Throwing up old feelings.

Just finding out that L is going into hospital has really thrown up some unexpected emotions that I thought for the most part had been laid to rest; I don't know, maybe as she was one of the few un-IP'ers and had the same feelings as me with regards to such things, I suppose it's feeling a bit strange to lose her... but also, I suppose it brings up the old feelings of competitiveness that AN thrives upon. I've eaten a lot today, there is no denying it... I've needed the energy for revision, and I've wanted to eat... No more, no less... But in retrospect, I am now hating myself for it, because of the fact that she is having to go into hospital. The same old feelings of "everyone is thinner than you", "everyone is iller than you", "you will never be like them", "you are fat"... They're starting to go through my head again, part of me even wants to purge... I know I won't, but I everytime I think I'm starting to get life on track, the same old feelings start rearing their ugly head again and dominate me.

The other day the girls at uni were saying that as soon as exams are over they were going to diet, and I was nodding and agreeing, and I began to think of ways I could safely diet... Just to become healthier, but now, all I can think about is once these exams are over I can lose weight, get back on track, not be the pig I've become.
I hate myself for feeling these horrible feelings, and I wish I could talk to somebody about them. I suppose I'm lucky in the sense that I am identifying these feelings and thinking about them rather than just acting upon them straight away, but in the same vein, I'm not fighting them either but instead agreeing with them.

I don't know, my head feels like such a mess at the moment... I can't do anything to jeopardise my exams, I know that much.

58%

I'm so thoroughly and utterly disappointed in myself and my grade, I know I shouldn't be as it is a high 2:2 and in other pieces of coursework and exams I'm getting 2:1's and 1st's, but still, I don't know. I just think I had such a good feeling about that piece of coursework, and I put so much effort into it, to then get  a lower grade than expected it really has knocked my confidence, and more importantly questioned my abilities to be able to do a dissertation next year. Thankfully, I have had Ian (if only via text) as the voice of reason telling me that of course I have got over 2:2's this year, and although I resent most of the time his "don't worry so much" as he has no idea what it's like, it felt good this time round. I think my reaction to this also is a reflection on my worries about exams and how well I will do, and why oh why I have not reached panic mode yet; I'm hoping it's because I've learnt everything to the best of my ability and subconsciously I'm confident with what I know, but then again the very much conscious part of my brain is screaming "you will fail".

It doesn't help that with university stress comes dissatisfaction in other area's of my life, most notably and obviously with my body, and having to refrain from dealing with stress in the as per usual manner of restriction is just added pressure, but then again probably doing my body, my brain-power and everything else the world of good. We'll see. My distorted brain at the moment can only see a correlation between 'being ill' and 'doing well'; when restricting I seem to study better and get better grades (previous grades confirm this proposition)... This year where I have been 'eating normally' I feel like I don't know anything. There's nothing I can do about it now; I will have a good evening with H and let my brain sort out whatever knowledge I have retained (if any!)

Stream of Lies

He is testing me beyond belief with his stream of lies, there is only so much "trust" and "love" and "good faith" I have before I hold my hands up and say I've had enough of being lied to ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Not the negativity I need the day before my exam. I hope he fucks off early to work - I need some time away from him otherwise I feel like I'll explode and he'll regret it big time.

Liar

At least I know what I'm dealing with, a liar, a man who will happily lie to his girlfriend's face without even blinking, and will delete the emails from H so as to cover his tracks and not even admit it to my face, I am sitting here, in tears, for about the third time today because of this. I didn't care, I had forgiven him for flirting with her, but he can't do even have the guts to look me in the eye and admit that he did it. Do I really want to be with a man like that? I don't know... I suppose if it was however many years ago then it doesn't matter and if he doesn't do it again then what's the harm... What's the harm? The lying. Conscious lying without even thinking about it. Anything to cover his tracks. I feel betrayed. I suppose I now need to make a choice...

Scared.

It is never alright to hurt somebody without saying sorry, I don't know if I went to the wrong school of manners or something, but as far as I'm concerned, if you hurt somebody and then the matter is cleared up then you say sorry. Evidently not.
I don't give two flying fucks whether it was a piece of toast or his hand, it still fucking hurt, it was dry and hard and it hurt, and I'm allowed to feel pain.

I was scared of him. For the first time in a long while it felt like nothing had changed, and I felt scared of being near him. I just pray that this is a one off and things aren't going back to the way they were....

Forgive or Forget?

I keep going over and over it in my head; shall I talk to him or not? I'm in completely in two minds about it; I've forgiven him for it, or at least I've forgiven him for the act of flirting with the intention to cheat (sounds a crime hahaha!), but there is still the part of me that wants to know exactly what happened; did he actually cheat, why did he even contemplate it with her? Was it something I did wrong? I mean it went on over a period of months so it's not as if it was a one off thing that he just didn't think about it - it was pre-meditated.

Part of me wants to confront him so I can ask all of those questions, find out what happened... We are now at a stage in our relationship where things are reasonably serious again, and I want us to move to Reepham and start a fresh, none of the nastiness of the past year coming with us. Happy together. Therefore, I feel like I need closure on this. But... If I confront him, what happens if he goes beserk and dumps me? The logical part of me would say "well, surely that's an indication of the man you don't want to be with", but, I'm not that strong, I love him, and I don't want to lose him, and therefore for the sake of me wanting 'closure', it's not worth the hassle attached to it. But will it always be a barrier to our happiness because I'll never know? I really don't know...
The silly thing is, is that I've known about it for ages, and I had laid it to rest, but now it's rearing it's ugly head again; I do think it's because we're becoming happy again and I want things to be perfect... But what if he thinks I'm just doing it to cause trouble, because I want an argument (like with the whole Eva locker thing). I don't know. I mean that is not my intentions at all, but he's not exactly the most rationale person when he's upset.

thoughtfully in love

I was talking to A last night as she drove me home, and we talked about boyfriend's as we're in similar positions - newly living together etc. and it really got me thinking, as I talked with pride and a massive smile on my face about Ian and how goddamn in love I am. I know that's stupidly soppy and disgusting, but I really am... I just feel like we're back to the old Sophie and Ian; I mean we've never been one of those disgusting PDA couples, or anything like that, but I don't know, I just smile at the thought of him again. Yes we've had some really rough times, but I really hope that we're coming out of it to be truly happy again. I spent the whole of last night at work missing him, and it felt really weird sleeping alone last night (even though I do it every time he's on a night shift).

It's also noticeable how much calmer I am recently, whereas beforehand I would feel upset, or pissed off, or any other form of emotion, now I feel like I have the emotional reserves to brush it off and carry on without it affecting me. I don't know. Maybe I'm thinking about things too much, but this is truly how I feel at the moment and I really don't want anything to burst my happiness bubble. Yes I'm still worrying about him and B, but again I feel like I can deal with it better, rationalise things, and convince myself that yes he does love me.

Disgustingly revolting, and revoltingly disgusting.

