Tag Archives: alone

New Bones

Last week I noticed that the rib bones on the top part of my chest (above my breasts) are more visible. I don’t know when exactly that happened, it isn’t an area I focus on a lot, and I never thought I was fat there before but now that I can clearly see the bones there I wonder how I didn’t notice I had extra fat there.

Was I oblivious?

I think it is more that my collarbones are fairly prominent and I’m more concerned about the extra fat on my abdominal area and thighs. Gotta prioritize ya know?

So yeah…I’ve been losing more weight, yay! and gained new bones, yay! and I have massive amounts of fear that I will screw this up and lose them, boo!

Lose them…like they will fall out of my body or something *rolls eyes* Losing them would be having them once again hidden under dreaded fat. But seriously, why couldn’t the fat have come off other areas first? sigh.

For days after I noticed the new bones I was happy, I wished I had someone to share this new development with but not like there is anybody to tell. So I stayed quiet about it and hugged the news to myself, using it to boost my mood when I started to get a bit down. I also used it as motivation for restricting even more and helping to bolster my will power when tempted to eat.

Pretty fucked up huh?

I didn’t think it was all that noticeable to other people, I generally wear not high neck tops but not low ones either, so the area is covered up for the most part but something odd happened. I went to work and three different managers took time to sit down with me, give me some serious eye contact, and ask if I was ok.

Strange huh?

There is one person who knows a bit of what I go through, she doesn’t understand and keeps telling me to “just eat already!” but someone who knows a little bit is better then not having anybody, I guess…I’m not really sure…but in theory it is better. So yeah, she is a friend at work and I got paranoid that she ratted me out to management but I asked her about it and she swears she didn’t. She thinks they sat me down to talk because my initial weight loss was a “wow, how awesome” kind of thing but has gone too far and is now a “she’s getting too skinny” kind of thing. I don’t believe her, she is definitely exaggerating because I am nowhere near skinny enough to look like someone who anyone should worry about. I still have too much fat on me in too many places. But the timing sure was odd.

My initial happiness about the new chest bones has faded. I’m still happy about them, and I look at them in the mirror every day to make sure they aren’t getting hidden under fat again, but life gets in the way and other things have over ridden the happy emotions I got after first noticing the bones.

A friend died, and I’m not handling it well. I’m binge eating like crazy, which is making me more paranoid about losing the bones, which drives me to take more diet pills and laxatives, which gives me abdominal pain, which leads me to not eat because of the pain, which leads to me feeling too many emotions and stuffing my face to squash the emotions, which starts the cycle up all over again.

It sucks.

I was watching an old tv show on YouTube, it is about teens who go to a ranch for therapy instead of detention. It is from the late 80s or early 90s I think. I’ve been binge watching it and there was an episode where a girl has an eating disorder and also is super athletic and she had a heart attack because of an electrolyte imbalance and being near starved to death…though the actress they cast doesn’t look at all anorexic…but since you can’t always tell from looking at a person maybe that is why they cast her…ok not the point…

It got me wondering thought, about health side effects from eating disorders. I always think that the negative health stuff only happens to anorexics who are super under weight. I’m not gonna have electrolyte issues, or heart attacks, or whatever else might happen because there is still too much fat on me. I haven’t reached that level of danger. But maybe that is wrong? I dunno. I know I get chest pains, and sometimes shortness of breath from activities that shouldn’t cause me to be short of breath, but that is a far cry from actual heart issues.

I should probably ask my case worker at our next meeting but I think it is gonna be bad enough having to admit I started using my pills again. I can’t see a conversation that organically grows from that admission to “can I have heart issues even though I’m still so fat?”. It was bad enough the other week when I hadda talk to her about my self-harm action. *rolls eyes*

Something I don’t get about her, she hasn’t yelled at me yet. I keep waiting for her to get exasperated, or mad, or just plain yell or order me to do or not do something, but she always talks to me in a calm, patient, voice. Its weird.

This post is kinda all over the place. But so is my brain right now so I guess the post is a good reflection of the inside of my head.

I was supposed to work today but I called in sick. I had abdominal pains so it was a legit reason for calling, but during the day I realized I was acting odd…sorta numb, sad, depressed. I wanted to eat everything and anything but I wasn’t hungry, in fact the abdominal pain I had made eating rather unpleasant. I think it is a reaction to finding out about my friend dying…I was told yesterday and lemme tell ya, after I was told, the rest of my day did not go well. I was all over the place emotionally, mostly mad, but with burst of overwhelming sadness thrown in there for good measure. I just couldn’t face people today.

