I am so so so tired of the false hope. Every time I think I’ve finally cracked it, I fall back. For almost 4 years, I have done basically nothing with my life outside of binge and purge. On repeat, all day every day, while my friends have gained relationships, careers, children, travelled, moved out, etc. There have been phases where I’ve slowed down a bit and reduced it to no more than twice in the evenings, but this never lasts either. As soon as I actually have the power to choose what I do with my time, bulimia is the first thing I resort to. It makes no sense considering I hate it so much and it makes me so desperately miserable. I barely even have the urge most of the time, I just zone out and the hours pass me by.
I started almost 4 years ago and the longest time I’ve managed not to purge is this January- almost made it a month, and god I’ve never been so proud and happy. I felt so utterly lost when I relapsed (because of course I did) that I said fuck it, quit my waitressing job, and flew to South East Asia. I thought it would change my life. I had genuinely 100% faith that relapsing would be the last thing on my mind. How could I even be thinking of something so stupid and miserable as an ED when I’m the most alive & free I’ll ever be?
I made it 3 days before I purged. And about a week before I was back purging daily. I can’t tell anyone the truth about this trip. I’ve seen the most amazing things and had a taste of what life could be, but it’s all been overshadowed and none of it feels like it matters anymore because all I can think about is the waste. The waste of time, energy, headspace, appreciation for what I’ve always dreamed of seeing, etc etc etc. Not even mentioning the layers of shame that feels even worse here. I’m in almost £2000 debt now from this trip and I don’t even want to book my flight home and admit I failed. I flew over to a neighbouring country once my visa free allowance ended where I had been, and currently, instead of seeing all the incredible things I can, I am literally hopping from hotel to hotel based off of how convenient they are to use as bases for b/p. It’s stopped me (I’ve stopped me, no excuses, it’s my fault) from bonding with anyone or making any new connections because I’m completely in my own bubble needing to be alone.
Anyway, I’m reaching the end of my overdraft so I have no choice but to book my flight home. I’m going to stay in hostels again for this final part rather than private rooms because that limits me to just purging rather than binging and purging most of the time (key word being most. I’ve become familiar with the horror of b/ps in random side streets, random hotel grounds, etc.)
I am just full of so much shame, disgust, and self hatred. I have been for years but this really feels like the final nail in the coffin. I will never allow myself a trip away again until I’m certain I can control myself. I don’t want to allow myself anything good at ALL until then, tbh. Although thinking about sitting at home aimlessly resorting to shop lifting again because I’m out of money to spend on food and in one of my deeper phases is equally as horrifying.
I don’t want to die, I want to be alive, but I really can’t do this for much longer. What a sad little existence I have. And I’m tired of listening to myself complain about it and then do nothing to truly break the cycle. I don’t expect any advice or sympathy btw, just knowing other people with EDs are maybe reading it after feeling so isolated recently is kinda nice. Although I too probably would’ve read this a few months ago and thought “well yeah I might be bad, but I just KNOW if I had that level of freedom to see the world I wouldn’t be wasting it”, so no offence taken if that’s where your thoughts go
It’s 4am right now, I’m so sad and so scared and so lonely and I just wish I was home tbh