Dear John...

Have you ever had a moment where you stopped and thought to yourself " I really don't like who I am?"
This is my life. Everything about me screams "fuck up".
Where to begin, where to begin.
Well as soon as I stopped working I took up a drug habit.
It feels like i'm always high, not that I mind.
Don't worry, I'm not on crack.
Just smoking a lot of pot... and occasionally swallowing some MDMA
Drugs just make me feel happy, like anything is possible.
Drugs help me forget.
Forget that I'm fat.
Forget that I'm alone.
Forget that I'm on academic probation.
Forget that I lost my best friend.

My best friend. How I love him. How I wish he never kissed me.
I'm sick of being led on. I'm sick of being lied to.
Don't tell me you "respect" me when you obviously don't.
If you wanted me, you could have had me. But no, you always need girls on the side. Or am I the girl on the side? I guess I'll never know.
How could you hold me in your arms and tell me you love me?
How can you expect me to still be friends with you?
How can you think you've done nothing wrong?
I never want to cry about you ever again, but it's all I seem to do.
I've stood by you for a long time, your loyal best friend, watching you treat girls like shit.
Why did I think I would be any different?
The sick thing is I miss you and if you gave me a real apology, I'd probably forgive all.
I wish you could see how badly you've fucked with my feelings.
Why don't you care about me the way I care about you, you told me you cared.
I just want to forget you forever but you won't let me.
Please just let me forget you.
Stop texting me calling me sweetheart.
Stop telling me you miss me.
I leave for Halifax in 3 days, and at this point, I plan on never looking back.
I just want to get high and not eat and live out the rest of my days without you. That's a lie.
I wish Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind were real and I could pay a specialist to wipe you from my mind.
Something tells me you'll be haunting me forever.

Started sleeping with my ex.
That was probably never a good idea.
5 a.m. Flying from the M. It just happened...
then it happened again and again.
Fuck, I'd forgotten how much I loved you, how wonderful you are.
I'll never forgive myself for fucking up that relationship.
and i'm worried that i'm fucking you up more by sleeping with you.
Please don't ever hate me for taking you for granted.
I truly believe you were the best boyfriend I'll ever have and I'm sorry.
If it weren't for me, we could have made it.

Got into a huge drunken fight with my mother at the cottage.
Told her she pressures me.
Told her she expects to much.
Told her I'm stupid.
Told her I throw up my meals.
and I quote"Jesus how dumb are you? that's no way to lose weight. Why do you cry all the time? If you just lost weight you wouldn't be so depressed"
All of this screamed at me so loud the neighbours light came on.
I love you mom, but I resent you.
Cue the feelings of worthlessness.
The thoughts of death.

Texted my (ex)best friend.
"Look, I know we are in a fight but can you please call me for five minutes. I really need a friend right now."
Response: "We are fighting? And I can't I'm with my girlfriend"
FUCK YOU
I needed you.
For five fucking minutes.
All I wanted to hear was "You are worth every breath you take and are a good person"
All I got was "I'm busy"
If you had texted me in such a desperate way I would have been in my car on my way to your house.
I haven't even earned a phone call.
It's probably for the best you broke my heart. You're obviously a douchbag.
Cried uncontrollably for 45 minutes alone, by the fire.

Cried uncontrollably writing this blog.

Thanks for reading, after all misery loves company.

P.S.
Dear Ally,
If you are reading this I want you to know I got all caught up on your blog.
You are worth every single breath you take. I'm so sorry you've had a rough summer and I'm ever more sorry that I've been such a shitty friend during it. And I know I have. But if we are being honest, I've usually just been too stoned to deal with anyones problems but my own. I've been selfish and too busy wallowing in self-pity. I love you and I'll be in Halifax soon. Stay Strong.

Glamor?

Can we just have a moment to talk about the stigmas and misconceptions behind eating disorders?
So, scrolling through Tumblr I've noticed a few things.
1. An overload of pictures of impossibly thin and beautiful women, enough to make any young girl feel bad about herself (not okay with this)
2. Girls claiming they want an eating disorder...
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!
Obviously someone has been lying to the youth of today, because there is nothing glamorous about what I do. Although I have had my experiences with fasting and extreme restricting, I never became really sick with anorexia. Bulimia is my monster with the occasional slip into analand.
Let's first look at the physical "Glamor" of what I do.

First, eat a disgusting amount of food. Anything. Everything you can get your hands on. Dip your Doritos in peanut butter. Combine the contents of your cupboards in a bowl and just eat. It doesn't really matter. Chances are you will be so frenzied you won't even notice what it tastes like.

Now, head to the bathroom. If you are home and alone, you are lucky. If you are in public, at first you feel reluctant. After months of this, eventually you won't give a fuck who hears you. Maybe where you are has a handicap or family washroom. You think "a room to myself with a locking door?! Hell yes" If not, you enter any stall and begin your ritual. Or, if you are unlucky, you are home with another person, who is no doubt suspicious of the fact that you spend 10 - 15 minutes in the bathroom every time you use it after meals. You tell random lies. Lead them to believe you are lactose intolerant, have irritable bowel syndrome, ANYTHING to validate why you need to be in the bathroom after every meal.

