a week, maybe?

Perhaps one week of kindness is more achievable. Less daunting. Just a week.

And only one rule: Do not throw up.

Simple enough, except that of course that one simple rule is dependent on the fulfillment of 10 million other rules, such as:

Do not eat muffins
Do not eat toast
Do not eat lollies
Do not eat unplanned foods
Do not overeat at meal times
Do not have dessert
Do not eat at somebody else's house
Do not eat at your own house
Do not reach a feeling of fullness
Do not allow yourself to get bored

...all of which lead to an inevitable downward spiral into purging.


But I have to have to HAVE to do this

The cracks in the corners of my mouth never heal
My skin is horrible
My teeth hurt
And I'm FAT

I lose so much time to this beast. Between long shifts at work, all I do is binge and purge and not get enough sleep. It is easier than facing the prospect of finding and building my own life. It is a safe and secretive.

I hate it so much, but I'm increasingly realising how much I love it.
How much I need it

Kindness?

Cruelty.

I can't do this
I don't know what is wrong with me
I am not an inspiration. Anybody who thinks that I am, go back and read my blog from the beginning, 18 months ago, and watch me ruin my life

Sometimes I feel like the only way out of this is to kill myself
and yet I don't want to die

I know I need help
I know I know I know

My insides are on the outsides and everything hurts

a dozen days of kindness

This is my plan
12 remaining days of August, of winter.
This will be a time for kindness. For stability.

Antidepressants stopped
Feeding myself what I feel like
But trying not to overfill myself
No purging no matter what
No weight monitoring
No exercise pressure

Kindness
Stability


Come Spring it will be time to weigh in, reassess, and think about a sensible but serious plan leading up to Summer.

whirl. wind.

out of control
spinning all over the place
nothing to hold on to


4 different boys have been in my bed in under 2 weeks
last night I woke up somewhere in my house in the dark and terribly afraid, no idea how I got there, no idea how long I'd been there. still not idea where I even was because by the time the panic subsided I'd forged my way back to my room
thick, thick fog hangs everywhere


and the only time everything snaps back into clarity is when I see a huge pile of vomit at my feet and I know I am empty again

I think I will stop taking my antidepressants
there is something so horrifying about feeling your whole world crumbling around you and screaming in your head and crying for no reason... but not actually feeling sad
I think I want to feel sad again
at least it may be an incentive to get better

58.7

I have been trying VERY hard and am finding in the evenings the overwhelming NEED to feed myself just insurmountable. How can this be?

58.5

dehydrated, probably
yesterday OK

59.5

Hug me til you drug me, honey

Kiss me til I'm in a coma.

I walked down to the shops this morning. Beautiful day, late winter spontaneous burst of sun. And I walked barefoot, like I used to do a long time ago before I had a car and before I had an eating disorder. And that smell of footpath and road and flower weeds. Skirting around bits of broken bottles and breaking into a half-jog mid road-cross to avoid slightly too quick cars.


And there it was. A tiny touch of myself again and what life used to be like. When small things all around imprinted me. When stuff was noticed. When I moved in the world and I felt it.

Now I live in a stupor. Blotting out time with obscene secretive behaviours because I'm frightened. I'm not sure what of. Decisions, maybe.

When I realise this I feel like I have nothing left.

Just a Perfect Day

That's all

All it takes is one. If I can force every ounce of strength from my tired body into making just one perfect day then it will be the start of something again.

Today was awful. It was every ridiculous synapse of a bulimic brain firing. Every tiny cave in led to an all-or-nothing and inevitably all.

I can't have that be who I am.
So tomorrow will be the start of something.
I will be someone else. Someone good.

Tomorrow will be 1 again

I never said it would be easy
Sundays are always hard. There is going out for breakfast, there is seeing friends, relatives, there is time to pass. I shouldn't make excuses but the facts stand that on the 6th day I lost control.


I cannot despair, because I cannot perpetuate this cycle.
The important thing is to make sure I don't give up now that my run is broken.

Tomorrow MUST be 1. It is more important than 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 or 500.
Because 1 is the hardest. It is when you've got nothing to lose you needn't bother trying. But I DO need bother.

Tomorrow will be 1 again
I will not throw up tomorrow
I WILL NOT

Pasco