One big long f*cking rant.

Fuck it, I'll just say it: I'm horrendously depressed. I spent the entire day crying, eating, crying, eating and then crying some more. The good news is I finally managed to go through those books, at least enough of them to amass 2,500 words of quotes.

The bad news is that I'm fat, spotty, borderline considering going back on antidepressants. It took me so fucking long to come off them that going back on the stuff is the last thing I want to do, and I want to try to wait this out to see if there's an alternative solution which doesn't involve entering the Sertraline Spiral for the 3rd time in 2 years. But, admitting I've heavily considered re-medicating myself over these past few days is the only way to accurately sum up just how awful it's been.

I weighed in at 171.6 this afternoon when I woke up (yes, you read that correctly, afternoon). I've been picking my face out of anxiety and I look a complete mess. It seems I can only stay afloat emotionally for a night or two, before it all catches up with me again and I end up back in the place I was 10 days ago: wishing that she'd call, to check I'm okay, and wounded that she hasn't; simultaneously, livid at everything she's done, and wishing I could just be unborn from how terrible this feels, and binge-eating carbs in front of Netflix.

Binge-eating, face-picking, crying, not being able to concentrate: it's all anger turned inwards. In fact it was my mum, and then L.T. who originally enlightened me by telling me virtually all of my depression was anger turned inwards. I know that the only way to move on from this is to get this anger out of my system so I can concentrate on my work, because I refuse to let someone ruin my chances like this. At the same time, what outlet do I possibly have for my anger? And how can I get it out productively? My mum suggested I write a long letter or email, just to let it out, but I don't want to have to voluntarily contact L ever again. She's hurt me too much. I was made additionally angry by the fact that today I learnt she's been trying to go through my sister, texting her and asking how I am. She also sent the most stupid fucking message saying she figured I was finding life "so much easier" without her around. Why can't she just write to me directly? To even dare to write that my life has been anything remotely resembling "easy" since last week is the biggest injustice out. This has been one of the hardest times I've had to go through in my entire university experience, and I'm STILL going through it, WITHOUT her. I can't even go into detail about how upset and mad this makes me, honestly. And I've never felt so abandoned in my life. She's a coward, she won't accept responsibility for a thing she's done. I've told my sister how unhappy I am, but it doesn't matter to an extent what information she chooses to pass onto L when L's primary mission is to remain blameless. If my sister tells L the truth, which is that I've been suicidally depressed and dysfunctional, seriously considering medication again for the first time in six months, and unable to work, L will find ways to convince herself it's not her problem. As someone who historically buckles under pressure and emotionally detaches automatically in response to any kind of perceived threat, L would take this as further incentive not to reach out. If my sister remains vague on the information she chooses to transfer, L can continue to eschew responsibility and escape the reality of what she's done by denying herself the ability to imagine a worst-case scenario. Equally, if my sister only scratches the surface in presenting an image of me as merely sad, rather than devastated, L can remain ignorant and keep lying to herself that it's not as bad as it really is.

More than anything, I think it's loathsome of her to text my sister, and not me. On one hand, learning this news was fortunate for me: it only served to re-confirm how puerile her argumentation is. And re-confirm that she's a child. A child who can't grasp anything real.

Tomorrow, there will be cleaning, more crying, and probably pizza. But after Tuesday, it's going to be ten straight days of restricting, (hopefully) in the form of a juice/coffee/soup fast, and non-stop, OCD-level dissertation work. I will go into town every day to get lunch in the form of either a green juice or iced coffee, and I will stock up on cup-a-soups and the occasional ramen. I will vow not to weigh myself until after those 10 days are up. I will vow to be an automaton freak until the end of the dissertation, on the 15 May. Then I will weigh myself, gather my courage, and start to mend myself somehow. And apply for post-graduate jobs. Hopefully whilst a little thinner, braver, and bolder than before.

Day 2/3

Breakfast/Lunch:
- Had half of the Cocio, 1 pain au chocolat, a plum and half of the cheese.

Snack at the library:
- A Sprite, sunbites + a roll of fruit pastilles (vending machine life...)

