Please click your way to egocidal.blogspot.com this is a fucking relapse blog, and I’m done relapsing, hopefully.
I’d totally want to have a horse like this
One day, I shall get out of tiny and expensive Singapore and own a horse. I”ll call him or her Engelvitze, Agn, Aleksei, Sovskii, Zovskii, Vladislav, Ianka, Antal, Iskalon, Askalon… On a Russian kick here btw.
Etienne, Tatomir. Or Romanian: Strigoi. Callicantzaro, Incubus/Succubus.
help. I don’t want to go to school today. I don’t know why, it’s perfectly easy, perfectly IMPORTANT and it’s only for about 5 hours. as compared to the usual 8 hours, it’s PEANUTS. shit. I leave in about 30 minutes but I’m afraid I won’t go after all… ARGH.
it’s these little things I’ve got to bear or else. my life is for nought.
why binge and purge
The only thing that really cuts it for me (so far) is bingeing. In a screaming match with my mom, I binge. It saves my sanity, it saves me screaming at her and making things worse. I eat my words in big bites and purposeful chewing, these hurtful and angry words that shouldn’t be heard by anyone. It muffles the hurtful comments about my bingeing and how I’m the lowest of the low–I can block out all the shit I can’t stand to experience. I get those words out together with the curdled mess clogging up my stomach, all of it, the past hour, week, life, gone with a flush. Now, who wouldn’t be sticking with such a brilliant method of self-preservation?
And I was thinking, what’d I do without food?
still as immature as ever.
::fumes
Okay, it’s weird how some people equate a bulimic’s purge with the use of fingers (usually just the index, though I have seen up to four) into the mouth, down the throat. For some reason, it just annoys me. It’s not the concept of using fingers as a gagging tool, but the whole … GESTURE. It’s the avoidance of using the word puke/throw up/vomit. And instead substitute a shitty mimicry of waggling index and second fingers vaguely in front of a slack-jawed visage, all the while pretending that you know, you know what I mean, when I say are you still actively *insert stupid puking motion*…. makes being caught having sex with a chicken, a chicken pie, a toilet roll holder seem tame (which it is).
In my experience, the whole hand–that is four fingers sans the thumb, requires practice, ie. it doesn’t go down well unless one has been doing this for a while, for whatever reasons (mine was due to a dying gag reflex. Periodically, I had to put more fingers in but was limited by the circumference of my lips).
But commonly, people, ie. bulimics use two to three. Rarely one, because it doesn’t do the job as well as three. Gagging doesn’t come easy for some, especially when they don’t eat much before deciding to stick their heads down the toilet.
And then there’s the hands-free set. Now I’m gonna sound like I’m selling cell phones. Anyway, we are bulimics who puke without the use of the annoying hand-in-half-open-mouth shakey gesture. No hands, no hangers, no feathers that tickle a la Caesar (though he wasn’t bulimic, the Romans just love food too much. They probably weren’t afraid of getting fat, but of sploding their guts. reference-encyclopaedias). And that, I think, is another reason for my ire towards people-who-GESTURE.
We’re not messy, not with practice, oy.
I’ll never wear culottes again. At least not til I’m under 100, which sounds more and more like a fairytale (or not). Never wear culottes, or flaring mini-whatevers when you’re pear shaped and thicker than ectomorphs. Dumpy upside down cake is what I look like.
But good news! I weigh 121.6, which is almost 20lbs down from my high weight, and 2 lbs down from my original when-i-was-17-and-pre-ed weight. Still fat but that’s changing eeever so slowly.
Sorry, I’m so brain dead. It sucks being so stupid and devoid of thought and imagination but… I think for now, in my short-sighted manner, I’d rather be stupid and thin. Qui veut la fin veut les moyens.
Slept from 2.30 til nearly 6 afternoon. Definitely catching up on those nights.
