2004-12-29, 3:41 p.m.
I failed yesterday. And I don't want to talk about it. Write about it. Think about it. Whatever.
Lately I've been closing up when it comes to my feelings. I was thinking about going to a eating disorder meeting last night to busy myself and do good at the same time, but the thought of hearing people talk about their problems, which is my problem, was sickening. I don't want to have to think about this problem. I just want to numb myself by starving. I fear those meetings. You sit and fidget while other people size you up, wondering what's your problem. If you're thin enough, it's obvious. I could be either. On the verge of falling over, but the medium frame can be hidden to show "BULIMIC!" with chubby cheeks, you just never know. Then someone shares a story that makes my ears ring and heart pound. I know I need to get out of this mess before I end up 40 like and my life still consumed by food.
I'd rather skip it, eat my garden burger, and curl up with a good book till bed time.
Except I waited till 11, devoured what I could find, in my bare cupboards, puked, and collapsed into bed numb.
Numb. That's how I feel these days. I'm telling myself not to purge because I should stop, but I know I'm trying to stop because I just plain hate the purging. It's not worth it anymore and I can't lose weight that way anymore.
I need to get thin. Very thin. I don't even know why. I feel in control again with my 3 little meals a day. 2 egg whites on half a piece of toast with salsa. a garden burger wrapped in lettuce. broth with veggies. peas drenched in ketchup. Lots. and. Lots. of. Tea.
How long can I last? This is a game all of a sudden. When I exercise at night I stare at my legs. I don't weigh myself. Not yet.
I feel completely insane. I asked my dad for money last night and he said to use my christmas gift card. I said I wanted to use that gift card for clothes. He said I have piles of clothes on my bedroom floor. I said they don't fit. They're too big.
Eat something. He said.
Okay. Like it's that easy. I'll eat my 100 cal garden burger. 3 a day is pretty filling? 300 cals a day.
Why am I doing this? It's just another way to fill the hole in my day. Instead of going to the store, cooking, bingeing, and puking. I'm counting calories, preparing little meals, fantazing over the next time I can eat.
It's all the same.
I'll never get better.