I'm doing more better

It's true!
I am!

I'm feeling a bit more detached. I think. Something about telling my mum has changed everything. It's pretty much made me stop purging. I'm not sure how, but it has. My mother has become omniscient, this constant overhead reminder (even though she actually isn't) just, I don't know, I know she's there... I know she knows... Some how it just CHANGES it. It really does.

And I've been in control. In control with food.
Eating fuck all but enough and it's great.

In other news, tonight I turned down Mr King Dick of medicine. Male model most popular man in all of planet hospital extraordinaire... thought he had me... til the last minute when I informed him I WOULDN'T be getting out off the taxi with him sor-reeeee...

...and did it feel wonderful? Yes!

Am I a wee bit drunkened? P'raps!
And feeling powerful!

re-ap-plying myself

I am a fat

Some days the panic crawls over my skin and clutches at my throat and wraps itself around my brain so tightly that I think I will die from it. Some days I feel calmer, never quite comfortable in this skin, but confident I can change it. It's based on two principles: time and trajectory. If I can change the trajectory of my weight and allow for the passage of time then everything will be OK and I will become thin.

Today I downloaded and ap for my phone that is effectively a food diary. I plugged in all my goals and details and it records exactly what I need to eat every day. When I enter the foods I eat it works out the calories precisely from an enormous database (which includes all the collective entries from its users). It calculates percentages of fat and protein, graphs results and measurements and intake, and sits safely in my pocket so I can enter every item. I'm still going to try and stick to my 2 meal replacements shakes a day and the rest lean protein and produce.


Right now I am confident the trajectory will be down and the time will fly.

sex with the shrink

So, I don't want to put words in your mouth, but...

...is it to look more attractive to a man?
...so a man can sweep you off your feet?
...because of that boy you had sex with?
...so he will find you more attractive?
...so other men will find you more attractive?

Not even in the ball park.
Maybe I should switch to a female therapist.

Sick

in the head.
I phoned work and told them I wouldn't be coming in today.

Made an appointment with a new GP. Walked in, stated my case, walked out literally about 45 seconds later with a blood form, a psychologist referral, a sick note and script for vanlafaxine with 5 repeats. She didn't even ask me if I was thinking of killing myself, which was disappointing because I was looking forward to saying "yes".

All day has been surreal and I've felt lost and bewildered. So far it's my 5th day purge free but I really don't give a shit. I guess I just want to be able to answer my mother honestly if she ever asks me when I last threw up. The bigger the number the better. I phoned the psychologist and he sounded young and silly and expensive. I'm seeing him Thursday night, but I'm not really seeing the point.


For the record, I'm not going to kill myself.
But I'm almost always thinking about it.

It has barely been mentioned

I can't remember the details of Friday night because I was so full of booze and benzodiazepines, just sobbing into the phone to her for a long time. I'm not sure how much I told her, suffice to say I think it was a lot and I think it was fairly honest.

I still wish I hadn't

I think I'm surprised there isn't more judgement. My vague recollection of her reaction is that it didn't feel like a big deal. I still feel watched. I still feel it hanging between us. I made her swear not to tell anyone and not to tell dad, but I suspect she will.

This is the woman who read my diary after all
A mother who doesn't always respect secrets

I sense she wants to talk about it,
but I really don't
And yet
I sense she doesn't quite understand it,
but I want her to

She has been quietly kind and supportive, her occasional probing questions gentle, I know she is doing her best.

the B bomb

more alcohol and more tears
and more phone calls to my mum
and more skirting around the real reason for so much misery

then, finally, for some reason it came out

mum I have bulimia

uttered out loud

she's on her way over now to get me. lives about 20 minutes away. won't take her long. i feel wretched and putrid and embarrassed and i hate myself. but this is a change. i don't want her to see me but soon she will. everything has changed now.

Good Morning Day 2!

Day 1 went off without a hitch. I'm looking forward to getting out of bed and having my breakfast shake. I'm not sure how long "looking forward to it" will last, but for the moment I'm appreciating the feeling.

