Push A Bit Harder...You Need To Be Thinner

www.bleedingperfection.wordpress.com

Sometimes, it seems like nothing matters. No one cares. I feel like I'm invisible. No one can see me, because no one is looking. I lasted five days without any food, and I would have lasted longer had I not been forced to eat. They didn't know they were forcing me. They didn't know that through every bite I felt like crying.
They know the despair I felt when they surprised everyone with a desert immediately following the dinner. My stomach felt like it was going to break, bile rose in my throat as I tried not to be sick, and I tried so hard not to cry. I purged desert, but by then, it was too late for dinner. Since then, I've been on a downward spiral.
In the five days I lost nine pounds. I gained one more after that meal.
I haven't felt hungry. I haven't wanted food, but it has been there, and for some reason I've just put it in my mouth, not caring.
The first time I did it I was trying to be normal. I scare my boyfriend and it makes me understand just how screwed all this is. I tried so hard. I ate about 800 kcals and I sat on my hands for over an hour, waiting for the ticking purge time clock to stop. Run over time.
I cried after that.
Before that fateful meal I cut myself. I haven't in ages, and I did it the deepest yet. It bled into my sleeve and I had to hide my arm under the table as I ate because I was so scared that my family would see the blood.
When I was eating my 'normality meal', I was so happy. I could finally feel food I had chosen sliding down my throat, and I was proud because I was happy, eating, and finally being like everyone else. I got to the last few bites, and wanted to spit it onto my plate. It felt dry in my mouth and I wanted to run to the sink and purge it all up. I could see every tiny bit of food, lying in my stomach like something from a horror movie.
I forced myself to finish the meal.
I don't even remember when I got so bad.
I was never afraid of food, ever. Now...I don't understand what is happening to me. I was better off with bulimia, because at least I had a pattern. At least I wasn't afraid of food and fat.
Where did everything go so wrong? So many questions need to be answered. Why did I start dieting at ten? Why did I starve myself at thirteen? Why am I so afraid of food?
Why am I still fat?

So it seems that I find myself looking at the world in a whole new perspective; a world without food. I was bulimic for a long time. I was bulimic in every sense of the word. I binged, I purged, whether it was through fasts, laxatives, exercise or vomiting. Should I eat something right now I could assure you that in ten minutes you’ll find me vomiting, but that is providing on me eating.
I’ve not eaten a single thing for three days now, and the only calories I’ve consumed were from a low calories drink today. Of which, I burnt off through exercise. The most amazing thing is that I haven’t felt the urge to eat anything the entire time. I say that honestly, and genuinely, because I really haven’t even wanted food. For someone who was so reliant on it before, it is such a mind-blower. Now, instead of thinking about eating food, I’m thinking about how long I can go without food, and the excuses to avoid food.
The matter that my stomach says, “feed me”, isn’t in my mind at all. I feel freed. I’ve lost half a stone in three days, and that is another thing that I can’t get over. I can’t get over how good I am at this. The lying is second nature, and I feel so much less guilty than when I eat and purge.
My boyfriend thinks that I must be at the point of not being able to walk by now, he would be, but I have never felt so energised. Living with depression all the time is far more energy consuming than not getting the energy in the first place.
I have never felt happier than in these moments, when I realise how well I’m doing. True, I did actually dream about food last night, but I woke up and I wasn’t hungry. How cool is that?! I am on such a high from this.
This feels so natural, and it makes me happy like nothing else. I know that it isn’t healthy, but neither is smoking or drinking, or eating two burgers in one day, but no one questions those people do they? So why should they question me? It’s unfair how people with eating disorders are treated.
I still can’t really accept that I have an eating disorder.
This whole not-eating episode started on Wednesday morning when I picked up a phone message from the nurse that did my psychiatric assessment. I went to the assessment because I was referred by the councellor who was worried about my suicidal thoughts and self harming. I make it sound so normal, I know, and to many it isn’t, but you get used to the absurdity of everything after a while. Anyway, this nurse had me in there for an hour and a half, and I thought that (even though I had told no one else in the entire world) I would tell her about my addiction to laxatives, and about how I felt towards food.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t asking for help. That was the only flaw; that she would try and help me. You see, I have a weakness for personality tests and questionnaires...and an assessment on my mental health was like gold dust to me. I didn’t want to leave anything out because the hypochondriac in me wanted to know everything that was wrong.
So I told her everything. I told her everything, and then I ate two chocolate bars because I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been. Then this Wednesday I got her message, and I was only half listening when I heard the words, “eating disorder centre”. Then I listened. She wants me to see a specialist. That’s when it hit me.
They are going to weigh me, give me a ‘food diary’, take my measurements...they were going to try and take it all away from me, and I wasn’t thin yet. Bulimia doesn’t make you thin; it makes you feel better after binging. Laxatives certainly don’t make you thin.
I freaked.
If they were going to weigh me, and measure me and look at me as an eating disorder patient, then God, I was going to get thin. Everything came to a standstill, and I realised what I had done. I had been drifting from my goals and giving into temptation and impulse. After hearing her say, ‘eating disorder’, I wasn’t hungry. I haven’t been hungry (mentally) since.
The worry about how I’m going to keep the further assessments from my parents is another matter. They’ll believe that it’s for depression though. As long as they don’t find out about the ED’s then I’ll be okay. I can keep going to the gym, keep chucking meals away, keep saying I’ve eaten with friends...everything will be fine.
All I have to focus on right now is that I’ve gone three days with no food, and I feel lighter and better than I have for a long, long time. This phone call was a blessing, because although it’s brought along a lot of future problems, it motivated me so much, that I don’t even think about wanting food.