Update – Back from the nearly dead

The last months have been a bit too much for me.

I’ve tried writing every once in a while but simply couldn’t. I think I wouldn’t have managed even with a brain that did not and does not suffer from malnutrition. But as it was I couldn’t count to three anyway let alone writing about the stuff going on inside me I still don’t understand.

Late in January I’ve been admitted to hospital. Friends of mine panicked, they thought I might drop dead any minute… Don’t know… I can’t comprehend this. Neither that it could have been this serious nor anyone caring if it was.

Nevertheless, they thought so, I accepted because there was no way out anyway and I guess I knew deep down they were right.

The doctors there thought along the same lines… There are great parts that felt so humiliating… Being driven around in a wheelchair… Feeding tube…
How could I let this happen?
I hate anorexia. I hate my mind.

At the moment I’m waiting for a place in another clinic that’ll hopefully help me to prevent something similar happening again.

Going crazy

Well, here we go…

Once again I’m working out as if the world would end, if I would rest for five minutes…
I really thought I got that under control… Obviously I didn’t.
What the heck happened? Why do I feel like such a waste of space?

And I have the feeling I forgot something. And I (obviously, as I’ve forgotten) can’t remember what it is. And I don’t even know if there really is something.

Anorexic heaven?

I was read about somebody saying, Anorexia was wonderful and we should be happy to be able to eat whatever we want, without getting fat.

Oh, that’s great, because that would mean I’m not anorexic *dancing happily* I’ll tell my doctor next time so he can’t nag at me anymore.

No, stuff like that makes me angry. It’s a disease! You know, that’s where people are ill, sick, they are not well, not at all!

And I can’t eat what I want in the first place. And if I could I would gain like everybody. And I don’t even need to be fat to feel fat.
It’s not wonderful, anorexia is hell.

It feels like such people are making fun of the disease. And making fun of anorexia feels like making fun of me.

And saying things like that misleads people over the fact that it’s not just a hobby for teenage girls but a severe illness.
It’s useful sometimes but mostly it, wrongly, makes me feel ashamed of being too stupid to eat.

Living… somehow

Right now I’m just going on. I try not to think, because I don’t want to see.

A few days ago my doctor took a blood sample from me. The results were… not good. Not at all.

And he weighed me… Well, I expected this, but I hate them telling me I should gain all the time… And that I should really go into inpatient treatment, especially when loosing any more weight. It sounds like everybody is playing the same stupid broken record. Why doesn’t somebody just seize me and carries me to the next hospital so this has an end?
I cant go, I tell them all the time, not now. I will go and I’m a person who really does that and they know but nobody cares and so they’re just going on about it.

Okay, I know the problem is, that they care but I can’t get used to this idea. It sounds so strange, when it is regarding to me.

I’m getting bogged down in details…
I know it doesn’t work this way much longer but I don’t want to see yet so I’m just trying to get on as good as possible.

So awkward

Well, the other day, I was invited by girls in my house for the evening. So I went up there, because I didn’t know how to get out of it and actually somehow I did want not to be alone.

So I went up and yes, I felt like a total jerk. I just wanted to leave but couldn’t guess how, without turning the attention to me.

So I sat there for hours and the more nervous I got the more awkward I felt.

I just hope, I’ll never see them again, but that may be a bit complicated, because they live right above us.

Uh, heaven, just make me invisible! That’s if there is somebody capable to do this, if not I’ll have to live with this disgrace.

I went out

Well, I can’t complain all the time and I don’t intend to because it gets quite depressing, reading it after a while.

I was in the cinema. And I liked it. Well, I liked it, when I was in there an the lights went out, so nobody could see me but nevertheless it was fun and the way there and back was worth it.
It was worth it anyway, because I did it.

It might even be training, for phoning the statistic office on monday to get my stupid polling card, they screwed up to send me…

Missing my life

My flatmate went to our disco, well he went yesterday, but he is there now.

And I just could not go with him. I couldn’t. I nearly freaked out, because I was scared they would all look at me and I would make myself look stupid.
So I decided not to go. But I want it so badly. I want to go out and have fun and just be a normal 22 years old person.

Where did my life go? I just lost it 10 years ago, when I started this crap. Now and then I get a short glimpse and before I even catch on it’s gone.

Promise to myself: Next time I will go!

Upsetting my friends

I’m obviously making my best friend miserable. Well, perhaps tormenting her would be the more indicated expression.
When I spiralled out of control as badly as right now the last time, she didn’t know me. I got to know her just after I grabbed some control back.

So she isn’t used to this situation, well, as used as you can be to something like this.

And now I’m acting like a stupid maniac, making her fear she might loose me.
I’m such a moron, I’d do everything to get out of this, for me and because of her. I totally hate doing this to the only person, really caring about me.

I feel so stucked. I’m turning it over and over in my mind, but I can’t see any way out right now.

Me and my anorexia

I hate it. And I love it. Most of the time I simply need it. I’m dependent, absolutly addicted, giving everything I have just for restricting. My friends, my family, my happiness, my life.

I don’t want to, but I do it anyway. Countless therapies didn’t get me off the hook.

I feel I’m not worth anything, but the anorexia gives me the illusion I am at last good at something.
I want control over my body. In therapy they are taking it from me, making me gain weight, irrespective of my own will. Well, its more the anorexia’s will, so they are somehow right doing it, but I want to show them that I can do, what I want with my own damn body.
But proofing would mean dying and that would be a bit definitely.

And just doing it, because I want to proof it, wouldn’t have to do much with an own will.