My little sister is thin, about 106 lbs. I have said before that I don’t think she is that thin, her collar bones don’t show and all that. But she is smaller, lighter. My issue is that I CONSTANTLY have to hear how small she is. My mum always says to her, “gosh look how pretty you are,” “look at those long legs,” “your father better get a gun,” and most recently, “what are we down to now, bc you look like you have lost weight.” Meanwhile, in the land of disordered eating, I’m standing in the background and the only questions I get are “how much weight have you lost now,” and “it looks like your hips are finally going away.” I have lost over 100 lbs in 7 months and all you can think to say to me is “hey your hips are getting smaller.” Every single day its the same thing. And every single time it makes me stop eating or purge or put a razor to my arm. My father just keeps telling me how proud he is of me for finally losing weight. And every time I say to myself, you wouldn’t be if you knew what I was doing.
My hands shake frequently now, but I kinda like the feeling. I get dizzy when I stand too quickly, but I kinda like that feeling too. When I purged last night, blood was in the vomit and it didn’t scare me. Four days of fasting while working full-time left me exhausted but proud of myself. I have enough self-control to tell myself “no” when I’m high AF and that makes me smile.
Sometimes I imagine what it will be like when I’m finally thin enough, but then I remember I won’t be thin enough until I weigh what I did at birth, just over 5 lbs, and that makes me sad. When I purge and can’t get it all out, that makes me angry at myself. When you don’t notice my cries for help, I become depressed. I think about cutting a lot more lately and that scares me. I crave stronger drugs and the shaky side effects and the blocking out of the entire world and that terrifies me. I no longer see a future for me, I don’t think I will even have a future. I won’t grow old and have dozens of grandchildren piled on the floor in front of a nice fire on a cold winter night. I won’t have a career or my own home. I won’t have anything I hoped for when I was 10. And that leaves me dead inside.
I just want someone to notice what I’m doing and actually care enough to try to stop me, but I also don’t want anyone to notice because then they might try to stop me before I’m beautiful and I can’t stop. I must be beautiful. Somewhere buried inside the layers of nastiness is a beautiful woman and I can’t stop until that comes out.
Today my brain keeps telling me how disgusting I am, and I keep listening. I keep fighting back tears, because even all alone in my house I can’t allow myself to cry. Crying is for people in pain and I’m just faking the pain anyway. I don’t really have a problem, I’m just making everything up. I must be seeking attention, right? I seem to want ppl to notice, so it must be a way to get attention, right?
Does any of this sound familiar to anyone out there or am I just losing my mind one brain cell at a time?