IT's September 2014.

OK I'm writing this because I hope SOMEONE might read it.

I have a monster on my back.
It's always there.
Since I was 13 it has lurked around me. Sometimes it's far in the distance, but it's always there.

It has come and gine with ferocity, always trying to get its claws into me.

I have never, ever eaten a meal.
A simple fact.
But a fact you might think,
what the fuck, what do you mean, you've never eaten a meal?"

Ok I will explain.
In my whole life, I have never, well lets say since about 10, eaten a meal, and finished the meal, then gone on to do other things, take a bath, do my homework, go out to work etc.
Never.

Never have I had the sensation of eating, then being done, then pushing the plate away, then carrying on other normal things.
Never ever ever. Not once.

It is always like this:

I start to eat, a normal nice bit of food- soup, sandwich salad, stew, whatever. I eat, and no switch off occurs when I've eaten enough. I eat slowly to appreciate the food, I light a candle or make the table nice. I look at the food, savour the texture, but none of it has ever worked. A small few mouthfulls turns into a raging grabbing, agressive binge. Each time. I will not stop. After the plate of food, I go for more. Second helpings, or in my case, the rest of the food that isn't on the plate. I'm not satisfied there is no sense of wellbeing and satiety after that balanced nice meal with all textures and elements of nutrition. It's not like I eat only a plate of cucumber.

I binge and binge and it doesn't stop. I will stop eating after I am so full I can't move. It hurts a lot. The only thing I can do it fall on the bed sitting upright. Then a day of bingeing follows. I will semi-pass out, then slumber for a few hours, then wake up with no thought, just a robotic and urgent mechanical action of getting more food. I am not aware, yet I acknowledge what is happening.

A day or two of bingeing.
DUring this time I go to the nearest combini and buy more food. I go out covered up, as my stomach os so big I resemble a twelve month pregnant lady. I am ashamed to be seen. I buy snacks, cakes, ice cream, yoghurt, whatever is nearest, although theres' preference in there. Bananas and eggs are popular. So are frozen soybeans which I microwave, and anything cheap I eat in huge volume.
I stuff and stuff myself til I pass out for real.
Sometime the next day I start to sleep for hours on end. It is blissful. This is the main reason I do this. To sleep without interruption. I don't think or worry, I can sleep endlessly without waking up all the time. Which is what my normal sleep is like. I never sleep well and this is the opposite.

So much aggressive swallowing, creates so much dopamine, I'm able to sleep and be in a babylike blissful state for hours, or even a few days. I listen to the radio and slumber on the bed.

When I wake up, the depression is so awful, I want to die. It's as if I am being buried alive, down a hole, and feel so isolated, lonely, and devastated. I am totally swept with a bleak, empty gaping hole feeling.  I see all the rest of life , with people laughing and interacting and feel SO ALONE and APART fom them. I want to be with them, be in that happy feeling, and instead, I'm down a huge holde, and silent.

YOu know that dream when you're screaming but nobody hears?
It's that feeling.
It is so awful. Getting up out of bed is the hardest thing. Going to eat more is the easy thing.

Although, recently, it has become even harder to go eat more. If I eat more, and spend another day bingeing, I know waking up will be harder. And therefore this black devastated feeling is at its worst point in that moment. I have nothing but nothing to do except go through some fucking fire and turture and get up. To eat more, makes it worse. I know that. To get up, and face the fucking swollen bloated body, and damaged skin, the terrible damage my own earthquake has done on my body and spirit is just to fucking hard to bear. I cry, but there's no point, it doesn't do anything to undo what I just did.
I wish I hadn't done it, of course, but I know I'll probably fucking DO IT AGAIN.

I get up, find the biggest baggy dress that covers the worst bloating of my body, and go out.

My body has become huge and swollen, with stiff joints and each limb is rock hard because of edema. Edema happens when all that nutrition, like too much sugar and glucose ( even natural foods do this if you eat too much) turns into an excess and your body hasn't got anywhere to store it. So my legs- thighs, calves, arms, stomach flesh is very hard and swollen like a piece of bread soaked in water. I feel so ashamed. SO fucking ashamed.

Now I've got fat again.

THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR FUCKING YEARS.

