Events of Last Night.

I shared this blog with one friend today, she hasn't said anything about it yet and soon she's probably going to read this. Terrifying, but it gets comfortable knowing there's someone who is okay with knowing all these horrible things about me.
I had a panic attack or something last night, and I luckily remember everything really clearly. Well, I guess it's luck. I was freaking out because of T and then I weighed myself and, with food and fluid weight, I was a lot more than I should've been. I flipped out while I was talking to two of my friends (one whom is the one reading this) and I kept shifting between being extremely frustrated to depression to manically happy. It got quite scary for one of my friends, I think, especially since he's a very innocent Christian boy and I pretty much shot profanities at him like a sailor.
I'm 60.8kg tonight again, and this morning I was like 59.9kgs.

I feel like killing myself. I'm never going to be beautiful. I'm never going to be thin.

I'm never going to be loved.
I'm going to forget about T.

I also found Mr Red on facebook today. I'm going to forget about him too. There's no way he would ever be interested in a fat shit like me.

The more I think about it, the more I hate myself, the more I can't stand my life, but I'm trying to stay stable tonight so I can't think about this, and I have work tomorrow and I need to sleep so.

Nights.

Going Mental Here!

Okay, So i just developed a crush on someone two years my junior (From now known as T). He's one of the musicians in an up and coming pop punk band and he's really funny and really nice to talk to. Problem is I've only started to talk to him about two days ago and I feel like the only reason I started crushing on him is because I thought he was flirting with me. When this happens to tend to do stupid things, and I just called him for no reason and yabbered about something for thirty seconds. It's the hour of the morning and he has to be in the studio tomorrow. He was so tired he didn't know who I was OR what I was talking about.

However, when I said bye he asked me if he was gonna get a call at 5am (because I was joking to him before about calling him at that time to annoy him) and I said no. All of this was said jokingly. But the problem is, I'm freaking out because now I think he thinks I'm a freak. I also cracked a really bad joke before about how he wouldn't answer me straight out when I asked about his grade (I'm in uni) because he liked me. Then it was awkward.

I don't know what I'm going on about. I wish he'd call.

Quick message about today.

I think I went over my calorie limit today. Ew. I feel really bloated.

That being said, Me, A and J went shopping today and I bought (and fit into perfectly) a size 8 top from this really amazing store that I love called Forever New.

I'm so happy.

10 more kgs to go, but.

A rant because I hate 'professionals'.

Another party, more food, more weight. Just weighted myself and somehow got to 62.2kg. I swear, If I'm not at the max 60.5kg tomorrow morning (Hopefully with the weight being water weight and not more fat on my fat) then there is no way I'm even going to go to that seafood buffet with my family. Not that I intended on eating much anyway, but if I'm not 60.5kg by then, I'm staying at home to exercise and run circles around my lounge. Anything.
I had a thought last night as I was in the car with A and J. I apologize in advance if this isn't your fault.

There's no such thing as 'recovery'. To 'fix' a non-physical problem is impossible. To try to get rid of a problem is ridiculous, because problems all lie in your head and you can't fix your head. All these medical 'treatments' and psychologists are wasting their time trying to bury a problem away just because society has a problem with it - they try to bury an unfixable problem and hope that it never resurfaces.
You know what 'recovery' should be? Learning to live with your problems.
I have issues, I know. I'm depressed, I'm psychotic, I have EDNOS, I'm fragile, I'm paranoid and anxious, I hallucinate, I have manic attacks, I'm suicidal - but I don't mind. It hurts, it's dangerous but that's just who I am and how I am. I've learnt to live with it and they should too - don't try to tell me I can't be an absolute fuck up because I am one. Don't fucking try to tell me who I can or cannot be, who I should or should not be. I don't fucking need help, or a cure, some analysis or some bloody emotionally numbing drugs - I don't fucking need no professional.

I am my own recovery.