There is something fundamentally wrong with me. I am still awake, taking comfort in food and purging. On autopilot. I feel like an animal. I have this astonishing ability to taint what would have been a good day with my unending misery inducing habits. 

Food haunts me. I can’t stop. 



It’s almost 2am and I am in bed eating because fuck it. I am going to savour the taste of this god damn muffin, juice and chocolate. I will sleep with a swollen belly and endure the discomfort. Who is bulimia tonight and what has she ever given me in all the years that we have acquainted? Nothing but an abundance of heartache. What I have I gained from shrinking my body and abusing it in ways that words cannot even begin to explain. Being skinny hasn’t made me happy, it’s never enough.. it hasn’t given me that relationship that I thought would come if I were happy as a result of finally having control of my weight which is linked to having control of my life.

I had a date tonight and the whole day I was looking forward to it. I prepped for this date, I stopped purging for two days, wanting to look my best, I hydrated, felt lucid and somewhat disengaged from the purging part of bulimia. At around 12 the guy texted me and said that something huge at work had come up blah blah blah and that we should meet next weekend and in that moment my heart sank into my stomach. It’s like being brought to these heights only to be knocked back down again.

He was extremely apologetic and it’s not the end of the world  but it just made me feel so let down because I had rearranged my whole weekend, my anxiety had for once allowed me to feel somewhat at ease, I was ready, confident and now that’s ruined. My self confidence has shrunk, I’ve lost my nerve and my mind is now riddled with doubt, hopelessness, fear and some terrifying emotion I am yet to identify.  I just felt this urgent need to binge and purge, of which I did. I don’t feel better or worse, I just feel… Just?

I am scoffing chocolate as we speak, it’s this vile act of greed and sheer boredom. I just feel so let down, roaming some dreary wasteland that I only can perceive.

Come Down

The past two weeks I have been running on adrenaline, I felt stimulated by some indestructible force to put myself out there in the wilderness of life and take a break from me.  I hung out with new people and reacquainted with estranged friends, watched live sport, conversed, engaged and laughed. I was mostly dizzy and everything was blurry because of my purging fuelled low blood pressure, I was a little withdrawn but present.  I realised I had changed the moment I found myself in a stadium in the sun with my sunglasses cheering on my favourite team, a year ago or even 5 months ago my social anxiety would never have allowed me to have the audacity to go that far.

Today is the come down, it’s all over now… to be resumed but over  for  now and I seem to have sank into the depths again and the emotions I had carefully tucked away are oozing out with a vengeance. I’m distracted, binge-y, purge-y and done by. 

I will take euphoria whenever I can get it and wherever and these days I mostly find it from challenging myself to do new things and just dive into whatever adventure seems worthwhile, granted I have no money so I ought to use the word adventure loosely. The busier I am, the tighter my schedule is, the less I loathe myself and the lesser I feel suicidal. You cannot completely erase all the despair by just keeping yourself occupied but it does help lessen the severity.


My stomach is in pain, a deep pain that feels like my insides have been beaten and stomped on. Purging an average of 7 times per day is wrecking more havoc on my body, I can sense an oncoming final binge and purge that will change everything. An event or some fictitious happy ending that will be so life altering I’ll completely change my ways. On the other hand it feels like I’ve given up and I’m just drifting in whichever direction the wind is blowing.

I quit the part time promo job because it wasn’t serving any purpose in my life and instead it was draining me of funds I didn’t have because the pay was ridiculously low. I didn’t work there for long but I have lacked purpose for 2 weeks since quitting. It was better when I had somewhere to be which meant less time with ED, I worked nights in a tiny uniform in heels in the freezing cold,I got diagnosed with anorexia again and it’s not exactly easy to work when you’re shivering and having heart palpitations, my blood pressure is always dangerously low and with that comes a load of health issues and in the end I wasn’t physically strong enough. That’s done, water under the bridge. Another opportunity stolen by ED and perhaps my nature of always having excuses.


I can feel it today sitting heavily on my chest, the despondency. I didn’t have the distraction of work, the commuting to and fro. It was just me, dwelling on my insignificance and oh the bingeing and purging. I do self destruction well, like an innate skill of some sort. The sound of my voice is making my irritation is apparent but I feel so small, some dulled voice whispering in the distance. I could burst into tears at any moment but I would have an audience, I don’t like to be vulnerable.

