Purge

I just ate four slices of toast with butter, mayonaisse and steamed vegetables. I heated the vegetables up from the fridge (they were the meal the other day). It was anger food, and I wolfed it all down in front of my parents after having a furious row with both individually. Then I went upstairs and threw it all up. I didn’t pause, I didn’t care. I was angry and I had never wanted food. I had just wanted something to chew so that I could use my anger on something. Throwing the bag of bread hadn’t stopped me from wanting to break things.

 So I chewed and chewed, getting angrier and angrier. I never even considered the possibility that I would keep it in my stomach. It wasn’t an ED thing. It was anger management. So I chucked it all up without pausing, and it was gone in about five miutes. I didn’t cry, I didn’t wonder why I was doing it, whether it was normal. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if it isn’t healthy. It helps me cope, it helps me not absorb kcals, and again, it helps me cope.

Dad accused me of being selfish, and I just snorted at him. Everyone is selfish, I’m not any worse than any of them. He is more selfish than I am. I may not help physically by doing stuff, but I’m the f***ing shoulder that everyone cries on.

Next time he talks to me, tries to argue; tries to win, I will say:

“You are right. I am selfish. I only look out for myself. But someone has to, right?”

I just want to scream, “look at what you are doing! look at my arms, smell my sicky breath, read my f***ing diary!” but I know if I do, I will regret it. Because they will either think I’m attention seeking (likely), and/or watch me eat and take away my privacy (also likely).

I HATE THEM……………………………ALMOST MORE THAN I HATE MYSELF

Gooseberry and the Rainbow Diet

I just found the Rainbow Diet, and it looks like something I want to do. Starving for a whole week is fun and all, but it f**ks your metabolism up. This is less than 700 kcals per week, but it looks really yummy (if sparse – but better than starving, right?).

Last night my friend and her boyfriend stayed the night (my boyfriend came along too but had to leave in the evening). It was…awful. He got drunk off hardly anything, and got really touchy with her, which made her really uncomfrotable. They didn’t do anything whilst I was in the room, thank god, but it was enough to feel uncomfortable. I hadn’t wanted him to come in the first place, but if it was going to be the four of us I didn’t mind.

But obviously I wasn’t thinking, because I knew that my bf had to leave, it just slipped my mind and I found myself in a hole. I just kept digging it and digging it. I had had such a bad day.

I had been at my grandparents, and had my results back. They want me to have extensive medicals and a joint session with me and my mum so that I can ”tell her how I feel”. I need blood tests and everything to check that my health hasn’t been affected by the laxatives. I was living off them for like, six months…

I bought a pretty dress yesterday though, to make me feel better. I shouldn’t have because it was from money that I owe my mum, but I needed a pick-me-up. Although I’m a little worried that my legs will look fat. But that’s just me being silly, I know that people don’t give a s**t what I look like. It’s just me. The dress is too pretty for them to care. There are bigger girls in my drama group anyway, and they wear dresses and look goreous, so why can’t I?

I got back yesterday with my friends, and my dad was home from abroad. He had just arrived and was in an awful mood. Really surly and rude. He humiliated me in front of my friends, asking them rhetorical questions that made me sound like a horrible person. He made me sound like a complete bitch, and he slagged off our family to them in a really sly way. They felt really uncomfortable and I felt like crying.

Talk about the good of the dress fizzling out.

He had a go at me, for nothing may I add, and when I got angry and told him how he humiliated me in front of my friends, he just said, “I know, you deserve it.” For what?! Seriously? The cat had ‘gone’ on the floor by the bottom of the stairs, and someone had APARANTLY stepped in it. We got back when he was cleaning it up in a foul mood. Well, I said, mum and I weren’t the last to be at the house, my sister was, and so he should ask her when she gets back. He wouldn’t listen. He’d made the assumption that it was me in his head, and he wouldn’t let it go.

He was SO rude!

