i can’t stand you.

im sick of it, im sick of you. im sick of everything.

stop asking me if im okay.

stop telling me you understand.

you haven’t got a clue. stop pretending you do.

you might “know how i feel” emotionally. just because you’ve been depressed or are depressed or whatever the fuck is wrong with you, doesn’t mean you know what im going through. at all. how hard is that for you to wrap your head around?

stop insisting you do.

just fucking stop.

i hate talking to you. i hate hanging out with you. all you ever want to do is “talk”. i don’t want to fucking talk. I was rolling on ECSTACY. the one pill that will make you happier than anything on earth.. and you made me cry. doesn’t that say something to you? doesn’t that make you stop? i hate talking. stop telling me i have to. stop telling me its good for me. You’re not a doctor. I want to scream in your face. I should’ve never told you. just stop. you’re stressing me out. don’t you see that? don’t you realize that im perfectly content not talking about it? why do you have to bring it up? Why so you asj me if im okay EVERY SINGLE DAY? get off my back. i hate it. i loathe it.

You don’t know how im feeling. You cannot relate. You’re supposed to be my best friend. I’m not asking you to support it, but don’t push me. I’m too fragile. You should know that of all people. yet you push me and push me, and the more you do, the less i want to talk to you.

Sure, maybe you know the feeling that there’s nothing out there for you. That you’ve fucked up everything. You’re a hopeless case.  Maybe you do.

Maybe you couldn’t stop drinking. Maybe you had an addiction to xanax. Maybe you had insomia. Maybe you can relate emotionally.

but did your depression or addiction keep you awake all night? and not awake because your thinking, but because of the physical pain in your body?

you won’t ever understand the physical aspect of my bulimia unless you’ve HAD bulimia. Stop saying you do.

you’ve never laid awake all night because of the hunger pains in your stomach.

you’ve never had every bone in your entire body ache all the time.

you’ve never had acid eating away your gums.

you’ve never made the excuse that your sick, because you popped four laxatives and can’t go out.

You’ve never felt yourself dying.

You’ve never gotten a sore throat from your fingernails.

You’ve never sat cleaning your toilet for 3 hours because your friends are coming over and you don’t want them to suspect anything.

You’ve never felt so full that you feel empty.

You can quit your alcohol, your pills. You can never stop eating. The one thing I have to face for the rest of my life, if my addiction.  I don’t have a choice. I can’t cut it out. You can. If you’re supposedly my best friend, get off my back like a parent.. there’s a reason you know and my mom doesn’t. fuck, man.

i miss me

hi all.. sorry i haven’t updated in a while.. there’s been alot going on.. but ill get to that next post.

i’ve been trying to eat normal.. healthy. and i’ve been gaining weight. i got up to 128, and you know what? it felt….. fucking shitty. i felt ugly, fat, self conscious, so i’ve gotten back into the purge cycle..

this morning i woke up, and the first thing i thought about was what in the house i could binge on. See, my mom has seemingly caught on that mass amounts of food go missing quickly, and has decided to stop grocery shopping. Unfortunetly for me, I didn’t realize this until there was no more food in the fridge. So binging has cost ALOT more money.. money that I don’t have. Fuck.

Then I went through, in my head, a list of all the resturant gift cards that I have that I can use. Fuck.

What the fuck. Why is that all i can think of?

And then the breakdown came. I got up and started cleaning, and there it was.

When was the last time I felt normal? When I didn’t want to be a skinny little hoebag.

When I was with my boyfriend. The one who made me this way.

I cried. Ironically, Katy Perry’s, Part Of Me, came on and laying in the middle of my floor on a pile of socks I was pairing, I just cried. I realized, the only thing he didn’t take from me, was my body. This fucking mass of garbage is all he left me with.. but then it hit me, he took that from me too.

When we first met, I was happy. He was great. I spent every moment I could with him. Thats the first thing he took, my time.

Then my social life. I hung out with no one except for him, unless he was working, in which case I hung out with that slutty friend that most of you don’t probably remember from way back when. That’s it. Holidays, I went to his family’s partys. I barely saw my family, and the one time I went to visit my deaf sister and spend time with her, he dragged along… literally dragged… and complained about wanting to go home. Bitch, I drove an hour and a half to see her, I’m not leaving after eating fucking chipotle.

