Tag Archives: self-hate

I can’t escape being me

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And sometimes, like tonight, I don’t know how to handle that. 

So I just cry instead. 

I had to stop, and I hate that

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Two hours into my workout, I had to stop.

I couldn’t breathe, I was very dizzy and nearly falling off the bike and losing my vision (which is the precursor to passing out), and my side felt like I had torn it open. What the hell?

So, I very reluctantly stopped. I hated myself for stopping. I hated my body for not doing what I wanted it to do. I hated that stopping meant leaving myself vulnerable to binging and purging.

I’ve had 12 grapes today. I’m afraid to eat more. I don’t understand how I can be terrified to eat and simultaneously binge. I have the stupidest brain in the world.

So, I’m resting now. I tried drinking water, but it was making me nauseous, so I stopped that. My plan is to avoid eating, rest, and exercise some more before bed.

I see the mental health guy again in the morning. I’m not looking forward to it for multiple reasons, one of which being that he keeps telling me to go to the doctor and I keep forgetting to actually call my doctor and set up an appointment. Ugh. I’m going to try to remember to do that in the morning before I leave for my appointment. I wrote myself a sticky note. Wish me luck.

My goal

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I’ve worked out twice today, an will hopefully work out again before bed. My goal is to work up my endurance to where I can just stay on the bike all day. If I’m on my bike, I’m not eating. If I’m exercising, I’m not hating myself (as much).

I am a coward

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I binged.
And binged.
And binged until I was in physical pain.
Then I binged some more.

My body was in excruciating pain, yet I ate, bite after bite. I forced food down my throat. Why?

I don’t know. I just felt the need. The compulsion.

And then I purged. What an amazing release.

Now I sit here, just hating myself.

I am disgusting. I am filth. I don’t deserve food. I don’t deserve anything. I am lower than low.

I considered sewing my mouth shut. Not just a fleeting thought, I actually got out my needle and thread. I want to, but I lack the courage. I hate myself for binging and I hate myself for being too much of a coward to sew my mouth closed.

Instead, I got out my black sharpie and wrote “STOP” on my hand in big letters. I strongly hope this will be enough of a reminder.

I doubt it.

My mind is a repeat track of self-loathing and disgust.

Over and over, it plays, non-stop. There is no escaping it. Even while I’m distracted it plays in the background of my mind, sometimes becoming just loud enough to draw my attention back to it.

It haunts me. It taunts me. It ridicules me. It follows me. It beats me down.

I wish I could sew my mouth shut, but I lack the courage.