2005-03-30, 7:35 p.m.
Since break has started, the only times I've left my bed is for food, drinks, and to go out to buy frozen yogurt. I eat in bed, so that cuts time out of bed as well. I would not hesistate to call me grossly lazy. I sleep as long as possible every night, and take 2 hour naps during the day. I'm depressed and know it, and don't want to think about reality.
Last night I binged and purged again. Since I screwed up my 46 day streak, I haven't been able to get back on track. I now have zero days, once again. I honestly don't care, either. I wouldn't care at this point if someone ran over me. That would be the highlight of my day, or my life for that matter. In my eyes, I'm not worth shit and deserve anything that comes at me. I don't feel like taking care of myself anymore. The sad reality is, I'm an adult, so no one else is going to take care of me either. Not like when I wasn't an adult my parents were taking care of my either, but whatever.
Yesterday my mom and I got in a big fight. I took a sharpie from her room to label a CD and she flipped out. When I was sitting at a desk in our house, she kept telling me to move in a not so nice voice to get to certain drawers. I obliged, and didn't say anything. Then she snapped that she wanted to empty the hole punch in the trashcan, and for me to move again. I yelled "Do it in another trashcan (there is one literally 10 feet away) I'm busy here! Go away!" Then she proceeded to try to dumb the 3 hole punch trash on ME. I yelled "You stupid bitch!" then grabbed it from her hands, and threw it across the room. Little circles from punching holes covered our carpet. I then tried to slap her but she grabbed me and we struggled a bit...me trying to get free from her hands to hit her, and her trying to hold my wrists. Finally I broke lose and missed her face, and hit her shoulder stupidly. I yelled vulgarity at her, she yelled back, and she went into her bedroom and locked the door. After I finished labeling my CD, I took the drawer out that had the hole punch in it, that also has a bunch of her files, and took it out and dumped it everywhere. Then I kicked them around to make sure they were scattered. I, then, retreated to my room. When my mom came out and saw her files, she took my folded laundry from the table and threw it outside, telling me to live somewhere else. I calmly, not saying anything, went outside and got my laundry, including one pair of red underwear stuck in a twig in a bush blowing in the wind, was almost funny in retrospect but not then, and came back inside. She CONTINUED to batter me while I was silent. Telling me I'm stupid, to move out, that I'M CRAZY and I AM the one who needs HELP and to clean this mess up. I wanted one good wack at her, so I went for her face yet again, but her hand with razor sharp fingernails got at me again. So I punched her shoulder, she slapped me, and I ran out the door into my car and drove no where.
I'm glad I have a lock on my door or I'm sure she would've torn my room down while I was gone.
I'm sick of her and her bullshit. I'm sick of my dad not caring how much it hurts me. I'm sick of him not noticing that I haven't left my room for days. I'm sick of being sad.