I think the concept I like most about this plan is that while the shakes are incredibly unsatisfying to your tastebuds and your tummy, they are perfectly nutritionally balanced. Low calories and low carbs, yes, but packed with supplemental nutrients and enough energy that my brain should not be hungry. Which means that if I can stick to it, I should eventually learn to respond to my brain's need for fuel, rather than my stomach which is now insatiable or my jaw that demands to be chewing constantly. Dare I say, it might one day be possible to learn to understand hunger again?

The other thing I'm loving is the possibility that my mostly-liquid diet will flatten out my horribly bloated belly... mmmmaybe... Sounds too good to be true? As I said, we'll see how long "looking forward to it" lasts!


Nuff chat, time to milk it!
x

in the details

Righty, so the plan we on is "celebrity slim" (lame-o I know) and the idea is to have two meal replacement shakes per day, one sensible meal, usually dinner, and up to 3 "allowable snacks". My housemate and I have concluded that dinner is our trouble area though, so we are going to make it sensible lunch and milkshake dinner. For lunch I'm going to stick to mainly salads with a bit of lean protein. And I intend to avoid the "allowable snacks" except for a small piece of fruit where desperate.


Just had my first shake of the program and it was... tolerable. I think I can do this. I know I can do this!

Got Milk

re
start

And this time with a buddy! My housemate and I have decided to embark on a meal replacement milkshake diet starting tomorrow. We have shaken on it and will spot each other through it and I'm quite excited.

A month. We are endeavoring to make it a month. For me, it would not just mean the promise of real weight loss but also the possibility of a month free of purging. Could this really work? I think being able to be diet openly with someone I'm living with will certainly help. She doesn't know about the bulimia, but I have whinged at her about my unstoppable weight gain and she has reciprocated with similar angst. It's time to shake things up!



My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

re

lapse


too much stress, too much fat, not enough resolve
you all believed in me and I blew it

but I'm starting again tomorrow

my weight is up

UP
i knew it would be
I JUST KNEW IT i've been feeling so huge
but i did everything right
EVERYTHING EVERYTHING EVERYTHING
it doesn't make sense and I feel so utterly helpless

i wish i wish i hadn't weighed myself. now i don't know what to think or what to do. like it is completely out of my hands and it doesn't matter what i do my body will continue to just get infinitely bigger

maybe it's muscle mass, rehydration, constipation, some other physiological shift...
but it just FEELS LIKE FAT

FUCK

Lulu the wise

She told me it was a stupid idea and she was right.

So I did better than that. Much Better. I ate about 800 calories and I went to the gym and knocked off about 400. An impressive and moderate effort I think. It stills feels terrible. I still feel the weightiness of food inside me and I'm horrible and blubbery and revolting and all I want to do is NEVER EAT AGAIN...

...but it would be stupid, fucking stupid, to try. Because I would fail and I would stay bulimic the rest of my life. Instead, here I am, a whole solid 7 days BULIMIA FREE!

I struggle endlessly with incredibly disordered bulimialike eating though. I pretty much didn't eat all day, then decided to have a light dinner. Which led to more light dinner, to more and more and more light dinner. Thank goodness I had previously abolished all the junk food from my house or I'd likely have demolished it too. The only way I could stop myself eating was to race as fast as I could to my car and drive to the gym. It was more about distraction from food that it was about burning calories.


At the moment this is helping, but to be honest it is really just another form of purging. Granted, I'm not allowing myself to binge first to the same extend as if I were throwing up. But still, it won't always be an option for me. I won't always be in a situation where I can dart off and burn off everything I've eaten. And the more important thing is to learn how to stop eating. To just STOP without needing some urgent other task or distraction.

I'll get there eventually.
Baby steps.

In the mean time, Lulu, I love you xx
And the rest of you too

ONE WEEK
WOOOO
!!!!!!

I wonder...

Could I liquid fast through the week?
Sometimes I propose this and only last a few hours, other times it just seems to work.