I am revolting, and disgusting, and minging, and horrible, and every other disgustingly revolting word under the sun. I am 8 stone, 6 pounds. WTF. What is that? That is a horrible weight. That is just horrible. I don't know how I even let myself get into the 8's, let alone nearly halfway through. Yes, sure, I want to be happy, and healthy, and un-burdened by an eating disorder, or whatever, but with that weight? No. I can't do it. I need to be back in the 7's. And I'm sure I can do it healthily. Look's like I'm going to have to bring out the food monitoring again. I just don't know.
You know what, I'm even ashamed to go to this ED workshop today and talk about my 'experiences' and everything else when there are going to be all of these other people that have suffered from an eating disorder, rather than my vague and pathetic excuse and attempt of one, where they were genuinely ill, and I'm just some fat lump. FAT fat fat. I genuinely feel horrible right about now. I can feel my belly bulging over my jeans... did somebody say muffin top?
I hate myself.
I'm so glad I'm walking in today, try and burn off some of those unwanted and unnecessary calories. Also, I'll be distracted today = less eating.
I physically, physically, physically hate myself.

In more positive news, I am loving this new Ian... Or maybe now that life is a bit calmer, he's always felt like this, but doesn't get so stressed all the time, and because I feel happier about it, I'm not so infuriating all the time. Who knows, who cares... All I can say is that I like it...
Which, whilst writing this, makes me completely wonder about what I've just said, because if Ian loves me, then it doesn't matter what my weight is right?
I DON"T KNOW.
Maaaaaah.
I do love him though <3

Yesterday was probably one of the best days of my life for so many reasons, and I don't want Ian to think that I'm shallow or materialistic because he had to spend money to make me happy, that wasn't the case at all, it was just the fact that he did it with the sole aim of making me happy, and was willing to go to any lengths; I've never felt so loved or special before. Things just seem to be so freaking great at the moment. I feel like I want to skip! I mean, it's silly things like I was listening to music this morning and he tried to start dancing with me, and I don't know. I just feel like the happiest little cow possible.

Perhaps things are beginning to look up, and these blips we've suffered are going to be in the past and we can go back to the way we were :)

Coffee and a hot chocolate please....

I was going to write a really positive post, because life is going really well at the moment with me and Ian... I'll still write about it, but this time I find a caveat.

We have just been so great over these past few days, like yesterday he said he loved me during sex... it was unwarranted, it was unneeded, I didn't do anything special yet he still said it anyway, because (or at least I hope) purely because he meant it. It's moments like those that just give me butterflies and I couldn't stop smiling. It made me feel amazing. And there's just generally been happiness, I feel so good about life with him and I'm starting to think of a future together again, and not just getting from one day to the next.

And then I find a receipt on the floor so I pick it up, it's from a coffee shop for a coffee and a hot chocolate on the 19th, when I was at work all day... Now it could be for a whole myriad of people; it could be for Den, or Tabs, or anyone... But he didn't tell me about it, he didn't say "Oh I met up with so-and-so today" which just makes the mind wonder just that little bit more, because I don't care who he meets up with for the most part (perhaps Eva Green I might be a little on edge for), but it's the not telling, and finding out through a receipt just really cuts me to my core. I now have a million and one questions racing around my head and I want to burst into tears, but he's lying asleep in the next room to get up at any minute.
I can't say anything because everything has been so great that I don't want to ruin it, but there's only so much biting of my tongue I can do...

Anorexia.

I suppose eating disorders are really up in the air at the moment; HFC coming in leaps and bounds, creating this presentation for the OT students, people struggling generally, a swarm of media articles shoving it in our faces... Is it really any wonder I'm feeling a bit fragile?
All the same, it has made me think, and I was talking to S today during the presentation and it has truly made me realise how far I've come; granted at times I don't see it as a good thing, but I have... I am no longer the girl that would puke in plastic bags and hide them in her wardrobe, nor the girl who would prefer to hide plain toast in her boots than eat it, the girl that would spit out food in her napkin and feed it to the dogs and purge in fields. I am a completely different person who is for the most part healthy and happy. I know no longer have this secret controlling my every, living, breathing thought... I am me. I am not the anorexic, the one my parents worry about.

Through all of my research for this presentation, and through personal interest as well, I've been reading about Karen Carpenter and it does make me think, she died due to anorexia... She had such talent and beauty, most of which people could only dream of, and her life was robbed by this illness. I definitely don't want to be like that, so yeah sometimes I idealise what it's like to be ill, and think that I miss it, but once put in perspective, I do realise that in fact I really don't want to be ill again.

Letting go of Anorexia.

I think one of the main things that might be keeping me back from fully recovering is my comparison to others, I look at people who still suffer from an eating disorder and I judge myself... I look at their thighs, their waists, their arms, everything and wish I was like that still. I look at myself today, and I can admit that I look alright... Having curves does make me look good, my favourite jeans fit me and I do look alright, but it's still that being waif-like and fragile I long for. I'm trying to express how I feel, and even in a blog that no one can read, I still can't pinpoint the reasons why. It's not a physical "I want to be thin", yet I don't quite know what it is. Maybe it's physically being able to see that I'm unhappy because I can't admit it any other way, maybe it's the safety net it provides in retrospect, maybe it's having that level of control over something in my life. I don't know. All I know is that I do miss it. I'm happier now for the most part than I ever was when I was ill; I'm not stupid, I remember the agonising, the lack of control, the unhappiness that came with Anorexia, but I still can't let go of it, not completely, not 100%.

Lying

I hate people that lie... I think it's just pointless and unnecessary.... Excuse me whilst I go and have lunch with a penguin.

Meh

Having spent the evening at work and talking to A about it in general (rather than the specifics) it has made me think. I wish that we could not be so up in arms with each other the whole time, what I should have done, in retrospect, is not said anything and said I was fine, and nothing was the matter, because I know that having spent the evening at work I would've felt fine about it. I couldn't help having a 'bug up my ass' because I didn't almost subconsciously, I didn't act grumpily on purpose at all, it was obviously just me expelling grumpiness... Because I really don't care about A coming round and playing xbox until silly o'clock in the morning, I don't. It's a completely reasonable request as he said, and I truly don't care... It was just the thought, in my over-tired state, of not being able to crash and cuddle up to my boyfriend after working, but instead having to walk on tiptoes and hide in the bedroom. That was purely it, the thought was just not appealing. As I tried to explain, I didn't tell him how I felt to try and change things, or to make him feel guilty or whatever else... It was just how I was feeling and he asked. However, retrospect is a beautiful thing and I'm sure I'll learn from my mistakes and whatever else.

What I have really realised/noticed, is that I'm fed up of getting so upset the whole time, and not having a backbone when it comes to him... I wish I had enough self-esteem/confidence/balls to just be like "whatever, I know how I feel, he would've calmed down later" but because he kept winding me up, and I wanted him to see that I wasn't doing all of these negative things he was accusing me of, I just got more and more upset.
I never wanted to be one of those highly-strung, emotional women, but I'm becoming one because I'm so low anyway, I can't seem to cope with anything out of the ordinary, and especially with him because of how he's acted in the past etc. it does feel like it's a whole lot worse than it actually is.

Driving back, I did admit to myself that I think I should go to the doctors, but I don't know if I could face it, particularly telling him that I need to go because I'm dreading his reaction, and in the inevitable scoffing at the thought of it.
We'll see...

Just a tad over-tired...

I am so freaking over-tired I don't think I've got any room for any normal emotions. I just want to sleep or cry, or both. As soon as the 2nd of May is over I'll be slightly happier, although I am still unsure how on earth I'm going to pass any of my exams, let alone write a high standard piece of EU coursework, and it's all getting a bit overwhelming, but I also think I'm too tired to realise the extent to which I'm worrying about my work. C'est la vie. Trying to stay positive with Ian. Blaaaaaaaaahhh. We'll see...

