But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Why I am not Trying

I must say, it really bothers me that someone keeps leaving messages in my comments under "anon." Where there is no name, e-mail, URL... there is no connection. Its like seeing a writing on a bathroom wall, one that could pertain to you but wasn't truly meant for you... Also, may I remind this person that this diary is for me, that I started it so another paper journal would not be read and picked apart by my family, brothers friends, etc...
Forget. I don't even care any longer. And thank you Leslie for always being so kind.
Another day. I worked a bit harder today. In the end I binged. My mom brought Taco Bell home and seemed so upset that I didn't want it. I was already stuffed on a tortilla, carb countdown, and a salad. Food sits like a block in my stomach distenting it, no matter how little the amount.
But I felt awful. She offered to make me strawberry shortcake instead, anything... But honestly I was full. Guilt did me in. So I ate the burrito and shortcake, followed by Pop Ems and a few cookies.
Again I struggled to make the brick in my stomach come up. Again, it stayed down. So I punished myself. No insulin for me, not even Lantus. I already had Novalog earlier in the day. 1:24am and I am too thirsty to sleep.
When I woke up this morning and got dressed I glanced in the mirror and for a second was surprised at what I saw. I could see all the bones in my upper back protruding and stickly legs. For a minute I was shocked, then reality set in. It was only from dehydration that I looked this way. I am not thin. Just look at my hips. And as the day passed my suspisions were confirmed. I was only a bit dehydrated, nothing more.
My hair is so thin now. Strands fly everywhere, chunks fall out endlessly throughout the day. Even my mom commented on it saying, "You are losing a lot of hair, aren't you?" I am losing more than hair. I am losing my mind. My sleep is filled with nightmares about flies, maggots, being chased, thrown inpatient... My days are filled with the thought of what I will eat, when I will eat, how much insulin I will take, where and when I will purge...
I am considering shutting off my phone completely, or at least turning it off since I know my mom won't shut it off. It has been buried in my room somewhere for days. I don't even care to look at it if it rings. I know that I am dying and I want no one around if I do, no one to care, everyone to be slightly detached. Though it will probably be months before the eventual death occurs I feel it my duty to prepare those around me. My family knows. We have discussed it. Conversations no longer carry "If you die..." but "When you die..."
I have rattled my brain over and over about discontinuing this diary. But for some reason I feel a need to write in it. It is my mission to say something.... To say that this lifestyle is not worth it, that it is so much more miserable being this way...
You ask why I continue. Because I have recovered. And while being normal is absolutely lovely, while energy is great, relapse after relapse is excruciating. It is more painful than anything. And after so many hospital stays I have exhausted my benefits for inpatient eating disorder stays, burned bridges with hospitals that my insurance covers... But most of all the pain of hope whilst being on the merry-go-round is excruciating. It is like taking a bite of a full course meal after not having eaten all day and then being told you must watch others eat and do their dishes, only minute after minute. Eventually it seems that never having that bite, never being in that setting, would be better than getting there at all.
"Here is a cookie. Oops! Sorry, you can't have it, I'm taking it away." -Overused analogy by my aunt.

1:17 AM - Thursday, Jun. 09, 2005
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dying - living