My anorexia is furious. I ate way too much, I ate fried food, I snacked, I didn’t take my diet pills this evening and I haven’t lost weight
My recovery is furious as well. I’m nothing but a failure in this. I was supposed to be stronger. I was supposed to be a role model. people told me that they were proud of how well I was doing but today I purged all of my thanksgiving meal, and I broke a promise that I made in my recovery to never purge in containers again.
My mind is not a safe place. I want to wake up stronger and be the girl that people were proud of. Every inch of me is disappointed. I’m so sorry that I can’t be the person people expect me to be.
I need a hug 😦
The thought of thanksgiving food to people without an eating disorder
When I think about today
I can’t help but sit here and cry. I am overwhelmed with worry for my family, for my friends, and for myself. This weekend everything was out of control. I have rules for a reason. They keep me sane, they help me feel more in control and honestly, they keep me alive. I don’t keep food in my apartment so I don’t over eat and I try my best to only consume things with the calorie count on the back. It’s not even to count them because I don’t live by those numbers. It’s to keep me sane and to keep me in the know about what goes into my body. But this weekend there was food in my parent’s kitchen. I expect the duh from the reader, of fucking course there was food in my parent’s kitchen, it’s a damn kitchen. Nevertheless, that food made me break the rules. I ate more than I normally do and if we are being technically I ate more than the average person.
All my plans have gone to shit, the things I was going to use to protect myself have been taken away and now I am completely vulnerable. In three days it’s Thanksgiving. It’s me and two other people. I can’t hide the food, I am so fucking nervous and I need support but it’s not there. The world doesn’t stop for me and that doesn’t mean I am defective, it just means I am human but damn, everything is moving so fast and is just piling on me and I need time to sort it out. Time being the luxury that I don’t have and ignorantly I tried to stop it by taking handfuls of diet pills. Stupid, stupid choices. I can thank the diet pills to my heart racing and the shakes. Props to you, 30 day diet, you really outdid yourself.
I just have to survive today. The next 60 seconds, then the next 60 seconds and then the next. Every minute I survive is an accomplishment. You’re probably reading this and getting the feeling that I am drowning. I’m not, this is just how I swim. This is how I survive. This is my game plan and I’ll be damned if today it doesn’t work
In the Gore household, it’s no longer about living, it’s about surviving. The moment I turn into my street I feel such a heavy responsibility to be completely perfect. I spend my time here going to pharmacy to pharmacy to pick up my dad’s prescriptions, talking to countless relatives on the phone asking me questions about my dad, making sure my mom is happy, making sure my dad is happy and trying to keep myself together.
It’s heavy being here. It’s weird, I consider myself a very bubbly person when I am around people but when I am at home I become extremely quiet and keep to myself. I literally walk into my house, walk to the couch and hide behind two heavy blankets with my hoodie up to cover my face. When I go out with my mom to get my dad’s medications, I just follow her like a lost puppy. I say very little and it’s very obvious that my parent’s are trying to get information from me. I just can’t speak, I have no words to share. Even the most exciting things that have happened I can’t say. I’m just dead. It’s how I survive.
I want to be the perfect daughter when I am here. I never want to be the problem of the family like I have been in the past so I try extra hard to never say no, to do exactly what I am told, never complain, and to be completely submissive to whatever they say. I am so terrified that my parents will wake up tomorrow and realize that I am a horrible daughter. I would hate for them to look at me and see what I see in me. So I spend my nights here cleaning, baking, writing little notes to tell them I love them and I spend my days trying to come off as the perfect daughter to avoid their disappointment.
It’s exhausting. But at least my house smells like muffins and cookies.
I see the new pictures of Kim Kardashian with her fat ass and insanely small waist and I feel nothing. I have friends who weigh less than I do and for the most part, I do not envy them. There are models who promote not eating a thing and honestly I don’t give a shit. I don’t sing to All About that Bass because I am all about being body positive. No, I don’t give a shit if a person is thinner or if People magazine crossed the line with their photo shopping. Anorexia is paired with being thin (shocker). I can’t tell you how many people hear about my eating disorder and automatically think that the thin that I strived to be was because of standards that society has set for women. For me, that’s not my thin. It’s not about a size or a number or a photoshopped body that I can never achieve.
Thin is restricting myself so I will be light on my feet. The smaller I get, the faster I can run away from all the hurt that I feel without being weighed down. Thin is making my body so fragile that when people see me, they know to handle me with care.
If I become fragile, then people will see that I am not a strong person at all.
I can’t sleep thinking about my dad’s surgery tomorrow. I’m so anxious and tomorrow I will have to withstand that. I’ll have to withstand the pressures to be perfect at school, with being a perfect daughter and with being the perfect friend. I would do anything if I woke up tomorrow so weightless that when stresses are forced on me, I won’t have to fight, my body will be forced to surrender and the day will carry me away.
If I was a lightweight, it wouldn’t take much for me to not feel anymore. Less substance with less effort could intoxicate me to the point where my depression doesn’t make my world shake.
If my body was so skeletal it looked like corpse, people would see that I am a few breathes away from not being able to survive this anymore.
That’s my thin. Nothing would have to break me anymore, my body would show you I was already broken