Dinner:
- 4 Linda McCartney vegetarian sausages + black lentils w/ tomato, feta, parsley, onions

Total: ~1900 calories

So yesterday wasn't exactly low-cal, but this afternoon I weigh 169.8 again, ie. back in the safe zone.

Mummy is coming up on Sunday to keep me company for a couple of days. I really need it. It'll mean having to wake up early af, but you know what, I need to stop sleeping in until lunch time. I need a routine. I have two effing weeks until my dissertation is due for hand-in, I have to get my stuff sorted out. No more fucking around! Yesterday I hauled fourteen freaking heavy hardback books back from the library, and I had to pay a £22 fine in order to take them out in the first place, so you know... I need to actually make that debt worth it and go through those books.

Today I've had 2 pain au chocolats, an Actimel and about a litre of water. I've done virtually nothing, besides binge-watch Gossip Girl and knit. Don't know what's up with my lack of focus lately. oh unless you're counting what happened last Wednesday. But we're not going to talk about that again until this degree is actually finished for sanity's sake.

Going to get a drink with JM tomorrow potentially. I went over to his house last Sunday, it was nice to remind myself I do actually still have some friends. I told him everything that had happened with L, he was amazingly supportive. Also, an old friend of JG is still hanging around town, and wants to see me. Because his name starts with another "J", I'll call him Jed for distinguishing purposes (forgive me, it's been a while since I've blogged about my life to the extent of having to find anonyms for the people in it). I didn't want to give the wrong idea by hanging out with Jed last year because I was sleeping with JG, but seeing as it's been literally a year since I heard from that boy, I'm going to say that potentially it's fine to go on a date with Jed in May. If it is a date. I mean Jesus, I'm getting presumptuous. Maybe he just wants to hang out as friends. Just to throw the question out there: is someone into you if they mention they wanted to ask you to a lecture on sixties cinema on campus, when they don't even attend your university? God knows I can't read signals anymore. Especially not from 25 year old guys.

The GNBGT159QSP (Great No-Binge Get-To-159-Quicksmart Plan) | Day 1

Excuse the ridiculous title of this post; my attempt at humour. But seriously. I have re-affirmed my goals. I want to reach 159 by the time I leave university, which is freakishly close. The date I leave isn't entirely set in stone, but it's going to be around June/July (dissertation in by May, lease over by June earliest). And then of course there's graduation, but we're not thinking about that yet. (Hello, agoraphobia, my old friend...).

Weight this morning was unspeakable. But, as predicted, well above the acceptable mark.

Intake (haven't done one of these in a while, excuse guestimates):

B/L:
- Lemon croissant (250)
- Orange juice (80)
- Fruit salad (Plum (30) Watermelon (10) Mango (10))
- Cheese (150)
(NB: by the time I was done with the above I was too full to have the cocoa; my waistline will thank me later.)

S:
- Black coffee, courtesy of L.T.* (0)

D:
- 2 bacon sandwiches (660)
- Sunbites (120)
- Lemon slice (130)
- Respectably-sized glass of malbec (??who cares)

T: ~1440

Not the lowest, but best I've done in a while.

Starting to heal, slowly. I've finally stopped crying: I think (I know I said this in my last post, but L.T. this evening saw the last few tears. I hope.) It's going to take a while. But, I'm done with the self-destructive shit. I want to be. I'm ready to stop wanting to hurt myself. Time to start giving a damn about my appearance and life again, it's been far too long investing in someone else's.

* L.T. here stands for Lovely Therapist. He really is. More than anything he understands my need for caffeine.

The end of an era

Time to roll out of the bed I've made and get my shit together. I'm sick of being depressed - over L, over my own life - and dysfunctional. I am getting my life back starting tomorrow. It's the end of an era and I need to mourn it and move on. She doesn't care about me anymore, so it's time for me to stop caring too, and stop hurting myself over it.

I haven't been able to stick to any plans, obviously. I don't even know what a "plan" looks like anymore. At least I've stopped crying, but instead, I've been watching TV all day, drinking wine and binge eating toast and butter every evening on top of normal meals.

Tonight I weigh 174.4, after weighing 169 this morning. I'll be in the 170s tomorrow, and I'll hate myself for it. This has to end. Now.

