Sleep Is For The Weak

My boyfriend and I broke my bed the other day whilst having quite *cough cough* forceful sex, and I haven’t been able to sleep on it for a few days. He’s coming over this weekend to help me make a new frame from an identical bed we have. Luckily, my bed was one half of a twin pair.

Other than that though, I don’t want to sleep. At night I can relax, and usually don’t sleep then anyway. It just doesn’t settle well with me. I don’t like sleeping alone, and I don’t like sleeping in silence or the dark really. Daytime is safer, more secure, and nighttime is a time for parties and fun.

I miss self harm. It’s the first time that I’ve missed cutting. A large part of me wants to start cutting my legs, and lying about it. If I did it in a certain place, on the inside of my thigh, not even my boyfriend might see it. The only reason I stopped was because it seemed right. It was what everyone wanted.

The scars are on my arm and they’ll be there forever. I have to cover them with make up next week because I’m in a play and can’t wear a bandage. Part of me feels like such a freak, but really, I’ve accepted myself for who I am. I’ve told a few friends now, and they still like me. They worry, of course they do, but they know that I would never go too far.

Although, that I’m not so sure….

My childhood best-friend told me the other day that a friend of his was rushed into hospital after taking a paracetamol overdose. She was trying to kill herself. I don’t know if I’ve told you this already, but even if I have, you can see it’s been playing on my mind. His reaction…he was so worried and concerned for her. She was just a friend he had made this year, he can’t have known her longer than six months. I’ve known him since I was a baby, we’re like brother and sister.

It would hurt him so much, him and my family, and everyone else.

But there I go again, stopping myself just because of other people’s feelings. It isn’t how it’s meant to be. I want to do what I want and not worry about their feelings. As long as what I’m doing is for me and not to purposely hurt them, then at least there is just cause for me to behave however.

I know I won’t kill myself. It’s just…the amount I think about it, it’s phenominal.

I took five laxatives today, and I purged food before too. Technically yesterday, but seeing as I’m not sleeping it makes little difference. Tomorrow (when the sun comes up), I’m going to do everything that I need to do. I’m going to tidy up the house, go down to the beach, ask for a job at the cafe and at the restaurant down there, and go for a run.

I’m going to have half an apple for breakfast, and half when I get back from the beach. I’m going to fake a big lunch. Because my diet is so bad, what with it not being regular, my weight goes up and down like a yoyo. I’ve put on half a stone just this week, and it’s getting towards the end of the month and I need to be lower for my personal weigh-in.

I’ve let myself accept that this month might not count, because it’s been a tough few weeks emotionally. I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been, and yet, I’ve also been the angriest. I’ve never felt rage such as this. The need to destroy.

Tomorrow is a new day, and although I won’t have lost much by the end of the week, I have until Tuesday. That’s…four full days between now and then. Today (Friday – seeing as it hasn’t started properly yet), Saturday, Sunday and Monday. Tomorrow is the only day I have to sneak around my mum.

On Saturday and Sunday I have day-long rehearsals, and on Monday and Tuesday the performances. This month I am not letting anything other than fruit and veg pass my lips. No sauces, condiments, fatty, salty or sugary foods will grace my plate. Hardly ‘grace’, more like ‘contaminate’.

Is This Really So Wrong?

Today, well technically yesterday seeing as it’s just past midnight, I purged. I also exercised (although not as much as I should have) and cut. I only cut the once, but I so needed it. Needed it like an addict needs a hit.

Anyway, tomorrow (technically today yada yada) I’m starving completely and going to a hair dressers to fill my day. At least making the appointment. Tomorrow I’m also going to tidy the house, and sort some stuff out. Finish filling out job applications. Fun, fun, fun.

Keep myself busy, and I’ll be okay.

I’ve been talking to my boyfriend and my friends, and slowly things about me are seeping out. I mean, both my friends now know about the ED stuff and the depression, when they didn’t before. I tell my boyfriend everything (almost)… He said the other day about how I can be really drama-queen-ish about everything, and I guess I am. He doesn’t know the full extent of what I feel though, so he can’t fully judge…but I do over-act it, I guess…

Loads of girls purge and self harm, and although I may be worse on the self harming thing than anyone I know, it’s still a common outlet that people my age and older use. Even younger, but less often. What I’m trying to say, is maybe this isn’t something to worry over. Maybe I should just take it as it comes and accept that this is part of my life.

I’m Still Here

Although the thoughts are still as fresh and strong in my mind, I haven’t killed myself yet.

It sounds so melodramatic and over the top but I can’t get the thoughts out of my head. I was at a party on Saturday night, and because of the amount of weed I had had, and the mixture of that and a bit of drink, not as much as usual, but it was the mixture which screwed me up, anyway, I got sick.

I’d been having a really deep conversation with two girls who I’m friends with, but had never been amazingly close to. We were party friends. Then I found out that they purge and self harm too, although not as bad as me (them saying that my self harm was bad really messed with my mind). My boyfriend was there, and he was really out of it. The whole episode confused and freaked him out.

Anyway, I heard what they felt, and then I just felt sick. I started to throw up, and I don’t even know if I did it on purpose or not. I wanted to throw up…I was thinking about purging, but knew I couldn’t because they were all there in the bathroom with me…and then I just threw up. I made the retching myself, and the sick followed.

As they talked about purging and self harming I cried into the toilet, and I tried to hide it because the hurt was so much. My boyfriend noticed, but didn’t say anything because he knew if I was hiding it I would be hiding it for a reason.

What he doesn’t know is that the whole time I was thinking about the drugs that I have collected, and when I could take them. Whether they had enough just at her house so I could start of then.

