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 | I always choke down
some hot coffee first thing- a desperate attempt to warm my
hands...starvation brings a new meaning to the word cold- it is a
baltic chill that seems to come from deep inside my bones...I am so
cold, it hurts. I pinch my cheeks a few time before I leave the
house, trying to add some colour to my greying skin...it rarely works
and I leave the house cold and tired but with good intentions that I
WILL try harder today.
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I arrive at the hospital for
'check in'. The nurse asks me to come and get weighed. I refuse every
time. There is no point anymore- the scales don't tell me anything.
If I have gained weight, then I will die emotionally. If I have lost
weight then I will die physically. And if I maintain? Then I
exist a while longer in the bleakness, trapped somewhere between
heaven and hell. I rarely stay at the hospital for long. I can't bear
the stillness of the place- I give some pathetic excuse and make a
hasty exit.
I sit on the train in a daze. I
often wonder whether or not I will make it to the other end. I am so
tired I just want to sleep. I rest my eyes for a little while but
feel guilty and get off the train to walk for the next few stations.
I pass many restaurants and scared that I may 'inhale' calories I
hold my breath and hurry by. Racked with the anxiety that I may have
still ingested some calories, I rush to the nearest chemist to buy
some laxatives.
I arrive at college early
without exception. I wander around the nearby streets for a while too
scared to go into the canteen with all the students laughing and
eating...the concept of combining the two activities is alien to me.
It scares me and a huge part of me feels nothing but resentment
towards those who can allow themselves to relax and have lunch with
friends. I make an occasional appearance between lessons to smoke
when it is too cold to go outside.
During my lessons I am hit by
more ways of nausea and cramps. My vision blurrs (potassium? Dehydration? Probably a combination...) and I put my head on
the desk. The teachers rarely notice anymore. I sometimes wonder if
they know...or if they even care. I get a lot of strange looks from
the other students- they look at my trembling hands and blue lips, and quickly
look away. They rarely speak to me- I don't blame them. I understand
them not wanting to be friends with me. Hell, I can't stand to be
with me either. The lessons drag on with me scrawling down a few
notes which I will go home later and cry over because it all seems so
meaningless, so irrelevant...so...empty.
I go back to the hospital after
college. Blood tests, an occasional trip to A and E, a bit of
studying, a chat with my key-worker, "You are doing SO well you
know..." Smile, nod, feel guilty for doing 'well' and go running
in the park instead of group therapy.
Sit in the park, alone. Well,
with an eating disorder, you are never really alone. Always the
'demon' in my head screams at me for sitting down...for being
lazy...for having no self-control. Exhausted, I run a little bit
more, ignoring the shooting pains in my shins. I make it back to the hospital seconds before dinner. Sometimes
I just go home. I get in routines of what and where is 'safe' for me
to eat, so it is often easier to go home and sink back into the
safety net of my rituals.
I arrive home and immediately
do my calculations...how many calories I have burned off...how many I
have consumed...I check it over and over for mistakes and come up
with different figures every time. Defeated, dizzy and cold I run a
hot bath to try and unwind.
"You don't DESERVE to
unwind...LAZY STUPID FAT BITCH!"
I remember my intentions to do
better today...I go downstairs and prepare my 'safe' foods. I feel
guilty and shovel in a few laxatives.
*sighs* I WILL do better tomorrow...except tomorrow
never comes.
I spend the
evening in a dream-like trance...once home, a wave of depression hits
me as I reflect on my day. It was the same as yesterday, the same as
the day before...and if I am honest, will probably be the same
tomorrow. The only way I can deal with it is to 'space out'...a
technique I had perfected, except now I find it harder and harder to
come back from. I often wonder if one day, I will never be able to
come back. And if I even care.
Before bed, I complete my
ritual of drinking water until I vomit. I feel stones in my throat
that although my therapist insists are imaginary, feel real and
threaten to choke me. The water and vomiting relieves it for a short
while and after choking down my daily 'fix' of dieuretics (retching
several times in the process) before curling up on my bed in floods
of tears...the cramps, the nausea, the blurred vision, the heart palpitations, the trembling
hands...I often wonder if tonight will be the last night...if I will
wake up. I promise to myself that I WILL do better
tomorrow. I WILL eat more. I WILL cut down on the walking.
I WON'T take tablets or vomit. But tomorrow never
comes... | 
