I am to write like there is no one listening. Let the words spill onto the pages. No mopping up of bad language or profanities or thoughts that will offend, because there are things that need to be said and I can’t be scared of the judgement or what other people think or say. I can’t be letting anyone down any more than I do already.
I have never been aware of feeling OK and then not feeling OK.
Yesterday, if my mind was a map of the world then I would have been able to stick a pin in the point that my world changed. I have never felt the switch flip like that. It was simultaneously fascinating and terrifying.
Not long after, I went to sleep. But I woke up the same.
The world was over-powering. The words and colours on the shampoo bottles burned through my eyes, into my brain and out of the back of my skull. Getting stuck on one word, reading it over and over because it looks and sounds wrong. It’s not even English any more. The grout pattern of the plane white tiles was closing in on me like a net. Too many squares, too white, too many lines.
In the car I realise there is more than one voice chattering away in my skull. Today Charlotte is here. I don’t mind, because she is there for a reason. Its only when I feel like this that I war with myself whether this is a psychosis or not. If it was a psychosis than I wouldn’t think it was a psychosis. During these periods I am absolutely convinced she is really here, a real person, because she is really here so it can’t be a psychosis because it’s real, but then I would think that and then it gets confusing. It doesn’t matter.
I am a disgusting person. On the inside and out. There are a lot of people who would argue otherwise and maybe they can see something in me that I can’t see in myself because I am with myself all the time.
I starved myself for the whole weekend. Shhh it’s a secret. I don’t want people to know I think I’m fat. I don’t want to use the ‘F’ word. It’s not a bad word. It does not describe a person. But sometimes ‘S’, the ‘skinny’ word is all I have and I want to keep a hold of it.
When I started my new job I weighed 2kg less than I do no. 2kg. Minimal when you look at it from a 2kg point of view. 2kg is an average bag of sugar. 2kg is the size of a small rabbit.
When I look on the scales the jump from what I was to what I am seems huge.
I think I put on weight because I was burning fewer calories through stress. There is also an abundance of biscuits in my new job. And I eat them, but I needed too because I am busier and I need to keep going.
I find it difficult to get clothes to fit me. I wear small sizes but I’m convinced that I am spilling out of them. Even the extra small scrubs at work are too big, but even then I wish I was smaller. Maybe I want to be invisible.
I am not beautiful on the inside or the outside. And I’m not saying that because I want people to tell me so. In fact I wouldn’t believe it. I think bad things. BPD says I can only be all good or all bad, there for I must be all bad because I certainly am not all good.
Skinny is not beautiful but with societies pre-occupation of skinny meaning success and beauty, it’s the only place I’ve ever fit in. I don’t want to change. I don’t want to be a healthy weight otherwise I am not the thing that I have only ever been complimented on before.
I spent the day eating glucose tablets to give my body a bit of energy.
I weighed myself and found out that I’ve lost 1kg since I started restricting two weeks ago.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to weigh. I don’t know if it matters.
I am some unknown emotions but I know this is all insane.
Exhaustion has not been so bad since I started my new job and I put on 2kg.
Exhaustion is worse when restricting.
I hate myself. I must be so shallow. It doesn’t make sense.
From someone here on the inside xox