I don’t know what to do if my insurance again refuses to cover treatment. Maybe I will just never eat again. I don’t want to go back to binging and purging. After almost a week without it, and basically without food, the thought of going back sounds exhausting
And this is a random picture of a cat.
I hardly slept last night. I’d say, at most, for an hour. An interrupted hour.
At one point, I woke biting my tongue. I couldn’t sleep after that. Shortly before 6am, I got up.
I have managed to get some water down, and I haven’t taken any laxatives yet today. I did take the diet pills.
I can’t sit still. The restlessness I get most nights seems to have spilled forth into my day. I need to be moving something, mostly my legs, or my body aches.
Also, I clearly don’t need sleep.
I have 5 hours until I go out with the friend. I have no idea what to do with that time. I feel mentally exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I feel physically restless. I can’t concentrate. Probably because I’m hardly sleeping. I might just watch Netflix or something and zone out.
Imagine, if you will, a skeleton. It could be male or female, but for this example, I’ll use female pronouns.
Picture this skeleton as she reaches her bone hand up to her face. She runs a finger along her cheekbone. She traces her jaw. She moves her hand down to where her throat should be, detailing each vertebrae.
She raises her other hand and follows her collar bones, one with each hand. She crosses her right hand over to feel the left collar bone. She slowly lowers both hands, feeling each rib carefully.
She wraps her hands around her waist…her spine. She rubs her hip bones. She pays close attention to how they jut away from her body. She wraps a hand around her femur.
Tears well up in her hollow eyes.
She extends her leg and flexes her toes. Even her toes are too fat. She circles the fingers of her right hand around her left wrist, noting the feel of her wrist bones. She slides her fingers up her arm.
Her arms are still too fat. Everything is still too fat.
Tears start to fall, landing softly on collarbones and ribs.
She walks outside, broken, yet determined. She picks up a rock about the size of her bony fist. She takes it back inside.
Sitting on her bed, she takes the rock and scrapes it back and forth against her leg.
If I can just grind down the bone, I can be thinner. If I can reach marrow, maybe I will be thin enough.
I was basically told to “just eat” a moment ago by a former anorexic…