8 is a lucky number

Today I took one of those online depression tests. At the end, instead of giving me a score or something that said mild or moderate or severe depression, it just gave me the number of the crisis helpline and said that if I should call it immediately if I was having thoughts about hurting or killing myself. 

After a horrendous day at work, I went on the most amazing binge fest ever. I don't think I've ever eaten this much in my life. Then, on my way back to my room, I found myself automatically going to purge. Which is odd before I've never vomited before and yet here I was going to purge as if it was the normal routine. I didn't do it. I'm not going to purge, I'm going to fight the urge as long as I can. It's getting harder. But I have to try. 

Still, even though I'm not vomiting and I've taken 8 laxies in the past 24 hours. So much for not taking more than the recommended dose. 

I find myself avoiding the professor. I know all you girls tell me not to, and I agree with you, but I'm doing it subconsciously. It's only later that I realise I slipped away so quickly to avoid talking to him. I don't want to see him, but I so do. I want to march up to his door and give him all my laxies and ask him to take them all away. And give him all my scalpel blades. And ask him to fix me. But that's not how it works. He can't fix me. Only I can. But I don't want to. 

Alex still haunts me. But now there is a new girl in town. YW. Just as beautiful. Just as wonderful. And I get along terribly well with her. She's great. We could be great friends. But like Alex, YW reminds me of everything that I am not. She's so clever, so good at writing papers, never delays projects. Everything that I'm not. 

I can't even be eating disordered properly. I wish I'd just be full out mia and vomit my heart out. But I can't. I can't do anything. 

As usual, thank you to Fat Piggy, Christina and xXzapxfireXx for your lovely comments on my last entry. I'm sorry that I've been down so much lately. Things must pick up from here though. 

Darling Mia

As usual, thank you to Jackie, Christina, Anafly and Fiandshalimer for your lovely comments on my blog! I love you girls!

In my darkest hours when my phone is silent because all my friends are too busy with their own lives to answer my texts, when I can't sleep because of the tears, when my abdomen is aching for my binging or my fasting, Mia comes to me like an avenging angel. She holds and rocks me and smiles at me with love. Everything will be okay. She hands me the laxies. As soon as you take these. 

Sometimes Ana goes on holiday. But I'm never alone, when Ana is off keeping someone else company, Mia comes and takes my hand. Darling Mia, she whispers to me, she holds me when no one else will, she gives me hope when there is none. I swore I'd be off the laxies. Judith Marie doesn't like them. 

Judith Marie remember being at work, sitting in her room with her eyes shut, riding out the waves of pain coursing through her body, waiting for silence in the corridor so that she can run to the bathroom. The paranoia, hoping that nobody realises she is going to the bathroom every few minutes. Then she sits in the bathroom, in yet more pain, waiting for the person in the next stall to leave so that nobody sees her in there. 

But those moments are Mia's little triumphs. During my pain she points out to me that my abdomen is flatter now, and isn't that empty feeling just second to none? 

Recently I've been binging like mad. LIKE MAD. And Mia is with me during each binge, silent but watching. Immediately afterwards she tries to drag me to the bathroom. Vomit it up again. But Judith Marie refuses. She knows that it's bad. She knows it's really bad. She knows that if she does, she'll be letting a lot of people down. She knows that if anyone finds out it will be a one way ticket to the mental health ward. 

If you are wondering why everything seems to be so much in third person, it's because right now, I don't really understand my identity. I thought I was very Ana, now I seem to be much more Mia, and somewhere in there is Judith, desperate for an Ed free life. 

Never before now have I ever lost control while eating. I will eat and eat and there is an unbelievably strong urge to continue. There are no thoughts in my head. In a strange way it's really peaceful. No stress, no depression, just nothing. It's like a compulsion, I just do it. But immediately afterwards, I want to vomit. So far I haven't yet. And I really don't want to. But I will one day. 

Recently I've gone from one tiredness to another. I used to be fully exhausted and breathless from the restricting, now I'm exhausted by the binging. I hate this. Sometimes I want nothing more than to walk into the professor's office and tell him everything and ask for help. That's probably why I've been avoiding him lately. I'm scared somehow that bit of me that wants recovery will break through and blurt it out. 

The professor. I don't want to see him again. I'm scared. I'm scared of being found out and of giving myself away. I'm scared that he'll call me out for being so late with my work. I'm just scared. I don't want to see him. I care about him so much. I don't think I can face being rejected by him. I'll finish the work, I'll hand it in. Then I'll think about if I want to see him again. Seems stupid doesn't it, me burning the bridge between myself and the one person in my life who is even vaguely supportive. 

