l0wszzn

[l0wszzn]

I can't eat

many many times have I thought that it was over

it really was physical at first. of course I had thoughts about losing weight, it's summer, I wanna dress cute, I hate my body - I think about losing weight. but it's just mental, I can keep it at bay and stay physically healthy.

but I'll always wish I was smaller

it started getting warmer and I finally live in a country where I can wear the shit I want to. so I try on some stuff, go clothes shopping look online. but nothing looks good. and then I go on the scale and I see an absolutely terrifying number.

53kg

bmi 19.2, that is barely even in the healthy range, yet the number repulses me. I was pretty badly relapsed in February, I think I got down to the 47s, and then I got addicted to ketamine. then I was just obsessed with that instead of being obsessed with losing weight.

it's always from one addiction to another, my whole life I've been addicted to something. not always drugs or weight loss, it can be something as harmless as a person or hobby, but it isn't my choice what addiction my brain decides to self medicate myself with.

I could get into this problem - self medicating with addiction - but I'm trying to stay on topic.

I slowly, painfully, begrudgingly, dragged myself out of my 3 month long ketaminated haze, and came out of it 6kg heavier.

and without my ketamine addiction to fill the void, the next one seems to be already lined up and waiting for me.

but I didn't act on it. almost because I didn't have the willpower to. I definitely tried, but it didn't stick. I don't even think I fully remember the first week or two of quitting, but I had my audition to obsess over I guess, and I had to eat to be able to perform.

dance was the only thing that ever managed to keep me in check

each time I was genuinely close to death from this, the thing that pulled me out of the depths of it was the fact that I became too weak to dance at all. after a certain point you can't move through the haze. I like to think that's why I never got to those super scary immediate hospitalization weights that I always fantasized about.

then the audition was over

and then they said no

and then I didn't have dance to latch onto anymore. I doesn't matter if I go to class or not - I have a year until the next audition anyway, and fuck all to do during that year.

and I was still able to keep the thoughts at bay, I'm a seasoned pro at this, getting rejected from a school won't be enough to push me back into the disorder.

but it will definitely push me close

and then - genuinely out of nowhere I started having problems with my stomach.

it was the week before my period, so I just ignored it. I'm usually less hungry the week before my period so have cares really, I'll eat way more than usual on my period anyway right?

but then my period comes and my appetite doesn't change. at this point I was definitely feeling it physically - too weak to go to class or do much of anything - but my family was here so I dragged myself outside to see them, and I was still eating every day.

I noticed I looked thinner

I weighed myself

51.9kg

holy shit.

I've lost weight, and I always mentally rounded down my weight in a way - to try and make myself believe I was actually thin, so I thought "damn, 51kg." "damn, that's only 1kg away from 50kg" "damn, that's so close to the 40s"

and this obsession with the 40s, oh my God.

my weight disgusts me unless it starts with a 4, this is just one of those things that has not even remotely left me. just like refusing to drink calories.

again, I was always able to push it to the back of my mind because I didn't really weigh myself, but the weight I already lost triggered me SO badly

and I did look better.

I was more confident in my clothes, and I was way more confident without clothes on

so I stopped fighting the nausea, if I feel too sick physically to eat - why should I?

I'll just eat when my stomach actually feels like it can take it.

and I kept losing weight.

51.3kg

50.9kg

not fast enough, but whatever it's something.

I do believe that if I get down to 48kg, we'll into the bmi 17s range, I'll be happy and won't want to lose more

but who knows

and physically it's just getting worse.

I haven't done shit since my family left, just stayed at home, too weak to do anything, but also feeling full as fuck despite kot having eaten shit.

and as I'm typing this right now, I'm sitting in my gym bathroom, extremely bloated despite having only eaten some yoghurt and 6 dumplings today. and the bloating isn't body dysmorphic delusion, I have a tape measure. I looked so good in the morning, now I can't look at myself.

apart from that, I feel so full in my stomach, I'm coughing and gagging as if I were about to throw up, horrible acid reflux, and I have the hollow feeling in your stomach - I know all of this is because I haven't eaten, but I don't feel like any food I ate right now would stay down.

and I'm still not fully mad about it

yes I feel terrible - unmotivated, exhausted, grumpy, anxious. but I'll wake up lighter tomorrow right?

it's such a sticky situation, an anorexic is never gonna get sick in their stomach and force themselves to eat through it - why would they? it's free weight loss

and despite all my recovery attempts, all my healthy phases, and all the times I've been at a healthy weight, I'm still anorexic.

and I don't feel comfortable typing that out even, my bmi is 18.5, way too high.

hopefully 47 or 48 is enough

[l0wszzn]

everyone's going to leave me

and by everyone i mean him

because he is everything to me, and i want him to love me, to care for me

to notice me

as much as i hate it, that's the main thing I think i want here

to be noticed

to have my suffering be seen by someone else

i cut myself, but cover it with a bandage so he doesn't see it. but im not covering it because i think he won't notice, its only because im embarassed by how shallow the cuts are

not bad enough

not sick enough

i want him to ask about it, is that shitty of me?

