relapse

My mind is obscured and heavy, and even cutting takes an effort. I cut this morning, three times, nice neat horizontal lines on my leg. It wasn't even a release, I just wanted to cut, so I did. I've been playing my favorite game of  "pushing you away so I can say no one gives a shit about me when you give up and stop talking to me." And it's working. I feel like my friends (what friends?) have given up on me, left me behind for a life that wasn't theirs to take. 

I'm avoiding the world. I'm taking xanax again, along with klonopin, and that shit is POTENT. I'll just take two or three and even if I don't get woozy, I get high. There is evidence of things I have done in the last few nights that I have no memory of doing. I've cleaned my room: it's spotless. I've posted billions of pictures of tumblr. I've eaten cereal. If I actually looked at my life as it is right now I would cry and never stop. I had to brace myself because I was so close to just lying on the floor and crying just a few moments ago. I should NOT be feeling sorry for myself. I dug my own hole and now I have to climb out or just sit in it. But, I do feel sorry for myself, and the isolation I've been feeling again is not skipping over me. I've been talking myself into believing everything I do is dramatic, just over-thinking and over-acting, or something.

I tried on my pair of "fat jeans" (0's, that really wear like 0 1/2) I had left on a shelf in my closet at home. I could barely get them over my ass. Great. I wanted to scream at the whole world. Instead, I did something I haven't done since last January, I slapped myself...thighs, belly, then face. Hard. The slap on my face had left a mark that lasted for days. My self-made recovery has been fucking me up - and it needs to stop. Now.

I am relapsing and I love every moment of it. I want Gary to hold me, his head bowed on my shoulder; my hands clasping his back, so tightly that I can sense the strength. This is what the eating disorder stole from me. That kind of hug, is what I'm missing, what my isolation has stolen from me. The distance feels too far to bridge.