Bruiser

168.8 this morning, but not for long. 7 lbs in a week is unsustainable especially by my standards. It had to end at some point. 173.6 on the scales tonight, at 3am, after Black Russians, beer, and McDonalds. I miss JG. Life is too short to live in a fairytale, but I want him so badly, more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life. Caro is staying. She's a breath of fresh air. Bash isn't speaking to me. The guy she was seeing the previous times she visited me here, came onto me last week and I had an honest moment, told her everything. It may have been the biggest mistake of my life, but the whole thing made me feel so damn uncomfortable I had to get it off me somehow. If I was more naive and less cynical I would say it was sexual assault, or at the very least highly invasive. Now I'm just used to it. I'm a real bruiser. I don't even get drunk off spirits anymore. I bought a dress, for Lina's graduation tomorrow. I intend to fast all day on coffee so I can fit into it; I'll take a picture, if I have time, and upload it here. It shows my stomach but if I suck in and don't eat all day I should be able to get away with it at dinner. Ugh, I shouldn't have had all of that salt at McDonalds. It's so bloating. Mafia Jacket (real name protected) from work is messaging me. I think he loves me, or wants to fuck me, or both. I don't even know whether I like him or not. I think I like other Joe. I'm so fucking confused right now. I just need to be alone and starve for a while so I can feel self sufficient again. Skinny for when he comes back, so he regrets it all.

Bruises

I told him, in jest, that I bruise like a peach. But today, 10 days on, I still have those bruises on my arms and legs, and it's a reminder. I reminder of what we had, not just the sex but everything beyond.

I have to write him a letter. I have his address, but I don't know what's blocking me. Is it that I'm scared sick he's met someone else already?

His best friend, Joel, told me I was being somewhat pathetic about it. That it was only a "brief whirlwind romance". Why don't boys ever get it? Am I just like all those other needy girls who fell for JG? The whole thing makes me nauseous. It is all so time consuming, frustrating, depressing, horrific and disgusting.

Moving on. Thank you, Bella & Sam, for your comments on my last post(s). I went to the appointment and it actually went well. She seemed cynical at first (or maybe that's just my paranoia talking) but by the end she was in agreement with me that the dose I was on was far too low considering the severity of my symptoms, and agreed to trial a higher dose with me, with a view to meet again in a month to touch base and probably increase further. She switched out my first 10mg dose of standard methylphenidate with 18mg Concerta XR (longer-release ritalin, 8 hrs instead of 4) and kept the other 2 10mg doses the same. So I'm on 38 mg /daily now, and I haven't decided whether I like the extra-release ritalin better or not. I don't feel it as much, but it makes me feel "normal", whatever the fuck "normal" is... so who knows. We'll see.

On the weight front, I'm down to 170.2. Five pounds in five days isn't bad going. Admittedly, I've forgotten how to eat properly. Yesterday, I ate a couple of bites of porridge (the bowl seemed far too big); at work, a sandwich (low-calorie), half a bag of sweets and some crisps. Today has been much the same; 2 pieces of low-calorie toast for breakfast, then a kind of Spanish omelette/chorizo/egg/kale thing Lina made for dinner. Instantly rejected, because my body sucks. Jazz bar tonight, but hopefully it won't be a late one. I'm exhausted and have a 12-5.

ABC?

Day 1 of the ABC diet sort of inadvertently happened yesterday. I more or less stuck to the limit (although I'm not taking it quite as seriously as previous attempts; as long as I stick roughly to the numbers I'm doing something right) and ate some caramel wholegrain popcorn in the morning (126 cals) and a couple of chips at lunch with some mayo (~50 cals worth) in the afternoon. Then in the evening, Lina, her sister and I went over to our friend Joe's house and drank a whiskey and a glass of wine. I'm not counting alcohol on this diet, it seems pointless as the only time alcohol makes me gain is when I get the drunchies... oh and then I made chilli for everyone and had a small helping, not sure how many calories but I'm guessing around 350? Then I drank a beer later in town.

Yesterday I was 175.4, today I'm 173.0 and that's after hardly any sleep.

I'm desperately missing the other Joe. I will differentiate between the two Joes by referring to "my" Joe as JG (the Joe who's left, who I was seeing, who I may be irrevocably and painfully in love with and perhaps never see again) and our uni friend Joe as JM from here on out. My feelings towards JM are complicated. He seems to find everyone attractive but me, or maybe he's just scared of me.

I have a doc's appointment in 2 hours, to readjust my dose. I hope they sort it out because bloody hell my brain isn't functioning. I get let down by every GP I see and that's why my dose hasn't been increased in four frigging years. Ugh. Fingers crossed.

We bought a microwave, which has made me stupidly excited. I've been making oats in the rice cooker for so long that hot porridge in 1 minute seems too good to be true.

Poison

I am almost definitely not OK. Last night the guy I've been seeing left, and suddenly all I can see in front of me is this unbearable sadness. It's time to starve again.

I'm 175 pounds. I won't go into detail as to how I got there, but involves more than several failed dieting attempts and the return of pernicious, insidious alcoholism that did next to nothing to help The Weight Situation. I was vegan, for a while. It didn't help me lose weight, but it provided a feeling of safety and control. Now I don't seem to stick to anything. Therapy is helping me psychologically, albeit in small increments. I have a job at a bar, and it's not one that I love - far from it - but it pays the bills and keeps me out of trouble.

I haven't written in months and months. Not on this blog, or for pleasure. It's time to start engaging that side of myself again before I become well and truly braindead.

It's 3.30pm and I'm not hungry; all I've consumed is coffee, about 100 calories' worth with the milk. I feel heavy, and all of my clothes look shit.

I think that love is poison. True poison.

I'm devastated and fully intend to "starve the pain away".

I will begin to write again, and it will help, a little.

I will eat a little, drink a little, survive.

Doctor's appointment Wednesday afternoon. I'm asking to up my dose of Ritalin. It won't solve all my problems, but it will definitely help. This mental fog has been going on far too long.