i starve myself all day, and i dont even know why. yes im unhappy with my body, but it's so much deeper than that. somehow feeling completely drained, unable to move my body or feel any emotion makes me feel validated

if i feel this weak it has to mean im sick enough right?

my brain is too foggy to even write well, i always tell him i feel depleted, hoping he will offer me food, instead of just eating something by himself, not offering me any.

i need him to tell me its okay

thats all i want

to be wrapped up in his arms - his arms that i love so much, i need to tell him that - and be told its okay

why the fuck am i so fragile and sensitive about this right now

im so fragile

i can't think of a reason why either - everything is just too much for me

im not even doing anything with my life, i have nothing to be stressed about

but i just want to cry

i just want to cry and be told its okay

like a fucking baby

its literally food, what the fuck is my problem

why am i getting angry when he eats something without explicitly offering me some?

is it because i feel like he also thinks i shouldn't be eating? no it's deeper than that - it means he doesn't care about me. back to square one - he doesn't care about me. he doesn't care about me starving myself, he doesn't care about me cutting myself, and by extension he doesn't care about the HELL that i go through in my mind every day

every emotion on fucking overdrive all day every day. words will never be able to describe how this feels, and no one will understand it unless they go through it as well.

is it pathetic that i always make everything about my bpd?

i have no right to feel this way

it is not his job to deal with my problems

he doesn't deserve to deal with me struggling to do something as basic as eating food

he doesn't deserve to see me come home from work with another bandage on my arm

and i have no right to be angry when he doesn't notice these things

NO RIGHT

my mind is such a disgusting ugly place, i think so many ugly thoughts and feel so many ugly things about other people

this can never show

i can't let my anger or jealousy or desperation to be noticed - to be acknowledged- ever show, the extent of these feelings is genuinely so disgusting i am so afraid it will spill over too much one day and ill lose him

im disgusting

and ugly

i cant stop thinking about the day he finally gets sick of having to reassure me - give me permission - to eat, that's how it feels i think. i need his permission to eat, because im not supposed to be allowed to eat, i can't even put my finger on why

its so frustrating

i cant fully say why i do it, i dont want to say i do it for attention, but i definitely partially do

but if the damage i do to myself is severe enough then its okay for me to get attention for it right?

and the cuts

im SURE it makes him uncomfortable

he probably thinks its gross or pathetic, i just want to ask him what he thinks when he sees me with new ones

i want him to ask about them so badly - "why did you do it?" "are you okay?" "im here for you"

but that's NOT. HIS. JOB.

and one day hes going to realize im too much to deal with, too many problems, too fucked up

i dont even do it because i want him to notice, thats not what im thinking about while i slide the blade across my arm - all i think while im doing that is that i need to hurt

i need to suffer, because i am such an ugly person, but the suffering needs to be outwardly visible

a pathetic silent cry for help

but i cant expect this from him

and i dont.

but i can wish - knowing it isnt possible or fair

hopefully this passes, i dont know why the fuck i am doing all this again

relapse

im relapsing in all my self harming behaviours hardcore, and there is genuinely no reason for it

im supposed to be happy, i have this amazing boyfriend, i like my job, im applying to study something i love - but still i feel the need to make myself suffer

maybe that's what it is

i just have this inherent need to make myself suffer, because i deserve it

im an asshole, my mind is so ugly, im fucking stupid, im not doing anything with my life, im lazy, im useless

im an inconvenience

my existence is an inconcenience to everyone around me

genuinely

i feel sorry for them

but that's not even all - the painkillers

why doesn't he ask about that? im five days clean from opioids and not a single soul cares

its so hard, they are on my mind 24/7 - i cannot stop thinking about it, but ive pushed through for five days and not a soul gives a fuck

and why would they?

again, why am i expecting people to care about these things, why does it make me angry

im so angry all the time about everything and i dont know how to make it go away

its disgusting

im not even angry, it feels as if theres someone else at the steering wheel - someone who wants to lash out, force a reaction out of everyone

but i still feel it

its so strong, and im so afraid i wont be able to keep it to myself

my worst fear on earth is making someone else feel my pain

but i just want to be seen

to be cared for

im so scared all te time, and i just want to be comforted about everything

just a hug

or an acknowledgement

but its my problem.

and as much as i bitch about wanting to be seen - i shouldn't be

because my problems aren't bad enough

my cuts aren't deep enough to be worth worrying about

im not thin enough to be worth worrying about

my opioid addiction isn't severe enough to be worth worrying about

im not worth worrying or caring about

im noticing that i use the words worry and care interchangeably - because thats what i was taught

my whole life - by my fucking parents, and ariela

i dont think anyone understands why i hold so much resentment towards these people - because ive never gotten into the extent of how badly these people have fucked me over

and to be honest, its most likely not even that serious - im just dramatizing everything

again

im not worth the care and worry that i crave

but i want to be

and this is why i spiral

why i starve

why i cut

why i wish my drug problems were worse than they are

but i dont deserve to be cared for in this way

because im not sick enough

[l0wszzn]

I am a black hole

and it's never going to end.