My boyfriend left, he had to take the car back. Thinking about it, he was probably wasted still from the weed. I don’t think he had drank. It would be the second or third time he drove stoned. He’s usually so sensible and careful…maybe I’m a bad influence. That and the weed.

Anyway, he’s left, and the girls changed me and washed my hair for me.

I don’t remember much of that period, and I know that I fell asleep pretty much as soon as they left. I was covered in bathroom towels to keep me warm, and I was wearing my friend’s boyfriend’s jumper. Why are guys hoodies so much more comfortable than girls?

Anyway, I woke up when everyone was settling down, and then went to bed with my boyfriend’s brother and one of my friends. I made a pact with my friend not to eat after Sunday. Nothing happened with the brother, but it wouldn’t have anyway. It was nice to sleep beside him. He makes me laugh. I needed that right then. I also needed the comfort of another body without having the worry of them trying anything on with me.

I didn’t cry that night. After the toilet incident, I didn’t cry. I felt out of it and completely messed up, but I didn’t cry.

I still feel out of it and the weed is out of my system.

I keep on going into trances and not caring about what people are saying to me, or what I’m saying to them. My head and my mouth are no longer connected and I’m watching myself disance myself from everyone else. I don’t know why I’m doing it, but maybe it’s because I want to die so badly.

I hate all of this…

The thing is, although I’m not religious, certainly not Christian (although I was brought up Methodist), I’m scared that if I kill myself, there will be a Heaven and a Hell, and that I was wrong. I’ll go to Hell, and there’ll be no escape from that. None. I’ll be lost and alone for all eternity with no chance of redemption.

But sometimes…even that fear (and it’s a real fear) isn’t enough to stop me wanting it. Lately, it hasn’t been enough.

Maybe I should self harm more…I haven’t lately, but maybe I should. Maybe it will help rid it out of my system.

Maybe.

The Last Meal

Today I have eaten over one thousand kcals. I’ve only burnt off half off what I have eaten, and I haven’t purged. Although I know that later in the month, when my monthly deadline looms closer, I will regret this. But today is symbolic of the food that most people are satisfied with eating on a regular basis. I feel like I have binged and have gained a million pounds.

The reason for all this?

Sitting beside me on my bed, unopened, lies my results. The questionaires. The information on EDs.

In one hour, when my final meal has gone down and I cannot succumb to the urge to purge (which I will inevitably be driven to after seeing the results), I shall open the dreaded thing.

So long, I’ve waited for this, and still it feels too soon.

Tonight I went to a charity concert at my old school, and the acts were mindblowing. There was some talent that I couldn’t believe. My boyfriend, being part of the show, was amazing, and I was so proud. But there was this one guy…my first proper crush, ironically (because at the time he had been a sports guy, part of the ‘cool’ people, but now he’s a musician, and if I had known he had it in him then I might have shown a deeper interest in his personality and tried to get to know him); he was…the things he did with that acoustic guitar would put Newton Faulker to shame.

Anyway, back to food: I’m going to cook dinner tomorrow, but I’m not going to eat it because it won’t be at the table. I won’t eat anything. I will tidy the house, burn off at least 500 kcals on my stepper, and sort out my stuff for my trip with my boyfriend on Friday. On Friday I will have a banana for breakfast, burn off 1000 kcals in the gym throughout the day, and then have soup for dinner (I have to have something because I’ll be with my boyfriend and he needs to eat) – no bread.

Saturday…I starve. Sunday….I’m too ‘ill’ to eat, and yet again, I starve.

What I’m trying to do is break up the starvation sections so that my metabolism keeps going. This is very important in that I need it to actually process the foods and burn fat.

It’s getting hard to pass the time.

Half an hour has gone. Less, probably. I need more time. I feel like a bomb is ticking, ticking, ticking.

My Stomach Hurts And I Can’t Stop Crying

I ate dinner. The dinner was at the table, I had no choice. It gets worse. There was desert, and no break in between. I feel like I have eaten an entire animal. A cow or horse or similar. My stomach is on fire, I’ve self-harmed already, more to come I’m sure, and I feel like killing myself.

It was a gorgeous pasta dish, followed by an even more gorgeous lemon desert.

The desert though…was made from CREAM.

I was willing to not purge. Then came the moment that they told me about desert, and I knew that I would. It’s too late to purge up dinner now really, and I feel too weak to. Tomorrow and that week, I’m going over-drive on the exercise and starvation. I’m cooking on Thursday, but that’s okay because I’ll have it as a non-table meal.

I feel sick. I actually feel sick.

My stomach hurts, my eyes hurt, my muscles ache…I feel like sh*t.

…….

Just been to the loo, had to run because my stomach hurt so much. After a long period of abusing laxatives, I recognised the feeling, lets put it that way. The only worrying thing about it, was that it was red. Is that like blood or something??

I am really messing my body up.

I cried when I realised that I had to eat. I almost screamed, actually. I searched frantically for ED support lines to call, but it’s a Sunday, so it wasn’t to be. I talked to my boyfriend, and he didn’t help.

I needed help in that moment and I had no where to turn. It was the first time I have ever asked for help, and no one was there to hear it.

Starvation: Day 5 (part 2)

I’ve just burned 20 kcals, and I’m going to do another 100 of them. That means that by the end of the day, before dinner, I’ll have burnt 2000 kcals. Hopefully I’ll do a dance workout DVD as well, but that all depends on how weak I am. I’m taking short five to ten minute breaks between each set of 20 kcals (I’m doing it on a thigh trainer (like a stepper but more advanced)) because I don’t want to faint.

I do hope that I get the chance to do the dance workout DVD because it has sit ups and ab workouts in it, and I’ll have been doing the whole thing on my thighs (although they are my main problem area).