Now the real "fun" begins. You lock the door, turn on the water (Don't worry, eventually you won't need to because you will become silent. No gagging or burping, Only the sound of vomit hitting water and your sobbing. Maybe you are emotionless, or maybe you are like me and cry. Puking and crying. Depending on the water level in your toilet, you will get puke on yourself. This is inevitable. It will happen eventually.

Now, your face is red and blotchy, you are covered in your own vomit, your throat burns and is puffy, eyes watering, nose running. Maybe you burst a blood vessel in your eye. Your knuckles are red. If you keep it up the red with turn into cuts that will turn into scabs that will turn into scars. I can only speak for myself, but I am in the bad habit of picking at my knuckles, leaving them scarred. 

Eventually, your knuckles will be raw. But that's okay, even though it hurts to bite them, you don't need to anymore. It's almost as if you can will the food up and out of your stomach.

You flush the toilet (or put the vomit bag in the back of your closet, or close the dumpster) and examine yourself in a mirror. First, you fix yourself up. Wash your hands, wipe your tears. Perfection. You feel high. You control food, it has no control over you is what you tell yourself. This is the opposite of the truth. Food has all the control.

This high does not last long. Many bulimics feel emotionless during the binge/purge. But at some point, you will have random breakdowns. I cried watching Family Guy once. Stewie was standing in front of his mirror commenting on how fat he was getting and that perhaps he should throw up his dinner. And I just started to cry.
It doesn't matter the circumstance.
Crying on the bus.
In my car.
In front of friends.
In public.

Give it a few months, that's when the real fun begins. I can only speak from personal experience, but after awhile the effects of Bulimia really begin to take their toll. Apart from the scabbing and dry skin on your hand and bust blood vessels in your eyes (these things heal fairly easily) something darker has begun inside your body.

Blood. Just blood. In your Kleenex. In your vomit. In your shit. Blood.
Swelling in your throat. Burning. Acid reflux so bad you can't sleep.
Indigestion. Stomach pains. The inability to shit, So far beyond regular constipation.
Your teeth are in constant pain. It hurts to brush your teeth. To eat. To drink.

Once the detrimental effects of bulimia take their course, your friends and relatives will no doubt take notice eventually. But don't worry, soon enough you will push them away and they won't care what happens to you.

Bulimia is one of the most violent things a person can do to themselves. Cutting is very much a visible thing. Bulimia is an act of violent rage against the body just like cutting, it's just harder to see. It is an act of hatred covered by control. 

Of course we all want to be thin. These things always start as a "diet". But there are more often than not underlying issues. Eating Disorders are a mental illness. You can fight me on that, saying it's a choice blahblahblah. They ARE a mental illness. That is a fact. There is something wrong in they way that we think there is nothing wrong with our behavior.

To say that you want and eating disorder is insulting. Why would you want this? There is absolutely nothing glamorous about it. It is not a choice. I realize that at some point we all made the decision to vomit for the first time. Whether that decision was conscious or not I cannot say.

Whoa. Sorry about that rant.
Thanks to pagesofsweetpeas for your kind and helpful comments. They are always appreciated <3

Stay strong lovelies,
Don't let the bastards get you down.

Panic

Yesterday was going good.
Had pizza for lunch (my all time favourite binge/purge food), successfully yakked it all back up.
It was a beautiful day, I was singing along to my iPod, driving obnoxiously with my windows down.
It was a good day.
BUT THEN
I went to see a movie with my mother.
I hadn't eaten dinner at home because I was late getting home from work, so she made me get a slice of pizza.
I'm thinking, "okay, no problem. I'm a pizza-purging pro".
Did. Not. Purge.
It's like she knows. The way she looked at me when I went to the bathroom, the way she said "Don't be too long now". Suspicions are high.
Then popcorn.
Oh god. The popcorn.
Nothing was purged. Pizza AND popcorn?!? We are talking upwards of 1000 calories here.
I kept repeating in my head "The average person eats 2000+ a day. You will be okay."
I did not believe myself.
We got home from the movie at 9:30. The gym closes at 11.
I say            "I think i'm going to go to the gym"
Mother says "... But it's late" 
I say             "... I won't go if you really don't want me too"
I think         "shitshitshitshitshitshitshit"
Mother says "Alright I suppose. I love you"
Cue blackout.
The next hour and a half are a blur.
I am driving way too fast. I am smoking. I am on the elliptical. I am not moving fast enough. I am on the bike. The gym closes. Has it been an hour? No only 50 minutes. Not enough calories. I am driving again. I am smoking. Are there tears? I don't remember. I am home. I am tired. I pass out.
7:00 A.M.
I wake up for work, still in my sweaty gym clothes. I feel calmer, but confused.
Did I just have a panic attack?

Curiouser and curiouser..

