Throw away the key

I'm starting to have regrets.
The Guru contacted my GP who saw me and is now contacting a hospital trying to get me a bed.

I don't want a bed. They are going to lock me up and throw away the key.

I managed to put off anything until Monday due to Sunday being mothers day and me not wanting my kids to wonder where the hell I have disappeared to and have "mothers day' issues for the rest of their lives.
Apparently I have to "let go" and get better. I don't want to get better, but I want to let go.
Right now I am done, I have made my decision, I have all my affairs in order, will done, notes done and I am ready to go.
I have a plan to use in hospital so I can die there where my husband doesn't have to find me - although I wont get to die where I wanted to.

I am feeling some guilt in relation to the kids, but at the same time I am 100% certain that they are better off without me. The way I spoke to them this morning was unforgivable and growing up with that is going to fuck them up way worse than them growing up without me.

I ate TWO bags of M&Ms yesterday. Hot chips today. Final straw.

This cant continue anymore.

Peace In Arms

I keep looking at my arms for some sort of weird bitter sweet comfort.  They seem to accurately reflect the two sides to my soul.

On my left arm there is nothing but clean skin, a reflection of the “good” part of my soul that has control over her life. This is the face I show to other people, my work arm. It is the part of me that does not tell outright lies, but instead simply lies by omission while knowing all the secrets of my right.

My right arm, the “bad part” tells the tales of past truths, when I roll up my sleeve I am looking at the evidence of past wrongs etched into my skin, I hate the way I have to be so careful not to expose my naked, angry arm even in front of my husband, until the scab comes off and the scar fades because I hate to admit that I have to burn in order to cleanse. I am bound to long sleeves throughout Summer in case I bump into someone I know.

On the other hand (pardon the pun) it makes me happy that the last burn is scabbing well and I am internally hoping it will leave a noticeable scar, a reminder of my inability to retain self- control for any length of time and an incentive to do better next time, I hate when they don’t scar, because I feel like a failure and I just wish I had the courage to just sit down for the last time and slit along the vein with a knife to end the lies and end the pain.

Because I ate raisin bread...

Again and again and again, rinse repeat and yet I don’t seem to learn.

Etched in my skin forever, release the hatred in my mind as I let my body burn.

The binging needs to stop, clearly the burns don’t hurt enough, I am numb in my soul and in my skin hiding sins under long sleeves and cuffs.

I am running out of arm space and vague excuses for my scars,

So time will soon come to finish this fight but the victory won’t be ours.

 

I self harm as punishment and 99.9% of the time it has been related to eating something I shouldn't have. It never really hurts enough to stop me binging again though. I burn because there is no blood to clean up and I get to feel the pain again in the heat of the shower- symbolically cleansing to me for some reason. Then I look at my arm and I realise that I have to try tod hide it. The flatter blistery burn scars I blamed on our fire place, which can be feasible. I look at my arms when I am alone and feel secretly proud, but the rest of the time I have to hide it with long sleeves. I was called out once by a girl at my work, she is bipolar as well but it was OK because she just smiled at me and showed her the scars on her wrists.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Friday Five: Fucked-up-ed-ness

You know your fucked up when....

1. You spend the morning sorting out your pre written suicide notes to see which one fits best this week.

2. You put 5 days worth of your pills into a pile, take a photograph and cry about having to take meds every day while simultaneously searching for your dope stash and swigging from a wine bottle.


3. You wake up in the morning and decide to take a shower. The reason this is fucked up is because you are planning to burn yourself and you know that the hot shower will sting it more, even though you know that you deserve that pain anyway.

4. You drop the kids at school early and spend the next hour pacing past the club waiting for it to open so that you can blow all your money on the pokies.

5. You cant cope with eating something that is 100 calories during the day but you get home and binge yourself stupid on ice-cream and raisin bread.

Intermission

A glance in the mirror reveals a mascara streaked, tear stained face, bright red cheeks showing through layers of caked on foundation that would be the envy of any cracked up hooker.

