I should be studying.

The most beautiful, perfectly articulated thoughts come when I am too broken to write them. They came today, just minutes ago, so I have gotten up from my Savasana, my mind so numb it was relaxing (am I doing yoga right?). I’ve gone to my room, picked up my laptop and now I’m typing. They wont be the same but I will try.

I’ve been triggered. I’m a pussy for being that way because it is no-one’s fault but mine. I am angry and I am sad. And I am angry and sad that I cannot express that anger and sadness properly; I just smile. I just joke and smile and distract myself, so much that I don’t even realise that it’s a tactic, from what’s hurting me.

My parents’ expectations and wants from me are hurting me.

The expectations of my current partner are pressuring me.

A girl, tiny, did her little weights (incorrect form!) and it’s annoying me that I was like this less than two years ago. I am jealous of where she is in her recovery; honeymooning; she hasn’t put on weight yet and she thinks she is recovering despite still being under the control of her eating disorder. Why do I want that control from the most vicious mental illness? Why would I ask for ED to return? And so, it makes me angry that I can’t think straight. And it makes me angrier that my parents were happier when I was sick, being their little child who they had to care for, who wouldn’t do anything “wrong,” because she was too busy worrying about her regimented meals and exercise and rarely (if ever) thought about boys or sex because her body just couldn’t.

Now that I am doing all these things, they worry and have gone from zero to 120% strict. I am drinking alcohol without (well, less) worry about the calories, going out with a boy, worrying less about missing a day of exercise, socialising and being good at it, rarely depending on my parents’ approval or wanting to talk to them, living life like a 23-year-old. Well, maybe a 15-year-old; I missed that part of my life.

It makes me so upset, and I was so proud that I finally cried but there is a problem: the tears stopped and they haven’t come back. I want that release, I want that big cry but it just isn’t happening. I numbed myself today; I threw up “all” (40%?) of my food. I felt so high and accomplished, with plans of achieving all my goals of study and exercise… then numb and blank. Then I did my ab workout and ran on the spot but I stopped because I am a lazy fatass. I need ED back, or at least that component. Then I lay on the floor in Savasana (dead man) position and felt so paralysed it was like I had smoked marijuana except my lungs didn’t hurt. My eyes feel tired and I’m distanced from the world. My mind feels like it goes backwards into a white tunnel inside my head and it is this never-ending tunnel that looks the same everywhere. There is a dramatic score and a whooshing backwards noise and I’m going so far back that I don’t know how long it will take to get back to the front. I can see through my eyes but it is all distant. It is like a window because I know it is close but far at the same time, anything I touch, I won’t connect to.

To be honest I am crying… inside. I have the feelings of crying and the tears are screaming so hard to get out, but my eyes are like hard glass, blocking any fluid from entering outside. My eyes are telling the tears to stay inside, as if my body is forcing me to remain upset. My cheeks are begging to be kissed by salty droplets, but the key isn’t turning and it’s frustrating, upsetting and making me angry all at once. Now I can fume at my own body’s incomplete, incorrect response to my emotions, instead of my parents. Or maybe that’s an excuse. Who knows? And it is and incorrect reaction because I can feel how incorrect it is.

I hate food and I hate the feelings that make me do silly things with food. I felt great until I ate today, at 12. I went from 5am to 12pm without eating. I felt so good. If I could stretch that I would feel better. I would lose all this weight and I would be sick (looking) again. Maybe then my parents would think late nights with boys is safer than my weight dropping, my heart slowing and death staring me down. Or maybe they would smile inside as they take their child, not adult, into their arms, away from anything that is against their rules. Anorexia leaves you looking younger than you are. If I want to go back into child mode, I know what to do. I am so angry.

I hate that they have told my sister that I am a bad influence and that she cannot study away from the family home. They don’t know how good they have it. They don’t know that all children lie and upset their parents, but I never have. I literally have done nothing against what they wanted. I am such a goody-goody it disgusts me. I am so so angry and I never want to talk to them again.