Oh my god.  Body, I know we’re apparently purging everything we eat today, but that was two dill pickles jesus stop.

Just barely got up to the peak dosage of the Prozac and it looks like my holiday is already over.  Back to being super chew-spitty the past two days, the decrease in which had been my main metric of Doing Better :( 

Noticing I’m having difficulty with my gag reflex again, too, which is fucking weird; do all antidepressants do that to me now?  It’s exactly like it was on the Cymbalta, which stopped as soon as I went off the meds; it’s hard to trigger and then feels like I’m only able to heave from the very top part of my stomach, which doesn’t do much. 

I really need to go to my GP and ask her to draw bloods, because I think I might be Problematically Low on potassium right now.

Or at least that’s how I’m going to explain this complete inability to function after purging anymore.

I used to be able to eat dinner, drive to the gym, purge it in their bathrooms, and then workout intensely for an hour.  Now, I finish puking and have to lie down.

I know I’m only hoping it’s something physical so it’s a easy fix.  Really, it’s probably just how I’ve given up.

Because my bulimia evolved from shamefully chew/spitting into trashcans as an otherwise restrictive anorexic, I find that when (no less shamefully) binge/purging, I literally think of my stomach as the garbage bin. 

Literally, literally.  Have used those words in my head.

The only difference between chew/spitting and binge/purging to me is the effort involved in taking the garbage out.  (aka how much I feel like punishing myself after)

super super triggery probably i mean dancing along pro-ed levels of trigger stay the fuck out

(tag bombing this so people who have stuff blacklisted can avoid)

Read more

In other news, today was super productive at work in that I had to deliver pizzas to the hospital I used to volunteer at a couple of times, which always turns on the “This is where you’re supposed to be, this is what you’re supposed to be doing you moronic waste of air but you fucked everything up and now you’re working a minimum wage, dead end job because you’re too scared to go back to school knowing that you’ve ruined your chances for the only life you’ve ever wanted to live” angst. 

So there was much breaking out of both the emergency car scalpel and the emergency so-I-don’t-get-robbed box cutters at stoplights on the way back from the hospital deliveries and puking both times I tried to eat lunch, and the people they did rejoice.  All at work, though, which belies a new and dangerous disregard for this job.

It’s an escalation all around, since self harming not at home is something we haven’t done in a few years and purging 4+ times in a day is usually reserved for days when I ~have an excuse (usually that Roommate is gone for the day, so I ought to just b/p everything to get it out of the house/out of my system while I’m alone; yes shut up I never said it was a good excuse).

I’ve been saying from the beginning that I’m going to fuck things up and burn my bridges with this job because I don’t know how to bow out when I need to, and I’m wondering if I’m pretty much watching myself lay the dynamite on said bridge from above, at this point.

Anyway, then evening was okay; had a salad and then more salad because I wanted more and I have no concept of portion sizes (because bulimia) but kept it all down because distracted by video game plays hooray!

…and then apparently my dad got in a really bad car crash on the highway and his back is really messed up and they’re still at the hospital and have been for 4 hours and nobody thought to call me and I had to find out 2 hours into it from my sister’s Facebook.

So I was shaking for a bit there because scared because I’m still The Local Medic in terms of both knowing stuff and because that’s how I show my love, by coordinating people’s medical care and making sure they don’t get screwed and understand what’s happening (gotta use that 98% of a molecular biology aka pre-med degree I went crazy and failed myself out of in literally the last class before graduation somehow, huh?) and because it being My Area plus Control Freak means holy shit it is really hard to stand being 3 hours away and getting only third hand information. 

Was thinking about driving up, but until I know what’s actually going on (it’s apparently not so bad that dad couldn’t leave the hospital at one point after they’d waited for hours with nobody seeing them, but apparently isso bad that only a bit after leaving, they had to go back?) I can’t do anything and UGH ANXIETY.

.

Also, on a somewhat lighter note, I say I’m not going to be around until my computer gets fixed (part came today!), and suddenly get like six new followers I SEE HOW THIS WORKS FINE SEE IF I EVER COME BACK lol jk you know I can’t resist whining into the ether for long, my life makes me too sad for that.

Does anyone else have craydar?

Like, fellow crazy person radar. 

I mean, I think we all do, in that everyone, no matter what makes them special, is constantly more attuned to (if not consciously looking out for) markers of those characteristics in others.

It’s evolutionarily sound.  It’s how we make friends.  Find others like you.

I’ve thought about this before, because it seems like other people with depression/self-harm/ED issues “out” themselves to me a lot.  I couldn’t really figure it out.  Do people just know I’m a good listener?  The fact that I’m the school’s resident mini-medic?  Is the rumor mill just really good at keeping me out of the loop and everyone knows all about my issues?

But I think it might just be craydar.

Read more

Plan tonight was to go to the gym and watch the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show on a treadmill because I am not above fitspo/thinspo if it gets me going to the goddamned gym again.

But I’ve purged three times already in the 4 hours I’ve been home today because I’ve been having trouble with (almost definitely psychosomatic) stomach pain after eating lately, and some stupid part of my brain figures that because I kept down all of a 400 calorie dinner yesterday (holy shit I was so upset when I tallied that up), that makes it okay.

—and then oh shit Roommate just came home and I haven’t actually finished getting everything out of my stomach for go number four and I left the toilet seat up and fuck fuck have to come up with some reason to go retch some more.  :(

Thinking I’m going to have to chase the only full meal I’ve eaten all week with a bunch of Xanax so I don’t freak out (more than I already am) and purge it:

sounds super disordered

but I’m actually trying not to purge it instead of just trotting off to the bathroom all ~goodbye salad thanks for chilling in my stomach for a bit

so actually a good thing?

But a bad thing because omg your pants barely fit fatty no stop it but no

Ran around the house like a crazy person and still couldn’t find any goddamned socks, which means I’m missing (at least part one of) my Awesome Three Hour Monday Gym Routine.  Which has set my whole day off and now I’m miserable and just want to stay here and hide in the blankets and chew/spit whole boxes of cereal because I’m horrid like that.

ETA:

Yup.  Self destruction time.  If I ever try to say that I’m not one for black-and-white thinking, just point me here — missed my gym class (which is codified in my brain as Being Good), so I’m going to bake brownies and chew/spit them and then spend an hour sticking my whole hand down my throat to try and check-purge back up anything I swallowed and then cry when I can’t (which is pretty much as far in the Being Horrible column as you can possibly get).

Someone should ask me sometime to make a list of all the Seriously Crazy-Ass Things I’ve done because of this fucking eating disorder.  It’d be a great list.

(Someone should ask me things period sometime.  Even random things.  Nobody talks to me on here and I love you all and want to be your friendddd.)