Monday, September 10, 2012

A bunch of stories I find ironically hilarious

   A few days ago, we had a "family talk." Dad brought us all together: me, mom and little brother sitting on the couch and he in front of us. He started thanking us for such a great vacation, in which we had both "good" and "bad" times (read: our fights, caused by my mistakes, obviously). He thanked especially our mom, because "she paid the entire thing." Give me a break... Also, "this year was financially harder for us, because these 3 weeks of visiting other countries were quite expensive" ("oh, not to mention having to redecorate this bitch's room, what an ungrateful little girl she is" -- they didn't say it, but I think they have at least thought about it). He told us to be respectful, to stay less on the internet, to clean up our rooms and wash the dishes.. After which, turning to me, he told "us" (no, he only meant to say it to me): "If you ever have a problem, you should come to us first. We are your parents and know what's best for you. We will always be here for you, unlike your friends or anyone else. If you have a problem, you discuss it with us, don't try to solve it on your own or with God knows whose help." Excuse meeee? At that moment, I started to laugh hysterically. I laughed for a long time. "When I look at you now, I see myself when my parents told me these things. You'll see, you'll do the same with your kids." To quote my beloved ex, "It's better to show things than to say them." If I'll tell you I have cramps, will you even hear me? Or will you wait until you have to get me to the ER? (It happened)

   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.

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