Hair tied back in a ponytail with a head band holding back the stray curled up fringe. Slobbery tooth brush in slobbery hand, sleeves rolled up revealing scars born from self hatred. Put my earphones back in, listening to a “mental illness happy hour” pod cast while kneeling over the toilet trying desperately to remove the litre of cookies and cream ice cream and crunchy nut corn flake ridden sins of the last hour.

It’s ok really though, because that was just a brief intermission from filling out the “legal will kit” that I finally bought so I can commit suicide with the peace of mind that comes from knowing my 6yr old daughter will legally get that necklace and my husbands accounts wont be frozen for 8mnths.

The worst part about this picture is when I look at it I am just pissed off that I cant purge properly.

I’m so fucked up.

Muscle Memory

Muscle memory- wake up, get dressed, drive to work. Approx half way through the journey to work the two cans of sugar free energy drink and 3 no doze tablets secretly ingested start to kick in and you wake up and wonder what the hell you are doing here, again. You swear today won’t be like yesterday, set yourself new rules, new dates, new rituals. Get to work, today is like yesterday, new rules broken, dates become meaningless, old rituals take over as though you are out of your own body simply watching you find yourself walking powerlessly through the same old destructive pattern. Tomorrow is a new day, a new chance?

Rinse, repeat.

Each day your will grows weaker, your resolve is dying, it’s too hard now, it’s too late.

The drugs that were supposed to take away the beast and set me free have taken away the beauty too. You are gone and I’m on my own, flying blind.

Stockholm syndrome.

We were too bonded, the love I had for my captor too strong. When something has become such a very big part of you, you can’t just take it away – it was the only part of you that made sense, the one that took the lead, made the decisions and…. I suppose you were the dominator. I was the submissive, I lost my voice and spoke for me when I could not. Although you caused me such terrible pain and hurt me so badly, I felt loved by you, safe.

Now my heart is broken, wounds too deep my soul disconnected and bailed out before I did. Too late for this, better things to do.

My eyes water constantly from the smoke screen I am trying to hold up, I will soon drown in the pool from these tears. Finally a chance to quietly slip away.

Summer Car

I like sitting in the car in the middle of summer, It’s nice to be alone in my own space. A place I can cry without being seen, it’s like I have my own invisible force field protecting me. There is also something really comforting about the heat, it’s like a warm if not slightly sufforcating hug.

Perhaps it’s in the knowledge that if I sat here long enough the heat could swallow me up forever.

 

Two days, two moods, two options, too hard to choose.

I wish I could drag a blade across my flesh and watch the blood run down my arm. Let all the sins and sadness seep slowly from my wrists and pool upon the floor.

Forbidden wishes are usually only denied because they frighten the naive – similar to people who were enslaved because they were not understood, I wont be held against my will so I am instead chained within my own shell. Please release me, set me free.

Beginnings, Endings and the Beginning of the End

I wander around the world now as a vague reflection of my former self. I know what my ideals were, I understand their importance and while I still regret nothing, I also feel nothing.

The drugs they gave me to cease my bodies natural ebb and flow have now rendered me numb. Apparently this is the perfect place to be, ‘normal’ or so they say.

I couldn’t imagine always wanting to live a ‘normal’ life, void of divine spirituality and completed sense of self. Never experiencing the intensity of pure fun, joy and excitement mixed with the energy of a thousand four year olds.

Nor however, could I believe in a world without the extreme sense of despair and hopelessness that comes from unchangeable circumstances or being racked with guilt over something real or perceived or often, no reason at all other than to remind you to appreciate the times of experiencing vivid life and self-awareness.

One thing I have been thankful for not experiencing was the ‘voices’ so many people speak of intruding into their minds and scaring them into psychosis.

At least I thought that I hadn’t, until I stopped taking the antipsychotic they put me on. Suddenly I have music playing around me, as though a string quartet or an orchestra is warming up or playing in the distance, it’s faint and somewhat beautiful, but it’s there, where it wasn’t before.

I also hear a voice coming back, an intrusive voice that I had always attributed to a pattern of self-thought and not an entity of its own – the voice from my eating disorder, the one that keeps me in line, that reminds me of my youth in an encouraging, scornful and often violent manner.

