Part 2WARNING: This is a series of truth which I feel I do not want to lie about anymore. If any of these has changed your perception on me...I wished it wasn't so.
"How to mend a broken heart". Movies such as Bridget Jones and Gilmore Girls show you that pigging out is the way to help transition your broken heart to ok heart. So, this broken heart here started becoming a glutton. Wolfing down chips, lollies (Australian slang for gummies), chocolate and ice cream. But it never did help. The heart continued to cry, the eyes continued to tear and I kept falling deeper down the sh*t hole.
Numerous advice poured in. All from people obviously who had survived such turmoil. Yet, some has neglected to remember the fatal day of destruction and the many months of pain and depression that followed..only remembering with them the day of victory when they have finally moved on. My ears burn with insults of how I am allowing myself such misery. Which idiot would do so. The pain is just too unbearable. If there was no pain, I wouldn't put myself through the f*cking emotional rollercoaster ride in hell. Satan is here again. This time he is grinning wide, chuckling even as he giving me free rides for his theme park.
Several days later, I rang up the man of my dreams demanding an explanation on why he did not sms me on my birthday. As usual, an arguement pursued as his irritated angry voice hammered into my brain. Satan sneaks up to my other ear whispering, "See after all you given him, you still not good enough for him to be gentle to you."
Tears run down my face and at that moment our conversation went to halting stop as his last words chilled me to the bone, freezing the very core of me.
"There is no hope" rings over and over again. The same mouth that uttered I will always love you.
I am in shock! The conversation turns more sour and he slams the phone down. Betrayed by my inner instincts, outraged at my obvious love for him, an idea pops up into my mind. Obviously another brilliant plan from my beloved enemy, Satan.
"Heck, you don't feel like eating right. Everything is so damn horrible. Don't eat. Be aneroxic. It's the best way to handle pain"
And so I did. I just suddenly decided there and then...I am going to be aneroxic. I already have the symptoms...besides the obvious fact that I am fat and don't have to think it. And the wonders of the internet fulfill my desires, telling me of the many intricate details that pursue being aneroxic...how to start it, what is encompassed in it, what do you do, and the best part: how do you control the hunger? This was the inspirational story of a person who wants to help people to get out of aneroxia yet I used as a guide on what to do. What a sick mind!
I whooped in joy as I saw that section. My stomach so prone to gastrics would not last 6 hours without food and not cry out for attention by stinging my stomach walls with gastric juice. The solution? Use your fists to hit your stomach. That would ease the pain.
Lo and behold, my quest started. The first few hours was fine as I had already spent it crying in bed. The next few hours were devoted to finishing my assignment. My housemate pestered me to eat some pizza every 30 minutes. I started wondering if she knew. After many refusals, I left for uni to hand in my assignment. I wanted to walk but was feeling a little whoosie. And even tho hectic exercise was part of the aneroxia routine I couldnt bring myself to do it with only 3 hours of sleep the previous night. However, I did walk home. And I felt liberated...maybe a little crazified in the mind. That night...I pigged out....on sugar free sweets to induce diarrhea. At cell group just an hour ago, I had a piece of lasagna and I felt fat.
Diarrhea pursued 2 hours after I have snuggled in bed. I had to wake up at 4 am for work. Whoopie...another sleepless night. I walked the 40 minutes to work and dove in into being the best ever cashier chick. As I finished at 3pm, it was not free time for me. I have signed up for a double shift so off I go to another store to work til midnight. By 10 pm, my stomach was in so much pain that hitting it wouldn't erase the pain. Maybe I wasn't hitting hard enough but I refrained from hitting any harder. Something was stopping me...telling me that this was insane.
At that store, I had the oppurtunity to take home some expired food. The greedy pig that I am...I ate half of it in one sitting that night. After that, everything went haywire. The stomach couldnt foster so much food at one time, the gastric got horrendously worst and the fact that it was expired food must have triggered the hellish spell. I cried in pain, whimpering on my bed, praying it would stop. In weakness, I picked up my phone and sms-ed my love of my life. He answered an hour later (I think..til today I can't recall from the agony of pain) but as usual I lied about the intensity and the truthful event. So a night filled with food poisoning and pain was the way to end Day 2 of my aneroxic spout. It wasn't much of it but it was painful enough for me to understand the realities of life. The next day I slowly tended to my stomach. Eating just a little at a time. Drawing my mind away from the posibilities of aneroxia nervosa.
I must have dissapointed all the aneroxic fans out there...a disgrace to their club. I must have dissapointed the person who put such thoughts into my mind...not fulfilling my mission.
Yet, deep down inside, I knew it was not the way to go. There must be other ways to deal with the pain.
I have damaged my stomach bad enough. A week of diarrhea and stomach pains pursued. I was punished for my wrong doings. But I lived!