You are a perpetual drain on my life. Ouch.

"Yes I love you... Despite my better fucking judgement"

"You are a perpetual drain on my life"

Just the kind of things you like to hear from the man that apparently fucking loves you. I fucking hate my life. I don't know how much longer I can do this for. This is destroying me.
I'm trying to rationalise it in my head that perhaps I'm over-tired, and so I'm only seeing the negatives in the situation, but it just seems like he was basically accusing me of taking the money, which I didn't. He didn't say it outright, but then again he didn't need to... Saying things like "Well I don't need to take the money, because if I want something I'll buy it because I have the money..." says, or at least in my eyes, that therefore my process of deduction you took it as you have less money than me.
It's just one thing after another.
I just the potential thought that he (or anyone else for that matter) doesn't trust me. For one thing, it's just not a nice feeling, and also I worry that he'll justify somehow within himself that it means it'll be okay for him to cheat on me for all of these negative reasons (like he did to C with me)

I don't know.

Okay. Bit calmer since last night and slightly less angry. I think what just fucks me off is his inability to acknowledge that he has done wrong, he has hurt my feelings unnecessary... and he can't just say sorry. It's not rocket science. He said "it's not the end of the world is it"...and although, technically it is not the end of the world, it feels like the comings of to me, as it just reinforces the view that we are not working, we're not going to be happy, and the demise of our relationship is inevitable.

In other news, I look fat, pretty much 100% of the time, and it's fucking me off.

I can't take this anymore. I don't want to be in this relationship anymore. He can go and fuck Becky for all I care. I want to die. I want to slit my fucking wrists.

I wish I'd never looked...

Eugh. I feel disgusted with myself. I have NOT lost weight, in fact I've gained it... I am a disgustingly revolting horrendous weight. I feel like it's going to haunt me all of today, and forever until I do something about it. I feel horrific. Vom.

In more positive news, I'm going to try and not let H get me down, and just go with the flow, and keep up to date with things. Blah blah blah. I want to cry.

ED crazy bitch.

I've really noticed over these past few days how sensitive I'm being around food etc. I wouldn't say it's subconscious, but I'm beginning to feel more and more "aware" of the want to be thin; usually I can override it, rationalise it, acknowledge it but not to do anything about it. However this past week, Ian has pointed out a few times that I'm looking thinner, and I do feel thinner some of the time, and although I have done nothing to bring about this loss of weight, I feel good for it, and want to prevent weight gain, and the thought of putting on weight does terrify me... I'm not quite at the stage of beginning to restrict again, but I fear that if I don't do something soon, I will begin to again. I think I'll weigh myself tomorrow and see where I'm at, and go from there... Although, having written all of this, all I can feel is the rolls of fat on my stomach peeling over my pajama bottoms, and I feel disgusted in myself thinking of everything I've eaten today.

Also, when H said that A seems to have lost weight and she could feel her ribs and spine when she hugged her, it felt like a stomach had plummeted and I actually thought to myself "I can't see her now", knowing that she's going to be thin... I actually don't want to see my best friend because there's a possibility she's going to be horrendously thin... This is not normal, and I don't like it. I want to see my best friend, but I just can't stand feeling so fat compared to her. I don't know, my mind is such a minefield at the moment.

And of course I would have to be stupid enough to look at that bloody Nikki Grahame article, and all I can do is analyse her ribs, her arms, her legs, her stomach, her face, her calorie intake... Think to myself, how could I do that amount of exercise per day, and why is her calorie intake so high yet she's so thin.

Stupid, stupid, stupid eating disordered mind.

Why?!?

I may have had a couple of drinks, but my emotions are still thoroughly in check and I'm not stupid... I am 99% convinced he is contemplating cheating on me with her... I just know it. He is acting more than just fucking friendly. I hate her, I hate him... I can't bare this. I am literally in tears... Every time I rationalise it, he just proves me wrong. Why can't he just love me. Why? Why! Or if he does love me, why does he insist on doing this to me...

I think what makes this 100 times worse, and why it feels like a kick in the stomach is because I had just accepted it, convinced myself that I was just being paranoid, and nothing was happening, and we were a happy couple, but nope, back to square fucking one. And of course I can't say anything because he's ill, and I've got to look after him... I am fucking human after all... And I just want to hold him, and make him feel better, but the thought of him with another woman just makes me physically sick. I went and cried in the bedroom under the premise I was getting into my pajama's...

I want to do something, anything... I need to do something. I need to know. I need her to know that I exist, his girlfriend of 4 and half years exists... The girlfriend who will look after him when he's puking, and he stays with him when he hits her, and spits at her... I want her to know that I exist. I need to know whether he is contemplating cheating on me. I need him to know the harm this is doing to me, because at this moment in time I want to die, the thought of him being with another woman, it makes me want to die. I want to run away and never see anybody ever again. As I write this, tears are streaming down my cheeks at the thought of it.

Please, please, please Lord don't let him be cheating on me. Please.

Love

Not moany... Just thoughtful and slightly reminiscent. Doing some more to my 'Ian and Moo' scrapbook, sticking cards in, poems, pictures etc. and it just made me think about how in love we used to be; I mean I know it was a kind of honeymoon period when I first went to uni and he realised he loved me and everything like that, and of course it brought a whole host of negatives as well, but it was love, the kind that gives you butterflies, and makes you want to smile all day long, because the man who you always liked, finally loves you. We were sexy, and passionate. I know that nowadays we are obviously a lot busier, and we have become quite complacent, and a lot has happened over this past year. I just really hope that our love continues to burn so strong, and it may not be so obvious and in your face like it used to be, but I can at least continue to fill my scrapbook with little momento's of our relationship and look back again in a couple of years and know that we are still in love.

In the poem he wrote to me when he gave me my ring, he said... "so with you now goes this ring, through all times and strife, as well with you goes I, if you wish, for the rest of my life".

I hope so <3

-facedesk-

Okay, okay... I know all I do is moan, and whinge about this, but it's one thing that really gets me down... No I wasn't have a little 'dig'... It was just a fact, you don't keep me up to date with things, and I try to keep you up to date, and you say one day would be great for skyping, and then you don't turn up, and I try to keep you in the loop, but you don't keep me in the loop. It would be nice, just the occasional message saying "this is what I'm doing" so I don't find out through the facebook page. It makes me feel like a right numpty, and just enforces the image that I do barely anything to contribute.

Now this IS stressing me out.

Rationality Makes a Lot More Sense...

I'm trying to identify my 'disordered' thinking, the thoughts that make me think the worst, not the best, and trying to think about it rationally. I'm not sure whether it's working or not, but it's got to be better than thinking the worst and getting myself all worked up.

Just got to hope that Ian isn't cross with me when he gets back from bag-packing for not going; hypothetically he shouldn't be, as I gave him plentiful options for me to go as well, but we'll see. Just got to remind myself, that he is extremely tired, and has still got a 12 hour shift ahead of him, and so that's the reason, and he's not cross at me per se. We'll see.

Day 7 of not smoking. Doing well. I spent all of yesterday barely thinking about having a cigarette, despite being surrounded by chain-smokers. Granted I was ill so couldn't smell anything, but still... There were a couple of times when I thought "wouldn't it be nice", but no longing, or hankering for one as I have felt during the week. I know I can do this :)

Self esteem. What self esteem?