the concept of a soul never made sense to me. to have a "self" or a defined identity seems so foreign and almost not real or impossible. unachievable, something that only exists in movies. if i were to try and define mine it would be like the tromptus in my favorite childhood show, Mia and Me. scattered across the entire world one tiny piece left behind in each country i've lived in, or person i've been with.

anything i could say to try and describe who i am is bound to another thing or another person, every piece of my non existent "identity" is attached to and created entirely around something or someone else, and once that thing or person is no longer in my life, there goes whatever sense of identity i may have managed to scrape together. and nothing stays for longer than a couple years.

because, at the end of the day, whenever someone asks me, "what do you want to study?" "what are your hobbies?" or god forbid, "what makes you happy?" i can never give a proper answer. my favorite colour, my favorite food, my favorite animal, my favorite song.

i don't fucking know.

and it pisses people off even.

i don't know anything about myself, i can't introduce myself to people, i'm a completely different person around everyone, and it makes me feel like a horrible person. like i'm fake or putting on a front, even though i desperately don't want to.

reading this back, it doesn't even seem to express what i want it to, the severity of this feeling. because i also don't know how i feel. ever. "what's bothering you?" "what's wrong?" "how are you feeling?" i don't fucking know. i really appreciate it but i can't ever properly answer. i want to so badly.

one of the symptoms of bpd listed in the dsm-v is described as "identity disturbance with markedly or persistently unstable self-image or sense of self". and that's all there is to it. that's all it is, just the stupid disorder.

but it's so fucking painful

i want to be a person, instead of this empty shell. i don't feel anything, i don't have any real interests, i hardly know what i'm thinking half of the time.

there's nothing constant about me. i feel as if my personality changes every day or even every few hours and i don't know my own opinion on anything.

weirdly i could compare it to being hungry or craving something but you don't know what you're craving, and no matter what you eat it doesn't go away, even if you're about to throw up because you're so full.

or being so sleepy you can't really occupy yourself with anything, but no matter what position you lie down in you can't get comfortable, and then it's been three hours, you're still searching for a comfortable position and now you're wide awake, with no sleep and have to be up in two hours for work.

and even though i've written so much now, i still feel there's so much missing to it, because i truly don't know how i feel, i don't know who i am, or who i'm meant to be

i know my name, i picked the damn thing myself, but when i hear it i have no clue who that's meant to be. i always ask people to tell me how they see me, or what they think of me, because at my core, if i even have one, i don't know who i am.

[l0wszzn]

diving into an all time low

i know how it feels, been through it countless times over the years. i know it's awful, i know it's just pure misery. but I find myself time and time again, hoping to fall into another one of those spirals. to hit rock bottom again, have nothing in my life matter to me except for the one thing. the one thing i believe i can control. i can't control it. never have.

but yet...

it's so comforting. the rock bottom calls me, offering me comfort and protection from everything that's going wrong, like a warm blanket. that feeling, you can't put it into words. you have to have felt it to understand. how can one find so much comfort in so much misery? maybe because it's so familiar, maybe because it makes everything else in your life fade away into the background, irrelevant. all your relationships, work, studies, day to day responsibilities. every little thing in your day to day that drains you of your already limited energy, all the relationships which I can't go about like a normal fucking person. everything becomes so irrelevant.

because you're already miserable.

instead of worrying about that one person, "do they like me" "did i fuck up for good this time" "are they getting tired of me" "when will i see them again" "when will they text me back" something, anything. Anything from them, because if they like me, if they are near me, then everything is okay. but that will never happen. no one will ever reciprocate these feelings for me. and they shouldn't, if i'm going to be honest. it isn't healthy, but i want it. i want THAT person to care for me, to love me, and to tell me everything will be okay.

maybe that's where it comes from.

where it always came from.

if i'm small enough, if i look sick enough, worrysome enough, then they will care. then they will have to.

at that point the all time low, the spiral, rock bottom, can give so much comfort. no one ever thinks of it as a coping mechanism.

but that's what it is at its core.

when you have a mind like this. plagued with yearning thoughts about a person i can't even fucking choose. a person who can NEVER know how dependant i am on them to function. then the obsession becomes a way to quiet everything. push everything to the back of my mind because what's at the front, what's important, is the numbers.

count the calories.

count the meals.

count the protein.

count the weight.

control. control. control.

everything is under control. all that matters is staying under my limit. losing one more kg. eating less, and less, and less. until i'm nothing. so small that they have to turn their head, give me the slightest bit of attention. and then everything is okay.

become nothing. no thoughts in my mind, because the starvation makes it impossible to think. nothing can go wrong if the only thoughts i have the energy to form are calculations and numbers right?

the phrase "i miss the rage" has so much meaning here. finding comfort in your own misery, you have a period of time where everything is okay, an "up" phase, in which you think you'll never go back. never go back to that misery, suffering and pain.

yet here you are.

again.

on the precipice, the misery is familiar, you know it very well.

and you want it back.

you want the warm blanket.

because it's become cold again, and you need someone, anyone, to keep you warm.

even if the eating disorder is the only option left.