sliding downwards in more ways than one.

"Not enough. I need more. Nothing seems to satisfy. I said, I don't want it, I just need it to breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive."

Thanks for all the comments you've all been leaving me lately. I'm struggling at work but it will get better and things are already starting to settle down. Just a bit. And well, Mark, Mark isn't a bad guy. He really isn't. And I do need him, every doctor in this hospital needs him because we can't access certain medications without his permission. The ID registrar literally holds the key to the door of some antibiotics. I try to give him credit, it's not an easy job. Maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe his phone had been ringing off the hook. I don't know. I haven't seen him since that day, and that seems fine to me. 

Something has flipped inside me, flipped out completely. I haven't felt this level of anxiety for a very long time. I'm so anxious, I can't sleep, and I can't focus at work. A lot of it is because of the stress at work, and another portion of it is the weight. Today I had the biggest freak about about eating. I had a completely normal meal. It was a slightly big one, but one that was completely normal for me to eat a few times a week. 

And I felt so ill afterwards. I wanted to throw it up, I have been absolutely riddled with anxiety for several hours now. I'm so tired, I feel like my head is falling asleep but my body wants to run around widely to burn it all off. 

I'm currently caving to cravings. I've got one of my knives out and I'm just running it back and forth across my skin. I'm not cutting but just the feel of the blade against my skin is so good. Just the feel of it is relaxing me...relaxing me. GOD, I WANT TO CUT SO BADLY. But no, for now, it's enough. 

I'm so scared of meal times now. It's really odd, how fast the fear and anxiety sets in. I've started my old habits again...not sleeping at night, trying on outfit after outfit and squinting at myself in the mirror. I'm loving skipping all the meals, and I've ever had days of nothing when I've gone home after having nothing to eat and just going straight to bed. 

This week I've lost 4lbs. Not as much as I'd like. I've gone from 127lbs to 123lbs. I know that the majority of this is food that I've just pooed out. In terms of actual weight loss, it probably is only a pound, two at most. But it's a loss, and I'll take any loss. 

I look in the mirror and I see lots and lots bumps and lumps that I want to get rid of. When I look at myself I think I look fucking pregnant. And to me (and I know just about all of you will disagree) there is nothing more ugly than a pregnant woman. There is something so absolutely grotesque about a huge belly sticking out. Do when I say I look pregnant, what I am saying is that I look disgusting and repugnant. 

I look in the mirror and I can't believe how ugly I am. Fat and ugly and fat and ugly and fat and ugly. Why can't I just be ugly.