My self esteem is shot to pieces. I mean, it was never at any great strengths to begin with, but it is slowly disintegrating into nothing, and the main reason why, is that he constantly criticises me. All the time. I don't work hard at my job. University is a doss. All I do is moan (which yes I do, but it doesn't have to be a critique as heck he moans A LOT). I'm ugly. I'm irritating. I'm lazy. The list is endless, and it's just worn  me down too much now... It really hit me yesterday, when despite the fact that I spent the day doing something for him, for his organisation, and I did work hard (despite the fact I was knackered and my feet really hurt), I still did a good job, and I raised a lot of money, but all he could do was criticise me. It's physically exhausting.

Part of me just keeps on thinking, this is not the man I fell in love with... This was the man that constantly pushed me to do anything I wanted to do, taught me to begin to love myself again, to not define myself through my weight, to think that if I want to do something, I can do it... Encouraged my ventures. Now, I don't know... I remember driving back from Reading with him, talking about my plans for my Bulimia Clinic and him being proud of me, and talking about how I could actually do it... Now all he does is make jibes at people who suffer from eating disorders, and makes remarks such as "if I want any help off you, I have to have an eating disorder" (which is of course not true). He used to not be able to keep his hands off me, now I don't feel 'sexy' in his eyes at all... and I would've thought I'd be more physically attractive now rather than at the beginning of our relationship as I have hips, boobs, a bum etc. And lastly, I did not fall in love with the man that I am now scared of.
But because I have no self-esteem, part of my wonders, is it me that's changed? Perhaps I'm higher maintenance than beforehand (but I had an eating disorder beforehand?)... Maybe I am uglier, lazier, less enthusiastic, more moany etc. But the rational side of my brain, which doesn't usually win, is just telling me, that he has driven me to this... He has ground me down, so I have no backbone, and I get far too upset too quickly... I can cope with most other things... It's just him I can't cope with when things go tits up.

I know some of the time it is banter, and I'm fine with it, and we laugh, and joke, and play, but sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's really hurts me the things he says.

I am overwhelmed with the amount of work I've got to do for revision, as I truly understand nothing, and I just don't understand how I'm going to get it all done, especially as I've lost two days to bag-packing... Yes, I could've done some in the evening after work on thursday, but who wants to do revision once you've been working hard all day?

I'm just going to have to do a lot today before I go to work, and maybe do some tomorrow morning or evening (I hate easter...), and then do some in the evening after bag-packing, and then work my ass off tuesday day and evening. When all I really want to do is catch-up on my sleep a bit.

Okay, so here goes a productive day.

-repeats to self-

I am a fully grown adult, and I do not need to cry. I am a fully grown adult, and I do not need to cry.

At this moment in time, I should have nothing to feel miserable about.... So why did I stare longingly at the Anglia Square multi-storey car-park. This is getting a bit scary; it's a bit beyond suicidal ideation... It's a longing at times.

freaking out BIG TIME!

Okay I'm having a major fucking freak-out... As in I am literally screaming "no"... Why? Because Ian wants me to choose somewhere to eat tonight. Why am I freaking out? I have no fucking idea, but I am, I am literally crying... And I'm sure it's got something to do with the nicotine, and everything else, and blah blah, blah... But I can't make a decision. I don't know where I want to eat. I hate making decisions. I don't like making decisions. I don't like eating. I don't want to be fat. And most of all, I really really really don't want Ian to be cross at me for being indecisive. I'm trying to breathe and I just can't. I can't do this. I can't quit smoking. I can't do it. It's making me such a bitch. I can't cope. My chest is genuinely restricted and I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack. And this is with a fucking patch on. Maybe I could have another patch? I'll google it now. Because I cannot freak out like this. It was all going so well, and now I'm a fucking failure of a freak. I hate myself. I hate my life. I hate how I am so out of control. I hate how I'm addicted. I hate myself. I hate how I'm scared of my boyfriend's reaction all the fucking time. 


All I want is a cuddle. And my chest to not be so tight. And for my breathing to be normal. And to not feel panicky. But also a hug.

I have that feeling.

I don't know if it's the cravings, or whether I'm going mad, but they say women have a 'feeling'... I have a 'feeling'.

I also REALLY want a cigarette.

STRESS.

Well I think I know what is my fucking trigger for smoking... It's not habit, as I've dealt with that just fine, it's stress, it's fucking stress... It's stress where I want to smash somebody's smug face into a brick wall over and over and over again.

The ONE fucking time I would've thought, I know, he'll think before he fucking well acts and get's “pissed off”, because, well, I don't know, because his girfriend's trying to quit fucking smoking like he's been harping on at me doing for the past goodness knows how fucking long, but know, it's all about him, him, him... He's pissed off so nothing else bloody well matters. But of course it's all sunshine and fucking pixies whilst we're at his fucking mothers, and yay, aren't we having such a good time, but as soon as we get back in the car, oh no, the world and his fucking wife are apparently out to fucking get him.

I mean, it's not just me, it's common fucking courtesy... When he was all down in the dumps about everything I bit my tongue goodness knows how many times, despite him having a go at me, and making me feel like shit, I bite my tongue, because I can appreciate that he is in a time of need and that's what LOVING FUCKING PEOPLE DO... but no, when the roles are reversed, common courtesy does not fucking exist. I can't even begin to list the times where he has not given me the benefit of the doubt... I mean to name a fucking few; when wrat-wrat died, when all the shit was happening with my parents, when I'm struggling with school-work... NEVER, have I been given the benefit of the fucking doubt. That is why I say we're not in a fucking relationship. Fuck you.

Oh sure, you're nice to me when you want to be nice... and we're the world's fucking happiest couple, when you're not nice, you're really not nice. “Nice” people don't spit at their fucking girlfriend. “Nice” people don't hurt their girlfriend.  

1 down...

Okay, 24 hours been and gone without any real tiara's or tantrum's... I'm beginning to feel really quite positive about this... The only time I really wanted a cigarette was when Ian was pissing me off, so this is good. Tomorrow is going to be the real test whilst being at work, especially if A and P are there chain-smoking away... At least I'm only setting up the marquee so minimal stress, and interaction with them if needs be...

Okay, more benefits of smoking;
I spend on average £40 a month on smoking (maybe a bit more if I'm honest)... this equates to £480 a year. With that spare cash I can either put it in my savings, as a visual of how much I'm saving by not smoking, or I can buy pretty things :) That is essentially a pair of nice shoes a month, and I do like nice shoes... Or I could use it to buy Ian a treat every month (despite being ridiculously hard and annoying to buy for)... Or I could give it to charity.
The possibilities are endless...

Secrets...

I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate secrets. Hate them. They're unnecessary, and irritating, and annoying, and just wind me up beyond belief. And if I was any more of a bitch, any time I did anything with friends I would just say "you don't need to know".... But I'm not that much of a bitch, or more I'm selfish and don't want to cause any hassle that is necessary.

Apart from that minor rant, today has been okay, and I've felt really positive and not too bad at all... At least not until he started winding me up with his secrets.

Need a nice quiet evening.

Day 1...

Okay positive day yesterday.
Hopefully positive day today...