Yesterday, the strangest thing happened.
I began eating, as usual. Cheezies first, the bright orange usually a good marker.
Followed by crackers and rice. Then excused myself to the bathroom to "take care of buisness" if you will. I began purging...
Bright orange first,
followed by white (presumably crackers)
followed by brown (rice).
What in the actual fuck is going on in my esophagus? 
Why am I puking things in the order that I ate them?!?
That is the whole point of markers, because basic biology states that when yakking, whatever you ate first will come out last.
Apparently not.
Other than that, things have been routine.
Skip breakfast.
Drive to work (2 Camels).
Go out for lunch (1 Camel).
Purge.
Go back to work (1Camel).
Drive home (2 Camels).
Optional snack.
Purge.
Drive to and from gym (2 Camels).
Shower.
Sleep.

Burned a hole in my skirt driving to work today. Also puked all over it after lunch.
The only thing that is driving me absolutely bananas is the fact that I cannot find a reliable scale.
The one at home says I haven't lost an ounce since being home. The one at the gym says I've lost 23 pounds.

Strange things are happening...

The lies we tell

Yesterday, I purged 3 times.
 I lied to my dear friend, who is getting help for her eating disorder. I don't know why I lied. I told her I am only purging twice a week.
She will most likely read this and feel great sorrow for me. I do not want her to be sad. The sick thing is, I'm Happy.
My mother says "When you first got home, you were so fat"
                         "You have lost a lot of inches"
                         "The weird thing is, you still eat"
                         "I'm jealous, if i ate what you ate i'd never lose weight"
                         "If you lose 40 pounds by September, I'll give you
                         1000$"
 My mother walks in on me purging, she feigns concern. How can she be so oblivious?
I am scaring myself at how good I am at purging.
Silence. Only the sound of vomit hitting water. Quick. No more than 10 minutes in the bathroom.
No more puffy face. Only watering eyes. Calloused knuckles and another burst blood vessel in my eye.
I lie to my best friend who I am in love with
He says "You've lost weight"
I say      "Not according to the scale"
He says "My roommates say you look like you've lost weight"
I say      "I haven't"
He says "I'm hungry, want to get lunch?"
I say     "Please don't make me eat"
He wants me to see a doctor. I tell him I am fine.
I tell him I do not have an eating disorder.
He still wants me to see a doctor.
I think "I will when I lose 50 pounds"
Yesterday's meals went something like this:
Breakfast - 1/2 Grapefruit (41)
                - 2 Camel Blue cigarettes
               - Water
Snack      - Thinsations Cookies (100) {purged}
Lunch      - 1/2 Cup of Pasta (250)
Snack      - Chips & Jalapeno Dip (Way Too Many) {Purged}
               - Diet Coke (1) {Purged}
               - 1 Camel Blue cigarette
Dinner     - Baked Chicken Burger (280)
Snack     - Twistos Cracker Bites (Whole Bag :s) {Purged}
               - Diet Coke (1) {Purged}
               - 2 Camel Blue Cigarettes
Water Intake - 96 oz.
Total Caloric Intake: 571
Gym Output - 506
Total = 65

This needs to be zero. 

Yesterday, after the ease and efficiency I showed while purging, I was so proud of myself I made the decision to attempt to purge everything.
Stay Strong Lovelies.

1.85

1.85
That lovely, tiny little number is my GPA.
Surprise, surprise. Bea is on academic probation. 
YAY! I fail at school along with everything else in life.
Cue the tears.
Cry on what would have been my 5th anniversary with my ex boyfriend. Too bad i fucked it up by cheating on him. Binge. Purge. Burst a blood vessel in my eye, how attractive. Text my best friend who I'm hopelessly in love with. Cry some more.
So basically this first week of summer vacation has been filled with wallowing in self-pity and chain smoking. OH, I took up smoking too, I'm so healthy with my habits.
I did read a book this week. Reading always calms me down. It was a biography of the Rolling Stones and all their escapades from the 60s through the 80s. It gave me a new appreciation for their music. I'd also take up coke if I could afford it. I then proceeded to get unbearably high smoking pot and ate an obscene amount of food planning on purging. Oops, I was so high I passed out half-way through "Sympathy for the Devil" snuggling a half-eaten chocolate Santa I found at the back of the cupboard.
Complete and utter failure.

I'm sorry it's been so long lovelies. Life gets crazy.
To sum up the last few months:
I'm in love with my best friend. He is in love with someone else.
Purging peaked at twice a day.
Now, twice a week seems to be the norm.
I've taken up smoking to try and cope with stress.
I attempted group therapy. Quit because i was too scared.
Went to see a psychiatrist. Only twice. Lied about how often i purge and was told "I don't think you have any serious eating disorder"Relief? Stress.
Blood.
Blood in the toilet.
Blood in my nose.
Blood in my mouth.
All time high weight. Shame.
Tears. Smiles. Tears.
4 months without sex. I am afraid of real intimacy. How could anyone love me? I am ashamed of my body.
Nobody can see it but me.
Nobody can touch it.
All my self-isolation has led to my C's turning into B's (Yay)
An anorexic beauty, my dear friend, attempted suicide.
Anger, regret, sorrow.
I wrote this blog.
Remember lovelies, do whatever makes you happy.