i went to a party last night. thats a big deal for me. Not that i never get invited to parties, thats not it.  It’s that i never agree to go to them, its just that i never go.  I guess its fear of rejection, also fear of food.  Undoubtetly . But last night was amazing.  I ate before i went, a healthy healthy choice tv dinner of pasta with chicken brocilli and red sauce.  Perfectly proportioned.  i didn’t eat pizza, didn’t binge out of peer pressure.  i ate some vegetables and water.  I did end up eating cake but when i ate it i was actually HUNGRY and i didn’t binge : ). a definite plus.  I found my soul type (at the party). it’s 3, the happy one. the one who sees past the physical self and into the souls of other people.  i find it true, and also ironic.  i guess if one new my situation with eating, about my weakness that they would find my soultype to be a lie.  i beg to differ.  i do not do what i do to my body because i feel imperfect physically.  i do it becasue i feel the need to block out the voices telling me i am not good enough.  i am not talking about physical traits.  i am talking about myself as a person.  if i am being lazy or tired or not doing something “the way i am supposed to be” i feel guilty. Guilt leads to binging.  They hate.  always hate.  My mom triggers these feelings of guilt and self hatred with her sharp tounge and poisined words. “your ignorant, your stupid, i hate you, your a horrible person, you’ll never do, get, love anything except yourself” all these words twist within me, to the depths of my heart. they do not subsided except with emotional eating, and even then the feelings come back, but stronger.  My point of this being, i really do feel as if i can look into peoples souls sometimes…atleast look at them for their personality. Although i am ashamed at myself for what i do, i am proud that i have this ability.  i feel that it will carry me far once i get this under control.

the next morning, was hell.  had breakfast at  the hostesses house.  a bagel and strawberries.  completly normal, and healthy.  completly sane.  then i came home.  my mom began to yell.  telling me “why should you have a good time when i’m never happy” and telling me that my souldtype was a bunch of “shit” that i’m ignorant and stupid. that i’m a bad person.  then the feelings of hatred came again.

i ate

i ate and ate.  i ate 1 burrito, 2 mini burritos, 1 plum, 1 apple, 1 yogurt, 2 pieces of cranberry bread, 2 huge bowls of cereal, 1 more bagel, 1 granola bar, 1 pear, 1 fruitstrip.  i feel like shit. i feel like total fucking shit.  i am ashamed. i am weak. i am melting, melting away. i am loosing myself.  the self i tried so hard to find.  i was so close and now i’m loosing it again.  its slipping away.  i can feel it slip through my fingers.  i can feel it slip away.  the more i try to control the more it runs.  and i can’t keep up with it any longer.  the food is holding me down.  like a rock its holding me down and i cant’ get up. i’m trying but i’m crying and i can’t get up.  i can’t do this anymore.

and yet i try to look at the positives.  In the past 9 days i have binged 4 days.  that means that over 50% of the time i have had a normal day  i would love to have a week straight without binging but for now i will look at the positives.  i know that this is very OCD but i’m looking forward to the fact that tommorow is June 1st.  that way, i can start with a new month on a monday.  its perfect.  sundays have never been my good days.  i’m hoping, praying that this week will be better.  it has to be.  with all my heart i pray, it has to be.