I had barely noticed it had gone missing recently– too much other stuff going on, but God, the binging. The binging that has reached critical levels – levels I may never be able to return from. I was inadvertently watching myself from the outside and wondering how the fuck I was letting this happen, the auto pilot on button stuck like glue.

The dirty little secret is that I want this voice to come back. I need it to come back. I must be held accountable for my actions and this is the only way I think it will be possible. I need to look upon the criticism and judgement as constructive, a challenge and a God to be obeyed at all costs. The depression that comes from living with the voice is nothing compared to the dire pit of hell that stem from the consequences of a world of silence and dirty normality.

I would rather let the voice take me over and let my new found lack of fear be my final undoing. Since the overdose I no longer feel frightened of pain or death at all. Not even a tiny twinge of concern or fear of future regret. I think that after taking the pills and feeling completely at peace with it even several hours later reassured me that it was the right course of action, I chose my fete and now I am but a mere ghost caught between worlds but able to interact, just waiting for my time to come so I can move on to where I am supposed to be.

The trouble is I am impatient, I don’t like waiting and I don’t want to wait now. I wonder if patience could in fact my life lesson this time around. God knows I breezed through the usual trials and tribulations that one must master so quickly that I must have learned them before. I completed what I came to do but if that is in fact my life lesson (and possibly acceptance – which I have for almost everything) I must learn it and not end my human existence by my own hand or I will simply have to do it all over again. I just want to move on, I am READY to move on.

I wish I was allergic to peanuts...

People comment about being worried that they are feeling suicidal, I guess maybe I have been suicidal for such a long time that I am completely used to it, that it is just who I am. Perhaps I want to want to live, but I don’t want to live, I want to be suicidal. All the time. When I am not feeling actively suicidal I am plotting and planning, enabling myself for the next time I am hit with the god awful energy depression must-die-now rush that comes with a mixed episode.

I had a fairly hypomanic day, I unfortunately bought a whole stack of useless crap and knik knacks, then I got home and started coming down a bit, as I was making dinner and remembered that I ate a litre of icecream this morning for breakfast which along with the glass of wine I used to wash down my morning meds was like a weeks worth of calories for me. I chucked a mega tantrum (poor hubby) and went to bed crying just wanting to die, of course I couldn’t sleep and my mind was going a bazillion miles per hour, so I ended up getting up to watch a movie with hubby, couldn’t sit still and then started binge eating. Again. L

We went to bed after the movie but I still couldn’t sleep, plotting all the ways I could escape and off myself should my Psychologist/GP/Shrink try and commit me. Then I decided to combat the binging I would write a menu plan, so I got up and over the last few hours I have been simultaneously looking at you tube videos, facebook, the news, pintrest, writing lists of stuff I want to sell on e-bay, writing a menu plan for next week and now typing this. I don’t quite know how the browser in my 4yr old laptop is coping at the moment! (Shout out to Toshiba)

Bloody rapid cycling, its doing my head in, have to see the GP tomorrow morning, don’t want to confess my actual thoughts, maybe I should. If I do get locked up there are SO MANY things that will come with that that are worse than death, not that I am frightened of death anyway – when I took that overdose I didn’t regret it, even a few days later when I was warned my liver could fail – I was still hoping it would, I was high as a kite, happy as larry and still completely fine with the thought of impending death.

 I wish I was allergic to peanuts, imagine how easy that would be? Tombstone could read "She died with a snickers in her hand..."

Limbo

So many hours are lost to this disease, the ‘unhelpful thinking’ patterns as the Guru puts it. It’s ridiculous when actually put into words or thought about in any logical way. But still it remains, every hour it creeps in, at some point a comment, something you see or hear that reminds you or god help it you catch your reflection or need to go to the bathroom.

Eating is the worst, it’s a constant battle of instinct vs mind. Your body takes over gorging everything in its path while all you can think is how worthless you are and how desperately you want it all to stop.

