Every morning I wake up and I fight the urge to berate myself. To say and think horrible things. But that doesn't mean the feelings aren't there and as I stuff them down and replace them positive things I feel a periodic overwhelming darkness. I want to break my hips, to tear the ugly fleshy, fat off of my body. I feel like I am shackled down by this huge, round, body. It's a punishment. I am ashamed of this. I am so ashamed for people to see me. and they don't even know. The boys make fun of me for being a flirt. They don't know that I picture bashing myself into mirrors and feeling the glass shatter and tear my ugly skin. I have been so positive and progressive and I know the more time I give to these thoughts the more harmful they are. But they attack me anyway... attack isn't even the right word because they're always there just a few inches under the surface. It's such a duality. I am doing so well... and yet, I would love nothing more than the ability to cut into my sides, make them bleed, cut them off. I want someone to knock me down, to keep hitting me, break my bones and bruise me. I don't know where the violence in me comes from and it's scary. As we speak I am sitting on the floor with my computer trying desperately to ignore how my stomach bubbles over my jeans. and the thought of only exercising one hour 3 or 4 times a week totally freaks me out. I'm eating more often and exercising less??!! how will I become small? I will I become alright??
I'm not actually asking. I know that the thoughts are just that, thoughts, ED, harmful. And naming them is a step in the right direction. I just wish there werent' so many steps.
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