Realization.
I have an eating disorder. I have had an eating disorder for the past couple of years... probably since around 7th grade. Poor body image is a horrible way of thought; I want to be healthy, I want to be able to EAT. I've been around the block, starving myself and more recently throwing up. It's not healthy. Depriving myself of food... it's what my body needs, it's my body's form of NOURISHMENT. Either way, I can't stand the thought of eating so much. Even if it's not much to the average person, it is very much to me. For example, this morning I had an egg & cheese sandwich for breakfast, a banana in the afternoon along with one cheese enchilada and some rice and beans, a bowl of oatmeal around 6pm, and another bowl of oatmeal around 9pm. Really, it's not that much food at all. Actually... yes, now that I examine that long list, it's a ton. Wow. Is that really what people consider to be healthy? Why can't I beat this frame of mind, conquer and bury it? And lately... I do believe I've GAINED weight. Fuck throwing up, bulimia can suck it. It's a disgusting form of self-mutilation, and the lagging erosion to my body, mind and soul is not worth it. I know that. I'm aware of it. So why can't I stop, why can't I eat normally without wanting to empty my stomach afterwards? Because it is all in my head, this is all in my head. What the fuck is this disease? It takes such enormous strength to conquer. Honestly, I need help. Is it okay to get help? If I get help, will that be forsaking my faith in myself and in God, or is help there as a blessing of God? My metabolism is just all fucked up. Even if I do eat, I'm on no form of schedule... I'm trying but it's hard. What do I do? Why have I even done this to myself??? Is it this bad, or am I merely overanalyzing? Would someone else tell me I have a problem, or that I'm just being dramatic? I don't want attention... but am I subconciously crying for some form of it? Am I doing this because I WANT to be noticed? I hope not. That's so incredibly selfish. I'm contemplating telling my mother... I don't want to put her through even more bullshit than I have in these last few years. But I suppose I really do need help, in some way. And if I don't tell her now, the end result is going to be even more dramatic. Her finding out by overhearing gagging noises in the bathroom won't better the situation. Why am I doing this to myself, why am I not taking care of myself? Am I trying to destroy myself? Lord, keep the devil away from me, please. Don't let him get me down. I have faith in you, but not so much faith in myself. I don't know. I don't know what I want, I'm so confused. This isn't too complicated at all... quite simple, really. But that's what I do, complicate things. It's what I'm good at, isn't it? I don't want to meet with a shrink, I don't want some quack diagnosing my brain and telling me I posses qualities a, b, and c or traits e, f, and g. I don't need that. I want some insight, but not advice. Because I won't take it. And Lord, I'm thinking that what I need most right now is some wisdom. You know me, getting myself in deep, but only wanting to use myself as a way out. Crazy, but hey. It's how it goes. I Love You. Thank you.