If I had a dollar for the amount of times I have glanced at that knife block while stuffing bread down my gob just longing to plunge it deep into my flesh or slice deep into my wrists. End the torture.

Silence. Inside, outside. Peace.

My husband walked in just as I typed that sentence and I slammed the computer down like a 14yr old girl hiding something from her parents. Now he’s upset because I wouldn’t tell him what I was doing, what I was hiding. Is it wrong that I would almost rather he thought I was having an affair than writing a diary like this? Honestly, I don’t know which one of those would hurt him more.

I hate myself every time I eat at the moment. The trouble for my messed up mind is that I am eating constantly and I cant stop. It’s too hard.

Stolen hours

So many hours are lost to this disease, the ‘unhelpful thinking’ patterns as the Guru puts it. It’s ridiculous when actually put into words or thought about in any logical way. But still it remains, every hour it creeps in, at some point a comment, something you see or hear that reminds you or god help it you catch your reflection or need to go to the bathroom.

Eating is the worst, it’s a constant battle of instinct vs mind. Your body takes over gorging everything in its path while all you can think is how worthless you are and how desperately you want it all to stop.

If I had a dollar for the amount of times I have glanced at that knife block while stuffing bread down my gob just longing to plunge it deep into my flesh or slice deep into my wrists. End the torture.

Silence. Inside, outside. Peace.

My husband walked in just as I typed that sentence and I slammed the computer down like a 14yr old girl hiding something from her parents. Now he’s upset because I wouldn’t tell him what I was doing, what I was hiding. Is it wrong that I would almost rather he thought I was having an affair than writing a diary like this? Honestly, I don’t know which one of those would hurt him more.

I hate myself every time I eat at the moment. The trouble for my messed up mind is that I am eating constantly and I cant stop. It’s too hard.

succumb to the call...

I knew it was coming, I could feel it. But I chose not to heed the warning signs and now it is too late, I am owned.

I have had my mind infiltrated by my best friend and worst enemy. I now hear her as a voice separate to my own, which is different to the way it was before. She made a whispered promise to help me reach my goals, to set me free from this depression and stabilize my hectic mood swings as she has an amazing power to gain control. But she lied. Of course she did, she always does.

I am depressed and mostly at her will it is decided whether I retreat into myself or not. I want to partake in conversations I normally would, my own voice is still there in my mind as it always was, making small talk, laughing at jokes and making smart arse comments but I am unable to speak out loud unless permission is given by her. My thoughts are racing, my concentration sucks and my thoughts are darker and darker the further out of control I get the more I need her to be in charge, her voice is loud, belittling, sarcastic and often contradictory, but it keeps me functioning in society.

As much as I know I should fight it, her, for my own mind. I am too weak. Frankly, I am done trying to escape, the pain of fighting it is so much worse than the pain of succumbing to her call and I am stuck again, sucked into the vortex she creates, that I created for myself and I know deep down I won’t get out this time, it’s over.

Like a cliché Stockholm syndrome, I have fallen in love with my captor.

I have been put on Lithium in conjunction with the Lamotrogine for the bipolar and when I went to see my psychiatrist after a fairly good morning with intention to ask for help with the ED I was rendered almost unable to speak or concentrate, her voice loud in my head a constant stream of:

 “You cant say anything you fucking idiot, then she will want to weigh you, maybe put you in hospital and then make you EAT. If you EAT you will get FATTER. Do you want to get FATTER? Do you WANT to get more depressed? Why not go end it now then, jump through the fucking glass window and slice your femoral artery. Go on! I dare you!! You know why you’re not doing it? Why you haven’t killed yourself yet? It’s because you are a weak piece of shit and you’re never going to have any sort of control over yourself.

Watch as you go the fuck home and eat a tub of ice-cream then come back and cry about how sad you are – see now that she thinks your depressed again she’s upping your meds. You know Lithium makes you fat right? REALLY FAT. You have photos on the weekend, you wanted to pretend to be normal for a minute, thin and normal wearing your jeans that used to fit you until you went manic and thought it was ok to eat. Hot chips! REALLY???!! WTF is wrong with you, you dumb whore, each potato has 150 Cal and you had them deep fried in lard and fuck knows how many potatos are in a bucket of chips – Oh and don’t forget the icecream. I hope that you had fun in Melbourne because you are NEVER EVER going back there, 8kg, 8kg!!!!! the consequences aren’t worth it, are they?