Work is stressful, the salary is peanuts, if I subtract bus fare and all I’m basically running a deficit and my boss LOVES me but I want to quit because I feel like a cog in a machine, a means to her ends and the lot of them… Whoever they are. $20 a week? I know this job is not in the field of what I studied at university its a modelling promo thing but I can’t help but feel I deserve more and I do. There is starting somewhere, humble beginnings and all then there’s scraping the bottom of the barrel and robbing myself of a chance at getting a better job that could help me rise out of my circumstances but what if this job is a stepping stone. I’m confused. I’ll wait for it to pass/change but in this moment disappearing without a trace would be splendid.

Familiar waters

All I can smell and taste is vomit, I can smell it in my nose and my hands are sticky despite washing them countless times, it must be all in my head. I am like a drug addict, I can’t sit still my mind is continuously racing and excitement invades my bones at the thought of having my next binge, I’m sneaking food in my bedroom and when I am watching TV with my family I’m a million miles away strategising how and when the next binge and purge session will take place. I live in vomit, my towels, I have containers I purge into in the dead of the night and empty in the morning, I am no sweetheart, I am disgusting person but nobody could ever tell. I feel dead.

I have wasted what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend, I have purged 10+ times during the past 24 hours, I can’t stop even a cup of tea has to be purged. This story is getting old and I need something else to seek solace in. I have felt lonely these past few days, retreating back into the fold of that familiar hollow where narcissism reigns supreme, me me me. I can’t even force a smile and or an interaction because I want the world to go fuck itself. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that I have I cannot be bothered with anything or anyone. Leave me to die, not literally but let me be.

The new part time promo modelling job has lost its novelty, it’s not as exciting as it was. It’s all just monotonous drudgery and I can’t stand smiling at creeps in a short skirt and being as kind and lovely as I can. I won’t quit because I’ll hate myself even more. When it comes to the skill of suffering in silence, I’m exceptional.

New terrifying skies

The past few weeks have been busy, stressful, emotional, wholesome, life altering. I have gone through so many emotions and experiences all in a space of 3 weeks and I can safely say I have no regrets, I want to relive some nights even the ones I thought were horrible and I could not wait to go home.

I have for the most part been trying to unravel the patterns of my nature, I fight to reach the surface and then when my head is almost above the water, I get frustrated, impatient and I let go and let the undertow carry me away back to some underwater dark cave where the only sound is the sound of fear and I feel worthless, hopeless, suicidal. No more, time lacks patience and I have to seek what I truly desire and that which I have always lacked courage to seek. It sounds easy typing this but I am frozen and yet there seems to be some invincible force pushing me to carry on.
I participated in another pageant! Modelling has always been something that fascinated me but my eating disorder and body image issues were always those voices that whispered words of discouragement in my ear. This year, two weeks ago at the ripe old age of 23 I walked on a ramp. I did not win, the show was disorganised, it was a low budget pageant but it was an experience that I will carry with me forever for all the good reasons.

I have made friends, I’m networking and I am doing promotional modelling as a part time gig, it’s stressful, sometimes I feel like giving up because I have to stand for hours when I feel lethargic. I can’t keep up sometimes because I can’t shop around all day with my new found friends because bulimia drowsiness takes it’s toll on me, it makes me angry and sad but I cannot stop. Throughout all of this change and this new lifestyle, bulimia is remaining a constant and i don’t know how to shake it off because it is a coping mechanism. Today for instance I opted to stay at home bingeing all day instead of going to a casting, I am a sad sad sad person.

I thank god for all the beautiful people that have waltzed into my life and the footprints they have left, sometimes it gets too much though, the communicating, the meeting up for coffee. I tend to zone out when people are talking and the facade of cheerfulness I wear in public is more fixed than it ever was to the point where I think I have actually convinced myself that I am happy or content, I do have moments of joy but happiness? That’s a big word for the positive emotion that I sometimes feel.
I have always been a loner because I enjoy my own company in a narcissistic type of way I suppose, but I am a good person. Sometimes I just need a day to myself, away from the texts, the group selfies and the planning… I just need that alone time so I can go back to my former self for only a day so I can breath and then thrust myself back again into the wilderness of socialising.

I have work tomorrow and my head is spinning from purging, I am a mess but I will drink my fluids and hydrate, tomorrow I will wear makeup, look pretty, smile and I will cross my fingers and pray not to pass out. I look the part they are all convinced, now I just have to act the part. Inside the fragments that make me who I am are falling into pieces… shattering ever so loudly but on the outside I’m doing great. Someone I met while working had the audacity to say I was going places and that I had what it takes to succeed, wow such scandalous accusations.