2004-05-23, 10:54 p.m.
Things aren't good, and have the prospect of just getting worse.
I still haven't heard anything from either of my doctors (psychiatrist or therapist). I don't doubt that drug doctor has followed up and talked to Julio-therapist. What I do doubt is that Julio has done anything. That bastard. I may be all fired up about it now, but when I go see him, I'm sure he'll make me feel like all the shit going on in my life is nothing. He has a tendency to do that. It really tears me apart because then I go back and fourth between wondering if I'm blowing things out of proportion or not taking things seriously enough. It's fucking confusing.
Last night I'm purging my guts out, in pain, tired, and I'm wondering "maybe this doesn't hurt. maybe this isn't a big deal. maybe i just need to tough it out. maybe this isn't as painful as I make it out to be?" just then i wretch out a bunch of food and my eyes fill up with tears involuntarily from vomiting. God, I'm so confused. I don't know if I'm coming or going. I don't know how to read my body and how much longer it can hold out on me. I push it and push it and run on empty and suddenly realize "God. I'm so tired."
My purge took awfully long last night. I purged and purged for ages. I checked the scale, and wasn't even halfway done. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn't let myself. I was so bloody tired. When I was finally done, I sat on the toilet, peeing. I stared at my thighs and picked at some zits on the flabby white flesh. Tears formed. I pushed them away again. Then when I lyed in bed, finally they came. I cried so hard. I spoke out loud into my pillow while I sobbed.
"Please god don't make me do this again tommorow. I don't want to do this one more day. please god i'm so tired. not one more day. i want to die. i don't want to think about food and what im going to eat and if im fat and if i ate too much and god no no no no please. kill me. i don't want to wake up tommorow." and then i just cried. and when I thought I wouldn't cry anymore and felt myself so exausted, I started up all over again sobbing.
Tonight was my last Sunday night Bible study. I've been doing these for 4 years. As another girl was sharing about her problems and prayers, all I could think was how much I'd give to have her life, her problems, to be her.
I'm going to end up in a hospital. We wrote letters to God during our bible study. They will be mailed out before next Fall. Instead of to God, I asked myself if I went to a hospital and hoped I planned to go to school.
I'm scared for my future. I don't think my next few months will be hospital-less. The days are becoming longer, the binges more frequent and bigger. I'm becoming more tired of this. Instead of just focusing on bingeing and purging at night, it consumes all day. I dread it all day and cry thinking about it during the day.
I don't know if I'm making myself think I'm crazy, or if I'm going crazy. But I'm talking out loud, wanting to bash my head against things, and becoming so paranoid.
I wonder if I should call Julio.
I wonder if he could do anything.
I'm tired of being alone and confused.