Hmm, let me see, one more. Mom cooked yesterday. Lunch and dinner, huge amounts of food. Well, not huge. Just enough for the entire family. And I ate. And ate and ate and ate, because you know what, "I'll purge anyways." Right before puking, I weighed 62.3 (137). After that, I weighed 60.9 (134). Purged 3 lbs, ok. I had taken laxatives a few hours ago. In the morning, after the lax-effect, I weighed *drums please* 59.6 (131). This, my dear ladies, is how to lose weight overnight. Write it down in your tips&tricks notebook. (<-- obvious joke). I feel safe now..
My therapist seems to not want to see me anymore. She made me decide until Thursday. It's because I can't speak, I can't find a way to speak out my thoughts. There are so many racing through my mind that I can't even speak out loud. She thinks that, because I'm not cutting (this was the only thing she was ever worried about, since my ED is just a "diet"), I am doing so much better. Well, I cut a few days ago on my ribs and inner thighs and lower abdomen, and I hit myself again with my toothbrush. I felt normal again. How can she give up on me when my cutting has decreased, but my ED is taking a turn for the worse? Gahh. She also said that, during this summer, I have been doing so much better with my self-harm. Excuse me? Remember in July, when I have cut the deepest I have ever cut? Remember when I was taking way too much Nurofen (ibuprofen) only to harm myself? Remember the sitting on window sills, remember every-fucking-thing? How can she only see the full half of the glass? She's the nicest lady I've ever met, but God, does she annoy me sometimes.
I'll finish here, before I remember anything else, because this post is already long enough. I'll post pictures of my new room tomorrow.