I’m so mad. Mad that he is dead. Mad that I’m going to have to deal with people at work talking about it for the next week. Mad I didn’t get to say goodbye. Mad that I let myself get attached.

Just. Mad.

That anger is driving pretty much everything I am doing right now. It drove me to eat two desserts today that I definitely didn’t need, or even want. It is currently driving me to not eat anything more until tomorrow as punishment for eating the desserts. It is why I keep punching the wall. Why I took my diet pills today, I wanted the stomach pain they would give me.

I feel like I deserve the pain. My inability to control my eating today means I earned pain, and punishment. I feel like I am being torn apart inside and it makes me want to scream that no one who sees me can tell. Is it because people don’t really look at people any longer or because I am that good at hiding what is really going on inside me. Does it matter which reason it is? Not really. The result is the same.

I hurt. I don’t mean the pain from the pills. I mean me, my heart, it hurts. My body hurts from how I treat it, my heart hurts because I was stupid enough to let it get attached to some people and one of them is now dead.

Death. It is so fucking final. I hate that I’ll never hear his voice anymore. I hate that no one will ever call me the nickname he called me. I hate that we’ll never joke around, and I’ll never read anymore stories that he wrote, I hate that we’ll never talk movies or books or stuff happening in the world. I hate that he is gone, and I especially hate that I am so fucking selfish that I keep thinking that his being gone means I am even more alone.

alone

 

 

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Confused

Lately I have been confused, confused about my body, how I look to others, how I look to myself, how my body feels…just confused! I don’t like it…

Last weekend I got asked by someone at work who I never thought ever really looked at me if I had lost weight. I said yes, I had lost 10 pounds, and he congratulated me, said he thought I looked smaller, and congrats. I thanked him, said I still had far to go but at least it was a start and I was surprised he said anything because nobody else had noticed. Then the convo went on to other things.

For the rest of that day I was all “this is working, this is great, good job me!” Not only did I know I had lost weight (scale and clothes have told me so) but others were seeing the change, which is awesome!

But while I have the reinforcement from him, and how my pants are fitting, and the number on the scale I swear to god I look like I am getting fatter.

What. The. Fuck.

My stomach is more poofy, it is disgusting. It’s not bloated, that is different, there is a feeling that comes with being bloated, there is no bloated feeling, just a disgusting, fat, stomach area that isn’t going away.

I am terrified I have gained weight.

As I wrote yesterday I have been having trouble lately with my restricting, I’m not full on binge eating but I’ll over eat on say Monday, then restrict Tuesday, then over eat Wednesday, then restrict for Thursday, Friday and Saturday, then over eat Sunday…it is some messed up cycle I can’t seem to break out of. Though, as I also wrote yesterday, I am determined to break out of it and will be re-committing to restricting asap.

The way my stomach feels, and how i look in the mirror, and just in general how I feel has me absolutely certain all that over eating has made me gain back the entire ten pounds I had lost and probably gained more on top of that, and that is such a depressing thought.

I can’t bring myself to step on the scale, I am too scared. If the number is higher then it was last time, which I am sure it will be, I don’t know what I will do, and I know it won’t be smaller than what it was last time because of those stupid over eating sessions so what is the point of stepping on it and getting so upset I cry? sigh.

My pants are still fitting looser, which I am taking as confirmation that the weight I gained back has gone directly to my midsection rather than my ass which is where I seemed to be initially losing it from.

I don’t know what to do.

I mean obviously I am going back to restricting asap but this extra fat on my midsection, I don’t know what to do about it. When I lose weight my body tends to lose it off my midsection last, which sucks, and now I have even more there! More! Arg!

Does this mean that every time I over eat the weight I gain will be immediately put on to my stomach? That sucks. Why can’t it go to my boobs or something? ūüėČ

stop eating 2

Help That Is So Close But So Far

My last post was about how I had been fooling myself, slipping in to my old ways, letting myself fall back in to the comforting embrace of my whacked out eating habits.

This post is about that elusive beast called help.

I already wrote about how I tried talking to someone and they shut me down and said go see someone else, you can read about that wonderful experience here.

