"Eff" is for "Fuck- Up"

Well,  so much for keeping any kind of inner turmoil to myself- on saturday night my brain decided to have a rather spectacular, totally public and rather bizzarre mini breakdown sort of thing. A "crisis", they call it, tell me about it. I won't go into details, suffice to say, I doubt many of my friends will be calling me anymore seeing as I completely and utterly freak them out. I've got to give it to Venlafaxine, I know you get worsse before new drugs kick in, but that was really fucking impressive. Also, due to the very severe and public nature of my "crisis" (fuck, I hate that term), my mum now realises I'm a lot sicker than she thought and my dad has found out that I'm mental. My dad had no idea that I was diagnosed with depression- I wanted to keep it that way, I don't need his help and I never have. I will NEVER forgive my mum for telling him. For fuck's sake, they've not spoken for 6 years, couldn't they keep it up??

So now I've got my family on my back, 24hours a fucking day. "how do you FEEL?", "are you.....okay?". I want to be left the fuck alone. I don't want to come over like 26-year-old whiny teenager, but seriously, I'd feel a whole lot better if you just let me be. I don't want to talk and I don't want to discuss my feelings. Now mum's going mental wanting to get a private psychologist. If she wants to waste her money, she can be my guest; I won't be talking to anyone about anything. I've kept to myself for 8 years and it suits me just fine.

I suppose I should be greatful in a way, when things get really bad, I'll only end up alienating myself from my friends anyway, so better to get it out of the way rather than dragging out the process. I even looked at getting a council house, just so I could be alone. I've not looked at Facebook. I've switched off my phone.


See all this written above?? See all that?? That's what's in my head. THAT'S why I'm evil and selfish. I disgust myself. The only thing that makes feel good is throwing up. That's really fucking pathetic. If I can't control my head, I can still control my body.

I haven't weighed myself in days....I can't bear to see how disgusting I am written down in numerical format. The numbers are the only things that can't lie.

Goodbye, Duloxetine....Hello Venlafaxine

So my antidepressants have been chnaged again, which is a good thing because the old ones didn’t agree with me at all; bringing me to a grand total of four tried, three failed. Keeping my fingers crossed that these ones do some good.

Yet again, I got the feeling that mum was almost jealous that I had been put on something else. I am beginning to suspect that she wants to be the one who is the most ill, so she can act like a martyr. I can tell form the way she looked at me when I told her, that she was thinking: “you never say anything, you never complain. How can YOU be worse than ME?”. She’s started saying things like “I feel so AWFUL when I talk about my problems to you, I don’t want to burden you”. In a way that just screams PITY ME PITY ME PITY ME.

To add insult to injury, I’m being referred for a mental health assesment. I’ve never had one before, I always just got frog-marched into a counsellor’s office. I’m terrified that they’ll find out there’s nothing wrong with me and that I’ve just an evil, rotten person. I said that to my mum and she said I was being stupid.

We’re both trying to “lose weight together” (this was my idea so that I can restrict in secret and she wouldn’t be suspicious when I lose weight), she’s really overweight and I think she’s jealous that I’m losing weight already. I mean, I know that I’m still a HUGE FAT ARSE, but she keeps calling me slim and thin and then in the next breath calling me shapely and womanly. When we went to get our nails done, the girl who does mine commented that I’d lost weight, my mum overhears and immediately says “Don’t encourage her, she’s just obsessed”. What. The. Fuck? She’ll only be happy when I’m as fat as she is, but I won’t be fat forever, I broke my plateau and I won’t stop.

House of Wax

Today was actually a pretty good day. Mum and I went shopping so she could have a new outfit for my sister in law's party on Saturday (I have NOTHING that fits, btw). Of course, she wanted to go out for lunch and ended up in Tampopo. I actually did pretty well; I ordered miso soup to start and had some spicy chicken and vegetables for main. I did the most amazing job- I managed to eat a tiny bit of rice, two bites of chicken and all of my veg. I used the rice I didn't eat to wipe most of the sauce off my veggies too. I managed to give mum most of my chicken, at first saying that she had to try some because it was lovely and then saying it was too spicy. I managed to hide most of what I left under my miso soup bowl and used napkins.

After lunch and buying mum's outfit, we went DVD shopping. We spent ages poring over the horror section, looking for old Hammer Horror films and Vincent Price classics. We ended up buying 9 in total, with mum's money of course; I'm going to be screwed for decent films when I finally escape to my own place.

