b.e.d.

i am so fucking pissed and exhausted and depressed right now it's disgusting. i just am in absolute hellish hate. i got up and started binging this mornng before i'd even begun making breakfast. a cupcake--down, like that. then my two pieces toast with gobs of PB and honey. and then essentially 3/4 of a pack of graham crackers with lots of cream cheese and chocoplate chips on top. a glass of milk washed it all down nicely. and then i had some yogurt with granola, craisains, honey, and more chocolate chips mixed in, because, really, why the hell not? then just to keep things interesting i had my ususal coffee with a hot cocoa packet. or tried to, anyway, before i got so full and had such a stomach ache that i could barely drink half of it. there was no fucking way i was going to even try to workout today, like every other day this week. crap. i then went upstairs and cried my lungs out into my sheets. i continued stumbling around upstairs, crying and crying and struggling to breathe and collapsing in mom and dad's room. i tried to take a sip of water after this but ending up nearly puking in the sink instead, seeing as how my throat was too covered with mucus and i was giving a shuttery breath in at the same i was trying to sip. yes, nice, brown, hot-cocoa-filled hacking. lovely.

i showered then; tried not to let my sunburnt skin get touched by the hot water while washing my hair. that was interesting...i did manage to avoid eating lunch because i was so freaking full and luckily when mom asked if i'd eaten before work i just told her yes and she had no choice but to believe me because she had been grocery shopping over part of the lunch hour. so that was nice; i was so full there was no way i could have eaten anything.

next i went to work. i was actually--weirdly enough--in a good mood when i got there. i worked with Becca at tackling the closing list and helping customers and had a nice enjoyable time. i like Becca. :) then around 3:20ish i made a blended latte becuase i was really hungry and wanted my snack/lunch. so i downed that in a really, really short amount of time. seriously--i dont know if i've ever drank one that fast. anyways, then of course Becca left and i began to lust after food. i kept thinking about how weird this was and i kept wondering, are there seriously people who dont struggle with this? do i truly have binge eating disorder? or do i just overeat? this feels so normal to me; i cannot imagine ever not wanting to eat. doesn't that resonate with everyone? which, of course, made me just begin eating cookies so that i could ensure i was sick enough to deserve the diagnosis of BED. and then i kept being assaulted with the thought, who knew you'd suck so bad at recovery? again and again and again. who knew i'd be such a fucking bad recovery patient? who knew it'd get this hard? who knew i'd come across all these struggles with having compassion/being kind to myself and whether i deserved either of those things. just who the fucking hell would have ever guessed it? and then i ate some more cookies. and then even when i didnt really want it i had a scoop of cookie dough ice cream. i felt like i was eating it in slow-motion, hyper-paranoid of any sign of life from either the front or the back doors, nervous id get caught. yet i was so full at this point, so disgustingly full and just not wanting to eat anymore, that i kept wishing i didn't have to keep going. but then id remember how much work i would have to do if i ever wanted to recover. how recovery was hard. and then i thought about how there were other people--anorexics and bulimics and just people who generally had enough willpower to say no to food for a few days at a time (while i meanwhile gorged myself every fucking second i could)--that had to fight through recovery too. i considered how we were somewhat relateable in that, when they were tempted to run from food and all the emotional junk it brought, i was similarily tempted to run from all restraint and reminders that i should not eat and all the emotional processing that not eating requires. and i just felt like a complete loser and failure and fucked up mess. and i wanted to cry; but of course i couldn't because i was at work. anyways, so as closing time loomed closer and closer, i thought about not eating anymore, but decided why the hell should i? today is completely fucked. and even the thought that, hey, each day's a new day, you can change, just stop eating for three seconds. psh. right. i officially give you the title of BULL-SHIT. and i ate another few cookies as the cleaned up the airpots and espresso machine. my head was throbbing from sugar and caloric overload. and i felt depressed and just so damn tired. which reminded me that earlier today when i binged i had also felt really exhausted as well. all this overeating and no-exercising was tiring my body out, even with plenty of sleep and nothing stressing me. i only discounted 3 of the cookies i ate because i was, as always, afraid Natalie that would someday confront me on how much discounted food i buy when im at work after she has reviewed sale reports. which means more money but potentially less humiliation in the long run. i then delayed calling Danae to come pick me up so i could have a few minutes of alone time to process and sit in peace.

poor Danae. once i was in the car i slowly turned icy and silent. i just sat there, my sadness turning to burning anger and FUCKKKKK-like frustration. i came inside, Mom said hi, i said hi, she asked what was wrong, i said nothing, i proceed with gladiators on up to my room. sit down, turn on fan, begin this blog post. then i, as i knew i would, had to go down for dinner; the inescapable meal during which i endlessly felt like throwing up. i actually ate faster than everyone else, which was really wacked but i think i was just so full it was like, okay i have to eat this meal, just shove it in and be done with it. then you can finally get a  break from eating. so i did and then sat there, surprise surprise, utterly exhausted. i came up to try and blog some more but then had to leave for church to help on the serving committe for our Q&A with the new youth pastor candidate. that was actually nice and a good distraction from my depression over my food issues. even though there was dessert there that i naturally devoured. now im home again and recalling all the shit that happened today and has been happening for the past week/longer.

i just really dont know what to do about this anymore. i dont fucking know what to do.  im so worried that i maybe dont even want to get better, not really. because that means analyzing my emotions all the time and yet still feeling uncomfortable and upset and having to avoid any form of overeating. and ive tried that and i hated it and still hate it. i dont want to let this go! im....not...fucking...ready! i just cant do it. i cant get any better. or if i could "do" it i could never make it really last, not make it something that is my life and not just another front i put up for others. and i hate this because i feel like i cant tell mom and dad about any of this. i cant tell them the truth! and they'll never consistently help me anyways. not to mention the whole issue of my not being a Christian and thus never being able to find a permanent solution since this is quite a soul-issue. fuck. just FUCK! what the hell am i supposed to do now?! i feel like all this is just falling apart. i was doing so well and learning so much and trying really hard to do better and now im just completely back to square one. and im humiliated and embarrassed and ashamed and desperate and scared. every time i see an obese person, i just keep thinking, that's where im headed, that's where im headed. ive got to change! i just want to hide away and stop feeling and not be a part of this anymore! i dont want to feel life anymore! i just want to numb myself from it! i hate it i hate it i hate it. i dont want to feel anything anymore; good or bad. i just want to cut and leave this out. i cant handle feeling my emotions--i hate it and it hurts and there's no real coping mechanism beyond recognition.

and after im done crying about this i always feel like the biggest fucking self-absorbed bitch ever. because there are SO many problems bigger than this in the world! my fucking problems with overindulging are stupid and petty compared to what others are going through. im so freaking focused on only ME that i cant help anyone else! and consequently i feel like there's no point in even attempting recovery because it requires validating my problem, acknowleding that it is worth discussing and dealing with.

i just want out. i want out. i feel trapped and sick about all this. fuck.