Since that experience I decided screw it, obviously professional help isn’t something I am getting and really, I’m not all that bad so I don’t really need help, I’m fine on my own. I don’t know if I do need help and am lying to myself about it or if I really don’t, I don’t think I’m a good judge for this decision lol but regardless of if I am right or wrong it isn’t happening.

Doesn’t stop me from googling though!

I found this service, provided by the city health care services, free of charge, it is various types of clinics, inpatient, outpatient and residential treatments for people with a wide range of eating disorders.

One of them intrigues me, it is outpatient (there is an inpatient program but I wouldn’t do that), it, I dunno, there is stuff quickly summarizing it on the site I saw and it felt right…yes, I am aware that sounds stupid. I’m probably nowhere near bad off enough to be accepted in to their program, but it has me thinking.

Thinking about help. About what having help might entail. About if I really need help or am fine. About if there is any point to it, shrug.

Thing is, to qualify for this program you have to be referred by your doctor. I have a doctor but I don’t see her often and she has noooooo idea I have any food issues. I don’t want to tell her. I don’t know her well enough to know what her response might be. What if she doesn’t believe me? What if she takes one look at me and says I am too fat to have an eating disorder? What if she laughs at me, or tells me no one can help me, or does any of the other horrible things that are bouncing around in my head?

I can’t stand the idea of telling her so that I can then request she refer me to this program, which means I will never get in to the program because I need her to refer me.

Not a good cycle to be in.

I suppose I could contact the info line for the program and lie, say I don’t have a doctor, and is there anything I can do to get around that referral requirement but I don’t know that starting out treatment of any kind by saying a big fat lie is a good thing to do…might set a bad vibe ya know?

I dunno…I’m probably not going to call them, they probably can’t help me anyways so I am writing this for absolutely no reason except it has been on my mind since I found the website a couple weeks ago and I wanted to mention it to someone and obviously that someone is you.

help

Big Boned

I’ve heard people say “I’m big boned” not in reference to me but in reference to themselves. These weren’t large people, they were normal sized, they just thought they had a larger skeletal frame. To be honest it isn’t something I think about often, the size of my bones I mean.

This evening though a complete stranger told me they could tell I was from where I am from because I am a “big boned girl” and apparently women from my province are big boned.

What the actual fuck?!?!

For starters, that doesn’t even make sense. You can’t tell where someone is from based on their body build, not in my country anyways, it’s not like everyone in Alberta looks one way and everyone in BC looks another way. We’re a freakin immigrant country, we all look different!

Despite what he said not making sense it still really bothered me…I write that as past tense but it is bothering me still, as in this very moment, when it’s been more than ten hours since he said that to me.

Apparently I look big boned.

I still don’t know how to respond to that. I didn’t have a response when he said it to me either, well, I had one in my head but I was at work so I had to be professional and therefore couldn’t say what I was thinking, or punch him which to be honest was what I wanted to do most.

Not like there is ever a good time to have a jackass make a super rude and inappropriate comment on my body to me but this was told to me as I was, for once, feeling fairly ok with how I was looking. I have lost 5.5 pounds, which I know isn’t a lot but it is a start, and I had been thinking all day about how I am on my way to my goal weight and how I was going to make some sort of visual thing to track my weight loss…something like this…

weight jars

I was trying to be positive about my weight loss and thinking about how much more I am going to lose, and how my clothes will fit better, then eventually need to be replaced, how I’ll feel so much better about myself and so much more. Basically I was riding the happy train and feeling a bit better about myself and then this guy came in to my world and I came crashing down. Down to where I was brutally reminded I have a long way to go, a lot of weight to lose, how I may be feeling better inside about how I am doing but on the outside I still look the same, how I am an object that men I have never met feel they can comment on, how I’m still so fat and it is all my fault because I have crap ass eating habits and alternate between restricting and binge eating and my punishment is this.

This body.

This treatment from strangers.

This misery.

I hate that man but I hate myself more for looking the way I do and giving that man something to comment on.

hate myself

New Plan

About three weeks ago I started a new (healthy!) eating plan. I thought if I followed a plan that had clear rules I’d find it easier than just trying to “eat a bit healthier” which is what I say I am going to do when I am half-assing things.

Slowest weight loss ever! 

