't so self aware so I could just take that route. Just not give a fuck.

I tried and failed.

I went out last night. First time in a long time that I could stomach it. My preoccupations with eating and not eating completely let my social life slide. But fuck I wanted to drink. And forget. And be drunk.

Moral of the story?

Drinking shots of jager and tequila does not make for successful willpower which in turn makes for failed fasting.

I'm sick of failing. I want to be able to post some actual weight loss here.

Is it possible my tendancies are turning increasingly towards bulimia? This is fucked. They, whoever they are, maintain that over time bulimics put on weight.

Ha, I'm a fucking joke.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Really? Me?

I am so completely surprised that after only a few days I have followers and comments.

I started this out of a need to get everything out there without having to address someone close to me. That I could get it out of my head and not feel burdened by it, and not burden anyone else with it.

But now to see that someone has actually taken the time out to read helps so so much. So thank you! There are so many blogs out there that it's so easy to dismiss another one, so thanks for noticing.

I'm having conscience attacks every now and then, albeit mild ones. But they ask me what the hell am I doing to my body. What exactly am I sacrificing??

But then I finally weighed myself post last week's binge. Ninety fucking seven pounds. That's a whole five pounds more than this day last week. I'm determined to get it back. Now. I'm getting there, I'm sure it was probably more a couple of days ago. So I'm getting there. I feel victorious. Like I conquered those stupid little temptations that holed themselves up inside me for a few long days.

Tuesday. Tuesday I will be noticeably back. Unfortunately Tuesday I also have to go home to visit my family.

I'm not going to let that shake me. Staying strong.

So yeah, conscience clearly doesn't have a loud enough voice.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Why now? Why not sooner?


But I know it makes little difference because I left it way too late. But there's nothing like purging to make you feel liberated from food. Certainly don't feel like I need it anymore. I won't need to purge because it's lost it's grip.

Damn it's taken me a week of damage to get here. Wish I just vomited on Monday when this all started. This so isn't me. I think I'm losing my mind. Fasting feels so much... much... I don't know, clean I guess. But somehow I managed a week off. A whole week of the worst damage. Still haven't weighed my gain. I'm afraid.

God I sound like a broken record.

Nothing feels as good as melting away. Nothing gives a better kick than seeing the definition of my bones. I feel like the space between my inner thighs is getting smaller from all that eating. Already.

I really am a broken record.

Need to get over this and move on.

I'm giving myself 'til tuesday to be back to something close to what I was last week.

I've just realised that being so consumed by my downfall I've had no interest in relationships. God I'm newly single, why aren't I being a promiscous slut. That's what I'd normally do. That's what I used to do. But I don't want anybody to see my body until I'm back on track. I have this incredible need to indulge in just giving myslef away. Just something.

There's always something right?

This time it was housemates birthday.

And you know what birthdays mean.


Sharing cake.


Two slices.

Completely chocolate.

Disgusting right?

It should be. Before last week I would've been horrified. But following what seemed like an uncontrollable few days of binging that I'd never believed I was truly capable of; eating two things and being able to stop seems like a sort of achievement. My head is in a better space. I am getting back to me.

For a moment there I thought food had taken over.

Yep, disgusting.

Obviously I want to be fasting now. But my head is just getting back to that mind frame. I'm happy that I could stop myself. I was so scared that I'd lost control. But fuck, chocolate, that's bad. That's so bad. Ok, maybe I don't feel as happy with it as I first thought I'd be. But still I'm getting there. Nothing else today. Just something to join in the celebrations right? I feel so full of disgusting, horrible, food. And it was so fattening. But I'm in the right direction.

Back to me. Fuck them all. This is what I was working towards. And just because I buckled with their words doesn't mean I can't change things. Although with chocolate cake it's going to be slow. Hopefully the five km walk might help somewhat.

Had my psychiatrist appointment today. I really felt like I needed it. So bad. I used to hate these things and never followed through with therapy but it's becoming so important to be have that outlet considering my recent state of mind.

Unfortunately it was a massive let down. God knows what I was expecting but it was significantly more than what I actually got. Ok so I'm not particularly fond of it, or him in general but I committed myself to sticking with it. But he just talked and talked and didn't really listen to what I felt I was trying to put out there. Didn't even acknowledge any issues. I've had a stressful week. I have to take time off college. My friends have confronted me about my weight, it triggered me into binging, I'm not sleeping right and ultimately I don't feel like I have an illness, I just feel broken and pathetic for being incapable of just shutting up and fixing it myself. But he didn't want to entertain these things. It really seemed like he knew I got my referral to hospital for my 'eating disorder' so he was just passing the time until I have my first appointment. I was an inconvenience. And he uses the most tedious analogies on everything I'm supposedly feeling. What the fuck? He doesn't even know because he hasn't bothered to scratch the surface. He's just humouring me until someone else can deal with me.

But here's the most frustrating part; it all comes down to my 'eating disorder'. I never sought help for that, whatever that is. I suffer from depression, have done for years. I think in the past I've dealt with it in different ways, whether it was drinking or sex or whatever. And honestly I feel that this is just another manifestation. Because I never planned it. I know it's an important issue because it's now taken over my life. But it's not everything. Which is why I didn't want help with it, it's mine and I want to learn to cope with it so it doesn't take over everything else in my life. Especially my studies. I want the two to co exist. I'm not prepared to give anything up. And he couldn't even answer me. He couldn't give me a straight answer either when I tried to challenge his diagnosis of anorexia. Because how the hell can I be anorexic after what I've put in my body the past week. And fuck I enjoyed that food. I remembered what it was like to taste it. That sinful taste. God I hate myslef for enjoying it.

