I have a final interview on Monday for the company I desperately want to work for. Final round interview. Role play business meeting and pitch.
Less than a year ago - seven months ago in fact, I was sitting in a bitterly cold, dark London suburb. I wanted to die. I wanted to feel pain. I wanted the body I hated so much to be ripped apart, ripped to shreds. I binged and threw up, binged and threw up, binged and threw up... I felt nothing else other than the desire for pain and death.
I do not feel like that anymore. In fact I cannot even put myself into that headspace. I do not want to die. I no longer have that deadly chilling sadness running through my blood.
A few moments ago I lay in my bathroom cured up in a ball on the floor. A floor splattered with blood and vomit. Every time I coughed up food my nose began to bleed. I had to get every last morsel out, bending as far over as I could until I was almost bent double. Again. Again. Again. Fuck you. Fuck you YOU MONSTER.
I haven't self harmed for 7 months. I haven't cut myself with a blade since December. i havent got a knife
havent got a knife
You can only see the patterns now if you look very closely. I haven't got a knife.
i run my hand under the hot water tap. It's not hot enough to scald me. Hot shower then.
I haven't got a mother fucking knife anymore. Else it wouldn't be 7 months, believe me.
On the other side of my bathroom wall is a bedroom with 4 girls in. there's only 3 now. One got sent home two weeks ago. anorexia.
There's bulimia here too. Some do it in the showers.
Everyone who knows about my eating disorder thinks I'm in recovery. No matter, even if they knew the truth and wanted to support me, I'd never call. Pride. I'm fine. I'm so fucking fine. I'd have no idea how to turn to a shoulder to cry on even if it was there for me.
I wanted to call my Mum. She thinks I'm better.
I wanted to call my friend. I'm far too proud.
7 months ago, I had nothing. I had no life, no hope.
I have hope now, I have a whole life of opportunity in the City of London waiting for me if I want it.
IF I WANT IT.
But the fact is, the only thing I'm certain I want is to be thin. And for as long as I want to be thin, I will always have an eating disorder. And as long as I have an eating disorder, I will never have anything else.
http://blogs.independent.co.uk/2011/06/03/bulimia-laid-bare/
http://dropitandeat.blogspot.com/2011/05/eating-disorder-denial-missing-big.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6wJl37N9C0&feature=youtu.be
Less than a year ago - seven months ago in fact, I was sitting in a bitterly cold, dark London suburb. I wanted to die. I wanted to feel pain. I wanted the body I hated so much to be ripped apart, ripped to shreds. I binged and threw up, binged and threw up, binged and threw up... I felt nothing else other than the desire for pain and death.
I do not feel like that anymore. In fact I cannot even put myself into that headspace. I do not want to die. I no longer have that deadly chilling sadness running through my blood.
A few moments ago I lay in my bathroom cured up in a ball on the floor. A floor splattered with blood and vomit. Every time I coughed up food my nose began to bleed. I had to get every last morsel out, bending as far over as I could until I was almost bent double. Again. Again. Again. Fuck you. Fuck you YOU MONSTER.
I haven't self harmed for 7 months. I haven't cut myself with a blade since December. i havent got a knife
havent got a knife
You can only see the patterns now if you look very closely. I haven't got a knife.
i run my hand under the hot water tap. It's not hot enough to scald me. Hot shower then.
I haven't got a mother fucking knife anymore. Else it wouldn't be 7 months, believe me.
On the other side of my bathroom wall is a bedroom with 4 girls in. there's only 3 now. One got sent home two weeks ago. anorexia.
There's bulimia here too. Some do it in the showers.
Everyone who knows about my eating disorder thinks I'm in recovery. No matter, even if they knew the truth and wanted to support me, I'd never call. Pride. I'm fine. I'm so fucking fine. I'd have no idea how to turn to a shoulder to cry on even if it was there for me.
I wanted to call my Mum. She thinks I'm better.
I wanted to call my friend. I'm far too proud.
7 months ago, I had nothing. I had no life, no hope.
I have hope now, I have a whole life of opportunity in the City of London waiting for me if I want it.
IF I WANT IT.
But the fact is, the only thing I'm certain I want is to be thin. And for as long as I want to be thin, I will always have an eating disorder. And as long as I have an eating disorder, I will never have anything else.
http://blogs.independent.co.uk/2011/06/03/bulimia-laid-bare/
http://dropitandeat.blogspot.com/2011/05/eating-disorder-denial-missing-big.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6wJl37N9C0&feature=youtu.be
I will always want to be thin and will thus always have some form of disordered eating behaviors. The best I can do for myself is to manage it so I'm not hurting my health. I can't be in recovery if I don't truly have an ED so I'm stuck. Please be careful with the purging. No job, no life is worth having if you are too ill to partake. Hang in there and good luck on your interview.
ReplyDeleteI feel your pain. Until I'm thin, I feel like I'll have problems with eating. But I always wonder, when I'm thin, will this all still be there? Because I can't stay thin if I don't do these things...
ReplyDelete