Tag Archives: punishment

I Can’t Even…

Every Friday, without fail, I go to the gym. I don’t think it is an ED thing so much as it is a time slot that fits well with my schedule and it became a habit to go then. That and I enjoy it.

With my one-on-one counselling we decided to change my workout plan a bit because after some delving in to shit in my head we discovered that while my weight workouts are enjoyable and don’t seem to feed my ED the cardio part of my workout does feed my ED. So as a challenge I shortened my cardio.

It sucked. I hated it. I felt like I was cheating on my workout. But I did it. I didn’t die or get instantly fatter and well, maybe it was a thing I could do again.

Thing is, the past 2 Fridays I go to the gym, I work out, then the next day or two I am sick. I mean, I am sick already, I’ve been battling a bug (or possibly two) for a couple weeks now and it seems that every time I work out after work it flattens me for a couple days. I work weekends and can’t afford to keep missing work because I am kicking my immune system in it’s ass with my workouts. I was toying with not working out tonight after work, in an attempt to be self-caring and all that crap, ya know, baby the body in the hopes it finally gets healthy again…well, as healthy as it can get considering how I eat I suppose. 😉

I was leaning on the side of still working out, because I didn’t want to miss my Friday evening workout – the gym is nice and quiet, it’s the best workout of the week!

And then shit went down.

There is a swinging door at work with the tiniest window and massive blind spots on either side. I was just about to push the door open, so my left foot was up mid-step, when another staff member pushed the door from the other side, really really hard. It smashed in to my foot, pushed my toes back really far, and as a bonus spilled the just made cup of tea I was holding so I burned my forearm.

Just. Fucking. Great.

Do you know how much paperwork is involved when a staff member gets injured? I do because I’m usually the person handing it over to the other staff members when they get hurt and threatening them with me in their face at every moment of their next shift if they don’t fill it in asap and get it back to me.

I’m not worried about the burn, I sometimes self-harm (real winner of mental health over here!) and my chosen method is burning, so I know how to handle that just fine.

My foot though is another story. The more I walked on it at work the more it hurt. Even when I sat and rested it, it hurt. By the time I got home my limp was pretty impressive. I had a shower, propped my foot up, and have been babying it all night. It still hurts though, which sucks balls.

The bigger problem for me though is…I didn’t go to the gym.

Now, ok, part of me, a teeny tiny I think rational part of me, is saying it is fine I didn’t go. In fact it is probably good I didn’t go because I would have definitely made the foot worse.

The larger part of me is saying I am a failure for not going. If I was really dedicated, if I really wanted to get to my goal, if I really cared about my fitness levels, if I really wasn’t a loser, or lazy, or pathetic, I would have pushed through and gone to the gym. Now I might as well give up. I will be a lame ass next week and find a reason to not go then too I bet, because that is what I am, a lazy, disgusting, fat, weak, loser who was just waiting for an excuse to not work out that they can then use for weeks and weeks until it was like they never went to the gym. This is the beginning of the end. May as well give up now.

I couldn’t get my brain to shut up. It was circling with these thoughts, I couldn’t make them go away, I couldn’t fight them, all I did was believe in them. Whole heartedly, 100%, believe them.

So I ate.

I ate my feelings away. I squashed them down under ice cream and cookies. I ate and I ate and I ate and for a little while my brain was quiet. All the insults, all the stressing, all the fear, it all went away. Then after a brief, too brief, quiet moment in my head, it was all replaced by guilt over what I ate, shame over letting myself go, horror at how much I ate, disgust at how much of a pig I am, hatred over my actions, realization that I am not dedicated, I am not strong, I am not a fit or on the way to being a fit person.

I am nothing.

I am a slob of a person who literally ate their feelings in to submission, only to be swamped by new, worse, feelings. Feelings that I earned, that I deserved, because our actions show what we truly want. Our words can say anything, our actions are what we should pay attention to. And my actions showed who I really am.  All the horrible things I am.

I say I don’t want to be those things, but if I truly didn’t want to be them I would have sat with the first batch of uncomfie feelings rather than indulge myself, eat all that food, and now have to deal with the consequences.

I am glad I got injured tonight, I deserve the pain. I deserve every pound of weight I gain. I deserve every stomach ache I get. I deserve every single drop of guilt I feel. I did this to myself, I deserve punishment.

And trust me, tomorrow, it will be meted out.

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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