I've been having a very rough, very emotional and mentally strenuous week. I've had very bad relapses this week since last Saturday. I've no idea what's gotten into me, or my brain for that matter. I've tried. Honestly I've tried. The counselor in this online support group that I'm in always talking about how our thinking and emotions are driving our actions and so to change our actions, we need to modify our thinking. And I've tried. I've consciously told myself I need to stop thinking a certain negative way and change it, but ironically the more I try to turn it the other way, my plan backfires and then I binge. Well. Its not a binge per se, according to my psychiatrist because my "binges" are subjective. Real binges are worse than the ones I'm going through. I told her the eating pattern that I've been going through since the first year in university and she says this ritual I go through is called oral expulsion. 

It sounds disgusting. Oral expulsion. Like. Something nasty exploding. But truth be told, when she told me what it was, I felt somewhat relieved. To know that a name for it exists means that there are other people going through the same thing as I'm join through and I feel less lonely. 

Relapses at night are the most difficult. You want to talk to someone, but you can't because everyone's asleep and this is when you start feeling more alone than ever. Like right now. The only platform I can turn to right now at 2am in the morning is my online support group with somewhat higher chance that someone will respond because majority of the members in the group are in the US and UK, which means they'll be awake and someone might happen to be online and take pity on me. 

Anyway, I'm starting to get a little more emotional issues out to my therapist at th de hospital. She's such a genius. I mean, I'm aware of how the various factors in my life, both past and present, affect each other to bring about the screwed up me, but somehow my therapist manages to go deeper and deeper and break down barriers and I ended up crying once and I was so mortified after that. Not because my eyeliner had streaked but because finally finally I'm able to put a finger on something that's been bugging me. 

I know I said this many times before, but sometimes I'd still want to, you know, not be here. But just. End it all. Is this my karma, for not being good to my brother, this eating disorder I mean? Is this God's way of punishing me? Or some kind of a sick joke He's pulling on me? I still pray every now and then, but sometimes, I just want to curse out loud and want him to fucking down here and remove this shit out of my life because I do not deserve this at all one bit. An autistic brother, controlling mother, detached father, stuck-up and arrogant sister, low self esteem, poor image and You want to pump it up with an eating disorder?!

I don't think about whether I'll go to Heaven or Hell if I commit suicide. I always thought that those who commit suicide should go to Heaven, because after all the suffering and hardship they've been through, they deserve some peace right now. 

No I don't think about whether I'll go to Heaven or Hell. I only think of how I'll stop feeling so miserable, and tired and alone. And maybe even happier dead then alive.