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.
I am in bed having breakfast. Is this really me.
It is by no means adequate but I am eating nevertheless. The ED patterns are still evident. Dissecting a muffin and eating only the top part whilst leaving out the rest. This is very abnormal but it’s the only way I can do this eating and retaining food thing. I still feel embarrassed when someone looks at me whilst I am eating which is why in public I only consume fluids, less chance of looking like a greedy big hipped gal but eating is good an appetite is nothing to be ashamed of. This is something I need to change.
I still do buy secret food and eat it in my room. Biscuits, lollipops, ice cream. I get anxious if I don’t have a stash even if end up bingeing and purging it. At least I haven’t purged in days, yesterday was an exception, I needed that release and so I did.
I am contemplating eating cereal. I am going into dangerous territory. It’s only still 8am, I don’t wanna go off the edge now.
My appetite is back somewhat, I really have been forcing myself to eat regardless. My weight gain is now so much more noticeable. A dress that used to hang over me is now body hugging and my hips and bum are now protruding in ways that make me realise that I am a woman and its okay to have these things.
My face looks healthy, an eye bag here and there but I look restored. Maybe all this is just the interim, suppose I am too in shock or anxious about what is to come and because of that I am finding it easier to abandon these habits. I break easily when purging and bingeing. Everything is magnified, I lose my senses and disappear in plain sight. I don’t want that. I don’t need that.
I have been on zero contact with him for 48 hours. Yesterday felt a little like death, the without is always crippling. I shed some tears for the thing I don’t need but want and can’t have. I am hurting, I think of him every waking moment, my mind always reverts back to him. Getting teary eyed when shopping with my mother, laughing and then remebering him then choking on the lump in my throat.
In the midst of all this I am however at peace, my mind isn’t wondering about were I am currently placed in the map or order of his life. Am I still top order, middle order or low order. I want to let go with grace.
I have always ached for distant places as I have always felt trapped by geography.
It’s the environment I am in, I would say to myself. If I leave I will find it, whatever it is.
He came along and I stopped wanting. I found it possible to find my happiness and home in the confines of this small town. I thought I had made a breakthrough, why go halfway across the world in search of something, in search of inner peace, happiness and completeness if it’s here. I made a home in his eyes and his warm skin, my delusions have no limits. I stopped running away from myself when he was with me. That is why I never left in the beginning. Clinging on to that euphoria in the hope that things would change and bloom more than the current. The flowers never bloomed some more, I wilted and left.
Just another day spent on the edge of collapse. Literally. I can’t stop having numerous mini binges and purges throughout the day. The thing is I now can feel hunger, the sensation is no longer foreign to me. The hunger is intense and crippling. At first this was perculiar and thought for weeks I was pregnant. I am not. My body has had enough of this starvation bullshit. I am so sick of this secrecy and seeing this drained, frail, hollow eyed person in the mirror. I am not afraid to gain weight anymore, I can’t believe I put my whole family through hell all these years. I want to eat and keep it down and be happy.
I crave, feel hungry and eat but my problem like all bulimics and binge eating sufferers, is the will power to stop. To stop eating for the love of the good lord. I get it in my head that I can simply eat more then purge and then eat again because yes I have an eating disorder but I also love food, a glutton. I have always been since birth.
Today I did not purge but I did stuff my face with a takeaway and I enjoyed every minute of it. I had dessert too and I am incredibly now hungry now. It feels as though my soul is starving.
I treated myself to a book, there is this vintage store which I have been going to since I was a teenager, when my life is in this lost state I always gravitate towards that corner store and I always always find an uplifting read buried in there. Always. I am not big on self help books, I like a story, autobiographies that take me on a journey. I need to be utterly absorbed but this book though not a self help book, is filled with wisdom. It covers mental illness and the author doesn’t dwell which is just perfect for me.
This week I have been on the move, I have energy and drive, it tapers off at some point but it has been a while since I have felt this way. I can get out of bed. I have left the house 3 out of 5 days which is a massive improvement from once last week and the week before. The dark cloud has been slightly lifted. My moods are a moment to moment thing but the spaces between being numb and breaking down are growing wider.
I still cry everyday but not heavy intolerable sobs. The depression isn’t as vengeful and violent this week, just this quiet deep sadness. I can contain myself.
It has been so peaceful to place a self imposed ban on social media and text messages. I took the time out to be on my own and heal the only way I thought would be best at that point in time. I have a long way to go, of this I’m sure of but I think I am ready for social interaction again. Better now before I begin to experience the dark side of solitude.
Last night I felt uplifted, I jammed some old school rock, watched tv with my family, ate a healthy dinner, hydrated and felt clear headed after a day of fun filled bingeing and purging. For a moment I allowed myself to smile and laugh but it felt so forged, as though I was cheating on my grief.
The boyfriend and I had this… game that we played, we bought it a couple of months into the relationship and it became the activity that was central to our hanging out. A ritual of some sort. We even rushed all other activities when we hung out, even sex just so we could rush and indulge in the thing that we shared this mutual love for, we could talk for hours, never checked our phones, exchanged banter, he would be naked and I wrapped in a sheet, it was incredibly intimate and fun. He was my best friend and boyfriend at the same time.
Last night I asked him what he did with the.. game and he told me that he sold it just before he left and once again, I was hit in the face with the abrupt finality of it all. I swear I heard a gavel strike some hard wood, a door slamming shut and my stomach sank, hands weightless. I cried until my head was pounding and drifted off to sleep.