'Everyday I fight a war against the mirror, I can't take the person staring back at me, I'm a hazard to myself' (P!nk - Don't Let Me Get Me)

So here we are again, full restriction mode in place. I'm not sure what I hope to achieve this time round, knowing that I've been down this path before to no avail and yet I feel powerless to stop it. The skinny jeans buried at the bottom of the wardrobe aren't helping, if anything they're taunting me from afar, daring me to once again find a way to fit into them, regardless of the cost. But what will a pair of size 6's accomplish, will it even end there this time around, or will I push it to the maximum?
In a sensible, responsible mode, I know where this will lead and it isn't pleasant. Constantly being cold no matter how many layers I wear, concentration which flickers on and off like a light bulb, bad skin, sore joints, cramps in my legs, infections, dizziness, blood tests, supplements, chipped teeth, insomnia. The list is endless. So why knowing all of that first hand do I chose to continue, what do I hope to accomplish? This certainly isn't a recipe for success where my degree is concerned, I'll be lucky if I'm awake enough to actually attend lectures, let alone the cycle ride there or the essays I'll need to write. Equally it won't do my mental health much good either, fatigue is good for no one. I'm going to become a walking zombie, yet still I continue.
It's a denial, of both food and feeling. Life is too overwhelming right now to allow myself to feel this pain, the only way to sort it is to deny food and deny thoughts, letting out minimal issues through the use of a razor blade. I seem to go through patterns, discuss my feelings, explore things and binge binge binge, like you've never seen anyone eat before. Or stop the whole lot, don't feel anything and equally don't eat. I swing between these two constantly, never able to find the balance of allowing myself to express feelings in a controlled fashion and equally allow my eating to be controlled. It's all or nothing, every time.
Proof that I'm in full ana mode has to come from the stupid hour at which I'm posting this, I've been ill for days and could do with some rest but my body seems to think otherwise. You'd think when starved a body would want more sleep, to use up a few resources as possible but the opposite seems true, at least where getting to sleep is concerned. So where do I go from here? I can see the pattern, understand the reason for my behaviour and know the answer to overcome it, but it's never that simple. Knowing what I'm doing and why I'm doing it are the easy part, I can identify those areas quite nicely now. Yet I still can't find a way to let things out gradually, it's nothing or floodgates, either way I can't win.

'Lights go out and I can't be saved, tides that I tried to swim against have brought me down upon my knees' (Coldplay - Clocks)

I long for the peace I felt not so long ago, when my mind stopped and I lay waiting for fate to take its course. The soothing feeling of knowing that I would no longer have to endure the daily struggles to simply survive offered the comfort of a mothers' womb, the idea that I would wake in a hospital bed the next day escaped my mind as if it would never occur. There are not words to describe the mixed emotions of that night, the sudden realisation that everything I worked so hard to build had come crashing down around my feet swallowed what little fight there was left and final gave me license to buy into the thoughts which have invaded my mind for so many years.
The moment had been planned for so long, originally when a date was set I never fully believed I'd go through with my decision. It was set so far in advance because I was longing for life to improve before the day arrived. How wrong can one person be? I'm not sure if the downward spiral of events leading up to the night were destined to happen anyway or as the time approached I provoked people to act in certain ways in order to justify my choice. I know for sure the events of the evening were as a direct result of the latter. By pushing away the one person I cared about most I gave myself permission to give up and act upon the darker thoughts of my mind.
I remember feeling frantic once the choice had been made, all I wanted to do was get home and swallow the handfuls of pills I have been so carefully hoarding. I think upon reflection I wanted to make sure nobody had the ability to stop me, to talk me round or convince me that there was a slim possibility of hope. The last spark of my soul disappeared that night and I've not managed to regain it since. I'm beginning to think I never will. This depression and despair has been with me for too many years for the light to suddenly come back on.
Once again I find myself fighting for an existence I'm not even sure I want. Trying to rebuild the foundations of my life upon ground which is far too weathered and worn for the cement to hold. All I can do to escape the harsh reality of this world is daydream about feeling a peace like I felt that night. That's not to say I'm going to just act on impulse again, this is far too important a decision to act upon without proper preparation. I've always said if I'm going to go, I'm going to do it properly and not mess it up, I've made one failed attempt I'm sure as hell not going to do that again. I guess in some twisted sense I feel like I've messed my entire life up, if there's one thing I desperately want to get right it's this.