I started being anorexic when I was 16. I've had this eating shit for so long. All that time, the one things at least I can say is, well at least I'm thin. I hate hate hate being fat. I grew up fat. The whole reason I got anorexic is because I fucking hate being fat and my normal body is fat. I hate it so much. It's an alien feeling, a fat lieel chubby fucking girl who gets called heifer, cow, pig, stompy.

I don't relate to that person and I hate it. But all through the eating shit, the FUCKING YEARS of bulimia and bullshit, at least I could say I'm thin.

Now I'n fucking fat again. FUCK this. shit.

Is this bulimia" I guess so. I spent ten years, eating daily and throwing up. From 8am to 4pm, I did it every single fucking day. If I had an audition or meeting, then no. But that's all I fucking consistently. Binge binge vomit.
I did it so much, so viciously, I threw up blood and got ulcers. I bled from the stomach lining. The acid in the vomit ripped open my oesophagus and stomach.  It became serious, yet still, after I'd thrown up a pint of blood, I'd carry on  vomiting to get rid of the food inside. Each fucking time.

ONe time after weeks of blood in the vomit, I threw up a huge amount suddenly one time. It hurt before that, and I knew I'd ripped something inside my stomach, because I felt the cool oozing feeling of blood on the inside. It's a specific feeling you instantly know. This was a normal day of vomiting following a few weeks where I'd seen more and more blood.
This was about 11am and I was only a few hours into the binge. Suddenly, about 2-3 pints of blood came up very quickly, rich red. Not watered down, just pure blood. Frothy, fresh, the colour of Kyoto temples.
MY body froze. I knew I was dying right then. At least, I thought, OK, this is dying, fuck it. It's my fault.
I instantly felt stupid, so guilty and ashamed. I thought of Nick coming home to find me slumped in an inch deep pool of vomit. The bathroom was  lower than the corridor, and a lip at the doorway meants if the bathroom was filled with an inch of water, the corridor stayed dry. Right now, the bathroom floor was covered with salmon coloured sick, The toilet bowl was filled with sick and blood. My feet and legs were covered in sticky sick. I would crouch down and bounce up and down slightly to make the food inside me churn up so it would be easier to vomit up. So, imagine someone squatting in the bathroom with three fingers down throat over the toilet bowl, but each vomit is quite forceful so the puke comes out and half splashes in the bowl, half on the floor. If the vomit was going wel, I didn't care it splashed on the floor and walls, I always cleaned for an hour anyway.

This is the picture that happened. Now there was blood, so much blood. I panicked and started immediately to clean up, my thought was urgent "If I'm cleaning I'm not dying". So I cleaned, thinking this one thought for an hour, then quickly started to clean the kitchen, terrified I'd die of blood loss. Quickly i left the house and cycled around a few hours.

I was so scared I never vomited again. That was the day I began to die. It was happening right there. I thought the next time I do this, I could die. I already knew I was stupid, having been given so many warnings for weeks, with all the blood. I had blood a year or two before. It scared me each time. I had warnings. My fault.

Now I'm on a four day cycle. I fast, no food, then I binge.

I've asked god to lift the obsession. I want to not think about doing it anymore. I want to not have the urges or desire to eat that way. Even though I don't vomit, it's the same fucking thing.


This is for you god or universe.

Please lift the desire to binge. Please lift the urges, make me happy to not do it, let me see the other life I know is there.
Please help , lift the thoughts and inside desire to do it.
Right now, the desire and the secret urges and secret planning to do it, are the most personal relationship I have, and it is damaging me. Because it's like I make love to it. I secretly go around with this love affair in my heart, of bingeing, secret food eating, where I can be close and very intimate with the food, and please god come into that sacred space. Please come into my heart in that place instead of the food being so lcose. It's a deeply personal relationship and after a few days of having sex with it, I hate it, it hates me and we're back to square one. Please god, I know you love me, please break in to that dark secret place and lift the desire and urges of the bingeing.

And please let me be here indefinitely with all my needs met and a huge new acting contract at NHK.

Please let me start living this life the way I actually want. Because right now it feels like fucking nothing has changed since I was 17, homeless and no job and bulimia rules my life. Please break into me.


Thanks