Because I’d been following the plan and not cheating, even managing to eat as much per day as it says to (which fyi, is more food than I would normally eat in a day – unless I had a binge but that’s a whole different thing lol) I’d been feeling good about myself. Not good about how I looked, but good about actively working towards my goal. Even if all I was doing was sitting watching tv I felt like I was working towards getting thin because I was (1) not eating but not because I was restricting or (2) eating something healthy that is ok to eat or (3) not having a binge.

I don’t know how to properly explain this feeling, normally I only feel like I am working towards my goal if I feel the pain of hunger or am working out but this, following this plan got me the same feeling as those things did without the pain of hunger or having to sweat more than the normal 2 hours or so a day. I was (and still am) enjoying feeling like I am making steps toward my goal 24/7, it may all be in my head but whatev, if you listen to the “experts” my eating disorder is in my head too so oh well, shrug.

Well, last week I had a brutal shift at work and all I could think about was having a binge and eating chocolate cake. I love cake, who wouldn’t? I especially love chocolate cake. I double especially love chocolate cake if I am bingeing on it and eating an unlimited amount of it. Mmm cake!

After work I ended up at the grocery store buying chocolate cake, sigh. ūüė¶

All I could think about was eating the cake, having the binge, having it fill me up, make me feel better, take away all the stress from work. I feel empty a lot, not hunger type empty, just…empty, and having a binge helps me feel better because it makes me feel full, and even if it is too full that is ok because it takes away the feeling of being empty.

I’m rambling and making no sense, sigh.

Let’s try to get back on point here, not that I’m sure I remember what point I was wanting to make lol

I was following the plan, and it was working, and I was feeling better about myself, then I had a crap day at work, needed to binge more than I needed anything ever, binged on cake that was amazingly delicious, felt horrible for failing the program, spent the next couple days eating things I shouldn’t have because I felt like I was such a huge failure there was no point in trying to be healthy anymore before getting to a point where I could tell myself that:

One binge wasn’t so bad it threw away all my hard work from the previous weeks.

One binge wasn’t such a failure that I should quit because there was no coming back from it.

One binge wasn’t worth throwing away the positive feelings I was getting from the healthy plan.

Right?

Maybe…

I don’t know that I fully believe that but it is what I started telling myself and I’m hoping the more I repeat it to myself the better the odds I might eventually believe it.

So after the cake day, and a couple days afterwards where I ate stupid things I got a bit more on track, and am now properly following the program without a problem. But I’m not sure what to do the next time I need to binge. I don’t binge just because I have been restricting for so long I lose control and eat everything because I am starving. I binge because, well, I’m not completely sure…because I’m an emotional eater? Because it makes me feel less empty? Because figuring out proper portions sucks and being able to just eat and eat and eat is so much easier?

I binge for reasons too complicated to figure out at this very moment, I worry though that if I don’t figure them out I’ll never stop being a binge eater and that means I’ll always have to be hyper-vigilant about my eating because I’ll have to be (1) on guard for a binge attack and (2) compensating for the binges I do have.

I wonder what it is like having an uncomplicated relationship with food? I don’t think I will ever know…

No Help For Me

A little while ago I reached out for help to a service provided by my work benefits. They put you in touch with a counselor who helps with whatever your issues are. According to this lady I score high for having depression and it sounds like I have an eating disorder. Noooo, really? *rolls eyes* She says she can only help me a bit and that I need to find a specialist. sigh. It took all my effort to reach out and contact the service that put me in touch with her and now she wants me to go find someone else? She said she could help me until I found a specialist so I figured might as well talk to her a bit, what could it hurt, right?

Well holy crap it ended up hurting, and not in a I’m-healing-and-this-is-healing-pain kind of way but in a I’ve-been-rejected-by-a-professional and am on my own kind of way.

That was unexpected.

I initially went to her because I was having a lot of trouble controlling my binges and I’d gained weight because of that and I needed help getting them under control. When I last saw her I was playing the 24 hour game. I love this game, do you know it?

Basic rules are you can only eat something once every 24 hours, and the longer you can go past the 24 hour mark, the better. You can drink non-calorie things, like water, tea, diet coke, stuff like that, but nothing else!

So yeah, I’d been doing that and was on day 5 and I stupidly made the mistake of telling her.

I thought shrinks weren’t supposed to judge??

I could tell from her face she didn’t approve and all she said was “you need to see a specialist” and then she cut our meeting short.

I was really confused when I left, sorta lost, I mean ok, so she doesn’t like what I did but to boot me out like that, isn’t she supposed to be helping, not reinforcing the knowledge that I am alone and no one really understands what I am going through and that to try and get help is a useless waste of my time?