I haven’t seen him so rude and angry in such a long time and this was NOT the right time, day, place for it. I said to him after he said about me deserving humiliation, “look, ive had a bad day and i DO NOT deserve this”. I wanted to cry the entire evening.

I was so glad that my boyfriend was there, even if just at the beginning. He held me so tightly and kissed me. He let me press my face in his shoulder and not breathe for a little bit. I didn’t cry on him, but only because he was there. I wasn’t alone. Then he left, and I have never missed someone more.

Then this morning once my friend & bf left, my mum accused me of lying to her and “duping” her into having my friend’s bf back just so that they could have sex! They aren’t allowed to sleep at each other’s houses, but it doesn’t stop them having sex! Their parents know full well what they are doing! He stays at hers til one in the morning every day, and I can’t imagine them being quiet.

Mum accused me of “letting people use our house as a shagpad”. How f***ing ridiculous!!

I’m not eating today. Tomorrow neither. Then on Monday, I’m starting the Rainbow Diet. I don’t care what they think anymore. They don’t trust me, and I have done nothing wrong. That anger that has been building that I talked of? It has burst, and I am externally angry as well as internally. And this time, I’m not going to focus on cutting my arms up to look like I’ve been tortured by some sadist, but I’m going to be angry with them. Because they are why I am angry, and I don’t see why I should take the brunt of it anymore. I’m not angry at myself like usual. I am angry at them, and it has been a long time since I have been angry with ANYONE let alone both parents at once.

I’m usually so contained. So, in myself. I hate myself and I punish myself.

Now I hate them too, and they will feel it. They will feel it like a lead bullet to the brain, because the one thing they can’t stand is not getting their way, and I’m not following their rules anymore. I don’t want anything to do with them. Consider me done.

Reasons

I think that my boyfriend is the only person that ever asks me how I am. At home, no one is interested. It isn’t just me, we don’t ask each other at all. We don’t say that we love each other. Just saying it…it’s a big thing. An emotional moment, or for reassurance.

Well, even though they never ask, I’m not okay.

I’m thinking of kcals and food the entire time, and when I’m not I’m either purging or cutting. That isn’t okay.

I’ve asked for help, I asked them for help a long time ago and it got to the point where I broke and went to the doctor myself. They didn’t want the cracks in our family on paper. In the open. They didn’t want to accept the cracks, even though really, they knew they were there. More than that, they knew that we were living on the cracks. In the cracks. F**k, we are the cracks.

Maybe it doesn’t matter. They never ask.

If they talked to each other, they would know I have eating problems. I mean, my mum found a bag of food that I had aparently eaten, and she gave me an excuse which I just agreed to. My dad found an empty packet of laxatives that he threw away (I found it in the bin and stole it back). They know that I’ve been dieting since before I was ten. Surely, surely, it’s obvious.

Even so, they don’t want to see it.

They never blink when I skip meals. When I’m suddenly feeling mysteriously sick at meal times.

Tomorrow I get my results and the questionairres. Tomorrow I’m going to have to give them some information to ease their conscience and to satisfy their curiosity. I’ll have to make it up because the whole thing’s aparantly about eating issues.

I’m thinking…are they worth it? I pretend to be okay for them, not for me. It makes no difference to me. Maybe I should just not eat, not be happy and not pretend anymore. They don’t give a s**t, so why should I? If they ask, I’ll say that I’m just not hungry, that I’m too upset, too angry, too whatever.

My anger has been building inside of me, and I don’t think I can hold it any longer. I hate everything that I find myself watching. My dad being patronising (that’s when he is here, when he isn’t in whatever country working), my mum drinking and smoking herself to death.

She’s drunk every night and I feel like I’m watching a piece of my heart blacken and poison me. What was so good before…what I loved so much, I have no respect for. Only contempt. And it hurts. Because as much as I resent her for her slow suicide and her slurring, she is everything I have ever known, and I’m just watching her die. Slowly.

It’s like watching a tragedy that you haven’t ever watched before, but someone’s already told you the ending.

The heroine dies.