Binge, purge, feel like shit, promise never again, feel like shit, binge, purge, feel like even worse shit...and repeat
I'm sure you're all familiar with this.... A day in the life of bulimia. So monday and tuesday i fuck myself over, wednesday i'm terrific, today i've be stressed out of my mind because i haven't actually be able to sleep for days now, and 18 units is finally really catching up to me and i feel like i just want to all go away.
I've been restless at night since around idk sunday or saturday night now. The stress from my midterms is eating me alive. Like it gets under my skin even as i am trying to go to bed. The worry and anxiety makes my mind a heart race and i can't drift off. I can't tell if the nightmares are real or not. I can't tell if what i think is happening or is it just my worries playing out in my mind.
I failed today, i was doing well until around noon when i finally could take the no sleep and fear of my impossibly hard lap practical later in the day. So i ate, I ate around 900 calories, not in a very binge like fashion, but it's not something i'm totally ok with either. I take my lab practical and i'm pretty sure i failed. literally through the whole test i wanted to puke because i knew i would fail. In bulimia i guess it's safe to assume that failure=puking. If you feel like a failure you go and binge so you can throw up. If you binged you feel like a failture and you go and throw up. At least that's what it's been for me for the past like 2.5 years now? something like that. but after my lab, i was ready to cry. I didn't want to binge and purge persay, I mean what I really wanted was a hug and beleive that everything was still ok, that the world wasn't ending. But the thing is, i don't have anything like that. I never have. All my life when i felt terrible and worried and like a complete failure there's nobody to turn to. As a child if i turned to my dad he'd just call me a failure and basically made me believe that my life was as good as over. If i turned to my mom she wouldn't understand as just ask me what i did wrong to make the situation happen. I never could trust friends with things that i was deeply ashamed of. not when i was 6 nor when i was 12, not when i was in highschool and definately not now. So because i know that i can never find comfort in other people i just turn to what i know which is bulimia. Before i had an ED I'd turn to other similar kinds of methods. In highschool it was risky behavior, in middleschool it was locking myself i my own little world. In elemetary school i would just pray everyday that 95% of everyone i knew and the time would just die so i could be alone in the world of my fantasy. But either way, at any stage. Comfort has come at some distructive cost. I went from hating everyone i knew to seclusion, to risky things that i'm still ashamed to remember to this day.
And in all this there is no forgiveness. Who actually feels like their problems have reach some sort of resolve after binging and purging? I know i don't. I go through hell, then give myself hell for not being whatever i call "good enough" then go and force food in my face so i can go throw up, all just to still feel like shit and take a fuck ton of laxitives that i know are going to make me feel like a bunch of people stomping on by body, but i somehow can justify doing all this. I wonder why... I'm not sure if it's because I want comfort and am some how ashamed to know that that is what i need/want, or is it because i don't beleive that i should deserve, want or need it and somehow the fact that i do is something that needs to be squandered and punished.
There's only a short instance of psudo-resolve while binging because of the disgusting soothing nature of food that we come to love and hate. Yet for those who don't have another means to comfort, that instance of comfort that we get from food is enough to hook us. Which is the terribly sad thing honestly, to do all this, to hurt ourselves that much for an instance of false comfort, that we know wont last yet we don't care because at the moment the need for relief is too much.
I tried to contact my mom today right around the time before i started eating. She asked me to try contacting her instead to resorting to food so i did. i haven't been keeping binge foods in my room recently, nor have i been buying them in large amounts and storing them under my desk (yay +1 for me) so i had that critical moment before i can get changed so i can run down the hill to the on campus junk food store or dining hall. But the fricken bitch was just like you're over reacting and you're having to much fun thats why you feel all stressed out now. Fun my goddamn ass. who's definition of fun is losing a weeks worth of sleep to stress-mares, walking around like a zombie during the day, and just being so on edge that you're practically shaking? My mom is awesome except for the fact that the woman is as dense as a brick when it comes to understanding how other people feel. I think that's why my parents are married, my dad knows how to make people feel like shit and my mom doesn't understand what it means to feel like shit.
I'm waiting right now... waiting waiting waiting, i don't know what i'm waiting for really, it's just i don't know if i have the mental capacity or the willingness to do productive things that i feel like i should be doing. i'm waiting for the laxitives. I'm waiting for the feeling of being full to go away. I'm waiting for it to be late enough so i can take some sleeping pills and pray that the fricken decide to work today. I'm waiting for my feelings to pass so that i can be good and clean again. I'm waiting for my strength and motivation to return. I wish i didn't suck at playing this game. Waiting for things has never been my strong point.
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