unexpected

so among the things i didnt see coming today:

1. having a hard time sleeping last night initially and yet not waking up to severe thunderstorms this morning

2. having a meltdown/panic attack in front of Mom and D in the van because i was so overwhelmed with anxiety about seventy five different things

3. not going with Mom and D to shop/go to D's appointment but instead staying home and binging and purging for three hours


i thought today was going to be an easy day for me, food wise. i got my workout in early, was planning to be gone shopping with the safety net of my mom and sister all day, killing time and having fun. but that is not what happened. instead, i got up early and was in a great mood. i felt good. i enjoyed breakfast but had no desire to binge or overeat. i was reading all these posts on this Fuck It Diet eating site that's basically all about how to eat intuitively and not give a damn about diet rules and the diseased mindsets that accompany them. awesome, right? i was simultaneously continuing to watch these intuitive eating/eating disorder recovery videos on youtube with this wonderful lady named Nina that ive been working through for a while. ive been planning to commit to recovery/intuitive eating once i finish with training for this race, so ive been doing some research. today it was a double-whammy for twice the impact, right? who knows.

basically i did that, worked out, and showered. for some reason though, in the shower, i noticed how overwhelmed and panicky i was beginning to feel. i guess the forecast triggered that for me. i knew that it was supposed to storm strongly later today and tonight and i ALWAYS get the most dreadful, sickening feeling when i hear that and have an extremely hard time forgetting it/focusing on anything else until the predicted time/storm has passed. anyways, so there was that. there was also, oddly enough, this nagging in my mind about my body image. yeah. not really something i normally get too hung up on. i mean, i dont like how i look and i have been dissapointed somewhat this week with how much fat i still have from all that b/p-ing for four weeks of my race training. but i thought i was okay with that, in the sense that i felt like i deserved what i had, was still working hard this final week, etc. i was okay. i thought. but for whatever reason, despite my attempts at positive self-talk/affirmation, i was really, really bugged by how i looked. i hated the fat on my legs. i hated the cellulite on my butt and the muffin top on my abs. i hated it and  couldnt get over my despising it. this wasnt, again, too big of a deal, it was more of what came after it in combination with it.

after i was finally dressed/ready to leave, i headed downstairs and ended up having made D and Mom late having to wait for me to hurry my fucking ass up and get the hell out the door. i felt bad about that. then i needed to pack a lunch because i had zip-o money and didnt want to request a stop at the bank. however, i normally drink V8 for part of my lunch, but of course, couldnt pack that. i also wanted to bring some cottage cheese along for an afternoon snack but wouldnt be able to because it wouldnt keep (too hot) in the car all day. strike again. this meant, essentially, that i would be about 150 calories or so under my given amount all afternoon, and for whatever reason i mentally couldnt cope with that. i was terrified that this would mean me either being miserably hungry/irritated or going on a binge. now im like, how would i have binged without money??? i think maybe i was thinking itd be like last week where i had mom buy me a protein bar because things had run later than expected and i was hungry and also entirely unconcerned about eating healthy. yeah. that was a bad week. anyways, i knew that now that mentality was not going to fly and i was going to need my perfectly healthy little foods if i wanted any hope of checking off today as a success. then i started thinking about how if i binged, thatd be the fucking end of the world and i really didnt want to. i couldnt. i and then remembered again how entirely fat i was feeling and how i had to try on dress pants if i went. that stressed me out because i was pretty sure i would have no idea what size to buy since i could easily gain weight within the next few weeks here. i really didnt want to make mom buy a pair that i couldnt fit into again. that, however, reminded me that i would be looking into dressing room mirrors and seeing my cellulite covered thighs all lumpy and pudgy under the lights. that would likely trigger a binge urge/utter disgust.

anyways, normally these things are struggles i can handle. yes, i get stressed sometimes, yes i dont like storms, no im not a huge fan of my body, but normally this is something i can manage. but today i just couldnt. i dont know, i just felt so fucking stressed and literally on the verge of a panic attack. i kept feeling like everything was too tight, like i couldnt get a deep breath, like i would/had forgotten how to breathe. i just felt SO FUCKING ANXIOUS about everything!!! it was overwhelming and i felt completely vulnerable to the mercy of my fucking mind. powerless. just lying there, terrified that it would consume me and make me hurt myself. it was horrible, absolutely horrible. and as soon as i started expressing my not wanting to come with/telling mom i felt like i could have a panic attack, i started crying my eyes out. like hiccups, deep gasps, shuddering, cant breathe/get control kind of crying. the more i thought about all that i had to choose between and all that id have to endure if i went with, the more anxious i got. wrapped in spiral of "if this, then end-of-the-world" thinking. for some reason that idea of trying on dress pants and feeling fat was really getting to me. my mind felt like it would need to start cutting off my skin if i did that. yeah......that happened. crazy, i know. even when Mom, very sweet Mom, tried asking me what i normally packed/offered to buy me Subway or something i was okay with, i couldnt get control, i told her i didnt want to make her spend money on me, but she said she was okay with it, even though she normally makes a big deal of it. i was actually touched, really, even though i think she was just desperately wanting to help me stop freaking out. but and then mom started praying, which was a nice gesture, but also was nearly impossible to take in because i am not a Christian, so all these promises she was claiming in Christ do not apply to me. in fact, when she said that God is powerful, more powerful than anything, all i could think about was how, for me, that meant one thing: i could be killed by a storm from Him in an instant, He could make me die and start facing the eternal hell that i deserve for these addictions and pride that i have. so that just made me depressed. in the end, i felt like it was clear that i needed to stay home. if i went with, i would likely have an even greater panic attack, and more importantly, the only way i saw to squash this anxiety was to binge and purge. oh rah rah, right? good job, you little whore, let's immerse ourselves alone in our eating disorder to solve our problems. great work. *sigh* i know, but i justified then and even now that panic attacks are really scary shit and i didnt want to risk falling into one alone at home. so i needed to drug up my mind with seratonin so that it couldnt even go there. so far so good.