I'll see how I go,
But anything I accidentally eat stays down NO MATTER WHAT

I'm meant to weigh in tomorrow, after a full week, 168 hours, purge free. But I'm not sure I can stomach it...

pizza

My mum can't understand why I never want to come home to see her. It's hard to explain that I associate her house with eating and I can't be there without binging. So having been coerced over for dinner tonight, I was at panic stations. At pre-dinner grocery shopping I was so crippled by anxiety I had to huddle myself down on a pile of toilet paper in a promo display. The anticipation and the calorie counting and the bargaining, remembering my pledge that vomiting was not an option, a way out of it. Strategising. Knowing it was hopeless.

We made pizza for dinner and for a few brief moments during the preparation and the nibbling and the playing with ingredients it was almost fun. But then it came to the eating, with trembling hands and lurching stomach. Afterwards I sat on the kitchen floor with awkward tears and no explanations for them. If I sat there, if I just sat there long enough, I would digest enough of that pizza that I couldn't throw it up. I needed to pee, but if I went near the toilet I knew there would be no way to stop myself. So I sat and sat and sat, and when finally it became time to settle beside my mother on the couch I accepted her hot chocolate and her cuddles and everything slowly became OK.

eeeeurgh I'm coming up against a brick wall this morning. I can't dress myself because I feel horrible and huge in everything. Each subsequent outfit attempt just increases my panic and heightens my distress. It's OK, I'm OK, I'm not giving up... sometimes it is just so fucking hard SAD FACE

139 hours

Since my last purge.


139 hours down the road to freedom.

I'm tempted to starve myself entirely today. I know it is a relapse risk. But I am brutally aware of the immense volume of air my body still displaces, I'm taking up too much space. I know it is the panic to shrink too quickly that usually paves my destruction. I will be careful and if it gets to be to much I will stop. I still have no idea what this new non-bulimic body weighs. I haven't the heart to find out.

Thank you all for you well wishes
I love you so much

Pasco
x

a story of success, especially fo Ancora

I am not bulimic anymore.
I am adamant.
I do not throw up anymore.
I am determined!

I didn't go down to the shops last night, I didn't buy chocolate peanuts, I ESPECIALLY didn't throw up. I did eat a bit too much, about 1500 calories for the day. But that would be OK for a normal person and I didn't let it get me down and I didn't let it lead to a binge. And this morning after a sensible breakfast I did a spin class then ran 10km.

Love,
Pasco
x

it wouldn't be so bad...

...to go down to the local supermarket and buy a big back of cheap horrible chocolate coated peanuts and eat them all and throw them all up. Would it?

Yes, Pasco, YES IT WOULD BE THAT BAD

OK

Mind Flip

I'm not sure if it is a blessing or a curse, but this evening I felt my mind click over into a new place... or a new version of an old place in which it resided several months ago.

I tortured myself at the gym again, and at the end of my workout forced out an extra 150 calories worth of running on the treadmill to "earn" myself a protein when I got home. Then as I went to claim my reward I hesitated. Bank the calories, take advantage of this moment, don't eat it. Or maybe have an apple instead. No! Have the protein bar, it's part of your plan. Why not just nothing? Have nothing! Go on, have nothing... no, the apple. No JUST FUCKING HAVE THE PROTEIN BAR. That screechy internal monologue, the frantic indecision. A week ago I'd have had the protein bar AND the apple and probably a few handfuls of cereal, a slice of cheese and several fingers dipped in peanut butter. Now every decision must be carefully metered and measured against all other options.

I ate the protein bar. It was part of my plan.
But I can sense it, I know it, I've seen it before and I'm seeing it now.

The mind flip.

