The cookies made me cry

                                                                                             Mood:Exhausted
So something odd happened to me just now.
I'm on binge number two:

The cookie mix says 18 servings, yet I rolled the dough smaller so I could somehow get 24 cookies instead. I go ahead and bake them so I can have along with my coffee and the potatoes I already had in the oven. My headache was too much so having no bananas in the house, the potato is second best in my book for potassium.
I'm binging now on the cookies in addition to other things I add at the last minute, almost filled to the brim, to that  point where I can't even get up, I still manage to stuff more cookies down my throat with milk now.
The last cookie I can fit is eaten and as I get up to head to the bathroom an odd feeling hits me. I feel sad and guilty. Never in all my time doing this have I ever felt that way before.
I felt like I wanted to cry, I don't know why?
I was suddenly disgusted with food and myself. I went ahead and purged, no blood this time but I have a heck of a sore throat. I suspect this morning's episode was nothing more than scratches. I got back to 109 yet felt unsatisfied, sometimes it still feels like there is more food in there trying to be digested. I went ahead and did a liquid binge, downed a carton of Orange juice, more coffee and the rest of the fruit punch I made earlier. This last purge was the one for the night. Everything is out this time. My chest screams in agony and I know I need to stop now.
At one point the b/p would be incredibly high, sometimes it just feels like you could go all day doing that doesn't it? Imagine if you could, if you didn't really
care then you would do such a thing. In any case, I've cut back considerably. Three is the number I can't surpass. One is better.
Zero is the magic number I strive for every morning and fail to do by the day's end.
Sometimes I wish I could take a day off from this life. Do something normal like the masses do on weekends. Get away from this place I'm in now.
I wish I could just go somewhere with a friendly face and just be. I'm tired of seeing this face staring back at me. I need a vacation.
You have no idea how lonely it gets. Yes sometimes I want that, to be utterly alone, but most days I just wish I had the right people around me instead of the wrong ones. The triggers, the phonies, the passer by and the ones that smother me.
In a parallel universe I'd like to be employed, in therapy and properly medicated, living in a nice, bigger place. Thin and beautiful, surrounded by pretty things that I've purchased and were not donated or given or have come with strings attached.
My daughter healthy and happy, a nice car and even someone special to see sometimes that loves me and won't hurt me for no reason.
Such simple obtainable things that always seem just out of my reach. They seem impossible at times to me. Maybe I don't deserve them, maybe I never will have that or won't live long enough to ever see it.
Recovery sounds like a scary word sometimes, means you're ready to give up all that you know and do something else, something better for you.
I want that I do.
Am I ready for it is another question entirely. Can I really trust that someone else knows best for me and can fix all my boo boo's?
Trust for me is hard, you get crossed over time and again, it takes something from you until you've nothing left. Instead of getting back something, you put out, you put up-Walls.
My walls are so big and long, China may have a run for its money.
I think the guilt comes from knowing that the end is near, that very soon this way I live will be no more. The bulimia's days are numbered.
I'm aware of what I'm doing to myself, the danger I put myself in with each bite and each expulsion. The truth is I just stopped caring a long time ago. I somehow lost a part of me somewhere, that confidence and strive to want better for yourself is no longer with me. I'd like to find it again, its the only way I'll be able to get healthy and actually want something for myself. To know that I deserve good things and a loving atmosphere, not this. I wouldn't wish the way I live on anyone, and for a person to actually want this is ludicrous.
There is no easy fix, no quick way to lose weight. The minute I stop or slow down, well I shudder to think how quickly I'll blow back up.
I'm nineteen pounds away from what I believe is a weight that will satisfy me. I don't know anymore if that is what it will take. I'm a hard one to please. I like to please others, everyone else comes first. Its no wonder I'm always hardest on myself.
Sunday is the day of rest, that's what I want to do.
I want to sleep in, take a long hot bath, exercise, anything else except spend hours on end in the bathroom. I want a day off.
I'll try again tomorrow like I do every single day, try to not give in to the cravings. My throat really hurts and I feel worn out and old today. I'm in bed on a Saturday night and its not even 10pm yet. Mia is making me old, she's stealing my essence, my youth, my time and drive to do things.
I will be thirty this year, March. I refuse to go another day past my birthday living this same exact way.
I've given up so much already, I won't do it anymore. I will not spend another year in these dire circumstances.
From now on, I’ll connect the dots my own way.

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, “I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.” You must do the thing you think you cannot do. –Eleanor Roosevelt