I feel so fucking worthless. I’m begining to realise that I feel this way all of the time because it’s true.

I’m fat. I’m ugly. I’m worthless.

What is the point?

First binge in a long time...

This past week has been hell….

Been at my lowest since as long as I can remember- so low I finished writing my will and drafted a suicide note. Luckily (I guess), the thought of leaving my dog upset me so much, I knew I couldn’t go through with it right now. I’m such a horrible person that, after it was all over, there was a moment when I resented my dog. I still feel so incredibly guilty about that, I could never, given a million languages, find a way to express it. People might not understand it, if they don’t have a dog, but if it wasn’t for him, I would have left this earth 5 years ago.

Not content with my aborted self-destruction, I went on a two day liquid-only fast. I survived pretty much on black coffee and Coke Zero and I was feeling almost good…..controlled. Then I got news of not one, but THREE job rejections, my car tax renewal, my phone bill and the news that I’m being moved to a more intensive therapy….so today ended up as a crazy, uncontrollable binge- The first real one for about a year. I got through half a pack of chocolate digestives, half a carrot cake, a chocolate bunny, a large bag of pretzels, a pastrami and emmantal cheese sandwich, about 10 mini chicken strips, about a dozen mozzarella sticks, half a tub of ice cream, a leftover lemon chicken breast and a huge mountain of chips….all in about 2hours.
I feel fucking disgusting.

I did manage to purge a good deal of it, but it still feels like there’s a ton of food, rotting away inside me. I’m so angry with myself though, I want to focus on how horrible having a stomach full of food feels, so I don’t do it again (as if it were that easy!).   Worst of all, I’m down to only two laxatives, which I had to dig out of the bottom of my drawer and STILL haven’t bought more Slimatee, so my stomach is where it’s staying.

I feel like my head is unravelling

just because we don't feel flesh, doesn't mean we don't fear death

CBT = COCKING BOLLOCKING TWATTINESS

Had a darling phone conversation with my "therapist"…she asked me to pick which problem I wanted to tackle first: unhelpful thoughts or unhelpful behaviours. The more I thought about it, the more I realised I didn’t want to change either. Maybe the way I deal with things isn’t the way one is supposed to, but who’s fucking business is it anyway??? They’re MY emothions and they’re the way I deal with things. If something’s upsetting me or something has made me angry, don’t I have to right to feel how I want to feel? Don’t I have the right to get angry?

Say if you were refused a promotion for no good reason, wouldn’t you feel  worthless? Or, say, your relationship had broken down, wouldn’t you feel upset, angry or lonely? Probably all three! Except she wants me to change how I think about certain things that I have no influence on. Say I lost my job and I struggled to find a new one. I’d been trying really hard for a few months, applying for plenty of jobs and kept getting rejections. Would you think: “Oh well, clearly the person they selected over me had better experience, or better qualifications than me. They deserve the job, something will come along soon!” Or would you think: “What the fuck?? I’m working my arse off here, trying to find any fucking job that pays so I don’t get fucking evicted. Shit, I even apply for jobs I’m over fucking qualified for and they STILL don’t fucking want me?!? I’m completely fucking USELESS!!!” I’m no therapist, but I’m thinking you’d go with the latter.
..and so would I!!

So I explained to her how I felt. Believe it or not, I’ve been trying super hard with this cCBT, I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me and more, but it’s only serving to make me more angry and frustrated. So I told her the truth: I said that I was having trouble with the exercises, because how can thinking differently about something that you a) have no control over; and b) is an actual occurring event that is not down to my own interpretation, make the incident actually any better? It doesn’t for me, I rationalise things too much, so I know that if I do think about things differently, I’ll be aware that I’m doing it and it won’t be helpful. The bitch then had the temerity to say to me that I “just didn’t understand the exercise”. This made me really fucking angry. I DO FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE TRYING TO DO, IT’S JUST NOT FUCKING HELPING ME!!!!! She doesn’t listen. Then she gets pissy with me and says I need to take a “long hard think about why I want to be here and what I want to get from this”. I felt like screaming at her. I fucking TOLD HER in my first fucking session that I was SENT there by my doctor.

THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I DIDN’T WANT ANY "THERAPY" IN THE FUCKING FIRST PLACE

Every time I get close to telling people my problems, they don’t listen. They figure out how they want to reply without listening to what you’re actually saying. Either that, or the just don’t want to believe you. It’s easier for people to believe that you are really the way you appear to be.

So after all that, I’m stessed to the max aand purging like a crazy bitch. Worst of all, I only have ONE bag of Slimatee left :(

Slimatee

Well, it's be (officially) two months since I last had Slimatee, so I can now have it openly everyday for two weeks. After that, of course, I have to go back to having it covertly after I feel I've had too much and not been able to purge properly. Last time I took it continuously, it really boosted my weight loss so I'm looking forward to seeing the results. I've not weighed myself for a few days after a crazy amount of bingeing and being mentally too exhausted to exercise much. My mum goes back to work on thursday, so I'll weight myself, take my latest progress photos and go back to my hardcore restriction during the day. I am nervous about getting back on the scales, but my jeans are still falling off me, my collar bones are sticking out more and I can fit into clothes I haven't been able to for years.

It's small comfort though. Sure, I'm at my lowest weight for over three years, but I look and feel fatter than ever. I need those progress shots; I can't trust my own eyes.

Mentally, things have been going downhill; having angry outbursts, temper tantrums and sulking in one minute, then being high as a kite, rattling off astounding witticisms the next. Sometimes I feel like I am greater than the sum of my parts; others, I am an empty, hollow shell, devoid of emotion, pain and even organs. The beat of my heart is sometimes the only reminder that I'm not as hollow as a dried bone.

The other day I actually worte my will! It's not that I'm actively thinking of killing myself, it's stranger than that. I've more or less resigned myself to the fact that I will be the death of me. Even if it's not through a direct act of suicide, my depression and/or eating disorder will. I kid myself that because I take vitamin supplements, my body isn't lacking in anything; ignoring the fact that my heart is probably begging for mercy. I purposefully sabotage my depression treatment. I see how long I can go before the medication withdrawal symptoms become too much for me to stand and then I give in. It's pathetic. But at the same time, it's the only time that I truly feel alive. I trick my body and mind into reacting, just so I know it's still there and then I'm satisfied.

Other than that, the only satisfaction I truly get is from purging. It's becoming easier and easier every day. My body has stated to associate big meals with being sick, so even as I'm eating and getting full, I get a satisfying, queasy feeling, knowing that in less than 20 minutes, it'll be out of me. I'm still concerned about my teeth though, so the other day I had the idea that I could chew antacid tablets and then drink a little water to swirl them round my mouth to neutralise the acid. It's just an idea, if it doesn't work, whatever; if it does work, at least I'll know I'm good at something.

PATHETIC