After we got home, we settled in for a lovely movie night. I stuffed most of my tea into a napkin and purged what I didn't. The first film we put on was House of Wax with the wonderful, inimitable Vincent Price. I don't know what it is about Vincent Price and his films, he's not scary (I'm a die-hard, horror junkie) and he's not handsome as such, but his voice, his manner and the way he acts is so amazing, and almost comforting, that I can't fail to be mesmerised every time I put one one. Incidentally (for anyone who cares), House of Wax was the first film to be shown in 3D at the cinema- 10th April, 1953. All the way through, thee things flying at the camera and references that break the fourth wall and address the audience! It was so cute!

As we're watching, there's a sequence where there are some Can-Can dancers, in keeping with the 3D aspect of the original release, there are big close-ups of the girls' legs.
My mum says: "What do you notice about the girls legs, Eff?"
Me: "They're kicking at the camera! People must have thought it crazy when they first saw it!"
Mum: "NO, They're shapely, they get bigger at the top. Like YOUR legs, Eff, like women's legs are supposed to be. Do you think they are fat? Do they look fat to you?"
Me: "No"
Mum: "That's right, they're not. Keep that in mind"
I just wanted to scream: "YES! YES! I FUCKING DO!!!! I THINK THEIR LEGS ARE FAT! I THINK *MY* LEGS ARE FAT!!! THEIR LEGS MIGHT BE FAT, BUT THEY'RE NOT AS FUCKING FAT AS MINE!!! I HATE MY LEGS AND I HATE MY BODY. NOW, LEAVE ME AND MY WEIGHT THE FUCK ALONE!!!!!!

But of course, I didn't say that. I'll never say that. Not as long as I've got nowhere else to go. She ruined Vincent Price

Involuntary Puking

I spent Sunday, yesterday and a bit of today throwing up. No different from usual you may think, and you’d be right; but this time, I was actually ill.
It’s weird (although obvious), I never realised that different kinds of throwing up “feel” different. With this, I felt like death because I was actually ill, there was no sense of “achievement”, there was no sense of urgency, there was no sense of relief. It’s a hard pill to swallow, when you’re confronted with the natural order of things when you life your life perverting them.
So, due to the fact I’ve been ill, I’ve not been able to keep anything down (apart from today), so what do I do this morning? The same thing most completely fucked up people would do- I got on the scales. 10st 10lbs. 3lbs down. My plateau broken, finally. The lowest weight I’ve been in nearly 5 years. Now I’m feeling better and I feel panicked. I CAN’T regain the weight.

I am Miss Eff, and I am addicted to purging

I don’t get it, sometimes I can go days, weeks even without purging; then all of a sudden, I just HAVE to do it again.
Today, I hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast (porridge - 121) and was actually pretty hungry when I finally had my tea. It was nothing bad even, just baked potato and salad, but as soon as I’d finished I just felt the need to purge.
So I did.
At first, I felt the usual buzz, my heart racing and my head spinning and just generally feling giddy, But now I feel absolutely wretched. I could go down and have something to eat, but part of my brain is thinking: “most of your tea is gone, probably less that 200cals for the whole day!”. Unfortunately, I’m going to listen to my brain this time, drink plenty of water, take some paracetamol and go to bed. Hopefully my headache will stop fairly soon.
I know it’s stupid and I know it’s reckless, but I just can’t stop.

Purging again....

I actually managed to make it a week without purging, until this weekend. And I blame absolutely EVERYTHING on my fucking period.
You know what it’s like, wrong time of the month, mammoth cravings and crazy emotions, I just caved completely and ate like a dirty, greedy pig. Oddly enough, I do get a strange comfort out of purging. Even if I’m not 100% positive that I’ve got every-last-little-bit up, I feel really complete and safe.
Luckily, the HUGE binges this weekend did no real damage, I stayed at the same weight, but I was beyond crushed that I’d thrown all my effort away.
I’m starting again this week, back to restricting, but I worry that the purging is here to stay.

Broke one of my March Rules

I decided that I wouldn’t drink this month, not only to help lose weight, but also because the medication I’m on advises that I don’t drink; makes sense no? Well, you’d think so, but last night I went out and got absolutely hammered. To be honest, there seems to be no harm done, I feel ok today (after the colossal hangover had gone!) and I actually had a wicked night! There was a bouncy castle in the club (random!), I danced ALL night with loads of different people, had an amazing time  with friends, pissed off an annoying ex, reconciled with another ex (he  apologised, I still think he’s an arse), ended up going back to some random guy’s house (nothing happened) and didn’t get home til 7am.
Made me feel like I was 17 again…
Hope I haven’t screwed my meds.