Fade to Grey

It is as I expected.


I still have the insight to appreciate having had nearly a full week of some kind of happiness. Even if it's over now. It was good enough to know there's purpose in trying to reclaim it.

One day.

All I can think about right now is how badly I want to starve myself stupid again. I'm having flashbacks of comments received at my thinnest

"Oh, you're even tinier than I realised"
"You really are very slim, aren't you"
"If I had your body I'd wear jeans all the time"
"I saw you walking down the street yesterday and I thought you were an angel"

and of course: "You're the prettiest girl I've seen in a long time"

What a thing to have thrown away!
Now I am overlooked and ignored. Palpably, painfully rejected. The bigger I get the less I become. And I feel so utterly insignificant.

24 hours on and still shinin'

I really love this!

We spend so much time building an identity around our misery. We wallow in it and find solace in it and we start to believe that it is what we want. We don't want out of it so we don't really even try.

Yet here, against my will, a few cracks have spread through the concrete in my mind.
And sun is streaming through!


And it is so much better.

I love you too
x

glint

It's in my eye! It is!


I have just spent the last few days feeling strangely happy. Against the most unlikely odds. Despite almost no sleep, times of loneliness, mountains of pressure, tangible rejection and a whole lot of hangover... All of these things that normally squish me and hurt me and make me miserable and incapable have just slid off my surface. I don't get it.

It may be a phase but it doesn't feel like a phase. My eating disorder isn't really any better or any worse, but I feel calm and my mood is good. I have new patience for my family and friends, I have new energy to tackle work and I have a tiny spark of new love for myself.

In the very least I want to care for myself. I'm feeling all these surges of "first day of the rest of my life" palaver and I'm going to try to start eating normally. I'm gaining weight steadily as it is because I'm continually trying to restrict too hard and rebound binging. I'm going to try and eat around 1300 calories a day, I'm going to try and do some gentle exercise and I'm going to try to get my life back.

See?

Waste

It's easy to make promises when you're drunk.

Tonight I was dancing and my hands wandered to my abdomen and rested there somewhere for a while. And I was overwhelmed with conviction. This is going, this will be starved away. There will nothing better than shrinking all of this mass away to nothing and it will be amazing. And it will be easy because of how amazing you know it will be. And the music and the lights pounded through my head and the conviction pounded through my heart.

And now I'm home and I'm still drunk and the promise is still there but it has become a little tepid. It's there, but it's painful and difficult again, instead of amazing.

I haven't blogged in so long. I'm busy, but even more so I'm ignoring the gnawing of the fatty guilty fatty-ness and every passing moment builds more fat and more regret and more of that uneasy sensation of feeling your control being swept away. And that promise seems so light and lovely but I know how hard hard HARD I've tried before and how horribly I've failed over and over and OVER again.

I'm not really sure where to go from here. Tomorrow is a new day. ANOTHER new day.

Stick with me. Please, PLEASE, I'm inattentive but I do do DO love you all. And I need you all so much. It breaks my heart to think of you out there so far away and so hopelessly desperately horribly lost because I KNOW HOW THAT FEELS

and now I'm just ranting.No more sentence structure just a blur of grasping desperation. I am wasted. I am a waste.

fuck this shit

Sorry for the obscenity
sometimes you just need it, y'know?

damn damn damnit
I can't explain it

I just...

fuck

Here comes the fear

This can't be my life, can it? This isn't who I am. This isn't good.

I don't trust myself
I am running out of safe places
My mother's place is not safe, I binge there, without fail
My own place is no longer safe, I used to feel in control here, but no longer
Now I binge here, without fail.

I feel safe at work. My new department, my new routine, and so busy busy busy
I am happy at work because I feel safe there, and I don't fear myself.

I leave, and driving from place to place is safe
Where will I go? Developing plans, smiling
But there is no safe place to arrive at and suddenly I am frightened of myself again
And with good reason.

A self-fulfilling prophecy
Fueled by fear

Ugly Day

I know that we all feel irrationally and disproportionately ugly most of the time, and I know that almost all people, even those with normal self esteem, have ugly days. Bearing that in mind I know this isn't a particularly profound revelation, but today I am feeling stupendously ugly.


I am mortified at my reflection.

And almost in a kind of angry-fucking-pissed-off way, rather than in a sad way. In a self-loathing way, rather than in a self-pitying way. In a get-yourself-together-Pasco-and-stop-being-so-fucking-gross way.

But I feel the heavy static pull of repugnance and I can't be bothered with the futility of fixing it. And soon it will be too late, I will have to drive myself to work looking like this, and I'll wind up hating myself for it.



I know, I know, it's just an ugly day. It will pass. And I have been doing very well lately - infrequent purging, moderate restricting, about two and a half kilos lost in two weeks. Just keep calm, ride out the ugly wave, it'll pass... it will pass.

This morning I am dizzy

I haven't been dizzy in so long. I like it. My body is finally feeling hungry. Something is working.


I am inspired today by my own fuzzy head.

My oh my,

how time flies!

I haven't blogged in almost 2 weeks, although it seems like yesterday. I really have nothing to say. I want to write something, I want to be uplifting or encouraging, but really I am just tired.

Goodnight
x

grief and loss

I'm poured in concrete. Every part of me is heavy. My chin is on my knee. I'd swear it's fastened there, I'd swear I can't move it, but I try anyway. What do you know, my neck tilts and my chin lifts off. Not fastened after all. Just heavy.

Last night I dreamed I was dying of cancer. "Why me?" a thousand times. I was so angry and so frightened. I was driving down a dark freeway and I ran my car into a concrete pylon to be finally free from the fear of death.

There is acid in my throat. My mouth is filled with glue. My eyes can't focus. They can, but I can't make them. I can't be bothered.

Everywhere there is stuff.

I am not young anymore. I wasted my youth. Even as it trails off I am still wasting it. I will only ever be older and older. There is grass and long slender limbs and experimentation. There is breaking the rules and slipping away and sly smiles, secrets. And I am outside it, and so far beyond it I will never be inside it. I am grown up.

I will get older and older and then I will die. I will never get any of it back, and I missed all of it. And I spend so much time pining for it I am blind to all the things I am currently missing. Those that I will later miss with as much yearning and loss and grief as for the things I now grieve.