I was doing so well. I was determined to be back at 126lbs by the end of August. I think I just gave up that dream. I am an idiot. Pure and simple. Why do I let food break me every time. Why? I am so rubbish. I have no discipline. I am an idiot. I am a fake. I pretend to have an eating disorder. I don't - not really. If I did I would either be able to keep throwing up till I bleed, or refuse food even though I am tempted beyond belief. I do neither. I play at both. Its all a game and I am losing. My weight is a barrier I am never going to break. I hate it with as much hate as I have ever felt in my life. I HATE my stomach and my thighs and my bum and my boobs and my arms and my neck and my chin and my cheeks. I hate my body. I hate being fat. I hate life.
Yesterday night I had one of my melancholy moments where I didn't know what to do. I stayed up. I couldn't sleep. I cut my stomach. I had laxitives (which aren't working yet so I am going to have to have more now). I watched a load of TV. I read a book. I got cross with a fly for being in my flat. I eventually went and sat in the gap on my balcony with my hoody on (hood up), cushions, a blanket and a book. It was cosy and I loved it. It is going to become my contemplation place. My place to go when I don't know what else to do.
I sat in my room and I realised that at that moment everything felt like a play. Life felt unreal - like it wasn't real. Nothing was real. Everything was pretend. A mask to hide reality. I didn't want to play anymore. I didn't want to pretend any more. I wanted out. I wanted to escape. I felt like Truman. Life was playing its little game around me and whilst the world was playing, I was standing still, screaming to myself about the purposelessness of it all- nobody hearing me, nobody noticing - everybody content to play their part in the game we call life. The worst of it all - God and my faith - my future plans - officership and my apparent calling - all belong to the play. They aren't even real either. Everything is a game. Everything is meaningless. A chasing after the wind. Its like a dream that I am awake for. Its ridiculous. The game is ridiculous.
Don't patronise me by telling me that its not a game. I know its not really. I know that its real and that my mind is simply going crazy. I know that this is all real. Its all true. Its all happening. I believe in God. I believe in my calling. I just feel trapped. A pawn on a board game. Life is happening around me and it seems stupid to me. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here. Its like there are two places. When I think rationally, I am part of the world - but the other place is a place where that world is make believe and I don't want to be in it anymore - like I am looking at it happening all around me and I can't escape it. I want to smash through the paper wall at the other end of the ocean and find reality, even if it isn't as nice or cosy as this world.
And yet, here I am in my flat, its not a dream. I still have to take the rubbish out. My flat is still a mess I need to clean up. Its actually here. Its real. However much I don't want it to be. However fake it feels.
Ephesians 4:27 "Do not give the Devil a way to defeat you"
Yesterday night I had one of my melancholy moments where I didn't know what to do. I stayed up. I couldn't sleep. I cut my stomach. I had laxitives (which aren't working yet so I am going to have to have more now). I watched a load of TV. I read a book. I got cross with a fly for being in my flat. I eventually went and sat in the gap on my balcony with my hoody on (hood up), cushions, a blanket and a book. It was cosy and I loved it. It is going to become my contemplation place. My place to go when I don't know what else to do.
I sat in my room and I realised that at that moment everything felt like a play. Life felt unreal - like it wasn't real. Nothing was real. Everything was pretend. A mask to hide reality. I didn't want to play anymore. I didn't want to pretend any more. I wanted out. I wanted to escape. I felt like Truman. Life was playing its little game around me and whilst the world was playing, I was standing still, screaming to myself about the purposelessness of it all- nobody hearing me, nobody noticing - everybody content to play their part in the game we call life. The worst of it all - God and my faith - my future plans - officership and my apparent calling - all belong to the play. They aren't even real either. Everything is a game. Everything is meaningless. A chasing after the wind. Its like a dream that I am awake for. Its ridiculous. The game is ridiculous.
Don't patronise me by telling me that its not a game. I know its not really. I know that its real and that my mind is simply going crazy. I know that this is all real. Its all true. Its all happening. I believe in God. I believe in my calling. I just feel trapped. A pawn on a board game. Life is happening around me and it seems stupid to me. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here. Its like there are two places. When I think rationally, I am part of the world - but the other place is a place where that world is make believe and I don't want to be in it anymore - like I am looking at it happening all around me and I can't escape it. I want to smash through the paper wall at the other end of the ocean and find reality, even if it isn't as nice or cosy as this world.
And yet, here I am in my flat, its not a dream. I still have to take the rubbish out. My flat is still a mess I need to clean up. Its actually here. Its real. However much I don't want it to be. However fake it feels.
Ephesians 4:27 "Do not give the Devil a way to defeat you"
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