Boy. It’s been a while. 

It’s been a while. But I’ve been feeling like everything it’s pretty pointless with this whole recovery thing. 

It’s been almost 3 years since it started. And most of the days it doesn’t feels any better and I can’t even see a real improvement on my moods or behaviors and thoughts. 

I don’t know if it’s because I’m really self-conscious and self critical or if it’s because #bpd but whatever.  Bulimia again. Ah. Yes. 

I was about 15 when I started purging on a daily basis. And I never felt bad about it. I didn’t over thought it too much. I just did it. And then realized the numb feeling after it. And I liked it. I liked the fake sense of control and peace. 

I wasn’t even a little bit conscious about the consequences and about the fact that I was setting up a very dangerous bomb time. And to be honest I never thought that at my 22 years I would be still on the same hole. 

I can’t remember what was I exactly thinking or what I was expecting from purging. I just know that it happened. And then I couldn’t stop. And I didn’t cared at all. 

7 years later and it’s all the same. (Mostly)

Still no self control. Still with distorted thoughts and ideas about food and my body and my image. Still getting “sick” after certain meals. Still locking  myself on the bathroom and letting the cold  water run for 15 minutes so no one can listen while I purge. Still not brushing my teeth so acid doesn’t ruins them. (More). Still with the same fear foods. And the same safe foods. And the endless grossery shopping lists. Still obsessed about calories. Still using a shit ton of perfume to keep the smell “away. Still chewing gum 24/7 in a desperate attempt to make the puke breath disappear. Still with graspy voice. Still knowing my memory the x numbers of x food. Still taking measures in a obssesive way. Still hiding it. Still feeling ashamed. 

Always with red knuckles and watered eyes. The same puffy face. The same fat body. The same loose and dry skin. 

Looking back in retrospective l lost everything but weight. (Like yeah. I went from 80 kilos to 60. And then up to 70. And then again to 80. And the back at 70. Which is my current) and somedays I feel like after getting to 60 I should have gone down to 40 to make it worth it. To feel like I finally did something not everyone can. You know? Like bragging about loosing 40 kilos in one year mister feel awesome. But I couldn’t. So I feel like I failed. (Which is stupid) 

Is stupid because I lost friends. And healthy relationships with everyone around me. I pushed a lot of people away. And I didn’t even cared at that moment cause I was too busy purging and binging and building a useless wall inside my mind. I lost so much time (have you ever thought about how much time you spend binging and purging? Well. I lost about +5 hours a day). I lost a lot of moments. And party’s. And dates. And concerts. I lost all my high school.  And then my only year of college. And then everything. 

I was willing to give everything to drop some fucking kilos. And it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it. Cause in the end it’s not something you can’t brag about. 

You know? 

Like. If someone at a family dinner says “I’m so proud I finished my major with honorific mention” I can’t say. “YO that’s great. But I lost 40 kilos on a year. So suck me this one” 

You know? 

Losing weight shouldn’t be my only goal in life. And I need to stop measuring my life success with a number. 

(But I can’t)