To answer your question:

Yes i did go to the hospital. But not how you think.

Last year, on  Christmas Eve to be exact, I was taken to the hospital by my father. Three days prior, I was sleeping over at C's house and woke up at like 3am and couldn't breathe.

My chest hurt so badly that I struggled to breathe and if I tried to eat anything, it would hurt so badly that I would cry.

First I went to the emergency room because I thought that I was like, dying, or something. I spent the next two days there. Then I went home. On christmas Eve, my father took me back to the hospital saying that they "needed to run one or two more tests."

um ya that was a lie. They thought i was bulimic.

You know what he said to me? He looked at me in the eyes and said, "Elle, you just wanted to lose weight. And this was a quick, easy way to do it. You don't have any psychological problems, so don't make this into something that it's not."

*cough* asshole *cough*

Now the funniest, most IRONIC part of this whole situation- I wasn't bulimic. I think that at that point, I'd tried throwing up maybe...once? and didn't like it. I was anorexic. I just tried SO hard to make it look like I was eating all the time that I think I  overdid it.

Their arguement was "you eat all the time, you don't go to the gym, and you're losing lots of weight. Therefore you are bulimic.'

However I was eating almost nothing. I really miss those days. When me and Ana were close buddies.

Anyways, they wouldn't give it up. They said I was bulimic and that was that. I denied it, but I left out the part about the anorexia. They did more random stuff at the hospital with needles and fluid and weighing and shit like that. Then I left, and nobody ever told me what all of those things meant. I didn't ask, because I didn't really want to know.

They sent me to a therapist and watched my every move. They told me that if i didn't "cut it out" then they'd send me away to some live-in place. (don't you just love their loving approach?)

So I tried to 'cut it out'...at least for a while. And then BAM i was back into it. But Ana take two wasn't as natural as the first time around. I was always trying to fast instead of just doing it. And that's what lead me to bulimia.

and now here I am.

Note: I have only talked with my mother (parents are divorced) so when I go to my father's next week, we could be enduring hell. It is unknown.

And now to answer your other question: No, telling J would not be a good idea. He wouldn't understand I don't think. I just like him around. He makes me feel safe.

Sucking Life Update:

I have been eating all the time, and its sucked balls. This evening in particular was a little two much for me. After dinner I sat on the couch, sooo uncomfortable. I tried soooo hard not to. But I needed it. I needed to feel empty again and to feel the release. So I purged.  Which is a highly dangerous senario at this point, but I was desperate. I am also confident that they didn't hear anything. It. felt.AMAZING.

So.....ya. That's where I stand right now. I'm just trying to get through the days at this point. And I'm going to the gym. a lot.

Love

Elle