So I guess I wait to see my counsellor and try and explain to her. So I repeat it again. Cheapen myself even more. Listen to their oh so easy logic. Listen to them say it's not my fault, I'm too hard on myself, listen to them sympathise, say it's ok, it's human. And all the time I know that my thoughts and actions are weak and self indulgent. Seriously I read over what I've written and I hate that I'm capable of such whiney, clich├ęd melodrama. Meeting with my ex today for coffee proved to be far more relieving than any fucking professional. I was always so private but it seems to come easier talking to him. Maybe because the attraction is gone. Still it's all surface detail. Which is all it's ever been. So I'm just more forthcoming with the obvious. So really, after all these years, I'm still getting nowhere.

And fuck I ate two slices of full chocolate cake today. Now I feel it. So much for a fresh start. Somebody tell me I'm doing well. I know I'm in the right direction. But I need the scales to read what they read last week. And I now I've made the whole process slower. Somebody tell me I haven't failed, I know I should've been stricter but I'm getting there. I can't lose grip now.

It's so wintery outside. You could say miserable. But walking in the rain felt right. Something really comfortable and seasonal about it. I'd do it again now if it wasn't so late. Well no, I'd do it again if I could get away with it but somehow I think my housemates might find it a little odd to walk miles in the cold, stormy darkness. Personally it makes me feel alive. I need need need to get away by myself. Even a week. Just a week for me, with my own boundaries, nobody else's routines diluting mine.

So right back to my shortcomings.

Fuck me, two slices of chocolate cake. Too late to purge. Laxatives again. Not that it matters much considering I've already digested it. Ok so steps, smaller than I'm happy with but soon I'll be back to me. God I want those 93 pounds to read on the scale again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

I am stronger than this.

I have a choice. I choose not to eat. I am not a slave to my impulses.

Putting a lid on it

So in the spirit of fresh starts, here's my shame

1x Mcvities chocolate bar
3x Bowls Special K
2x Egg sandwiches

God I remembered when that food disgusted me. I don't know what happened to my brain. It just got triggered and all week I couldn't stop. I just can't believe that it took one stupid stumbling block and I'm actually enjoying food. It's sick. And trust me today is good compared to what I binged on the other days. And no fucking exercise.

Yes it's shameful. What's happened to me? I feel so lame and weak. I don't even feel like I've tried. And it wouldn't surprise me if I've put on ten pounds. Fuck it'll take weeks to get back. I just need to reconnect my brain. Any damning words would be greatly appreciated.

Fuck knows what I've done to my BMI now...

Where to start?

I never know where to start.
It's all so tedious really, I tend to avoid the details.

I was doing so well, fasting, restricting, dropping pounds so quickly. Down to 93 last Saturday. Then it just got completely fucked. I was confronted about it by an old friend I hadn't seen in ages. And I guess I was trying to prove a point.

Guess my body missed the food. Everything, anything, any combination I could find and down the hatch. Poisoning my body. Overflowing. Kept thinking I'd wake up tomorrow and everything would be fine. I didn't want the food. Fuck I don't want it. It's not like I was going to shops and feasting on any crap I could find. But in my house there's so much around, and they're aware that something is up now, so I just kept eating. More and more. Pounds upon pounds. All the food I don't allow myself. I'm not thinking. I'm not caring. My hands are reaching but my brain isn't engaging. I feel disgusting. Really, it's so loathsome to be disgusting and at the same time be aware of how pathetic and middle class white girl your little 'struggles' are. I wish I'd never opened my mouth about any of this to anyone. It's just made everything ten times worse.

This is mine. Mine. I don't want to change it, I just want to learn to cope. I just want the scales to be back at 93.

But four days later and I know I've gained. A lot. So easy to undo everything. All that work for nothing. Funny, I never thought losing weight with have become a full time occupation. I never thought I was seriously trying. And yet now, here I am.

And he said I was anorexic. Do anorexics binge the way I just did? Can't purge, too loud, it never achieves much anyway. Don't think any amount of the boxes of laxatives I've taken can change the calories and fat I've ingested.

I never set out to achieve a disorder, but fuck I've failed at having an illness and I've become preoccupied by that. I wish I didn't tell anything, it's makes me feel so unbelievably cheap. One word to sum it up, cheap. I've sold myself so short. I'll never be able to articulate this to anyone so why did I try to explain so matter of factly, so detached, so vague. It's not a fair reflection. I just want to be left alone. I want to get away. Away from all the assumptions they may have. Get myself back on track. I'm so scared to see what I weigh. I honestly couldn't tell what I'd do if I was in triple figures. I can't think of anything else besides those stupid little numbers. Checking the lines of my bones as they disappear. Losing all definition. I want to go away, just for a while. Just to get a grip on this.

I'm losing the ability to think there's something mentally wrong me, I'm just fucked. And I don't see the glamour in it. It all seems completely sad to me. There's nothing redeeming here.

I'm scared to weigh myself tomorrow but I have to see the damage.

It changes now.

This is temporary. My weight is temporary. This all is temporary. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is a fresh day. Back to what is mine.

Psyche appointment tomorrow. Feel like a fraud getting the treatment because I've gained. Obviously I'm not what he thought. I'm not really ill. This doesn't seem like an illness to me, more a personality flaw.

Tomorrow, back in the game. Tomorrow. Once I learn to keep it in control, I can start getting my life back together. Not so long ago there were other things I wanted to succeed in and I can't let that go...