LoveMe Challenge, Day 18

Day #18: Something that feeds your brain.

Reading. I’m lucky enough to have been born to two avid readers who also loved to read to their children. I practically grew up in libraries. I adore reading and when the apathy and listlessness of my bipolar depression hasn’t taken over to where I can’t get myself to do anything, I read all the time, anything I can get my hands on, both fiction and non-fiction. Right now I’m reading Loving Our Kids on Purpose, The Way They Learn, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and The Secret Garden. (The last two are re-reads.)

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Apathy and listlessness

list·less [list-lis]

—adjective

1. having or showing little or no interest in anything; languid; spiritless; indifferent

I am listless. I have no interest in anything. I don’t want to DO anything. I’m bored, but literally nothing sounds interesting. I feel grey. Colorless. Lifeless. I want to give up, but I don’t feel capable. Even that doesn’t hold my interest tonight. Maybe I’ll sleep. Maybe I’ll just lie in bed and stare are the ceiling.

I hate today

Today (technically yesterday now) was the anniversary of my sister’s death. It was a hard day.

Yesterday, still sick from my overdose, I didn’t eat and spent most of the day in bed. 

Today, I still wasn’t up to eating, but my mom made me some food midday without me asking (she knew I wasn’t feeling well) and I felt I should try to eat it. I got some of it down, but it made me very sick. 

I’m still nauseous. I don’t know if it’s from the pills or the not eating or what. 

These came in the mail this evening:

Note: I do NOT recommend anyone take any of these, let alone all of them. In fact, I recommend staying far, far away from them.

And after that hypocritical PSA…

I know you’re not supposed to combine things like this, especially when you’re on medications, but that never seems to stop me. Especially when I’m in my extreme states of apathy, one of which I find  myself in today. I just honestly don’t care if something bad happens.

My one hope is just that by the time November 18th comes around next year, I won’t be here to see it.

 

 

Migraines…

I woke up with a migraine. I have no motivation to do anything. I basically want to sleep all day. I don’t want to be up right now, I don’t want to shower, I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to take my meds (except the painkillers I just downed), I don’t want to drink anything, I don’t want to DO anything, I don’t want to go to treatment today, I just want to go back to bed. Forever.

Fail Better *Triggering picture warning*

I came to a realization tonight as I inhaled a large pizza, cheesy bread sticks, and a whole 2 liter of soda.

I should stop trying to restrict. I’m too bulimic for anorexia.

I just purged and I feel better than I’ve felt all day, both physically and emotionally.

As much as food might scare the hell out of me, and as much as I hate to eat around others, no one can deny that food has a strong hold over me. I love it and I hate it.

And let’s not even get started on purging. I love to purge. I can’t tell you why because I don’t know. I don’t even need to eat, sometimes I just drink water so I can bring it back up.

Unfortunately, bulimia isn’t a very effective means of weight loss for me. Nor for most people I know with bulimia.

Below is a picture some will find disturbing and others will find triggering. Be warned.

This is what I crave. Why? I’m not sure.

I can’t seem to attain this with bulimia. But I can’t seem to eschew bulimia long enough to attain it.

Perhaps I should resign myself to being bulimic. Perhaps I should accept that I am not going to look like the person in the picture above. And perhaps that’s a good thing. But it feels like a failure on my part.

So I sit here, feeling my post-purge elation, feeling really for the first time today, and I realize that binging and purging is the only thing that brings me out of my crippling apathy at the moment.

I spent the entire day lying in bed and lounging on the sofa trying not to eat, too listless and apathetic to do anything, too flat to try to find enjoyment from anything.

Until I finally caved. And then I felt again. And then I came alive again. Although I hate myself for eating, hate is better than apathy. Apathy gets me in trouble. When I’m apathetic I start making horrible, terrible, self-destructive decisions.

Plus, along with self-hatred, I feel probably as close to happiness as I’ve felt in a while.

So there you have it. I’m just far too bulimic to go back to anorexia.