i just dont know what to do anymore. things felt and probably will soon again feel very out of control. im hoping that these panic attacks dont become a regular thing, though, because i dont want to have to keep binging and purging to handle them. that would be horrible. as for now, im rather scared for Mom and D to come home because im not sure if they're going to make me talk about what happened. and im not sure what to say. i feel like that kind of gave them a peek into how utterly overwhelming this ED is for me a lot of the time. but i also dont want to admit what that was. i want to ignore it, shove it under the rug, say i dont know what happened, im good now, etc. but that would be lying and truth is probably good. when you have secrets, though, its hard to let people in a little. they get quite close to unveiling the ugly then, and the tightrope becomes even tighter for trying to keep things in control.

oh control. oh bulimia. you two fucking bitches won again.

%$@# this eating disorder

as i sit here in bed, warm tears filling my ears, my tummy full enough to force regurgitation without trying, all i can think is

FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK this eating disorder!!!!! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

i hate this thing that consumes me! i have fucking fallen into its FUCKING lies again. again again a-fucking-gain i am desperate and depressed because of its whoring control. just FUCK this thing! im so fucking sick of it.

there is an insistent track in my mind that this was and is my choice, it's always been my choice. i look temptation right in the eyes every time, and think to myself, i could say no here, i could resist. but then i still cave. i directly say yes to giving in. FUUCCCK this eating disorder! FUCK IT! i hate it. i hate all the fucking stress it brings to every fucking mealtime. i couldnt even enjoy Erin being home because from 4:30pm this afternoon onward all ive been able to think about is how hellishly hungry i am and how desperate i want pizza NOW. and i dont want two pieces--i want as many as i want to eat. and then with that desire and temptation comes the obsessing, the fucking endless obsessing of every afternoon where i dont have to workout. oh yes, my little fucking mind will relentlessly spend its time consumed with thoughts about that food and whether im going to binge or be good, binge or be good. "nothing lasts forever" "you CAN get through this" "think of the half-marathon" and then during dinner, all i can think about is food and i begin to thoroughly hate my family, hate that they're at the table, in the house. my fucked up, selfish little mind begins whispering a stream of bitter, angry thoughts. why do they have to be here? i dont care about this conversation, i dont care about church or ideas or people or newborns or weddings or gardens. i just want that damn food! why are they here?! they're preventing me from getting what i want! food food FOOD! i dont want to stay here. i keep checking the clock and checking out of the conversation. how long till dinner's done?

and this whole time im nearly in tears. i need to stop doing this, i tell myself. stop hating. stop being jealous over how and what others are eating. stop racing to shovel food in. stop being so nonchalant. stop looking at the time. stop licking up food with your fingers. stop obsessing. no one made you do this. its your choice, its your choice, its your choice. oh yeah? well than WHY THE FUCKING HELL DOES IT NEVER EVER FEEL LIKE MY FUCKING CHOICE?!?!?!! IF ITS MY CHOICE WHY CAN I NEVER FUCKING WIN?!?!?!?!?!!!!!?????????????????

fuck this eating disorder.

it never stops

i am stuck here again. stuck in this fucking eating disorder. stuck. stuck. stuck. choosing to be stuck, yes, yet still stuck.

i cant fucking escape this thing. bulimia you whore, you have overwhelmed my life. i cant move past you, i cant let you go. like a fucking parasite you have latched on and i cannot get rid of you. the harder i try to recover, the harder i fall back into your safety blanket of indulgence. my binges are bigger than ever before, my purging right behind it. gorge, retch, gorge, retch, gorge. it is disgusting and i hate that i am doing this to myself. every time im gagging over the toilet bowl all i can think is how did i get here? why did i ever choose bulimia? why did i ever start purging? i thought i would be able to stop that part of it when i wanted to. but the truth is that purging is essential to any binge, once you have learned it. its the key, the secret to unlocking a blank slate, so to speak, upon which you can shove all your favorite foods onto again. over and over and over. it never has to stop because you never get full.

these binges are so expensive and i feel entirely selfish about how much money i am wasting on food for them. ive spent over $20 in the last two days...and mom and dad have no idea. that hell will need to be paid soon enough, but as of now im just hoping i can bullshit/cover up/deceive my way through having to give account to them for where the cash went.

i hate that i keep choosing to lie to mom (and dad too, in a roundabout way). i want to be honest with them and tell them when i mess up, but i just cant bring myself to be honest. i cant bring myself to look into mom's eyes and say, nope, the entire time you both were gone last night, i was here shoving endless amounts of food into my throat and then i threw it all up in our backyard. im so ashamed of what i do; and even though i desperately want and need mom and dad's help, it also ultimately comes down to my choice. they cannot force me into making the right decision by simply trying to elimiate every possible time for me to binge. if i am determined to do it, i will do anything possible to get my hands on the food. that also ultimately does nothing for my recovery--it doesnt change how i think or approach food, it just changes my outward behavior. i so desperately wish that they could bring me into recovery, that they could somehow structure things enough so that i could never fail. but they cant. its my choice.


oh i just hate this thing so much. my throat is bone dry, even with all the water ive been drinking. im worn out. i feel unable to win. fighting these impluses to binge and purge are beyond stressful and depressing; giving into them is equally so. i dont know what to do any longer. i can feel myself slipping towards depression the more i focus on this. i just dont want to have to deal with it all anymore. i want to be done. i want to be done...