What's a messed up girl to do?

It's a bank holiday here today. It's tradition in my house to do sweet feck all on a bank holiday so that's what I'm doing. I went to the shop earlier with my pyjamas on underneath my hoody. My thinking was that I'll just be putting them on again later so what's the point in taking them off. Is that depression talking? I think so.

I've already b/p purged once today but gonna try and leave it at that. Who am I kidding I have no control over the b/p monster. It rears it's ugly head whenever it god damn pleases. I have no meds left. I always have none left on a Sunday/Monday. Reality bites!

I was reading another blog today and the blogger posed the question 'am I really sick?'
I ask myself this question a lot. All the evidence points to yes. I've been diagnosed with anorexia/bulimia as well as depression, anxiety and drug addiction. I haven't had a period in nearly 10 years and well, I just don't function normally. My whole world is my eating disorder, it's all i think about. Losing weight is the most important thing in my life, how sad is that? But still I ask myself 'am I sick?' I'm sure it must be a  symptom of the eating disorder that I don't feel sick or it doesn't count unless I am the sickest.

There are 2 sets of scales in my bedroom, I haven't weighed in nearly a week and they are taunting me, daring me to step on them. I'm terrified of them. They have the power to spin me in to a black hole so I don't know which way is up. They equally have the power to sky rocket me into euphoria if the number is down. Neither is normal. Why do these numbers rule my life? Weights, sizes, measurements..... I wish I was  just comfortable in my own skin no matter what size I am, I suppose that's why people choose recovery but recovery equally terrifies me.

What's a messed up girl to do?

Please tell me things will get better,

Much love,

Ruby-tuesdayxxx