It feels like it´s been months since I last posted! I´ve really missed blogging. I´ve missed you guys.
Well, a lot has happend these last few days… I don´t even know where to start.
Some good things have happend…
I received both my French diploma and my school report with my first bimester grades.
I went to a party with a few friends (including pre and post-party) and slept over.
I watched “Alice in the Wonderland” in theathers.
I went out with my grandfather and my cousins.
I played with the lovely kids from my social project.
And some bad things happend, too.
Last Tuesday, for example. I was exhausted when I got home. All I wanted to do was to cry and hide. I felt awful.
Or Thursday. I had a big fight with my mother. I didn´t want to go see my therapist, and she freaked out… She was right, in the end. As always.
This weekend, though, deserves more attention. Everything was going well… until Saturday, when my father picked me up.
To make a long story short: tears were dropped and I was hurted inside and out. Dad hit me. With words and with hands. He said he would intern me. “I won´t let you die”.
I don´t blame him. He said I was fooling him, all this time. And I was. But it wasn´t him that I was fooling – I was fooling myself. I didn´t even try to get better. All I did was eat less and loose more weight. I´ve dropped about 5 pounds since February.
I don´t know why I was doing that. I even started seeing a therapist. She´s nice, but I´ve known her for only a few weeks. We´ve talked about a lot of things, not only ED-related stuff. I guess it was a good thing that I´ve met her, but nothing has changed. Unfortunately.
Wow, you guys must be confused. Let me clear up: Dad pulled over right beside an ED-recovery clinic this afternoon. He said I should get my ID and my medical-service card and get out of the car.
Obviously, I freaked out. I said I´d recover. That I´d get better. That I did needed help – but from my parents, not from several doctors and nurses. I talked him out of leaving me there. He drove us (me and my sister) to my grandmother´s house, where my Mom was at because of Mother´s Day. He sat down with them both and explained his “plan”. Of course, he embarassed me in front of the whole family, but I remained calm. It could be worse.
After he left, I fixed myself a plate. I used the microwave, then sit down to eat. I was determinated to show them all I wasn´t kidding, so I managed to (almost) clean the plate. I felt awful, but proud.
I got up and went to the kitchen, so I could leave my plate on the sink. My uncle came in. He said:
-“Holy S***! You just ate a BUNCH, Gabriela. Holy cow…”
Yep. Can you imagine where I spent the next hour?
Oh, yes. In the bathroom. Crying, by myself. Wishing I had eaten less, wishing I had the strengh to throw it all up… Feeling like crap.
Now I´m here. At home. My back hurts. I can´t even stand to lay down. I have bruises.
Anyhow… I´m sorry for this gigantic post. I just needed to get this off my chest. I´m so confused and sad right now. Everyone´s upset. Including me.
I hope this week´s a good one. I hope God helps me. I hope he gives me the strenght to fight. I hope Dad stops hitting me. I hope…
I hope we all succeed. In every single aspect.
And, if you´re still reading this…
Thank you. Seriously.
Good night, lovies. I´ll be back as soon as I can.