And then he took my confidence, my strength, my body. and basically everything I have or am. How was I so blind? how did i just let him strip me of everything I was? How did I not realize it? how did I not give enough of a shit about myself to care?

How did I only have the strength to leave him after he went on vacation? was I that weak to walk away when he was there?

after we broke up, I had nothing. no friends that wanted to hang out, because of all the times i blew them off. I didn’t even have their phone numbers. i didn’t want to tell my family about it out of shame, so i avoided them.

See when I was younger, my mom’s therapist told her that because i didn’t want to talk about my dad’s abuse, that I would hold it in, and that I would be alone… forever. fucking bitch. so anytime we get in a fight, she brings up that im a whore, that will never find a man because i argue too much.

thanks mom.

To say he just left me with an eating disorder, sounds so weird, because he didn’t leave me. To this day he still texts me, and i ignore him.

I made him feel like garbage, I know i did.. when i told him that I was this way and it was his fault. It wasn’t his intention to do this, it just happened i guess.

I didn’t know how to flirt, I didn’t want to have sex, I didn’t want to make new friends, I didn’t want to go out, I just wanted to be alone. And once I got out, I didn’t know how to be social anymore. I was awkward, rude, boring, wore sweatpants.

I started going to the gym alot and just chilled with my ED, nervous breakdowns and various men.

men who just wanted to fuck, and i got played over, and over, and over. Like an idiot.

I crossed men off my checklist of things to help me get back to normal. apparently I was good at that.

I got some new girl friends.

I did some drugs.

the drugs, oh my god. They made me so happy FOR ONCE. They helped me feel normal. Cocaine suppresses appetite, so I was losing weight and i wasn’t starving. It was perfect.

The past few weeks I did cocaine once, drank twice, and rolled once, and I realized, I’m so much happier when i’m completely sober. no drugs, no alcohol.. so for now i’m trying to quit.

The thing about quitting though, is that my best friend (who will be my best friend regaurdless) likes to do alot of drugs. Therefore, it’s not as easy cutting out drugs, If i have to watch everyone around me do it, and i know how great it feels.

so today i laid on the floor, and realized that my normal, is a lifestyle that A. I can’t afford and B. is going to kill me.

my lifestyle is a bunch of different guys, a bunch of different drugs, and bulimia.

I have nothing or no one.

I am nothing or no one.

I dropped out of college. I started doing drugs. I let people take advantage of my mass.

I’m nobody’s anything.

I’m not even my own anything.

I don’t know myself.

I don’t know how to get back to normal.

I’ve tried. and tried. and tried. to get back to normal, but the thoughts just don’t go away.

The fact that my mom always says “oh are you back with exbf? i liked him, you should go back out with him” and i just want to scream in her face “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE DID TO ME, YOU HATE ME NOW? THATS BECAUSE OF HIM. THANK HIM.”

I want to grow up and be completely open with someone. I want to be married with a family, a happy, healthy family. But right now im an emotional mess with bulimia, and im not sure there’s enough hours in a lifetime for the transition.

 

why

driving home from work with two slices of pizza, a sandwich, some cookies, and 4 bottles of water, each paid at different sections of the grocery store to throw people off, it seems the more i eat the deeper into my binge i get and the less into my driving i am.

i drive with my knees, bottle of water in one hand, food in the other, and swerve from lane to lane trying to multitask. my chest tightens and my breathing gets harder with every bite. it feels as though i’m an overly obese kid running a marathon after eating a cake, or i’ve eaten so much that my organs are getting squeezed together. I convienently get home at 730… after dinner has been made and nobody’s home. Scarf that down, then whip up whatever I can find.  Another sandwich? soup? pasta? ice cream? cookies? anything but rice or cereal.

for alot of people, cereal is a staple food in a binge. I had one type of cereal that i got through a box and it wouldn’t come up. Cereal is one of my biggest bulimic fears.

and then chest tight, panting for breath, with a huge food baby, I just sit there. and I think. and I think. and I think.

and then i purge.

during the purge you can feel the pressure in your chest go down, your food baby dissapears. Sometimes you get sharp pains in your chest, but once youre done, you feel completely satisfied.

and then i do some more thinking.

I often ask myself, why do I do this. When I told my best friend and subject A about my bulimia, they both went right away to “but your not fat” and i insist and insist that i don’t do it because I think im fat. They ask all the time “then why do you do it?”

“control?” i say. Even though I’m not even sure thats the reason.

