I wish there was a way to show that i’ve halfway (or three-fourths of the way) completed this goal. I still binge occasionally, and I’d hardly consider myself in control of my eating, but I’ve really improved a lot, in terms of not only the frequency of the binges but also the quantity of food consumed. I kind of wanted to give myself a mini-pat on the back, so I figured I’d take this item off of my “things” list, even though it’s definitely something I’m still working on and may have to work on for a long time.
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verbaiche has written 11 entries about this goal
so, ever since making a doctor’s appointment for next tues, I’ve actually been doing “okay.” Not holding my breath. rar.
Failing; desperate desire to become a hermit who eats, reads, writes, and surfs the web all day.
I hadn’t done the whole eat-entire-packages-of-food thing for a long time (about two weeks, which, sadly, is “long” by my standards), but I slipped today. I caught myself, sort of, but it was still disgusting.
I don’t know when or if I’ll ever be able to mark this goal as completed. Maybe I should try breaking it down into smaller goals or something.
God, today was such a terrible day. You know that your life’s pathetic and ridiculous when:
1. The only social outing you can possibly tolerate is going to the movies because nobody can see you in the dark.
2. You think about calling in sick to work the next day because you ate so fucking much.
3. You have weeks’ old cookie stains on your jacket, but you continue to wear it because you tell yourself that you don’t give a shit when you probably do.
4. You can’t call your dad or grandparents and wish them a happy holiday (or to let them know that you’re still alive) because you know they’re going to ask the absurd question, “Are you you’re eating enough?”
5. There’s more. But I can’t type anymore because my arms can’t reach over the mound that is my stomach.
I was doing “decent” (although hardly “good”), but then I slipped today.
I hate the new year. It’s always tempting to make goals, but I rarely keep mine. There’s nothing quite as demoralizing as making goals while fully aware of your own impending failure.
It’s amazing how I went from being unconscious of – if not antagonistic towards – the whole weight thing until roughly two years ago. I’m also incredibly jealous of my will-power back then. I think my family and my friends were more worried about me when I suddenly got thin, but ironically I felt incredibly in control at that time and feel incredibly out of control right now.
This is a little inane, I know, but I hate (hate, hate, HATE) how going backwards is impossible. I’ll probably never be wholly unconscious of eating, exercising, etc. I’ll probably always have random calorie figures memorized.
Hate new years. Hate moving forward. Hate things in general, including myself as well as hate itself.
I gave my credit card, bank cards, and money to my mother. I was going to tell her about my “problem,” but since I don’t particularly enjoy crying in front of the parental units (or anybody for that matter), I got out of there before I could expound on the more pathetic and disgusting aspects of the problem.
I wish I could only exist in and/or through writing. The act of physical being is so tedious and overbearing.
Last night, I dreamed that I was with an ex-boyfriend wandering through this woody area. I felt so light and perfect, and I wondered if he’d kiss me. We talked about racial discrimination (I know, how romantic). When I woke up it all felt ridiculous, and I was ashamed for dreaming it. Although I suppose it’s nice to know that my subconscious believes in political correctness.
This entry may seem out of place under the anti-binge-eating heading, but somehow it feels appropriate.
Haven’t stopped binging, but I’m learning to accept my own repulsiveness? I suppose this is on one hand promising and on the other absolutely atrocious.
Not to sound melodramatic or anything (hence, I probably do sound melodramatic), I’m quite convinced that I’m well on my way to becoming a diabetic.
I SUCK! Yaaay.