Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Let the Games Begin

Today was my breaking of fast day and I almost didn't do it.. I really didn't want to. My anxiety level has been comparable to the tidal wave that sweeps away New York City in that movie, "The Day After Tomorrow", or whatever it was called.

Something happened today for the first time in years. I binged in front of  my family. 2 pieces of pizza and a breadstick. I think that's what I gobbled down in the 2 minutes of mechanical, zombie-minded, delerium. My mother and younger brother (18) started talking about politics after I realized what had just happened.. I could just make out the movement of their lips, key-words like "healthcare"..."Obama"..."Hillary Clinton".. It was as though I was watching them from behind thick, sound proof glass. The nausea hit me like a freight train with no breaks. I hadn't eaten anything in alsmot 5 days, and pizza was evidently not a good first choice. I tried to keep myself from jumping out the window while they finished their conversation.  I then proceeded into the backyard to hide and desperately try to purge into a garbage bag.

Remember the good old days of Sesame Street, the tv show?
 When I was a kid it was "brought to you today by the letter B and the number 4"....

Today's show is brought to you by the word "PATHETIC" and more calories than I can handle.

I am praying for tomorrow. I am going to be waking up feeling bloated, sore and too BIG.
I know that fasting really gets me nowhere slow...Or tubed fast.. I know this, but I crave it like a drug.
I have planned careful restriction tomorrow.. I am going to make an effort to take some basic calories in my coffee with real milk, and spike my blood sugar here and there with some life-saver candies. If I'm feeling up to it, I also planned raw carrots at 4pm. 
This is not what I want to do.. what I want to do is PAY for what Ive done... RIGHT NOW.
I need punishment.. I need to take a box of laxatives and regret it all week.. I need to be starving so bad that my skin smells from disintegration.. I need to be bent over the toilet getting whatever is left in me out.
But I'm not.

I am making a conscious effort here to steer my ed behaviours in a "better" direction.
I will never BE better.. I will never BE fixed.. I will certainly never be recovered..
However, I can do my best to make my daily life more managable.. hopefully.

I am fighting my trigger response to stress which says to me in BIG RED BLINKING LIGHTS:
You are eating nothing for the next 4 days and your taking 20 laxatives tonight and you are going to lay in bed dehydrated and feel like shit all day tomorrow you sick fucking bitch and then sabbotage your body with crap and fast some more..

Instead I am going to plaster a fake smile on, drink coffee with milk, cringe and crunch a couple candies into my brittle teeth, and get the hell out of dodge.. well.. at least get out of the house for a few hours.

Great plan.
Let the games begin...

PS: House scale says 96.5 lbs. Mall scale still has me at almost 7lbs higher.
       Both scaled are fucked. I officially trust neither. I am not weighing again until I get a new scale..
       Hopefully that is not another promise I can't keep.

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