I counted my blades. I have nearly 100. I keep getting more of them. I am feeling that it's probably nearly time to cut something else into myself. 

because just what I've been through is nothing like where I'm going to...

...give me some sign to pursue a promise. And you're unhappy - this is only a guess. Do you know what it's like to hate when it's way down deep inside? Oh God, I hate what's been done to my life. I could rule the pain, I could rule the night, or would I ruin my salvation?

It's some ungodly hour of the morning and I've done some unknown hours of transcription. I can't really remember the last time I slept properly, I can't remember the last person I talked to, I can't remember what the hell I've just transcribed. But I know exactly when I ate, I know when I took the laxies and I know that they should be working soon.

With the Violent Femmes playing softly along with the howling wind and my howling dog, I can't help but think about how I got to here.

I don't really remember a time when I was happy. I don't think I really understand what that means. That doesn't really bother me. But sometimes it's hard to see how I got from a high achieving, scholarship winning, perfectly content girl to how I am now: severely depressed, suicidal, self harming, personality and eating disordered, intellectually challenged person who swings wildly from restricting to binging to taking 4 doses of laxies in 24 hours.

What happened? I thought I was in control. I thought I had it all under control. I said that I wouldn't cut myself again. Now I can't sleep until I've cut myself. I said that I would never starve myself but of course I started restricting and fasting. Then I said I would never binge or purge and I've been doing nothing but binging and purging for the past few days. I said I would never use laxatives. I've taken 8 of them in the past 24 hours, one dose after each meal. I said I would only use them if I needed to. Now I have to take some each time solid food passes my lips.

I'm not in control at all.

...you know that I want your loving but my logic tells me that it ain't never gonna happen. And my defenses say that I didn't want it anyway. But you know sometimes I'm a liar...

The Violent Femmes continue to croon to me. Every now and then the music will speak straight to my soul. And this song is doing that... Good feeling, won't you stay with me just a little longer?...

My alarm sounds, that annoying bell. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. It's 3am. That means that I should go to sleep now in order to get up in 3 hours time. But I can't sleep. I haven't cut anything into myself yet... it always seems like you're leaving when I need you here just a little longer...

I give up, I reach for my little box of love and pic out a blade and etch a little heart below my left clavicle. The angle is so strange that it makes me cross eyed. Gently, very gently, I sway to the music. Who told me to listen to the Violent Femmes anyway? Oh yes, of course, it was the professor.

The professor. In theatre, a nurse walked by and said "I don't do love". He laughed at her and turned to me and said "that's something you'd say because you're wedded to success and ophthalmology". I don't make any reply. I don't need to. He already knows the words that I can't allow myself to say. But that's okay. It has to be.

Laxatives. I look at my little red purse. It's full of laxatives. I never have any coins to put in it anyway. All I need are laxatives. I know this is a one way track to tolerance. Then I will have to teach myself to throw up. But that's later. For now I still have hope that I will go back to restricting.

I wash the little heart under my clavicle with alcohol. It burns. I'm tired. My thoughts float around the place. I can't think straight. I have work to do. I have people to please. I have scars to create. I have misery to wallow in. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

As usual, thank you to aliceana and strive4perfection and fat piggy for your lovely comments.

binge and purge: the circle of life.

I should have somehow known that it was too good to last. This has been one of the worst binges ever. I've always been honest on here but right now, I'm way too ashamed to say how much I ate on here. Apparently life is all or nothing for me in all respects, including binging. When I binge, I do it good, honey *snaps fingers*. So I've taken more laxies and it makes me feel a bit better. I've only just started taking laxies (as you probably know already) and now I understand why people say it gets so addictive. Why don't I ever listen????? The human race would be doomed to fail if everyone was like me.

I've gone through an embarrassing amount of laxatives since I bought them and I need to cut back, simply because I can't afford to keep buying them at this rate. At first, I took some just to see if it worked and how quickly. Then I was nothing short of delighted at the flatness of my stomach and how un-bloated I felt. Well, really, I was more surprised because it really brought home how bloated I was normally.

Laxies really, are only good in retrospect. Because at the time, it is absolutely miserable. I took some last night, ended up having an all nighter watching movies and found out that they work faster if you're awake. So at about 3 am I was chained to my bathroom. And for the next 2 hours I was back and forth and even now, 11hours later I'm still running back and forth to the bathroom. For this reason I don't think I will be taking more than the normal dose, or I will actually just have to move my life into the bathroom.

I've just had another binge at lunch and taken more laxies. And so the circle of life continues. Binge then purge then binge then purge then binge then purge. And all the warnings people have given me about laxies go unheeded. I'm not really losing any weight because yeah, all I'm doing is gaining food weight then losing food weight. But somehow I almost prefer this because it allows me the chance to binge and I have to say that I get some sort of satisfaction in binging.