Yet more punishment

Still eating more than my plan says
But still reigning it in, keeping in control
And punishing myself at the gym each night


I punish myself for everything. Pounding along, pouring sweat, grunting and yelping through my workouts. So many beautiful, tiny, obviously underweight girls at my gym. They all drift along so soft and light, but barely lift a finger on the machines or break into more than a slow jog. And I am made hyper-aware of every bounce and jiggle as I push myself harder and know I need to go harder still. And I burn off all the anguish that the boy brings me. I vocalised my fear and apprehension of impending heartbreak and "I am important to him" but clearly not that important, so I run run run until I can't feel it. And until I can't really feel my legs either. His ex girlfriend who he always loved and will always love posted an emaciated looking photo of herself to her facebook profile. She recently moved away and I guess she's starving herself harder than ever before. And I punish myself for allowing all this fucking fat to get on top of me and smother me when the other girl he has always loved and will always love proudly wears her banner of delicate pain and exquisite beauty. I have a string of old boyfriends who had old girlfriends they would always love. Nobody has ever always loved me. I am a fat nothing. And I eat too much. So I punish myself.

But at least I don't throw up

And last night I threw the half empty jar of lecherous peanut butter into the bin

Punishment

I didn't stick to it.
Couldn't.

I resisted so much throughout the day. Muffins, cake, the lolly cart... the lolly cart... the lolly cart... and then NOT the lolly cart... I didn't go overboard, but I did go over my limit. And later I visited my brother in hospital and ate the majority of his "get well soon" candy.

But this evening in penance I went to the gym and I punished my body. Absolutely worked it until every ounce of strength had left me. I'm not sure that it was adequate compensation, but I didn't throw up and that is the most important thing. I'm at a stage where I am trying to accept that my weight may have to go up before it can come down. It is the price to pay for changing my life for the better.

for the record:

58kg

I won't let it get me down, I have to move forward.

Weaponry

This evening I punished myself at the gym. It felt wonderful. Renewing. Ready for tomorrow. Ready for a better life.

But I can't go in unarmed.

I need a thorough and highly specific meal plan. A meal plan that I will adhere to strictly, because I know all too well that any deviation will lead to disaster. It must be ample enough such that I don't feel too hungry, too deprived, too desperate. Yet light enough that I still feel like I'm making progress, that I'm doing well, that it is not worth laying down my arms.

Breakfast:
- Hot water with lemon
- Green tea
- Vitamins/diet pills/fish oil
- Giant can of hugely caffeinated sugarfree enregy beverage
- 5 scrambled egg white 100cal
- Rockmelon 100cal

Lunch:
- Diet pills
- Diet coke
- Snow peas
- Cherry tomatoes
- Large can of tuna 150cal
- Apple 100cal

Dinner:
- Spinach
- Carrot
- Cabbage
- Snow peas
- Frozen berries 100cal

Snacks:
- A million cans of diet coke
- Carrot sticks
- Salsa 50cal
- Gum

It is 600 calories in total. Perfectly acceptable total. I will try and go to the gym after work. If I do I will consider having an extra 200 calories of chicken breast with my salad for dinner.

No deviations.
No throwing up.
If I break it, it means I can't do it. And I HAVE to do it. I'm at the end of the road, and I'm not ready to turn my gun on myself yet.

it is over

I phoned my Mum in the middle of last night and spat out sobs instead of words at her. She drove straight round to my place and took me home with her.

"Are you pregnant?"
"Did you kill someone?"
"Is it your sister/housemate/boy?"
"What can possibly be so bad, or so embarrassing you can't just tell me?"

It isn't embarrassment, it is shame. And once it is said it cannot be unsaid. I wanted to tell her so badly. Mum HELP ME I have bulimia and my whole body hurts and I throw up continually every day and my whole life is falling apart and everything is completely out of control.

But I just sat there the whole car ride, mute and tearful and shaking my head.

And when we got home we sat and she stroked my hair and we watched shows she'd taped and she fed me pavlova that I didn't even think of throwing up. She knew I needed her, she just didn't know why. And I wish she did but I can't tell her. Because the shame seals my lips shut.


Nobody else can help me. I have to save myself.

I solemnly vow I will never make myself throw up again. Ever. That is it. It is over.