Mental Masturbation

EAT ME 🍖

Well, it happened. I knew this day might come again and it has. It's happened four times before. A relapse. She just couldn't keep her stupid mouth shut. I was already walking on thin ice and Melfi just went and shoved me through a soft spot. I've been hiding my body under baggier, less fitting t-shirts and loser pants, avoiding shorts...how did she not notice that? I know the last meds made me gain some weight and I was trying to be okay with it. I was trying to find a balance and get healthy. I was trying to get to like myself. Maybe I don't deserve to like myself. She knew the contempt I hold for myself, the intense hatred that I have for myself and she says this? Her weight remarks earlier this week have shattered me into a thousand pieces. I can't think about anything but weight, calories, fat, carbohydrates and sugars. I'm falling back into that same familiar obsession that drove me into running out into traffic. I almost can't fathom what happened. The hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach has crawled into my veins.
I can't eat anything without thinking about the calories and what I will need to do to burn them off. If it's too much then I won't touch it, because if I do, the calories and fat and carbs will somehow leak into me and make me even bigger. I've created plans that push me to the level of my endurance and I don't do well with summer heat ever. I know what I'm risking. I've also been puking again. That familiar cramp in the stomach, I thought I'd hate it, but it's been oddly comforting. All I have to do is tighten my stomach and it starts to come up. Slowly at first and then more quickly until it's like a waterfall. Then I feel clean. Light. Empty. It feels like everything bad has been ejected from me, not just the calories I don't want or deserve or whatever twisted scenario is playing in my head. I'm eating about 800 calories a day and I've worked out every other day in addition to three puke sessions. I can't to the laxative thing, I just can't. They cause me such agony and I can't handle that. And I know they're not really effective....and they just fuck you up even more.
I see the disgust in the eyes of those around me. I don't want to be that disgusting boy anymore. I've always been self-conscious about my appearances, especially after publically coming out in my real life, not just online. (I'll do a full blog on that later this month.) I just want to curl and hide. I don't want to leave the house anymore. I feel like I'm a giant joke, emphasis on giant. I'd been doing well, trying new things, being less worried and obsessive. I was almost back to normal from the destructive cycle that got me sickly back in December. I don't even know anymore.
I feel like I don't deserve to eat anything. I always felt these feelings, sometimes about weight/size and others for thinking I'm not worth anything. (Then there are times when I'm being crushed by an overwhelming God complex.) I feel like I'm even bigger than Melfi hinted at it since therapists almost always sugarcoat things. Maybe she didn't want to piss all over everything about me in that one session...I have to see her again on Monday. I feel trapped. I know I probably have the ability to not show up, but I'm afraid to. I shared something with her on the last visit and I'm terrified that it will come back to bite me in the ass. I need to let it blow over before I try and leave. Maybe this is just paranoia. I don't really know. I'm not sure of anything these days. I didn't expect the reaction I got from her when I shared that bit when I shared something that was a semi-factual memory. Now I know what really happened, now that I'm clearheaded and others have given me information. I really don't know what to do. I don't think she'd do anything like that, I'm just always nervous about shit like this. If I can't control it, I feel uneasy. We'll see how Monday's appointment and everything else goes. I really don't have any answers anymore. I've upset my friends by sharing this with them. One is beyond worried about me and she's staying up with me because I'm not really sleeping again. Why can't I just fucking get this right? Why am I so stupid? Why do I have to be such a complete and total fucking failure? I don't really believe in fate or destiny but maybe this is some kind of payment for something I've done wrong, will do wrong...

And what's worse? I don't even feel like I have the right to say anything. That I'm not sick enough to have the label of an eating disorder. I know it's stupid and wrong. It feels like it's a female disease and that I'll be seen as a pathetic girly-boy or some kind of freak, that I won't be taken seriously or viewed as the man I know I am and want to be. I know that boys and men can have eating disorders. I've known a few who have struggled with them. But what am I? Society doesn't know what to rally label me and sometimes I don't know what to label me. I don't need a label. I don't want others to label me. I just want to feel like I fit somewhere, that I'm not alone. I feel like I don't deserve help. Or that I do ask for help I won't be taken seriously in any way, shape or form. Maybe I really do deserve these negative feelings. Maybe this is who I am supposed to be, what I'm supposed to be.