Or… You could let me help you? You don’t have to get fatter- even if you can’t pretend but actually have to take the Lithium because of the blood tests. All you have to do is say no. Every time you eat when you take Lithium, your weak piece of shit self will end up binging again, so stop eating. COMPLETELY stop. You know the tricks, you know how to lie! Hell you might even be able to lose weight before the photos! You have 6 days to prove yourself, if you fuck it up then you are a lost cause, destined to be a fat heffer for the rest of your life.”

It was Monday, so I filled my script, went home and didn’t eat, kept my 1hr exercise regime up. Tuesday, I didn’t eat and exercised properly AND got offered a new job with less hours and better pay.  – A reward for my diligence, she suggested.

Wednesday I had off work – this would be my biggest challenge, especially as I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner. I managed to turn dinner into coffee and then of course didn’t have a cake like she did.

then this morning (Thursday) I woke up tired and weak and a bit nauseated, so I didn’t exercise ‘she’ suggested that I weighed myself for the first time in around a month – mostly to teach me a lesson about not exercising – But I was pleasantly surprised, I had actually lost weight!! She allowed me to try on my clack shorts and grey pants and they fit perfectly. So today was allowed to be a good day and she has left me alone somewhat although I was hungry a bit during the day but she gave some gentle encouragement and I managed to deflect it by chewing gum and guzzling diet coke.

I am slightly messed up however by the slight reaction I have been having to the Lithium – an uncontrollable shaking of my hands making it very difficult to write and dizziness, I am aware that some of that may be attributed to the lack of food too.

Then tonight at dinner time I fucked it all up. Badly.

 I ate some zucchini stuffed with cauliflower, garlic, onion and capsicum. It tasted so good while I ate it, until reality set in and I realised what I had done, my stomach seemed to grow before my eyes, I desperately wanted to throw it up but for whatever reason I am incapable of purging, always have been. So we went to bed and watched some episodes of Fringe, all the while I am too busy listening to the loud voice in my head reprimanding me for my actions, I hate myself.

I realised I hadn’t taken my tablets so I got up to do so and for whatever fucked up reason opened the chocolate ice cream sitting in the freezer and bloody ate some – about 100 cal worth. SHIT. So that essentially renders today’s minimal 300 cal exercise null and void and she is very, very angry with me. The voice is too loud to sleep… Many suggestions are that now might be an ideal time to finish things, It would be good timing really as I am changing jobs, the photos will be done so there will be something for the kids to remember me by.

I also now have Lithium at my disposal, FINALLY a drug I can use to properly OD on, I would still combine it with the original cocktail, but at least it guarantees the outcome and is a great quick escape should I find myself cornered.

But on the other hand, this new job brings in great money, so I could stay there as per the original plan and use that extra income so we can finish the house and yards off a bit and make up some savings for the funeral, they are so damn expensive – Far out, a cardboard box in a bonfire at the farm is fine by me. If I can keep up the not eating, eventually my heart will fail and I can sleep in peace, really I do feel this would be a much nicer way of going than the throwing up and shitting myself overdoses may bring if I fuck it up and end up not actually dying, also worried about screwing up the drive into a tree thing and becoming a quadriplegic. Other options tend to involve excessive bloodiness and scaring someone else for life – that’s plain unkind and so of course it’s my last resort.

Tomorrow I have to stick with it. It’s my last day at my old job and they want to take me out for lunch but I have to somehow not eat or maybe choke down a small garden salad as I NEED to be ready for these photos on Sunday. I am also really worried that after that I know I kinda need to start eating a little bit because I have two weeks of intensive training at my new job and I really need to be able to concentrate and remember things, but I am scared to do that. Gaining weight is NOT AN OPTION, and I am worried that I won’t be able to maintain my current weight. I really need to go 3kg under my goal so that I have a safety net to rely on. *sigh*

Back on the roller coaster.