A couple days after I found a specialist online and went to see her, she seemed nice at first but said I had to want to get help to benefit from seeing someone and while she didn’t say outright “no, I can’t help you” that was the definite vibe I was getting. She also shut me out, indicating there wasn’t anything she could do for me.

I make the freakin effort to find a specialist and they can’t help me. What. The. Fuck.

The only other options left to me are people whose online profiles I don’t like, who don’t have sliding scales, who are super expensive so my health care wouldn’t even cover 4 sessions with them, and who I am not wasting my time on because apparently I can’t be helped.

I can’t believe I wasted my time like that. It took weeks of build-up for me to be able to convince myself to contact someone for help and I get told I’m on my own. Why are there people out there claiming to want to help when they don’t help??

For a couple days after the second meeting I was really down, feeling like I wasn’t worth their time or their energy, like I am a hopeless case, and that is not a fun way to be feeling. I figured on just quitting, just stopping eating all together but something in me clicked over and decided that by my quitting that means they are right, or worse, winning.

I don’t want them to be right. I don’t want to be hopeless. I don’t want to be not worth the time and energy of someone. I don’t want to be the person they made me feel I was.

Obviously speaking to someone is not for me, they don’t want me, well I don’t want them, but that doesn’t mean I can’t work on myself, right?

strong

I Don’t Know How To Feel

I’m all conflicted, about two different things, and don’t know what to do…well, actually, there is nothing I can do about either situation, I just don’t know how to deal with my reactions, sigh.

Here’s the first situation:

I was dating a guy, we were in love, that changed, we broke up. He said I wasn’t a girl guys feel 100% about, I am a “for now” girl, not a “forever girl”. That was his second reason for breaking up with me, his first was more along the lines of “he wants to be with me, when we aren’t together he’s always thinking of me, but he’s going through stressful times at work and when he’s done work for the day all he wants to do is sit on his couch, watch tv, and ¬†not interact with the world or think”. ¬†I’m not sure which is true, but I do know that the “I’m not a forever girl” has stuck with me, resonated through every fiber of my being, repeats itself over and over and over in my head. Those words harass my every day, and night, I hear them in my dreams, I hear them when I look in the mirror, when I eat, when I exercise…I hear them all the time.

So I’ve been trying to get over that, move past it, something. But he made it hard. After we broke up he kept texting, wanting to hang out, wanting to be “friends”, wanting wanting wanting. All he was thinking about was himself and it was making me unable to cope not only with the breakup but with life so I stopped responding to his texts. He gave up for a bit then started texting about taking me for a bday dinner, he wouldn’t let up, to keep this post short-ish I’ll just say that I eventually caved and said yes. He picked me up, we went to a fancy restaurant, had a lovely meal, then at the end he surprised me with front row tickets to Cirque de Soleil, Front Row!! We went to the show, had an amazing time, he insisted on buying me any¬†souvenir I wanted, then he brought me home. He got out of the car when he dropped me off, gave me a big hug and I went in while he drove off.

I was so confused. ūüė¶

What was that?? If we’d been together I would have been bragging about the best date ever, but, that wasn’t a date, that was…something…

The next day he texted to see how I was doing (I’d been in a car accident the day prior), I told him I was in pain but fine, craving a snack but I didn’t have any snacky food around. He asked what I wanted and said he’d get me anything I wanted. So he got me Starbucks, brings it over, hangs out for a bit, we chat, he leaves. Why did he do that??

I flew out the next day and returned a week later, the whole time I was gone he texted me. If we hadn’t had a huge break up I’d swear we were still together cause he was acting the way he did when we were dating. When I returned he kept texting, but I couldn’t handle it anymore and I stopped responding, or if I did respond it was with one word answers. He waited a week or so, texted asking how I was enjoying the new tv I got on my trip and I responded with “it’s fine, I don’t watch it much”. I didn’t hear from him again.

It took me weeks to stop looking for his name to show up on my phone. I in equal parts wanted him to contact me and didn’t want him to.