Good things about stopping smoking; better skin, better hair, not smelling, not having Ian whinge at me, not being irritable at work (when waiting for next cigarette break), more money, better teeth, not socially isolated, not killing myself, not spending loads of money on mints, body-spray etc, better lung capacity, feel fitter, less chance of getting DVT if went back on single-hormone pill, improve energy levels (apparently!!!!!), not being worried about seeing landlord, getting life insurance policies, can actually get myself to the dentist without being ashamed, friends and family being proud of me, and I'm sure a lot more.

According to tut internet, after just 20 minutes my blood pressure, heart-beat and circulation will begin to return to normal (although this may be for cold turkey, and not using replacement therapy)... but we'll see how it goes, and see if I get some nice tingling in my fingers and toes ;)

It's been 40 minutes since I've been awake, and this isn't too bad...

The cure of cuddles

Today has started off good. He comes home, and wants naked cuddles, and something as simple as that gives me faith that things are returning to normal, and in all honesty has made me feel a world better and made me start the day with a positive frame of mind. It's the comfort of a cuddle, it may not be intense, or purposeful, or even particularly loving... but it's that comfort, and the strength it can give you, you feel in that moment like nothing else matters because you're being held, and you're safe. Call me a soppy romantic female, but at times, there's nothing better than a good cuddle.

I feel good about today.

New week. New Sophie.

Okay. Tomorrow is going to be a new week. I'm going to this quit smoking clinic, I'm going to be focused on my revision, I'm not going to let my insecurities dominate me... I'm not going to be paranoid or crappy... I'm not going to let this control me. I'm going to be happy. If I continue to feel suicidal and depressed I will go to the doctors despite being terrified. I will suffer the consequences of this. I need to put my health first. I'm fed up of being dominated by this constant feeling of apathy and sadness to the extent where I feel like I have this massive burden on my chest constantly restricting it, controlling my every thought.

I want a new me. A nice me. A positive, happy, studious, life-wanting, future-grabbing, un-calorie-caring, loving Sophie.
I can do this.

People die. People die all of the time. From unexpected, uncontrollable things. People die because they choose to protect others over themselves. People die in war, in the emergency services. I will not spend my life being controlled by my own negativity and insecurities.

I want to be a different person.

Second post in about an hour, but apparently sitting watching friends is letting my brain go doolally, and I'm thinking too much, but I seem to be identifying what is getting me down so much.

I feel lost... Which is hard to explain, but I think if I can get it out and talk about it, it might make me feel a bit better, because at the moment it seems like something is eating me from the inside.

When I say lost, I think I mean aimless, or without any real goal. Everything in my life it seems is just stagnant and not really going anywhere...

Firstly with university, I don't seem to be moving anywhere, and as I'm not learning anything new and just revising it feels all about unattainable because it feels like I've got so much to do in such a short period of time and it's all a bit overwhelming. This one is reasonably easy to sort out because as soon as I've had a decent night's sleep I'll start hitting it and I'll begin to feel better.

Secondly with HFC, I have all of these great things going on at university, and all of these great things I want to do, but being able to talk to H seems to be impossible, and she always seems to go offline whenever I say hey, and I feel like I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs and don't know where I'm going, and why I even bother.

With Ian, it's not even stagnant, it feels like we're moving backwards, and I'm sure for the most part it is my insecurities rather than any faults on his behalf, but I am still a woman, and it depresses me at the thought that I'll never get married, or have children. I also just can't see any way out of it, because I have no proof that he's cheating on me, or anything untoward, but I also can't see how I can alleviate my fears and insecurities, and there's no way I can talk to him about it either, especially about how I'm feeling generally, so it just seems to be a vicious circle and I'm pretty sure I'm not even making any sense anymore, but I'm beginning to feel a bit better knowing that I can at least begin to rationalise it in my head.

Yesterday I felt so positive; the workshop seemed really positive and both S's seemed really supportive of me working with the university, I was looking forward to a great night out, the weather was beautiful and things were beginning to look up. I came back from uni feeling nothing but positive and ready for anything.

Now today I just feel horrible, I feel stressed out, crabby, unhappy, and just blah. I got a first in my coursework, and the girlies were fine with me leaving early last night, and I've chosen my modules, yet I still feel crap. Even my parents noticed I wasn't my normal self. I just feel mentally fucking drained with everything that's going on, and although they're all small things, and mostly revolving around 'I', they're still really getting me down. When it comes to uni work, I also just seem to be unable to focus for any period of time. I really wanted to knuckle down tonight and get loads of work done liked I used, but I just can't seem to be able to. It feels like my brain is hitting a brick wall. I don't know how I'm going to learn and revise everything in 8 weeks. I just want to sleep for a fucking long time and not have to worry about anything.

I hate, hate, hate how he is keeping secrets from me. I think what fucks me off most is the irony of it, as he's always said from the very beginning that honesty is the best policy, and you can't have a relationship if there's secrets. He may think I'm some form of psycho-bitch, which is fine, but I'm generally pretty happy with what he does as long as he's not cheating on me, and it's nothing horrendously illegal, and all of this vagueness with Den and now Adam, it just upsets me, as it feels like he tells me nothing anymore, and I have absolutely no idea what is going on in his life. I mean I find out from him telling Terry that he is going to consider the age waiver. I don't know anything that's going on in his life. I don't know what he's feeling, what he's planning on doing... We used to talk so much.

And this whole thing with B is upsetting me... my theory is, if you're doing nothing wrong, don't hide it. I've never had a problem with any of his other friends, so why hide this? I'd like to meet her. I'm sure she's nice. And he obviously likes her. Unless there is something to hide? It also comes back to the ironic, two-sided'ness of it... He doesn't like me having male friends, which I have accepted from the very beginning, and can see his logic, so I try not to have male friends as a courtesy to him. He was honest, and up-front about it, and I have tried to oblige. Heck, I think the only male friend I have is A, and we speak about once a month if that! But my insecurities just dog me, and make me think the worst. I don't know. It doesn't help that she's pretty.

Unless I'm horrendously mistaken, it's beginning to feel like the end of a relationship... Drifting apart, not talking as much, becoming more irritable with each other, lack of sex life (even before current inflictions)... I don't know. But, in the same breath, we had a lovely evening going for a walk and then going to the pub; I had so much fun, and it almost felt like things were semi normal, but I still had that nagging feeling in the back of my head that it was more like being friends than lovers.
I love him so much, and I think this is what is killing me the most, I don't feel like my love has diminished at all, despite everything that's gone on. I love him with all of my heart. I've given up on my dreams of being married and having kids because I love him. I remember when he said "I'd marry you if I meant I'd never lose you", and my heart filled with immeasurable joy. Now, I can't even imagine him contemplating that. I want to cry every time I think about it.

I wish I could confide in him about all of this, but I know I can't. Life would be so much easier if I could talk to him without fear of repercussions. Oh well. Deep breath, and carry on, and focus on the positives.

Okay, last post of the day...

I've just got so much going through my mind that I need to vent out, and in all honesty, I do think this is doing me good. Slyvia Plath summed it up pretty well;

"I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still."

Granted I'm not a poet, or a writer, or anything artistic like that, but I completely get what she's saying... There are times when I feel like I could write for ages and ages, and the words are just flowing from my fingers.