 

 

 

revival and resistance

Well I haven’t blogged for so long I have almost forgotten how to do it. So much has happened, so much has changed yet nothing at all is really different. I don’t know where to start, my life has done a full circle repeatedly over the last 18 months and yet I’m loathed to be back to the beginning again, phases – Always phases, I really should be used to it by now, a high wouldn’t go astray either.

I guess this is just another one of those rapid cycles. I can’t keep it up much longer, my pseudo life is starting to collapse – ironically it’s not the blogging one I think of as false, but the real one where I try and hide all of my sins and dirty secrets…

Speaking of secrets, forgive me bloggerverse for I have sinned.

 I stopped taking my meds cold turkey and lied about it.

I went to the shrink on a bit of a high ages ago now and promptly forgot everything she told me within 48hrs. It occurred to me just now that I have not filled in a single day of the mood chart that I forgot she gave me and my moods have been all over the place for a little while now too so I really should have filled it in, but I can’t even work out how long ago I should have started because my memory tends to fuck up when my mind goes…

 I also can’t remember when my next appointment with her is and I’ve miss placed the appointment card I was given. I would ring up and ask but her name escapes me as well and I really don’t care enough to bother trying. I wonder if I shouldn’t have taken myself off the meds after all, however the side effects are no longer something I am able to cope with and I have been off them too long to go back on them anyway. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

Not much point going to the shrink really anyway if I’m not going to take what she prescribes. It becomes an expensive and pointless visit. I do kind of miss seeing The Guru though, I call her my ‘rent a friend’ to her face and she laughs. She is a great wall to vent to with a few zen contributions where it counts. Unfortunately money issues and school holidays make it impossible to go to see her at the moment though – besides I would probably just end up dobbing myself in about the meds and I think she has to tattle tale on me in to the GP/P doc and that simply doesn’t work for me.

 Tomorrow marks day one of the end project. I am committed to this now. Temptations are inexcusable and willpower is the only answer. This is what needs to happen and I am the only one who can make it happen. This is the one chance I have to get something right and I will bloody succeed.

Still Alive, Still Crazy

Today… Still alive, slightly less foggy headed from the lithium OD, but still dizzy as hell, shaky sore eyes with trouble focusing but not quite as bad as yesterday, very strong pressure in my head that comes in waves – feels similar to ice-cream headache only you start blacking out. didn’t take Lithium again as I cant stand this feeling a moment longer

 I was triggered horribly by a fucking 13yr old. I tried on a pair of jeans that were a size 8 and while they went on, my big fat calves made the bootleg look like skinny leg, I already wanted to cry seeing my giant shape in multiple mirrors is confronting enough.

As I was getting dressed again I hear someone talking to a girl saying “ooh lets try the size 7s shall we?” and when I walked out I saw miss size 7, the jeans were way too baggy. I KNOW she was only 13 and I am a grown women nearly 30 FFS but still, I guess cause I’m a fruit loop it triggered the crap out of me, I want to be that small, I NEED to be that small. On my way out of the shopping centre all I saw was stick thin women with perfect legs and perfect hair and I just wanted to die.

Then I had to pick up like 4 things from the grocery store that weren’t for me, I had them in the basket in 5 min and proceeded to spend nearly 40 min doing the old pick up and put back things that I wanted to but could never eat. I hate being this ridiculous.

new job, old tricks

Start Job, End life

I need to die now. I am ready to go, its time. I had a great life and for that I am truly greatful, but I have now hit the point of no return. I am not willing to give up the demon that has reclaimed me, her voice is too strong.

Started my new job today, it sucks. The team leader is like a size 4 and drop dead gorgeous, I am so intensely jealous I cant function when she is in the room. My legs are unforgivable. She must not have eaten in years.

