Skip to main content

3 a.m.

It is 3am.
I am sick.
I have just been on another massive binge. My third of the day in fact. This time, however, I cannot throw up. The sound would echo like a siren through the silent house. It would wake my mother.
My stomach is bursting with sickness and I have to hold it in and bear its swelling in order to keep my secret.
I have a knife here, on my pillow. I scraped off my dried blood from it about an hour ago and held its newly sharpened blade up to the light. It was beautiful. I stuck it into my thigh, but it hurt too much. I just want the marks. And now, suddenly, I am tired.
When I was a teenager it was a way of life; it was the way I lived my life. Depression, anxiety, anorexia - they were all just words used to label other people - ill people. I didn't know anything about them. Now, I am them. These words have become labels for me; my new name. I am now a mental illness. I am bulimia. I am ill.
I am a liar. I tell people I am fine. I joke about my illness. "Yeah, you know me, I'm just a silly girl, living the crazy."
Everyday I pledge: I will never binge again.
I will stop.
I will be perfect.
I will be the daughter my mother wants.
I will be thin.
I will be beautiful.
I WILL BE PERFECT.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Don't be anonymous, leave a name at least so I can identify you back :)

Popular posts from this blog

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead, I think I made you up inside my head

There are tears stinging the backs of my eyelids every time I shut my eyes to pause. This world is hurting me so much. The truth is, I'm living, I'm so very much alive, so fit, so healthy, at my peak... except I'm doing it for the spectres that haunt me and keep my blood running so cold. I am a living eating disorder. That's it. There's nothing else left in my head anymore. You know, I'd give anything, to update my facebook status to say really 'what's on my mind'. Don't you ever just want to scream at the top of your voice. "PLEASE HELP ME. Underneath this pretty blush and giddy personality I'm dying, I'm torturing myself, I'm killing myself. Please fucking help me." I've reached the stage where I can't eat anything without throwing it up. The only reason I'm not losing weight is because my initial intake is so much that I can't be getting even half the calories back up anymore. I'm 22 years old and my l...
19 comments
Read more

Dear Non-ED (a.k.a. 'normal') Friends...

So, it appears that the girls at law school still count me as a friend after my excessive drunkenness last week. But friends - female friends - they come at such a price for the eating disordered... I'm at the college all day, everyday - a lecture first thing in the morning and a workshop last thing in the afternoon - which means that we have a four-hour break in the middle. Since my very first day I've spent these four-hour breaks with a bunch of girls in my lecture group - and while they are really nice and I'm so grateful beyond belief that I made friends so quickly, it's a MASSIVE struggle for me. Having an eating disorder is so easy when you spend most of your time by yourself - no-one gives a damn if you ate and no-one knows any better if you did or you didn't. Having an eating disorder is shit when you have to pretend to be all smiley and normal all day long. It's shit when you have to spend lunchtime with your 'friends' who constantly talk about...
21 comments
Read more

'I'm glad the rain is coming down hard. It is how I feel. I love you so.'

I know my posts are starting to become really sporadic. I apologise. I'm trying to live... trying to be busy... perhaps I'm trying to run Anyway. "I regret to inform you that the Medical Board has decided, having reviewed your medical history ....you do not meet the medical entry standards." I got turned away from two careers this week. The first I had to have an interview with a doctor. The second I had to have an interview with a psychiatrist. I couldn't lie my way out. I tried. I have to thank Mia. I have to thank my body. No one wants to employ someone with a 'history' of mental illness. Even though I lied and told them I was cured now. It's still there. It will always be a black mark by my name, no matter how I try to put a gloss on it. It's still a blip on my character. It says I'm unstable. It says I'm weak. It says unemployable . Anorexics are turned down because: "It is impossible to predict the 20% of sufferers who m...
17 comments
Read more