I can say now that bulimia is stealing my sleep. Work I could have done during those nights were disregarded in favor of food. And by the time I was done cleaning up, I’d be too tired to concentrate and mostly fell asleep straight after.
Hah. Without bulimia, I’d still binge, or rather, eat way more than my physiology needs, and still be so conked out by the caloric overload and tryptophan receiving that I’ll fall asleep anyway.
That is an excuse. I really don’t want to give up throwing up, it’s my addiction. Precontemplative stage if I ever knew one. Funnily enough, I’ve been at this stage ever since the whole gamut of eating disorders started. Even through all the times I tried going to doctors on my own, which was quite often, averaging one new doctor per annum. I wasn’t looking to stop, I think, this throwing up, I was asking to be relieved of these responsibilities in my life that’s so unbearable for me that I needed to throw up to keep me from going mad. Didn’t realize it then, when I actually told the very first doctor I wanted to stop. He prescribed fluoxetine, which did help, but strangely, I hated it because it took away my binge appetite so… that was that. It was the thing that I needed to binge away that required stopping, or at least change my mindset about.
What is it? That elusive thing that eludes DEFINITION that I need to tackle but won’t because it’s too much work and so what if I overcame that, I’d still be weird and not accepted and unhappy with my state of existence and stuff.
All I can say now is that I’m (generally) afraid of facing IT. Sometimes my moods are good and I won’t though, and I’ll be fine. Sometimes I’ll just say screw it, and just do it, and I’ll be fine, albeit surprised about how well things went. And sometimes, I’ll run away–
I seem to perceive my mom as harsh because she likes using the tough-love approach (even though it’s obvious, through the years, that it don’t ever work!. So yesterday evening when I was bingeing my ass off as usual, she was like, you’re so lazy, no wonder you’re fat. If you start working out instead of sitting around and eating all day, you won’t be fat. Look at all the fattening food you’re eating, it’s no wonder you’re fat, you asked for it.
Hah, I got down to my lowest weight(which is pretty fucking low thankyou), solely by bingeing and purging 4 times daily minimum. And I’m not talking about oh, I binged on a snickers bar! but 4 pounds of food til I’m gagging. So .. what was I gonna prove? Yeah, that b/ping is not the only cause of my current fat state. But I won’t tell her. Has beens do not make any sort of future.
Granted, it is frustrating to see your daughter bingeing and purging every bleeding day. It gets on your nerves, the doggedness of the hand to mouth action, the single-mindedness of the toilet trips–which would be admirable if I had actually applied the persistence to other more important things like school and… school.
I had a minute of stunned silence in my head, all the while pretending to study. To cry or not to cry, is NOT a question. Damned if I will admit that she detonated a self-esteem bomb over my negative supply.
And guess what? She buys popcorn for me today, in a giant tub that sings in acapella: BINGE HERE!
Done some work. Questionnaire questions. Gotta do enzyme graphs and more reading for the consultation tomorrow.
How many times have I been called weird? Countless. And I reply with the truth: I’d rather be satisfied(is different from happy) and weird. It’s a big thing, this straying from the norm, everyone’s so occupied with being cool and in that they don’t realize it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. But I think some, at least, have actually incorporated that pretence seamlessly into their lives. And that’s fine; I can’t do it though, being this terribly solipsistic and passive person I am.
helo und welcome
Well, been binge purging pretty … interestingly, not badly. I enjoy my binges thankyouverymuch. I keep thinking I’m swamped under in schoolwork that I’ve no time for anything else (except procrastination!).
But truth is, I wouldn’t know what to do with free time other than binge and purge anyway.
Still gunning for the loss of bodily poundage even though it’s really slowing down–it needs more ENZYMES for the substrate to increase my rate of reaction! I know my biochemistry!
Feels like my glycogenesis has been stoked with all that simple sugars I absolutely love scrumptiousing through.
But funny enough, I’m also hoping for a lower reading. To the loo, to the loo.
Loving Orbital. And I think I’m starting to appreciate the (mis)use of tags.
