March the 2nd
It's 2am and for the last week I've been sleeping badly from 4-1 and I've been having daily panic attacks.
I avoid looking down and I can't wear most of my clothes. I weigh around 80 kg. I cry almost every night and if someone touches my stomach. Even accidently I freak out. I feel violated and I want to puke.
I want to stop eating but it's so hard. I just want to be okay with myself and not want to cut myself apart.
I hurt myself for the first time in over six months a few days ago.
I'd been having an anxiety attack for forty minutes and it was the only thing that stopped it.
I'm so stressed over what I eat that I stress eat and I think I'm just going to stop. It'll be easier. Too easy to just take a step back and eat less and less.
But not so I die. I just need to get somewhere where I can look in a mirror and not cry. So I can lie on my bed without feeling my stomach against the mattress and wanting to vomit bc I disgusting myself so thoroughly. I think I've just realised that. Righting this.
That I really truely disgust myself. My body disgusts me my stomach makes me sick. And I'm going to take that pure self loathing. That absolute disgust and learn to control myself.
I'm going to eat less and loose this weight.
This part of me that weighs on my mind constantly.
My almost boyfriend can't caress my stomach without me wanting to puke but if I'm skinnier he'll like me more. He's said so. My mum will be prouder and I won't be so utterly disgusted by what I am. I will stop wanting to cut it off.
I'll stop having hourly meltdowns and tears almost always on the brink. I'll be able to live. I just have to do it.
To like myself I have to change. So I will.