I'm really strung out and confused as to what I'm feeling; half of the time we're happy campers, and he says he loves me, and he kisses me like he means it... and then when things go tits up again it's hatred, and barely able to say I love you. I understand it, I understand him being pissed off, and not liking me, but not loving me. Love shouldn't be dictated by this. I don't know. I sat here crying my eyes out literally wanting to kill myself; I looked at what painkillers we had, I imagined slicing my wrists. It's not the fact that this has happened that makes me want to kill myself, it's the not being able to see a way out of this fucked up life of mine I've created. And for him to say that I'm putting our relationship on a knife-edge because of my being emo... I've supported to the umpteenth degree through everything, and especially when he was acting all suicidal... I feel just 'down' for a couple of days because I'm over-tired, and I'm the one pushing our relationship.
The insecure part of me is just thinking that he's using it as an excuse to get out of this relationship. Which I do understand. I'm sure the mature and unselfish part of me should give him the option to get out of it. But the thought of life without him scares me. I do love him. I do. I do.

Two posts in one day. What is wrong with me?

It's just my insecurities are really getting the better of me... I'm questioning everything, and I'm so so worried that Ian is becoming fed up with me, is falling out of love with me, is contemplating cheating on me or at least forming emotional attachments to another woman, or just wants to screw another woman, is wanting to spend as little time as possible with me.

I know the things that wind him up, and I do try and stop them.

I need to do this.

Mission 1: Stop whinging as much. Just get over it. If something is upsetting me/annoying me... Don't whinge about it, just accept it. If it's big, then talk to somebody else, just not him. Know that shit happens.  This is life. I can get over it. It's not going to change anything by me whinging about it. Be happy. Be joyful. Be nice. Do NOT be a whingebag. I can do this. As soon as he gets up I will put on a smile, ignore my heart-ache that is overwhelming me. Be happy.

I will not be the cause of the breakdown of our relationship. I can do this.

Why is it that everything I touch turns to shit? Ian says I'm being 'emo'... I think I'm being realistic. I can't seem to do anything fucking well right, and I spent the whole car journey home last night shouting at myself that I want to die. I really fucking well do. I can't see any form of bright light. All I can see is this life, and it's not going anywhere, and it's just going to continue to be shit because I'm in it. I was tempted to run away last night; stop fucking up everything in everyone's life, including Ian's.

I keep going over and over it in my head. I did everything I should have done. I saw him behind me. I waited for him to move. I could no longer see his lights. I reversed and bang there he was. I don't know what else I could have done. I just fucking fucking fucking hate my life. Everytime I seem to be able to sort things in my head; convince myself that I'm being paranoid over Ian, sort out a game plan for school work, start to get work sorted... it all goes tits up.

At this moment in time, I genuinely do not want to live.

I've spent the past two nights crying, and I don't know what is wrong with me... I just don't feel like my normal self at all and instead I'm replaced with this purely miserable wretch of a creature, last night nothing excited me; the thought of grey's anatomy, reading, facebook, nothing... I just wanted to lie staring into space. Nothing bad has even really happened for me to feel like this.

I mean, it doesn't help that my self esteem is shot to pieces, especially with being ill so that the one thing that keeps our relationship going I can't even provide, and it's one of the age old things, of when your sex life starts to try up in a relationship, you know it's not going well... I don't know, I suppose I'm just worried that he's getting put off by me, doesn't find me attractive anymore etc. etc. Who knows...? I just really really don't want him to cheat on me, or become attracted to somebody else, or anything like that. I know we've had our problems, but I lied on bed a couple of notes crying because I do love him, and I don't want him to do anything, and I want things to work out for the best.

Feel a lot better today having spoken to M; It seems that E is not as much at fault as everyone is making her out to be, and is in fact being quite grown up about it all, and hopefully it will revolve itself one way or another, and hopefully that horrid girl will be out of M's life forever. We'll see.
Feel so sorry for M about social services, and to be honest, I'm not bloody surprised... From what M said it seems that it should be a one off call with no follow-up etc. but as she rightly pointed out, and what I was thinking anyway, once you have a file, it's always going to be there. I'm also worried about what E has been saying about D at school; from what she's been saying on skype I'm not surprised that Mr O felt the need to phone social services, and I just hope and pray that E doesn't do anything like it ever again, and realises the consequences of exaggerating. I also hope that D doesn't think too hard and realise that this is probably down to him and the depression that social services were called in the first place. Fingers bloody well crossed that this is the end of the nasty matter and not another word will be uttered again, however, knowing E I somehow doubt it...

I know I do love him, but at the moment I hate him. I am inconsolable. No I don't want you to take me to my mums, I am fine, I'm worried about money which is under-fucking-standable, but I had it all planned out the moment my mum told me she wanted me there, it was all fine. I didn't want to ruin your day; I don't want your big plans with the door supervisors course to be disrupted because of me, I didn't want you to be bored shitless at my mum's, and I didn't want you to whinge about it afterwards... Because yes I do moan, but so do you.

I am upset. This is fucking big. I am worried about my family like no tomorrow, and I thought, I really thought that for fucking once you might give me the benefit of the fucking doubt, and allow me to be upset. Not to yell at me. Not to call me thick, an imbecile, tell me to shut up and fuck off. You find me infuriating, I'm sorry, I am infuriating at times, but I'm also allowed to be upset. You think I don't find you infuriating? At times you are so fucking annoying I want to walk out and never see your face again, but I deal with it, because surprisingly enough, it's what people do when they love each other. They put up with it. I don't know what love lessons you had, but as far as I'm aware, when your 'lover' is upset, you fucking comfort them... You don't berate them further. It's your choice to be up early tomorrow, for your organisation, and your kids that don't appreciate a single fucking thing. It's not fucking me.

You wander why I don't confide in you. Here's fucking why. It doesn't take a fucking statistics genius to work it out. When I get upset, when I start crying, it is 99.9% of the time because of you, because you have been unnecessary, or nasty, or yelled at me. Sometimes I deserve it. Yes, I'm not a fucking saint by any stretch of the imagination, but sometimes I don't, like fucking this evening. I'm not putting up barriers. I've been crystal clear from the start that I intended to make my own way there and not bother you. And to then bring up that "it's yet another day I won't see you"... I'm sorry, but I'm going to see my upset mother who is dealing with a depressed husband, a self harming sister and social services, I'm not off getting drunk. And for your information, it was your choice to see your friend yesterday evening, and it is your choice to go to Essex ACF tomorrow evening. And to add the fucking cherry on the fucking icing, you go, yet a-fucking-gain insulting my fucking family. Well you can fuck right off. It's alright for your fucking mother to be selfish enough to try and kill herself, but it's not alright for my father to be depressed. It's alright for you to want to kill yourself, but not for my father to have a breakdown. And my mother has more fucking backbone, and strength than you could ever imagine. Sure she chain smokes, but heck I'd prefer a chain smoker to an anger maniac like you where when you get upset, I am actually scared to be in the same room as you...

I don't think we're going to last the summer if I'm honest. I can't take much more. I don't trust him; I am 99% sure that he at least contemplated cheating on me, or actually did cheat on me with at least one person, and the audacity to be somebody I actually knew and was a friend. Talk about a kick in the teeth. I'm letting it rest at the moment, there's nothing I can do about it, and there's no point dragging up the past, but it all adds up to the point where I think I will just walk out. I don't want to. I want to love him like I used to, I want him to give me butterflies again, and for me to look forward to seeing him. I hoped that we could go back to that. I thought moving to the UEA would sort it. I thought moving in together would sort it. I thought being happier, and eating normally would sort it. I'm running out of options, which just leaves me with the final reason of that we don't love each other anymore, and perhaps this relationship has run it's course. I don't know. I suppose only time will tell.

