I am so sick of this--
strike that, I am so sick. Period.

Tonight is being used to shift the direction of change.

I have been stuck in a really, really bad binge/purge cycle... again. I don't think anyone really understands what bulimia is like for me. It's devastating. I don't know if I want to be able to explain it. I am ashamed of so much in my life, but this is close to the worst of it. For around a week past, I have basically been locked in my apartment. There have been few breaks. If I had lost any weight in the weeks before, I am sure I have gained it back and then some. It scares me how completely I lose control. My apartment is absolutely disgusting. There are ants in my bed. I have slept on the floor for the past few nights just because my bed is filled with trash, etc. It seems too overwhelming to clean. I haven't let anyone into my apartment in awhile now. I exist on shame. I wallow in my own filth. I would make a great beast.

But!!! I went to therapy today. It wasn't a particularly spectacular session, but Ginny said she isn't going to stop seeing me. She isn't going to abandon me. She doesn't think I'm hopeless.

So, tonight, I've taken my pills, but with the intent of breaking the cycle and getting started on some cleaning.

I'm going to direct the changes this time.

I can do this.



AT LEAST TWO HOURS LATER:
Okay, so I'm feeling pretty overwhelmed, and taking 2 1/2 Provigil was not the brightest idea when I have absolutely no one to talk with at this time. I drove around quite aimlessly for over an hour. At least I'm not binging?

I said something to Ginny about how when I take pills it's better than coke, and she definitely called me on bullshit. I'll take any drug I can get as long as the result is the same.

I need something to look forward to in my life. Not just... mediocre bullshit. So, here's the plan:

...PATHETIC. I just tried to write some goals and the only things that really looked appealing were getting a puppy or kitten and going back to school. I don't even know what I want to do after school. The great mystery of what the fuck I'm going to do with my life still remains unsolved.

I can't decide if I should try cleaning, go to sleep, try cleaning and then go to sleep, or take more pills and try cleaning then go to sleep eventually.

I really am pathetic.

I'm never going to escape. I am too fucked-up. No amount of medication and therapy will fix me or even mend me to the point of functionality. I am impractical. I am not meant to thrive. I am not meant to live this life.

I am too much of this and not enough of that. I need to be stronger but all I am is a beast. I'm inhuman. I'm a monster but with no secrets to share.

I am too much gut and not enough brawn.

In the mirror, I am sagging with this disgusting weight. I am weak and oozing with this fetid filling, this overstuffed rot.

All I want is to be solid. Unyielding, unwavering, devout.

Everyone says I could model.
It's not that I don't want to.
I'd just rather be the kind of model that walks around in a sports bra and gets paid to flex.

Nobody gets it.
I want to be a bodybuilder.

Will everyone love me from a distance? I feel like they have only loved me from afar, when I am beautiful and without the imperfections that are so readily sighted when you really look me in the eyes. That's the problem: When you really look me in the eyes, I break down into tiny pieces, tiny bits of flawed matter that really adds up to nothing except a distant beauty. I do not blend as well as I should, like fine china with so many fissures running through it, fragile and delicate and bound to shatter. I feel my heart beating and you can read between the lines, the cracks that let you see beneath my armor, and you can see the fine lines that hold me together--the nerves that cause my thick limbs to quiver with such fear. Because of when you held my heart in your crooked hands, I place trust in the wrong places. I imagine to see love in the eyes of leeches, where there is nothing in reality. There is no love lost in my life because there was none to be had in the beginning. I love and that is all that means anything. I love God. I love my family. I love my friends. I love everything and everyone, but I am losing trust. I do not expect to lose faith, but my trust wavers as the branches of a willow sway sadly in the wind. I am different every day. I am changing. I am breaking off in pieces so that I may acquire the new, the growth of time passing over my body. I imagine the air against my skin. I imagine it flowing through me, into me, off of me... and I think of you, and I brush you off, because when I used to think of distrust, I brushed it off. I have learned more by the crooked hands of man than by any leap of faith. It's what happens when you fall and expect to be caught: It's a rude awakening. I imagine it's like being ripped from purgatory with the expectation of manna, only to have your empty lungs filled with ice so cold it burns it's way through your body. I have been changed and I will grow from it and I will not let myself be hurt so easily ever again. I have avoided hurting others, but I will not allow myself to be wounded so greatly for their sake.

This is the end of my devotion, which once was boundless. I will not hurt others but I will not protect them, because I cannot expect the same in return. Life is an ebb and flow of energies, but these lies have not been.

I AM NOT A RENEWABLE RESOURCE. Once I break, there's no repairing me.