3…2…1…Self Destruct

I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning.

I have a pattern. The night before an appointment with my doctor, I freak out. I worry about my weight and about talking about my disordered behaviors and about being confronted with the risks and about being told I should really be in treatment and I just start to panic.

Then, in response, I tend to do something stupid like overdose on laxatives, making myself too sick to get out of bed and go to my appointment.

I purged earlier and I took a handful of laxatives, but I’m hoping it wasn’t too much. I really need to get to this appointment since I missed the last one.

I’m starting to feel overwhelmed by life again. I’m not working on my classes and I’m not working and I just want to tell the doctor I’m suicidal so I can hang out in the psych ward for a couple days and pretend the world doesn’t exist. 

Instead, I’ll binge and purge on Cheetos and try to make it to my appointment. 

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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.

Wine is Vile

But so useful…

I rarely drink. There are a few reasons for this. First of all, I live with my parents and they don’t like alcohol. Second, I don’t like most alcohol. Third, and most importantly, I am poor and alcohol is not cheap and if I’m going to spend money I don’t have one something I shouldn’t be buying, it’ll be on binge food because bulimia.

However, in the mail today I received a box of free wine. Not a lot, but enough.

So I drank wine.

It was horrendous and vile and I can’t understand why people would want to drink it, but tonight it was either drink or cut, so I chose the one I considered more socially acceptable. Also the one that doesn’t leave external scars.

It hit me very fast. I don’t know if it’s because I never drink wine or because I hadn’t kept any food down today, but you wouldn’t find me complaining.

My brother’s girlfriend basically lives here and, while I like her, I find it hard to eat or relax when she’s here. It was nice to have some wine and relax and just feel nice. I didn’t eat, but it’s only midnight-thirty, so there’s still time. I just can’t decide whether I want to or not.

I want to purge, but I don’t technically have to eat for that. Plus, I know if I decide to eat something, I’m going to want to eat EVERYTHING.

Indecisive me is indecisive.

On another note, I only have 2 days before I start treatment (not including however long I stay up tonight). I go back and forth between actively ignoring it and freaking out at the thought of it.

Now that the wine is wearing off, I might end up cutting anyway. Because if you’re going to self-destruct, you might as well go all out, right?