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.

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.