TW: Eating Disorders…Glamorous?


You have just come back from a meal with friends, and it was lovely and you had a nice time. But you feel uncomfortably full. You know it has nothing really to do with food and everything to do with feeling full, being full- full of too many thoughts and feelings and words and tears you are too ashamed? Scared? to express. Too full with the weight of the knowledge that you are stuck, you are trapped, you are YOU. And being you is so awfully, terribly impossible. So you stick your fingers down your throat, hoping you’ll feel better after. (Knowing you won’t).

Clip back your dry, tangled hair- damaged quickly from semi-regular purging. You have drunk pints of water and mugs of tea and it all comes violently gushing out, spilling over, covering your hand, up your nose. Cough and splutter and gag and gasp. Puke on your socks, puke in your hair, puke on the floor, puke on your face. Rinse your hands, push back your hair and sniff- because your nose is running. You can no longer tell if it’s puke or snot or water in your hair. Cry and cough and splutter into the toilet. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat until the thoughts go swirling down the drain.

You are not thinking about being thin or beautiful or happy because you have puke on your socks, puke in your hair, puke on the floor and puke on your face. You do not feel thin or beautiful or happy because you are choking on vomit and you feel isolated and scared and alone and sick. You do not feel anything but sadness and despair and choking death.

Stand, wash your face, your hands; wash them in bleach because you feel dirty, unclean. Try to convince yourself you feel better. Much better! (You don’t.) Slip into clean clothes and collapse on your bed and feel the guilt, the shame wash over your mind, replacing all the things you refused to feel. Knowing you are on a slippery slope, knowing it is not making you feel better, knowing you are running, hiding, jumping straight into the arms of another demon because it is easier, it is always so much easier to destroy your body in whatever way you can than it is to feel, to talk, to write about the demons you are afraid live within you already. (Or is it?)

You want to die, so you puke, puke, puke until you feel empty inside- empty to match your mind. Puke to try and distract from the screaming demands to diediedie. Puke to try and make it stop, make it go away. Puke because to purge yourself of food, liquid, stomach acid is a symbolic purging of the mind. Puke because hurting yourself is the answer, has always been the answer, will always be the answer; because feeling your feelings is too hard, feeling your feelings means you will walk to a bridge, wrap your hands around your throat or swallow the bleach in the cupboard.

Puke to survive.

DISCLAIMER: This is a journal entry from maybe 2/3 years ago. I have since ‘recovered’ from purging. It was a coping mechanism I’d developed in response to anxieties surrounding finishing school/doing my A Levels/moving to university. Once those stressors were removed, my purging began to lesson, and has since stopped almost completely.


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