My trouble with foodage!

Sometimes, being honest can have serious repercussions.  Many have told me to be careful and not put it all out there.  Some have even threatened me with violence if I did.  There are a lot of things that I can understand in life, but using threats of violence to keep someone silent I do NOT.

In an attempt to NOT give in to that type of persuasion – here is the following…

I don’t want to eat.  and I know that I really need to.  There is a weird paradox going on between my head and my body.  Physically we all need nourishment right?  Mentally it fucks with my mind and heart and memories etc…

The fact that I do, when I do, makes me feel pathetically weak and moronic.  And NO I don’t think that about other people, in fact, I wish I could let all this shit go and be more like them.  But, right now – I can’t.

When I do get food out, I feel extremely guilty.  Even if it is my own food!!  So, I eat as little as I can (most times) and forget the rest.  I try to match what others do when I am eating with people.  I usually cannot do it though.  does not mean I don’t wanna be like them, just the memories are too strong and I can’t fight them and me and my heart and the pain all at the same time – I’m just really not that strong.

I have not thrown up for months now… and that is a big thing.  I think that I am too in tune with my body (being on this massive fucking hyper alert overdrive bullshit!)  and every flux inside me gives me alarm.  I am used to the wanting.  I am not used to the receiving.  I am at ease more so with the lack of …. energy is not the correct word, but I cannot think of the best one for now…. energy rather than the creation of it.  Much like a spider can induce a flow of epinephrine in a person to whom the spider gives a fright – feeling food being processed inside of me freaks my ever living shit out!  just the simple act of touching food to my lips causes me alarm.  I can cook and bake.  I can do the math and set the timer.  But, I don’t want to eat it and I don’t want to be pressured to do so either.

It was always so confusing for me.  being told that I should never eat.  then when around ‘family’ and ‘friends’ I was forced to eat.  As soon as they were no longer around I had to down the ipecac and throw the food up.  Then there came the laxatives and enemas and to the extremes of high colonics!

All in preparation for what? Just so that when some grown up person(s), who had paid a fucking dime for me, would go down and fuck me they didn’t get anything they didn’t expect????????

In a totally and completely damnable way, I can understand – to a point – why this was their fucking policy.  Clean child prostitute for a dirty wealthy pedophile.  Fantastic!

Being part of the prosy walk and being forced to drink a lot and puke it up later was all part of the experience.  Before I would go to a doctor’s office, r would bloat me up like a fucking fish!  I would go in and would be of whatever right weight I was supposed to be.  After getting back home it was the same thing all over again.  Ipecac, laxatives, enemas… and a slew of degrading and shameful tactics that confused me and causing a profound damage to my existence in a complete way.

Does it still matter?  Should I still try?

It does not feel that on this subject I have made any progress.  Of course she is not finished with me yet.  She still sends people after me, and according to her I will be dead in less than 2 weeks anyways – so then is there a fucking bastardly point anyhow?

I do not have to eat unless I want to physically be more capable.  I do not want to eat because of all that is written in the above.  I want to eat because it looks like something that people enjoy, and I sooooo want that.  I won’t eat right now cuz I cannot muscle this shit out.

grrrrrrr

On a different subject – Truth is I’m afraid that I might not ever know the things I’ve always dreamed of. Terrified am I at the thought that this hellish life is exactly how I see things now and not anything to be desired especially if the value I have tried to find in me and those around me betrays me before real progress and comfort can be found…for me.

Mostly I am scared that all the things I heard and saw, the ones burned and completely burdened upon my brain, are the good in humanity and the best of this world. I have been witness to deaths, murders, ritualized abuse, hating and lying, cheating, prostitution, theft, torture, manipulation, public beatings, savage rape… and the list goes on and on.  I want to see the fucking point to all of this and I want to stick around long enough so I can.

If nothing can be done and they are gonna kill me anyways… is there still a point? I’m not asking for some type of emotionalistic appeal from anyone – I’m looking for hope.  Down to earth, honest to God, realistic and utter hope.

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