No really, I am losing the plot at the moment. The only thing I can think that has set this off is the stupid Provera pills. Why is it the minute I am put on some kind of hormone I go completely dilly!?
I was mildly depressed and agitated on Saturday already, then last night was a wreck and sobbed my eyes out. Sat on the floor in a hot shower bawling like a baby. A total overreaction to being exhausted and having to wait on everyone hand and foot over the weekend whilst grinning through the pelvic pain (again, thanks Provera) and herpes break out (fever, aches, dizzy spells etc.). I actually wanted to swallow a whole bunch of pills and zone out, maybe forever. THAT scares me.
This morning I feel no better. I am so depressed I honestly could just take a whole stack of pills. I have a lovely big bottle of Mitil…200 odd tablets. Lucky for me I’ve been down that road and know it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. And spending 3 days in hospital on a drip after drinking cups of activated charcoal just doesn’t feel like it’s the pick-me-up I need. Although I could really be tempted to do it just for the rest and looking after I would receive. HOW on earth did my mind go from happy camper to suicidal in the space of a day…
I forced myself to go through the motions this morning. I even got myself on to my yoga mat and did half an hour. Then I saw my fat rolls and all hell broke loose. Now not only am I depressed but I feel guilty, angry, disgusted. I swear I’ll never eat again…after breakfast.
I make myself a mix of plain yoghurt with blueberries, some slices of banana, goji berries and some rice krispies. Then I drink down a hot chocolate with 1/2 milk instead of all water.
“Good going. GREAT start. FATFATFAT. You greedy pig. You disgusting, glutton. What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have no self-control. You’re so fat. Look at you. Feel that disgusting food sitting in your stomach like lead. Like poison. FEEL it you pig. I hope you feel sick now. I hope you suffer for this.” Ana is such a bitch. I just want to cry. I know I’m fat. This last week (has it only been a week?? I swear to god it feels like a lifetime) of upping calories has been hell. I can’t do this. ONE WEEK and it feels like I’ve completely lost the plot. Like I’ve put on 10 kg’s. Like I’m popping out of my clothes. Like I’m hungry all the time and even though I swear I won’t eat so much next time I can’t help it because I’m so hungry. I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t. I wish I wasn’t emetophobic so that I could get rid of all the crap sitting inside me.
I don’t want to be sitting here alone. I need to not think. I need to zone out. I need to run or skip or burn this off somehow. anyhow! I need a safe space. I need a hug. I need to not be alone feeling like I want to cut or swallow pills or howl until I have no more tears to cry. I hate my doctors. I hate them for putting me on all these stupid fucking pills that just make things worse. Why won’t my body work?! How do I stop myself from creating all this sickness?? It must be all in my head. Everyone keeps telling me it is. My boyfriend told me again last night. It’s stress and obsession and I create all this sickness. I fucking hate myself for creating it. Am I so weak that I do this to myself. What is wrong with me. Ah I just want to die. I’m so tired of this. I can’t even waste away because I’m too weak to not eat. I’m to weak to just give up. But I don’t even know what I am fighting for any more. Why the fuck am I here.