Well I feel slightly better at least having got all of this out; I'm just dreading the thought of going back to bed and lying next to him feeling all of these emotions... If he could just utter a single word of 'sorry' or 'I love you' then perhaps a slight weight would be lifted off my chest, but I think I'm hoping for too much in this instance.

FAT

I'm such a fat fucking cow I want to literally rip the fat from my body... I hate myself. I physically fucking hate myself. I've somehow managed to put on weight. I hate myself. Why do I have no fucking self control? Why do I even care what I eat? So much for fucking recovery... I hate myself.

For Better, or For Worse

Okay, so I love him, I love him as if we were married, therefore the term 'for better or for worse' applies... I will love him no matter what, I may not like him at times, in fact I may intensely dislike him at times, but I still love him, therefore I WILL support him through this.

But I'm at a complete and utter loss as to what to do, he's gone from being not necessarily positive, but at least not depressed about it to an empty shell, he says he just wants to die, and was talking about best ways to do it, and then he talks about driving us both into the house in front. That's scary. Especially when he starts to accelerate as if he means to do it. Now he just wants to be left alone, which I can understand... I just need to remind myself of 'Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus'... Men like to retreat to their cave and process things, but it's all getting a bit too much.

I feel a bit calmer today, and he does as well... Maybe it was just a bad night last night in general, and with the added stresses he's got and I've got, well maybe? I don't know.

He's off for four days. There's no point in trying to deny it, I'm looking forward to the chance to sort out my eating, not eat fatty things, have salads, and generally feel a bit more free... I know it's stupid of me, but at least I'm being bloody honest... I just want to restrict, restrict, restrict.

Oh and apparently my coil has gone walkabouts. FUCK. Off to quacks anyway, will try and get it sorted. I'm fucked if i'm pregnant. Better hope I'm not. Perhaps my boobs growth spurt was just a coincedence? Fuck, fuckity fuck. Fuck. I cannot be pregnant. Physically cannot. Like hell would 'I' support me. He'd just be there ready and waiting with the coat-hanger. Oh well, no point counting my chickens and they've hatched or whatever that saying is. Why do I always fuck everything up?

I'm fed up of always been fucking criticised by him, it's not fucking fair, I'm allowed to have fucking things on my mind from time to time; and I'm sorry if it's not fucking convenient, but such is life... I'm worried about my father, and my family in general, I'm not feeling particularly great within myself, and the last thing I fucking need is to be fucking criticised and to have sarky remarks thrown my way. Fuck off. I know he's under a lot of stress as well, but this a relationship, and you're supposed to be there to support each other. I don't fucking know. Everytime I think things are beginning to pick up, he does this and reminds me that things aren't fucking great, and just makes me question our whole relationship. It may be a little thing as telling me to fuck off, but in the grand fucking picture it just gets to me, because I just see it as I can't even ask him "do you want to go to bed" anymore...

And now we've got fucking mites, and it literally makes my skin crawl and the thought of it, and I'm sorry, but maybe if he got off his ass and swept the bedroom once in a while and didn't leave the rest of the house up to me, we might not have this problem. I feel sick at the thought of it.

I just want to burst into tears and curl up in a ball.

Twat face.

Left, right, up, down, centre, backwards, forwards? My mind is all over the place.

Thankfully me and 'I' are alright at the moment and no major trauma's, just got to hope next week goes okay... if it doesn't, well heck, none of our lives are worth living, but we'll see. Trying to stay positive at the moment.

Eating appears to be going slowly tits up. I hate lent. Physically hate it. However many years ago I decided to give up chips and chocolate for lent, in retrospect this was probably my passage towards disordered eating... I realised I was good at dieting, I realised that I liked losing weight, I felt better etc etc. We all know the sob story. This year, I decide to 'eat healthily'... It started really well, and I felt good about myself... Still eating normally, but just healthier, under the premise that all I eat is sweets. But I appear to have fallen back into the same old trap rather quickly of counting calories for the sake of reducing them, rather than to keep an 'eye' on what I'm eating. I've also lost weight, and that insatiable feeling of elation came rushing back, making me want more. Now I'm grown up enough, and mature enough to know the signs and symptoms, I know what I'm doing and where I'm heading, but that doesn't seem to stop me. It's almost as if, if I stop, then I'm failing, there was no point in doing it all, and I quite like doing it. It's that weird sado-masochistic longing for the hunger pangs, and the seal of approval that you've burnt x amount of calories. Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I such a raging twat? It's not going to last. I won't be allowed to. He'll pick up on it, and I know deep deep deep down that'll be a good thing, but I've missed it. I've genuinely missed it. Everytime he's being a twat, I have that little voice in my head that is knowing well at least I have control over one thing in my life.

I don't know. I don't fucking well know.

Not looking forward to today. Please please please please please let it be good. Or at least not bad. Hopefully he'll have a long lie-in. Will try and tidy up and things like that so as not to worsen his mood. Please please please.

I want to die. I want to slit my wrists so hard, feel the pressure of the cold blade as my warm blood runs, tainting everything. I want to die. I don't know what to fucking well do. I really don't.

I know he's feeling shit; I'm not trying to placate him, or give positive affirmations, I'm trying not to do anything that I think might upset him. I instead, try to make nice talk. Ask him whether he wants to go to that antiques shop tomorrow; in my eyes, it is non-comittal, could be a nice hour or so out, looking at things he's interested in, might spark conversation etc. but no, he doesn't want to do that, I accept it. He says that "nobody gives a fuck, so why should I?", so I reply "I give a fuck" and I get told to "fuck off" and "leave me alone"... In my eyes, I was just trying to be nice. I was doing anything that could be perceived as irritating or anything like that. I can't work out if this is me or not? In my eyes, I was just being nice. He had the option of me not being here, and he didn't take it.

I can't deal with him taking this out on me. I mean physically taking it out on me. Being nasty because he's feeling depressed. He says he's not taking it out on me, but in my perspective, he is.

I want to support him. I drove home thinking of all the things I could do, to not try and change things, but just to be there for him. 5 minutes in, and no. I evidently can't do anything right. So I'm at a complete and utter loss as to what to do. I can't ignore him. I have no intention of being nasty to him, firstly because no doubt he won't appreciate it, and secondly I'm not a nasty person. But he's said not to be nice either.

I know I don't understand what he's going through, I have not been through it, nor can I really relate to it. But to then tell me it is a competition? It's not a competition. As far as I can see I am presented with a rather simple problem. My boyfriend, whom I love and care about, is upset, therefore I will support him as best as I can. But I'm allowed to feel things as well. I'm allowed to feel upset because he's being nasty. So no, it's not a competition, and no, he has no idea how I'm feeling. Because, through all of my oh so many faults, I am not nasty to him. I do not say things to him for the sole purpose of upsetting him.

I really really really hope tomorrow is better because I don't know how much longer I can hold on. I'm not going to run out on him whilst he's at his lowest, but I also have my limits, and he may not be able to see what's he doing to me, but it's seriously taking it's toll on me.

