Christmas days ain’t even over yet and I think I can already state it was horrible. I mean, I’ve already had so much worse Christmas eves when I thought about committing suicide or spent the whole evening being insulted by my father and purging the food my mom had forced me to eat. But this year was awful anyway. I forced myself to smile and repeat that I’m fine and everything’s okay and actually it should have been, but it wasn’t and I just don’t know why! My mom, sis and I are finally able to take care of each other and I’ve never loved them as much as I love them now. My mom believes in me and trusts me and finally accepts me just the way I am, but still… It feels like she’s a stranger. We sat around the tree and got our gifts, but I felt so cold and numb inside. All I feel is this fucking emptiness and the only person who can take it away is my boyfriend who’s not here. It’s like I’m dead inside. I’ve lost myself, drowning in my demons because they know how to swim. And right now I’m crying. Why am I crying? I’m so sick of crying!
I can’t take this. Everything’s overwhelming me. I was not able to eat since the holidays started. I threw it all up again even though I had promised myself to stay strong and stand the urge. My twisted mind was stronger, again. I know it’s not real and just an illusion the ED creates, but I feel like I’ve gained at least 10 pounds and I’m so heavy and fat and chubby and disgusting. Tried to keep telling me I have a normal weight, but I don’t believe it anymore and think about starting to starve all over again. But then every single part of this process recovery comes with is lost and worthless. And that’s what I wanna avoid the most. What the fuck is wrong with me? After years, I finally WANT to get better and healthy and then ‘Ana’ and ‘Mia’ and ‘Cat’ and ‘Sue’ and whatever their shitty cute liar names are are stronger than me?! Today I went through my old stuff today and found my old journals and diaries. I kept them all, in books, USB-sticks, folders and writing pads. I shouldn’t have read them. Now I’m even more depressed than I was before. I’d like to show you some little parts of it to make you be able to understand my thoughts about it. I realized how insane this stuff is, but still a huge part of me believes the stupid words. PS: I didn’t write down any specifical weight numbers because I hate telling them.
“I’ve never weighed this much before and I can’t stand it anymore. Fuck the therapies, I’m dieting again. My own personal bootcamp I designed like a weekly schedule: Monday 200, Tuesday 400, Wednesday 300, Thursday 200, Friday 500, Suturday 600, Sunday 200 calories. It’s easy and very effective. I started to notice the deficiency signs, but I don’t care at all. All that matters is losing weight. Not that much. Just some pounds, that’s all.”
“It’s disgusting that I’m actually happy about this weight. It’s absolutely unacceptable and definitely no reason to be proud! I have to keep going and I am not allowed to rest and get fat and lazy all over again. The most important thing is to get away from the normal weight. I have to get under 18,5. That’s all that matters. Normal weight means failing.”
“Finally finally finally! I’m officially medically underweight. Sounds crazy to be so cheery because of that, but I am. Still I’m not done with it. I had a relapse and gained, but I punished myself for the mistake and got better. Because still I can’t get around my upper legs with both hands and that’s a sign for being way too chubby and fat. I wanna get away from the 8.”
“Yeah, I’m going down! Isn’t that awesome? Can’t tell you how glad I am. It still feels unrealistic, but compared to some weeks ago, my tummy is much flatter. I’m getting better and better day by day and if I lose control, I punish my body and get my discipline back. Everything works.”
“How is this possible? I have a 16 BMI and still my body is so damn fat! I don’t get it, I really don’t. Where are the beautiful bones? I don’t have a twisted view, I can clearly see how heavy I am and how much rolls I got there! And everyone who tells something different is a liar. Just 10 more pounds, okay? Then I’ll see it. Of course I will. I’ll be thin then. I WILL BE. I HAVE TO. There is no other way. I need to be the skinniest person.”
I don’t want to be like this again. Fragile and weak, a slave to my scale. That’s not how my life is supposed to be. Why am I so scared of relapsing since holidays started? Is it some creepy ghost of my Christmas past or is this a real relapse? Please, I don’t want this. I couldn’t take it, I’m not strong enough yet. I don’t want to die, but the blade is laying over there waiting to be slit through my skin. I don’t wanna do this, but I think I can’t stand this force anymore. I wish I could just start over with my whole life. Everything would be so much better cuz I’d know what NOT to do. Like caring about my father or having junkie boyfriends or keeping all my problems to myself or doing crash diets or getting drunk as a 12-year old or… You know, all the mistakes I’ve made and I can’t erase now. The past can’t be changed and it’s pulling me down every day all over again. I’m torn apart. Lost inside. Time doesn’t heal any wounds, I just got used to the pain. One of my favorite quotes