I don't want to diet, I just want the weight gone. What I know is I want to lose 10 pounds, fast. I don't know how, but I have to find a way. Ugh.

Screaming through my fingers at 5 a.m

This week has been the fucking week from hell and the absolute pinnacle of loneliness. Things went from bad to worse with L. I haven't told the whole story on here, because it's tedious, but things have been going south for months. Actually, it's been downhill for longer than I can remember, but I have this funny way of convincing myself things are going fine when they're really not. On Wednesday I ended it properly, and ever since, I've been pretty much exclusively on the floor. Crying hysterically. When not on the floor I've been in bed, eating ice cream. It's been horrendous.

I haven't felt depressed like this in so long that I forgot how it feels to actually want to curl up and die. I feel like I've lost my best friend, my girlfriend, my entire life. It should never have dragged out this long. When I look back, I realise I've been in pain for an entire year, but she didn't have the guts to cut me off properly. It's been constant rejection since she left last summer, and it's gone on long enough. I don't have the energy to go into any more detail, but maybe by starting to put it down here, I can start to heal myself and move on.

And you know what? I'm going to get fucking thin.

I haven't been sticking to my sleeping routine I established before this all happened, aka, I can't sleep because I'm so unhappy. I'm considering drinking again, after not really having a drop for five months, because I'm so unhappy and I don't want to feel like this anymore. But I really don't want to give in to alcohol again. Anything's better than that. I can do it without booze. I can do it without completely numbing myself out.

I binged tonight, crying my eyes out at the kitchen table, unable to move. I pushed myself through an entire bag of doritos, an entire bag of popcorn, half a tub of strawberry Haagen-Dazs, and most of a pack of sweets. I had to resist the urge to move onto the loaf of white bread and slab of cheddar I'd bought earlier today (a trip to the shops was the only incentive I could find to leave the house). This was all, inevitably, on top of the large dinner I'd had, and breakfast. I don't really "do" lunch these days.

I believe in set points. I believe in changing them, I believe that I've changed mine and I can keep lowering it through persistent gradual conditioning. My weight doesn't easily push above 170 these days, through months of conditioning the number to stay down. It's a miracle, but not one I should take for granted. I certainly don't feel like testing out what happens if I keep eating like I did today. The urge to stick my fingers down my throat has never been so hard to resist. Thankfully, I just popped a Nytol instead (pills always preferable to alcohol, these days), put on Gossip Girl (because the mindless sluttiness of it was miraculously enough to stop me from crying and stuffing my face) and made a hot water bottle. Self-indulgence is where it ends - I refuse to plummet back into self-destruction.

And, funnily enough, I don't see the aforementioned plan of getting fucking thin as self-destructive. You know what? I deserve to look good. Looking good, looking my best, will make me feel more than I do now, which is a piece of worthless shit because of her. Not being valued by someone for a year makes you feel like you have no value. I need to gain back my own good opinion.

Tonight was a binge, so I won't be surprised to see 169 or even (ugh) 170 tomorrow. It's also 5a.m., so I probably won't wake up until the afternoon. I hope I don't. I don't even want to weigh myself tomorrow, but I know I will. I've virtually forgotten how to diet, so I'll try to make some plan when I get up. All I know is that I need to stop eating doritos and ice cream. That shit is not going to mend me.

Contra mundum

Sooo... the last few days have felt like, "Hello Darkness my old friend". Get ready for TMI.

So. Thursday night equalled bingeing like I hadn't done in what felt like literally over a year. For the past week I've been steadily maintaining 168-169 lbs on the scales every afternoon (same time, same place, always before eating anything) which actually I've been pretty happy with. Anything below 170 (the official mark where I hit "overweight" for my height) is a bonus. Anything below 169 is a double bonus, because 169 always feels like I'm teetering precariously on the edge of something. Anyway. I binged last night like I hadn't done in ages, I think in part, because I know my mum is coming up this weekend (and although I love her completely, stressful situations or at the very least feelings of tension on my end always seem to occur when we are together). Add to that, and here's the "tmi" part - I haven't gone to the bathroom (yeah in that way) for three f*cking days now. As I've said, I don't really do this whole binge/starve cycle anymore, at least nowhere near the extent I used to, so these issues with digestion don't really occur anymore like they used to either. I remember going weeks without sh*tting as a restrictive-b/p eating disordered teenager. I mean literally, weeks. There's everything this blog catalogues, then there's all the stuff before that too. There's the endless cycles of fasting, gorging, laxative-taking, alcohol abuse and everything in between. Well, safe to say, I don't do that anymore, at least not as general practice, which is often something I commonly overlook until times like these - when I realise just how effed up my system must have been back then (and hopefully, how it must be at least slightly better now).