I want to die. I hope he's asleep when I go back in.

I can't do this for much longer, I genuinely want to burst into floods of tears half the time. I don't think things are going to be the same, I'm scared of him, even though the reasons why he's pissed off are, for once, not to do with me, and he's said this, I'm still scared. I'm scared of him flipping out again. I'm not allowed to make noise this time, despite the fact that I was trying to actually do something helpful.

I know he's under a lot of stress, and things just seem to be going from bad to worse, which is why I'm trying not to react or do anything, but I still feel scared. I just wish I could do something, anything, I feel so helpless in all of this, and in the same breath I can't for much longer deal with him taking everything out on me. Even if it is indirectly. I have to suffer the consequences, and I feel like I'm constantly dreading on eggshells around the flat. I flinch whenever he gets angry. I am haunted by that car journey to Fakenham; it's like a broken movie reel in my head that just keeps playing and playing, and reminding me of what happens when he gets angry... The threats, the swearing, the hatred, the loathing, spitting at me.

And to seemingly top it all off, it looks like we can't even afford to live here much longer, and that will just be the death keel to our relationship. Again, I can't deal with things being how they were in Reading; I can't have untrusting, the constant stream of snidy remarks, the insistence that I'd prefer to work/study/be with other people rather than be with him, when all of them are not true.
Maybe I'm just being a girl and soppy, but I'd prefer to flat broke, or to get a second job, than not live with him, but he doesn't seem to see it like that. Despite everything, when the times are good, I like waking up to him, I like watching films together, I like having tickle fights, I like all of that... And I don't see that happening if we stop living together. In fact, when I said it would probably be the death keel of our relationship and I asked his thoughts, he didn't seem too fussed :(
I remember him looking so forward to us moving in together....

Maybe our relationship has run it's course? Maybe we just weren't meant to be. I really don't know, but I have tears in my eyes and surely that's an indication of how much he means to me?

Fuck a Duck.

I can't work out if I'm being overly sensitive or what. It just feels like I'm not part of anything, I feel like H is shoving me out slowly, and it's all about her and B now, and that I don't have a say in anything. I always always always give her a say, but for me? Heck no. It doesn't feel like it's part of me anymore. It feels like shit. I feel like I don't have a scooby doo what is going on anymore.

It's tempting to give it in. Let her have her own way. Make her see how dejected she is making me feel. I don't know :(

It seems fatty strikes again...

"and your my obsession, I love you to the bones"

I don't know why I insist on doing this to myself, usually once a month I seem to come across old pictures, or see other's looking thin, or become reminiscent and want to go back to it. I want to be thin. I want to be thin again with all of my heart. I look at myself and I am physically disgusted; I can see the rolls of fat, how my thighs no longer touch, my clothes feeling tighter, my bingo-winged excuse of arms, everything, and I hate myself. I long so much to be able to go back to being thin.
I'm just beginning to accept my body, enjoy my curves... I like my boobs, I some of the time think I look alright, but then I seem to ruin it all by becoming all negative again. It doesn't help that I am the heaviest I have been in a long while and this terrifies the living daylights out of me. And my weight just seems to be increasing no matter what I do. I mean, I know I eat more than I ever have been, but I don't think I consume an excess of 2000 calories, and surely now my metabolism should be working up to speed? I think for the next few days I should just monitor what I eat and begin to cut down on excessive eating, i.e. limited unhealthy stuff such as chocolate, biscuits, sweets, carbs, high calories drinks etc.
I don't know. I'll see what happens.
If I do this for a week, and I'll see what I weigh next sunday or monday and see if it's had an impact at all.

I'd love to be recovered or ill... I hate this in-between stage hating myself, yet not doing anything about it.

Call me over-sensitive, but H really upset me. I would've thought that, being c-f and all that, her first port of call would be to ask me? Am I just being silly? I mean if the roles were reversed then I would ask her first, and certainly would not make it a free-for-all on the facebook page. I don't know :(
I genuinely wanted to cry yesterday. I mean, it just emphasised that we are evidently not good friends anymore, and that she doesn't even seem to regard me as being part of it all. And she then says she hasn't heard from me in ages, but I kept talking to her, sending her stuff etc. and I just for the most part got ignored :(

Maybe I am just being over-sensitive. It appears to be all sorted now. We'll see...

"I don't love you, like I did, yesterday"

He spat at me. We had been back together, what, 15 hours or something, and he spat at me? He just yelled and yelled and yelled... He called me a cunt, everything that's wrong with the world, he said he wanted me to get out of the car on the A47, he said he wanted to kill me, he wanted to smash my face in. How the fuck am I supposed to cope with this?
I didn't ask him to collect me from my parents, in fact I gave him ample opportunity to say "no"... and I highlighted the fact that he would be tired etc. But no. It's all my fault.
I'm not going to lie, this is the most scared I've ever been before in my life. But who the fuck spits at someone, let alone their fucking girlfriend, in an enclosed space of a car, who spits at her?

And then we came back and everything was, for the most part, fine and dandy... He called me over for a cuddle. I don't know what to do. When we are happy, I love him with all of my heart, when I'm apart from him, I love him, but when he acts like this, I am so terrified that it must override that love. He makes me want to kill myself; I actually wanted to jump out of the car. But love is supposed to conquer everything? I promised myself this would be the last time following the whole 'break-up scenario', but here I am, yet again, put up with it, again.

It's Like Quitting Smoking...

"It's hard to say I miss you; Since you've been gone it's not the same"

Well the first 24 hours have nearly passed since we "broke up", and 24 hours since the argument began, and to be honest I still don't know how I feel.
Last night I got into bed and had a little cry all over again; I'm surprised there's anything still left to cry but evidently there was. I feel so sad without him, every little thing reminds me of him; be it cows, tv programmes, music, everything. All are bittersweet memories. My parents said I need to think about what I want - do I even want to be with him anymore? In all honesty I don't know; part of me thinks well perhaps it was meant to happen - we've never broken up before, and we've always been able to make it up and this time we haven't been able to. Surely that's a good indication? On the flipside, the amount I am missing him, and the thought of living without him is unbearable as well... Is this just because I've got used to life without him? So many questions are flooding my mind.

I went to the flat to pick up some more clothes, and to leave a note for him for when he came to collect his stuff. He was there. This completely baffled my mind. Why was he there? Did he decide to sleep there because it was convenient, and then he could pack up his stuff, pile it into the Disco and then go? Did he come back to show that he didn't mean it? Why was his key in the door? It was not on his key-ring as per normal. Was it to stop me getting in? Was it because as soon as he packed his stuff up, was he going to post it through the letterbox? I can't take this not knowing part. It is killing me.

How could he say that he still loved me? Why can't he "put up with me"? Why doesn't he realise that I only "schiz out" when he yells at me unnecessarily? Does he really want to break up? Why do I feel like the bad guy for phoning my parents?

I haven't cried today which is good, but I don't know how much longer I can hold out. I've been able to think rationally today. I left him a poem basically telling him how much he loves me... I hope he responds one way or another. I don't want to go crawling to him, but I don't think I want to leave him either.
I am filled with such unbearable sadness I don't know where to begin. but in the same breath I can think clearly about life without him - Well I can just about.

I don't know, I just don't know.
How the fuck did this happen?