Now I almost don't have to deal with the guilt of it. Because, for now, the discomfort and pain of the laxies makes me feel like I've repented enough for a binge.

When I started my weight loss bid, I never thought I would ever flirt with Mia. Never. I'm not sure if I am right now. But I can suddenly see the possibility of going down that path. We'll just have to wait and see.

p(urges) part 2

Every now and then I consider purging. I am thoroughly opposed to the notion, I know that it is bad on every single level. I know that if I started purging, the amount of trouble that I'd be in if people found out would multiply 100 times. (Does that sentence make sense?) I'm already being hounded for not eating enough, I'd probably be burned at the stake for purging.

However, despite all this, if I were somehow granted the ability to purge easily, without too much effort, doesn't leave me coughing and spluttering on my bathroom floor, I would do it. But until that happens, I'm unlikely to make a habit of it.

My problem with purging is really more on a moral basis. It's a bit hard to explain but I'm going to try to, and I apologise in advance if I horribly confuse anybody.

The whole point, is to lose weight by not eating and by exercising. To me, this is almost like an exercise in self control. No matter how much I want to eat, no matter how hungry I am, I don't let myself eat. And I make myself work out. It's like, learning the art of discipline.

There is something in fasting, restricting, essentially starving that I find so comforting. I might be hungry, so hungry that I'm in pain. I might be dizzy and salivating at merely hearing people talk about food but the thing is, I never feel more accomplished and powerful than when I am starving but still refusing food. I feel in total control. I'm in control, and I control what I eat. When I get into these moods, the weight loss is almost a very lovely side effect.

Not to say that the weight loss is insignificant, it's just a cyclical process. I restrict to lose weight, then I become full of power at the being hungry but still fasting and I lose more weight. But there is no such thing as "thin enough". So I will always be in a state of being too fat. Well, I can't imagine ever feeling thin. Not until all my bones are sticking out.

For those of you who have followed this blog, you will know that I am rather into self harm. For new followers - hello! Welcome and thank you for following me. I think restricting is like a form of self harm. Refusing myself food is like punishing myself and there are so many things that I feel like I need to be punished for. I don't deserve food, I don't deserve to be fed. The way I see food has changed dramatically. I don't get any pleasure from binging anymore. I used to though. I only feel a sense of dread when I see food, oh no, what if I binge, oh no, I don't deserve that, oh no, I'm too fat.

As an aside, the self harming, is getting worse, I'm getting lots of ideas of where to cut, but now, these are places that I want to have scars. I've cut 5 lines on my right flank. Parallel, and sort of in line with the contours of my body. And I want them to scar. But the problem is, I haven't cut them deep enough to scar well so I will have to re-cut them at some point. But for now, I can see the pattern and I will go over the cuts before the marks go away. They might be deep enough for a light scar, but I want bigger, darker ones. I found a box of miscellaneous stuff at work, and this included a collection of scalpel blades, some were clearly out of date and so are not sterile but still, scalpel blades are scalpel blades.

Back to purging! I sort of feel that purging is almost like cheating. If the aim is to exercise self control, then I have lost the game the second I put food into my mouth. In saying that however, I would rather purge out what I have eaten than be in a situation where I can't fast the next day. As of yet, I feel like I am still 'with it' enough to not purge. But I can certainly foresee me purging sometime in the future if this doesn't stop. Especially when I start working properly, which won't happen until November next year. I can see myself being consumed by work and restricting.

On some level, I want this to stop. And I think this contributes to the suicidal ideas. This really is a miserable state of existence. I think that at this point in time I have enough insight left to feel like I should get help. I'm now a qualified doctor, I know that this is wrong. But I'm too scared to get help, and nobody knows how bad I am. I'm still fully functional so no one suspects that I might be deeply depressed, suicidal and have an eating disorder. If I add purging to that list, well, I'm going to be in deep trouble if this ever gets out.

I can see that one day I will purge on a daily basis, probably when I'm living by myself. And then, it won't spell the end, but it will certainly be another nail in a well nailed down coffin. By then I will be so far gone, that there will be no possible success for me post-recovery and so the only way to continue will be go on and lose as much weight as I can and then off myself.

Some people would be very distressed if they could read this. I can't possibly tell anyone in my life about this. And this is why I treasure you girls so much.

As always, thank you to:

Leonie

Alice ana

Jackie

Christina

Fat Piggy

nicoleandgwendolyn

Haley

for your lovely comments. I absolutely love your comments and you ladies make me feel so supported in this.