Today I fucked up, I narrowly avoided having lunch at the mall, got as far as the food court before having a panic attack and getting the hell out of there. I then ruined this COMPLETELY by having a 500kj boost juice after work. Instead of learning to throw it up like I should have I had 5 grapes and got home only to eat a vege meal of possibly up to 100 cal. I can’t believe what a loser I am. I have already gained weight from it, you could see in the mirror when I went on the cross trainer this evening, ass thighs and my size 8 jeans that fit yesterday are snug and downright tight on my calves.. Now its going to add an extra two days at least.

I have started Lithium in place of Sodium Valporate and it is making me feel awful, got a call from the dr 2 day re my lithium level bloods & other bloods.   enough Li levels r too high and my liver is mildly affected (yay! Now how to finish it off, or better yet, induce heart attack – quicker method. Have been downing V drinks like a madwomen for the heart and slipping in many Panadol as possible to quietly finish off the liver. What got me was that my cholesterol was really high!!!!!!!????? Im not complaining, its 1 more thing to add to the self destruct arsenal, although this fucks with my head majorly as I don’t understand –WHY? – I don’t really eat... – particularly saturated fats, god maybe thinking about eating those foods really can add calories… I guess this simply means that I need to reduce my food intake generally and stop thinking about all those fat causing artery clogging foods, as much as it would increase my heart attack risk, the chance of weight gain just isn’t worth it,

Must go to bed now, tired & dizzy. With a bit of luck lithium toxicity will set in and I wont wake up, otherwise I need to be ok at work tomoz as now that I am casual, sick pay doesn’t exist for me any more. Try and earn some more $ towards my funeral costs. I need to cut or burn to remind me that food is forbidden, then I can poke it everytime I think of eating as punishment.

Betrayal

I don’t usually throw around sentences like “Breach of confidentiality”. This time I was hurt.

The Guru sent my GP a long letter, I don’t actually know what was in the letter exactly but I feel completely betrayed by it. I specifically did not sign the piece of paper allowing her to contact my doctor. I know I shouldn’t care and that she’s ‘trying to look out for me’ and all but frankly she can get fucked. All trust has gone, she should have told me first and she didn’t.

The letter thing was coupled with the fact that the GP suddenly seems to have forgotten which drug she has put me on and after a slightly frenzied discussion on my eating disorder which I hadn’t previously mentioned and must have been in the letter put me way out on the defensive she added that she was glad she put me on something or other starting with L as its not known to cause weight gain where the others do.

I got home and googled it thinking that it might be another name for the one I’m on and it fucking isn’t. It’s a totally different drug and now I’m guaranteed to be back to being a fat fucking whore in no time.

Also the one I am on is supposed to be monitored with blood work so they can make sure it’s not fucking up your liver. Lucky for her I want to die anyway so it fucking my liver would be great news, but other people don’t want to die and they should have the right not to be fucked around. So as general angry retaliation I have researched how many I need to overdose on so maybe that would be the best way to go down, that way she can feel a little bit fucking guilty and think in future before writing down the wrong thing.

I have been hungry as fuck and eating way more than I am comfortable with, my stomach is getting really really flubby and my thighs are so devastating I just want to cry when I see them. I might not be manic but feel far more out of control than I have in a really long time. I would much rather be manic. I am trying to make it to the end of the month as I’m supposed to be going to Melbourne with some friends for a girls weekend, haven’t seen them in a while and should leave them with some good memories I suppose but frankly I can’t be fucked and it doesn’t matter to me.

But at this rate I might not be able to last that long anyway, its prob better before to keep it away from bubba’s birthday after melb doesn’t leave much time, I am pretty much left with the 15^th.

Now I don’t even have a psych I can vent too, before seems like a much better option the more I think about it, I will have to still see her still and pretend I’m not seething at her betrayal and that these meds are making me all fucking better and I don’t need her as much anymore – make up some bull shit that I’m looking forward to so she doesn’t twig something’s off before I get a chance to finalise this thing.

 I am so done with trust betrayal. I have REALLY gotta get some sort of control over my eating too, I can’t believe I could come so far and fuck it up like this and right at the end too. It’s like stopping just before the finish line. At this rate I won’t even fit in the bloody coffin.