Diary of the undiagnosed

Almost 16 hour fast from yesterday's binge, talk myself into going to the gym, get gym stuff together, drive to the gym hour and a half on the elliptical, half an hour treadmill, 15 minute bike (plus 2 of course because what if the timer is off and the machine is cheating me out of my full workout so i have to go at least 2 minutes over EVERY time separation to make up for it), fight with myself about going longer, don't because my knees are beginning to make that crunching noise and i can feel the blisters on my feet forming, swim, shower, weigh in: 123 (shit, need to lose 3 pounds), won't eat, don't eat, hungry, drive, grocery store stop on the way home, three thousand plus calorie binge in an hour on yogurt, lean cuisine pizzas, protein bars (that i habitually steal, because one day i decided they were too expensive and thought since the store was charging so much i would even things out with a five finger discount and found it exciting and a hell of a lot better than paying-yea, i know i'm gonna get caught: i kinda hope i can either kick this new little addiction before i do or have someone kick it out of me because i really don't like that i can no longer hide behind the "i'm a good person" defense of not lying, stealing, or cheating- because instead of just the two, i now do all three.  shit.) bulging stomach, boring life, think too much, stop thinking, plan tomorrow (it will be different, i'll exercise it all off and then just have a protein bar that i BUY and a pizza for dinner and maybe an apple), feel lonely, go crazy, get angry, hate life, hate self for making my life one to hate, vow to do something, find something, anything to get away from the life cycle that's killing me inside out, wait for the day to end, try to sleep, sleep, wake up, repeat.  THAT is my life when i am at home folks.  It is completely my fault that it's that way and I could easily change it.  Ok, not easily.  It would take a hell of a lot of willpower to break an 8 year habit and a willpower i don't have on my own.  My solutions always revolve around running away (this summer i'll go to costa rica, i'll get a job, i'll find an apartment, i'll roadtrip) and my reasonings for the insanity, though convincing and a bit manipulative, are never really reasons at all (i hate this house, this house hates me, too many bad memories, there's something wrong with me).  There is something wrong with me, and the thing that is wrong with me is, well, me.  I am what's wrong and I am what prevents what's right.  I could fight it.  I could figure shit out.  I could go to counseling.  I could stop blaming. I could face my fears. I could accept that all of my problems, yes all of them, are because of me.  Because i don't want to deal with them, because it's easier to take out all my anger about being left and losing friends and getting hurt and life and people in general on myself then to try to work shit out.  Why fight with my boyfriend about how we never talk or his issues or how much i miss him and end up crying at nights alone because i'm crazy and need him and he should just know that and text me but of course he doesn't know that because i would never tell him because that's weakness and i can't let him know i'm not the perfect girlfriend because he'll leave but why do i care if he leaves because i already know it's not going to work, that we'll break up in a year or this summer or next week or he'll cheat on me or i'll get fat and he'll hate me and i'll hate me and i'll run away and i can add it to my list of reasons why i should hate life so i have a reason behind why i'm not happy, why talk to him about any of that when i can just as easily and less risk-il-ier have ranting monologues to myself on an internet blog and eat and exercise myself into a state of insanity in which i want to either just die or break something or curl up in a ball and just cry (which is usually how my insanity cycle ends, by a rush of tears).  Why don't i just yell at my dad or at coop or kel or greg or joy or jenny or even fucking god.  Because i'm too tired to figure out if i should be angry at them, because i dont want to feel guilty for being angry at them, because i'm afraid they'll die with me being angry at them.  What if the last thing i ever said to my father was "i hate you for taking my best friend away from me, i hate you for hurting my mother and making me grow up so fast, i hate you for making me leave canton, and i hate that you still don't see it and that i can't tell you because you turn into a dobby-like martyr beating yourself up before i can even get a punch in."  What if i told my mother " i hate you for homeschooling me, i hate that you isolated me from everyone just because being a pastor's wife made you isolated and you have no friends, i hate that you have no friends, i hate that you never stop working, i hate that there is absolutely nothing to hate about you because you're perfect and i love you so much it hurts."  What if i yelled at jenny "you fuckin bitch, i hate you, i trusted you, you were like a mentor to me, you manipulative whore" or to greg "you bastard, you told me you loved me, you told me you loved me more than her, you broke my heart" or to coop "way to be a friend coop, excellent job, fantastic, thank you for supporting me, thanks for being a self absorbed slut, hope you enjoy your life in hypocrite-ville, fuck you, don't try to be friendly with me-we aren't friends."  It's so much easier to yell at yourself, especially when you can pick out things that aren't really a problem but you could be blamed for so then you can punish yourself but not really deal with anything.  Great job.  You're on the road to success.  Good luck ever getting anything right you fuckin screw up.  I have daily guilt trips that fuel my malfunction and when i realize that i'm not having one, i throw myself into one because it can't be right that things are ok, i'm missing something, i can't be happy, happy is pride, and pride is bad, nobody likes someone who is prideful and nobody likes a complainer. Yea well no one likes a fake either, no one likes a shallow "let's pretend it's all hunky dory while i sit in the dark talking to myself and wishing for a death" maniac.  no one likes me.