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Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Weekly weigh-in + 10 day challenge - Day 2 (yesterday)

CW: 78,8 kg/173,7 lbs (BMI 28,3)
Loss: +0,4 kg/0,9 lb
GW2: 78 kg/171,9 lbs (BMI 28)
So, tini tiny weight gain. Nothing big, and since I was over 80 las Friday, I'm not really that sad. Plus, I still lost weight from yesterday 'till today, which I am very, very surprised about. You'll understand when you see my points and explanations from yesterday.
Also, I swear, I'm gonna work my butt of this week so that I next week finally, finally, can tell you guys about how I reached my goal weight 2. Really, I have been so close for so long, and I'm sick of it. So - sick - of - it.
You guys remember how I wrote last week that I'd made an appointment with the schools psychologist? Well, that appointment is in 1 hour and 40 minutes as I write these words exactly. My arm is covered in red cuts from last night  - I'll explain that afterwards -, and I'm freaking out at the thought that she might tell my parents. Also, I don't know how much I can tell her. I don't want to stop cutting. I don't want to get out of my eating disorder. I like being miserable. I'm so fucked up, I know.
I just wish this depression (self-declared, based on a tons of online tests and my experiences with depressions in the past) would end. I'm so sick of not being able to be happy. But at the same time, I don't want to get happy. 'Cause if I get happy now, my parents will never know what they did to me. How fucked up I have become while they have been oblivious to my fading away.
I'm freaking out. My heart is beating so fast. I don't know what to do. I'm all alone. Good thing I don't have any sharp objects...

So, about the cutting. Last night, I came home from the scouts, feeling real depressed. I hate eaten so much shit that day without even purging, and not exercised at all, and knew that my points from that day would be terrible. All I had thought about for hours was cutting. But I didn't go into my room to cut. Instead, I went to the kitchen, to make myself some more food, that I was going to purge. Just to make my misery complete. That's when my dad caught hold of me. At first, he ignored me when I talked to both of my parents. Then afterwards, he told me that he was not in the mood for talking with me, that he was so unpleased with my not doing the laundry that he was thinking about not paying for my studying trip (remember I told you about that week we were going to go to Spain, all of my class together?). The last day for payment was today, and he told me this yesterday. Then he added that the next night - tonight - we were going to have a very serious talk about my future after the 27th of May, my 18th birthday, 'cause it was looking very dark from his view. So translated, he told me that because I hadn't done the laundry, he wanted to prevent me from going on that trip, as the only person in my class, and that he wants to kick me out of the house as soon as I turn 18. I love you too Daddy.
 I have not eaten in days. Do you love me now?

This was what made me cut. My dad had been so bad in so many ways, and I had fought so hard not to cut. Then that SON OF A BITCH (sorry grandma) fucking pushes me over the edge anyway! I cut all of my forearm, and I cut much deeper than I would have if I hadn't been so pissed of! It bled a lot, and I ruined one of our towels when I used it to wipe the blood of my arm. All I could think was "fuck him, I'll ruin everyone of his stupid towels and force him to use money on some new ones!". I was so mad! 
What did I ever do, that made me so hard to love? As far as I recall, I never called him fat, I never told him he was worthless, that he'd never make anything of life, that what he did was just not good enough, I never disapproved of  his clothing, his hair, his music. I never tried to kill myself, I never got drunk and then threatened to cut off my finger while he watched, I never got drunk and cried out on his shoulder, while he struggled to just hold me up. He was the motherfucker who did all of that! So why, why was I so sad when he tried to kill himself? Why is it me that doesn't feel loved, and not him?
Most times Sometimes, I wish he had just died that day. If he'd died that day, I would have been a lot better of today. I would have been much more normal. I know it's a terrible, terrible thing to say, but the last 3 years, during and after his depression, has just been so bad. I have honestly stopped loving my father.
If he had died that day, my mom would be able to show her children that she cares. She would be able to show it, and mean it. She stopped doing that about half a year ago. And it hurts, it hurts so fucking bad! I loved her so much. She was my rock! I could tell her everything. Now, she just doesn't care anymore...

Do you know how it hurts, when your parents stop loving you, your friends leave you, and the only thing that is real is a razor? 


This is just gonna be quick, 'cause I doubt anyone are really still reading after all that bullshit I just let out.

Yesterday's points:
Sleeping: 10 points
Eating: 0 points
Exercising: 0 points
Water: 10 points
Total: 20 points.
Pathetic, much?

---

Know that I love you girls. So much more than anything.
I'm so sorry I'm such a depressed asshole. 
I'm sorry I'm not nice to anyone, neither myself or anyone other.
I'm always complaining about someone,
and I'm sorry about that.
I'd never complain about you girls <3
Good thing I'm gonna get some professional help today, huh?

Stay strong, think thin, be beautiful!
- Bella

7 comments:

  1. I'm so sorry to hear about all of that. Maybe talking to the school psychologist will be good for you. Writing about all of it on here is one thing, but actually verbalizing your problem is a whole other thing that can really really help. Stay strong, beautiful. You have a lot of us here that really care <3

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  2. teeny tiny weight gain. nothing at all!
    really? lost weight when u don't expect it = fucking awesome!
    :( i'm so sorry you feel that way, love. you deserve happiness. so much. <3 awe. babe. i'm just hoping you'd find that rainbow at the end of the damn tunnel.
    fucking bastard. bastard.
    if your Father doesn't act like your Father, then who is he but a stranger? blood ties and family ties are not the same thing.
    i just hope you feel better. you deserve it, baby. you really do.
    -Sam Lupin

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  3. I'm glad you are going to talk to someone. Hopefully it went well.

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  4. When you turn 18 you don't have to have anything to do with him if you don't want. I'd be surprised if anyone did after that. I hope the psychologist helps, cutting isn't the answer although it feels like it and helps at the time- I used to do it. xx

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  5. Your parents are so much like mine. I swear the best thing Dad ever did was spend so much time away from home, even though that left us at Mum's (non-existent) mercy.

    The counsellor can't tell your parents anything unless you're an immediate danger to yourself or there's illegal shit going on. At least, that's the rules here. Talking will help a bit, trust me.

    The best revenge I can think of (And what I used to dream of) is to get legally emancipated from the parentals, in effect divorce your family, and then do something really awesome and make sure EVERYONE knows that they had nothing to do with it, and you'd be happy if you never saw them again. Best I can do now is never speak to them unless they initiate contact >.<

    I'm not a fan of cutting, but I can understand the times when nothing else helps. Hang in there until you can get your independence from them and can be awesome and rub it in their faces how it's all to SPITE those unhelpful unnatural not-parent fuckers.

    I hope the snow is melting and you're staying warm enough. I'm getting so sick of these stupid high winds we're getting at the moment.

    Take care <3

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  6. I hope it worked, talking to someone can never be wrong. Those are some strong pictures.


    /Avy
    http:// mymotherfuckedmickjagger.blogspot.com

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  7. Don't forget your name, Bella. Beautiful. BE beautiful inside while you work on outside. There are two sides to everything.

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