I didn’t have any contact with him until last week when there was an¬†awkward¬†encounter in the parkade. We both participate in the same sport but different teams. I was early, waiting for a friend that I was going to go running with and so was sitting in my suv reading. A white car, same brand as his parked in front of my suv, the trunk of that car was facing the front of my suv. I glanced up when it parked to see if it was my running friend but it wasn’t so I ignored it but the person didn’t get out so I glanced up and saw his face in his rearview mirror. But it couldn’t be him cause that isn’t his car! I kept subtly looking up and I realized the car is a service car, the ones you get when your car is in the shop ya know? Which meant that totally could be him. Fuck. I didn’t know what to do! If he thought I knew it was him but was ignoring him then I should keep ignoring him. Maybe he didn’t realize I was in my suv. Maybe I should get out of mine but go to the trunk and pretend to be rummaging through my stuff for something so I have a reason to not deal with him. I didn’t know!

In the end, he got out, slammed his door and walked away. After he was gone I stopped pretending to read my book, I couldn’t concentrate, and was basically staring in to space trying to get ahold of myself when he reappeared at the freakin car! He put his parkade receipt on the dash, got his gear from the trunk, slammed the door and trunk lid, and walked off.

It hurt. That must seem stupid but it did. Everytime I had seen him he used to treat me with affection, with love, now he slams doors and ignores me. My heart hurt. ūüė¶

About 4 days later I couldn’t take it anymore so I texted him asking what happened to his car. He responded saying it was in the shop, it got rear ended. I asked if it was bad. He said 12K worth of damage, gonna take a month to repair. I asked if he was ok. He responded with he was fine, he wasn’t in the car, his gf was driving, she has whip lash.

His gf????

The whooooole time we were together he NEVER let us use gf or bf because he wanted to take things slow, see where they would lead, not rush things, not label us.

But now, he has a gf that he lets drive his car? His car is his freakin baby, nobody touches that thing. But apparently she does. His gf.

So…what was I? Not worthy of being called his gf? Somehow less than her? Someone he never cared for?

I was easily thrown away, but all this time I comforted myself with the thought he did once love me, even though it didn’t work out. And maybe once our sport season started up again and he saw me again he’d want me again. i had all these fantasies about what would happen. Now obviously none of them are coming true.

I was¬†devastated¬†all over again. I didn’t text him back.

It brought everything rising to the surface again. I stopped eating because I was too sad, had no appetite, was staring in to space shocked and drained and depressed. I tried cutting myself and didn’t do a very good job of it, apparently skin is harder to cut then I realized. I wish I could run away.

I had no one to tell anything to, no one willing to listen, I have to deal with this on my own and I don’t know how. I don’t know why I am so easily discarded and some new girl is so easily brought in to his life. When we would cuddle my head fit perfectly on his shoulder, we called it the “nook”, we’d joke about it being my nook or his nook. We’d joke about nobody else being allowed to ever use it, he said it was mine forever. I really miss feeling his arms around me, holding me, making me feel safe and cared for. I really miss my nook. But it’s not mine anymore, it is some other woman’s. I hate her and I don’t even know who she is. I wish he’d been in the car and also gotten whip lash. I simultaneously want to see what she looks like and I don’t want to see her because she must be better then me, skinnier, prettier, less of a nut job about food. She’s probably perfect. And just who he wants. And I am all alone. Always alone.

Even though it ended badly, and he said horrible things, and sometimes when I think about it I realize we probably wouldn’t have been the best long term fit, I still miss him. I miss feeling important to someone. I miss having someone care about me. I miss his voice, his smile, his hugs, his jokes, his way of calling me “babe and baby”. Now he calls someone else that. Lets someone else rest their head on his shoulder, in my nook! He has moved on. Forgotten about me. And I might as well be back at the first week after we broke up because I am that affected by this whole situation still.

On top of that, a friend’s brother heard the whole situation and said if I hadn’t stopped texting him normally this probably wouldn’t of happened. He was apparently still texting me to keep me in his life, know he still had a chance of getting me back, but my trying to help myself heal and not text with him anymore made him stop trying. So, if I had answered a longer answer when he texted about the tv we might be together now? So much value put on one text message? How is that possible? It sinks me down even deeper in to the hole I am in, knowing our not being together is most likely my fault and can be traced to that text.

I don’t know what to feel, how to feel, I keep thinking about him, it doesn’t make me feel good at all, I need to move on but I can’t figure out how. I have been restricting my calories more, and exercising more, hoping when he sees me he’ll realize what he is missing but who am I kidding? I’m still too fat. He’ll never look at me again. I’ve lost him.

I’m alone.