There was a time when it was weight. But I lost alot of it.

There was a time where it was control. But I lost all of it.

There was a time where the drugs made it feel better. But I haven’t done them lately.

There was a time where it was euphoric. But now everything just hurts.

There was a time where I tried to stop. But the results of stopping made me fat, out of control, sober, and miserable.

So maybe it IS about control, AND my weight, AND the drugs, AND euphoria. Maybe it just makes me feel better than it does worse. Maybe the good feels better than the bad. Maybe being sick is easier that being recovered. Maybe having a secret makes my life feel like mine. Like having something that no one can fix makes it personal. Breaks me from the norm. This is a terrible way of thinking, i acknowledge that. But why am I bulimic? Riddle me that, because I haven’t got a clue.

Subject A

i dont know what to do.. i really dont.

a while back (december probably) i got really drunk one night. That day I was supposed to go to a like support group thing, but of course, i chickened out. I went to the bar with a few people from work and got really drunk.

at the end of the night I dont remember much, but i DO remember crying in the bathroom. We’re going to call the guy at work, Subject A. Subject A heard me crying, and i basically spent my blacked out night crying to him.

awesome.

At work subject A is known as one of the BIGGEST gossipers. He talks shit about people… like literally everyone.

So naturally I woke up the next morning with pieces of the night in my head that i absolutely regretted.

As fast as I could, I texted him and make him swear on his dog, his dick, his FAMILY he wouldn’t say a word. He agreed.

So as a result, I gave up beer and liquor for New Years.

Fast Forward to about a month ago.

My best friend Ally met Subject A.. Now Ally is half puerto rican, but she acts and dresses extremely white, unless it comes to drugs. Subject A out of spite for me saying his friend was ghetto, went around to the entire store and told them that Ally was a ghetto bitch.

Next time Ally, Subject A, and i hung out, I told Ally. I knew she’d laugh at how ridiculous it was, so I didn’t see the harm.

Subject A’s reply was, “you’ll be sorry tomorrow” and gave me this bitchy, twofaced, evil eye.

FUCK.

so as soon as tomorrow rolled around I sent him a super nice text and it was done.

Now Subject A expects me to be his best friend.

How am I supposed to be your friend if youre blackmailing me? How is that morally right?

IT GETS BETTER.

about a week and a half ago, after all the harrassment, Subject A told me he was bulimic for six years and quit last year. He said it so nonchalantly, that i just dont even believe it.

to prove my point further, I told Subject A that I was trying to stop. I told him I purged. I got really upset. He told me to try harder because i could stop if i wanted to. I could stop if I tried hard enough. I’m just not trying.

Subject A, if you were REALLY bulimic, you should understand. And I told him this. He said he does, he just wants the best for me.

Subject A, I suspect, lied. Being that he’s a superbig drama queen, I don’t believe it one bit. He wants to talk about my eating, but not his. He eats the shittiest food, without thinking twice. He wants me to bring him to chipotle today, and I can’t even wrap my head around that. He doesn’t understand anything I’m going through. He can’t relate at all. I want to call him out on it, but what if he was bulimic? in some weird type of way.. how would I feel if someone tried to tell me I didn’t have an eating disorder? but there’s no way in hell he could’ve.. there just isnt..

and I feel as though I can’t do anything to piss him off, because he’s got this blackmail hanging over my head. If i say one wrong thing, if i blow him off once, he’s going to threaten to tell.. and i don’t doubt he will. and i have no idea what to do 😦

nothingness

i have nothing to say.

i feel nothing.

as of lately, i haven’t been able to decipher how im feeling. im not happy, im not sad.

i have however gained ten pounds.. and no matter how much i purge, every day without fail that number goes up.

i dont understand. what have i done wrong? why can’t i get those numbers lower. i havent eaten anything that hasn’t been purged.. how is this possible? I don’t understand. I’m so upset about it, but at the same time i just dont care. it just makes me want to purge more. 

so i guess maybe i do feel something.. but there’s this sense of numbness that’s covering it… 

it almost feels like I’ve been so depressed these past few weeks that my body has figured out how to avoid feeling down anymore.. and has just become numb. 

its a great but awful feeling.. more awful than great. 

ive wanted nothing more than to be alone these past few weeks.. and i had to fight my face off for people to leave me the fuck alone, and now they have.. and i almost feel like for my health, i should not be left alone. not for a second.