147. One Hundred Fourty Seven. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY FUCKING SEVEN. KILL ME I WANT TO DIE I HATE MYSELF.
I am back up to 147 pounds. I know I am building muscle I know that my scale is not the only way to show I am losing fat but I fucking hate myself. I can't stop eating crap. I am eating way than I am burning a day. I am binging. I hate myself. I want to fucking end this but I am convincing myself this is how normal people eat, it is how my husband eats. Why couldn't I be like my brother and eat everything I want and never gain weight? Why can't I be perfect?
Today is my rest day but I think I am going to do abs and arms and possibly go for a long walk. Maybe then I can feel better about eating 1400 calories for breakfast. The worst part is I feel so lonely right now that I only want to go eat so I will feel better. BUT I KNOW IN THE END IT WILL ONLY MAKE ME FEEL WORSE SO WHY DO I DO IT?
I ate pizza rolls this morning. 30 of them, with ranch dressing. Then I ran upstairs and threw up as much of it as I could. I am praying I got out at least half of it so I can be at 700 calories for the day. I took my medication and it is helping me to not continue binging since I know that I will not be able to vomit again without wasting a rather costly prescription.
The worst part is I am not out of control anymore. I am in complete control of myself. I make the conscious decision to stuff my fat face until I am sick. It is a choice and I make it with out thinking about it first. I put Thinspo all over my kitchen and bedroom, but I am not even looking at it before I make these horrible choices. I wish I knew a way to force myself to stop this bullshit. I am in control of myself why am I making these choices? It is because I deprived myself for so long that now I feel like I deserve it? Or is it because I hate myself and I want to see myself suffer? I can think of a hundred ways to cause horrible excruciating pain to my body but nothing hurts more than looking in the mirror everyday. I can see my thighs getting bigger with each passing second. I can feel my body expanding my stomach looks huge.
Maybe I am not able to recover yet. Maybe being a normal girl isn't really what I wanted. Maybe I can be normal when I hit my goal weight. I don't know. I can't be sure what normal is, I fucking need therapy. I am back to restricting again as of this very moment. At least when I am counting calories I can avoid having a panic attack when I step on my scale in the morning.
Wish me luck, and say a prayer for me. I will do the same for all of you.
<3 miss="" p="" sinister="">
This is about me and my life. It is my journey through time and space and about personal discovery. This will be triggering and hard to read, you have been warned.
Hm. Normal. Maybe it isn’t the most helpful of words. I know the idea of what would be 'normal' does my head in if I think about it too much. Maybe it is more about what you can accept.. or cope with? Like if you're restricting, give yourself a _little_ bit more of a margin of error... or something. To give yourself a little bit more space. This is what I'm telling myself. I have no idea if it'll work for you or even make sense, and I really don't want to give you some dumb and irrelevant piece of unasked for advice. But you beat yourself up so much… wishing you some peace. And luck with however you choose to deal with it all <3
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