Anyway, as I was saying: not going to the bathroom in 3 fucking days really wreaks havoc on your mental state as well as your physical state (and I am still horrified that I have all this food sitting inside me - 3 days' worth, excluding what must be equivalent to an extra 3000 from that fucking binge) . It's like, worrying and being anxious about not having gone is making my body shut down even more. To make matters worse, I can't attempt any sort of detoxification over the coming weekend on account of my mother coming to stay. (To any newcomers: that here means, crisps and wine.)

And it's times like these, actually, - ironically - where I end up actually re-considering a dalliance with old tricks. A voice, perhaps the dormant, largely undisturbed voice of my past eating disorder, creeps in to impart its medieval wisdom once again. And suddenly I am scouring the internet for bulk-supply laxative pills, ones I can order so I don't have to appear in public doing the dirty deed.

I'm not planning on buying laxatives - but the brief glimpse of "174" on the scales tonight, at 1a.m., is enough to send my mind reeling, and I feel giddy with fear, contempt, and self-loathing. I hate myself once again and welcome those thoughts back, and they curl up next to me in bed as they used to, and life goes on as it should. Me - and it - contra mundum.

Binge. Binge binge binge. For the first time in MONTHS.

Ugh.

Lurpak O.D.

Oscillating between 167 and 169, and as such, blogging hasn't seemed particularly "worthwhile". I've been trying to bash out work for a deadline, but my brain just hasn't been working properly. Aghh, frustrating times. The one highlight was my breakfast today. It was very French. (And might I add, unusually indulgent - I do not normally try this hard)

I have been allowing myself a bit of cheese and butter the past couple of days, more for variety than anything else (oats and potatoes can get f*cking boring sometimes) but I have to admit that following a month of strict veganism, having a binge on crackers and Lurpak late at night really throws your system out of whack. If you know what I mean. So yeah I don't think I'll be doing that again for a while. Plus: something else I wanted to mention in a previous blog post. I don't know if I'm only just experiencing this now I'm off Sertraline, but with veganism it seems like while instantaneous weight loss isn't guaranteed (when is it ever with me), it's certainly hard to put on weight unintentionally. Meaning, over the course of the last month, having kept to a (mostly, bar the occasional dollop of pesto) vegan diet, I haven't really had to try that hard to drop from the ~172 I've been maintaining for almost a year to the weight I'm at now, (~168). It seems like real challenge is keeping weight off when you're consuming cheese and milk on a regular basis, and I don't fancy sticking around long enough to see if that theory takes shape. So, moral of the story: cheese and milk is okay sometimes, but not every day. It's like an extra obstructive force. Maybe. I feel like I'm not making any sense. I'm very tired.

More than anything, I am craving variety, hence the uncharacteristic 2-day dairy overdose. I'm so ready to go to Wagamama's and get a huge bowl of steamed veggie noodle soup... or something along those lines. But I literally have zero money. Meh. I think I might actually have to go and do that really soon though. I want FLAVOUR.

Life is really boring at the moment and so are these updates. I'm not really "trying hard" at anything right now, just getting through the days. After tomorrow I'll have a little time free to focus on losing weight again, in a (hopefully) positive and constructive way... It's a whole thing I want to get into, but just haven't had the time to process or write about it much. I WANT to think about it more, not in an I-hate-myself kind of way, but in a way of, I want to have a goal again. It was tough but it made me feel alive. I feel like *some* progress has been made (I'm no longer in the 170s, meaning I'm no longer technically overweight) but without the various obstacles in the way I really want to push a little harder. No more crackers and lurpak, I think I need to seriously knuckle down and work hard to get the rest of the weight off that I gained these past 2 years. It's about time, seriously.

Watch this space x