Being completely consumed...

I edited the photo myself

Everyone keeps asking me if I want to get better for me. Of course I do. I have become completely consumed by my ED. The emotions that I go through every time I think about eating, well frankly, has become too overwhelming. For example; last night I ate not one, but two brownies. While I'm eating them I am thinking, "damn these are good." Then it's, "you're fat. Disgusting. A failure." So then I headed to the bathroom and purged (for the 11th time yesterday) and thought, "success. You enjoyed your food, but didn't have to worry about the calories." Then as I'm washing my mouth out I was back to, "you're such a failure. The only way you can maintain your weight is throwing up everything you eat." This is what I go through all the freaking time. I am in such a state of depression and anxiety that I can't enjoy life anymore. I'm not Katie. I am my eating disorder. Yesterday, I made everyone sandwiches and bagged lunches for when we went shooting. Except for me. I didn't make myself a lunch or take any food for me. As I'm sitting in the cab of the truck and watched the guys eat their lunches, I became so envious. I would love to be them. To enjoy a sandwich, a small bag of chips, and a power bar and not hate myself. Shit, I would love to eat a handful of peanuts and not hate myself. I purged 12 times total yesterday. I don't know why yesterday was so bad. My head hurt so bad by the end of the night and I was so shaky that I couldn't do anything. Today I have purged 4 times and it's 4pm. Mostly because I haven't been snacking like I did yesterday. I don't know what to do for dinner tonight. I would be content with nothing. But I have people to feed, so I can't do that. I went to my doctors appointment this morning. Told my doctor, who I have known my entire life that I have an eating disorder and I have had one for 11 years now. I told him how bad it has gotten and that I just wanted to be put on medication to make me more of an enjoyable person to be around. No wonder why I have no friends. No one wants to be around me. I'm miserable. So my doctor tells me that he doesn't specialize in eating disorders (no shit) and he wants to consult with a psychiatrist to get an opinion on what medication to put me on. I was quite disappointed because I was hoping he would just give me something. Then they drew blood to check my levels. He told me I have an abrasion in my esophagus and that's why I'm bleeding when I purge. My overall feeling about the appointment was, "OK, he doesn't think it's so serious that he feels the need to do something drastic." So maybe I'm not as sick as everyone keeps thinking. You know, if I was taller, then I might actually look like I have an eating disorder. But I'm so damn short that it's no wonder why I still look freaking fat. I'm too fat to have an eating disorder. End of story. So I'm going to go read a book for an hour until T is home. I have a lot more to write. Just don't feel like it right now.