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.
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