Sylvanna Devlin

(Scroll to the end – past the first and second pictures – for a laugh)

This has all been so confusing this has a summary in the middle.

I was an emotional eater quite a while ago. Until I managed to pin it down to Diet Coke. And now if I get upset I have a sugar free cola.

It keeps me going.

Stuffing your feelings away, like I used to, isn’t healthy but it’s not the same as a binge.

A binge is a sudden massive amount of food, usually unhealthy food. It’s not just a comfort food – maybe to excess.

It’s pure excess. And it’s unpleasant.

Bulimics will attest. They’re not really enjoying the process. They are just making themselves feel sick.

Like I did with malitol sweetened chocolate.

I knew what it was. I first came across malitol in my late teens. It’s not like the bloating and gas, the diarrhea and general puky feeling is unfamiliar.

I knew what to expect.

But I recently reached for the nasty stuff when stress hit.

I can’t decide if it’s worse or better than my recent and previously reoccurring bouts of anorexia.

The difference? Bulimics – as I had been in the past with laxatives. Eat until they’re sick and only a few vomit it up. Most crap it out. Some over exercise.

Anorexics become obsessed with controlling food and begin to enjoy feeling hungry.

It seems I could get past satisfaction with starvation. But bulimia returned.

I had forgotten how it felt to be sick like this. It’s unpleasant but also satisfying – the same weird negative sense anorexia gives.

And like that weird passion the urge to draw my own blood brings up. Slowed down. Mellowed. But ever present during a successful binge.

It’s not a method of constant control but a way of suppressing an emotional spike.

That’s why anorexic bulimics exist. Tight control over food until an emotional spike makes you sick!

It’s not like I don’t know how I’m supposed to eat. I just don’t care. And now a different disorder is back.

Do I need to be direct? Eating disorders are a stress response. They’re not about body image. They’re a form of self harm.

I ate enough candy to feel sick and fell asleep. The nap was decent and kept me out of the world of everyone around me losing their minds again that I won’t just take their abuse with no comment.

So they can steal from me.

Of course I sound paranoid. Assholes are playing into mental illness to gaslight and steal from me and I can’t get anyone to listen.

While everyone around me seems to already know and just call me names, including paranoid, to control me.

So they could steal, and have a punching bag.

Of course it’s not the same if the victim doesn’t fight back when you use reactive abuse.

So you can steal, have a punching bag, and scapegoat.

Yes indeed. Welcome to exposing reactive abuse. A good twenty years after the laxatives and appetite suppressant gum, I need to lose 69 lbs and am big and muscular on a large boned short fat person.

I was returning to Diet Coke as my comfort strategy that I developed ten years ago.

Meds had packed on pounds on top of that from emotional eating so it was necessary.

Tonight. Bulimia returned.

I feel sick and slightly satisfied.

This is not healthy.

But neither are the circumstances I’m being asked to endure so you can continue to steal from me, use me as a punching bag and scapegoat and complain I’m abusive if I rebuke you.

Sorry it’s death or an upset stomach. So right now the latter you abusive arseholes. You used Bluetooth to invade my earbuds to mutter and play music during a thunderstorm.

Thunderstorms aren’t the same as white noise. I do not hallucinate during the sound of thunderstorms. It was real audio and a real invasion and the last hope I had to cope.

And you took it from me.

But oh no, you don’t actually want me to kill myself you just tell me to kill myself because it’s some sick twisted joke.

And I’m supposed to shy away from saying you’re making me suicidal. Every night. A hospital can’t take me. I’m fine if you don’t push and push and push.

They’ll send me home to fewer belongings because you staked the place out so you can steal, have a punching bag, and scapegoat that you’ve lied about so much others think I deserve it.

WTF is wrong with you?

WTF is wrong with America that you think you can manipulate stigma and lies to make this all socially acceptable?

So bulimia it is.

And I refuse to be ashamed of it.

The best part is, it’s a coping mechanism for handling an environment of women who tell me outright to kill myself. But don’t like me coping in any way at all so if it’s negative it’s my fault they “feel bad”

How does a corpse sound then?

I. Tried. To. Kill. Myself. Last year.

It’s by the grace of God I survived.

So if you feel a twinge of guilt over my return to eating disorders? You should. Now imagine the result is worse.

Because part of me would still rather give you what you say you want, which is for me to kill myself. Because I’m surrounded by such awfulness I can only survive in an unhealthy way.

And part of me would rather die than listen to your lies and abuse for one more minute.

But as often as you say, “kill yourself”, you’re not rebuked. But I have to suggest death just once and you crash down on a suicidal individual like the repercussions should only be experienced by the victim.

So which is it? Does it matter anymore? Bulimia isn’t something you “snap out of” you ignorant fool.

But it might be here to stay. Even exposing you is considered nasty by you and your coterie – I’m the problem because I don’t just soak your abuse. So none of you ever change.

You gaslight, move things, steal and return them. So I can’t ever find anything and have to search through everything with you saying you stole it whether you did or not. Just to demoralize and discredit me when you make off with something for real.

Testing your boundaries and what you can get away with.

Calling me a crybaby and a snitch for reporting every last thing you steal.

And if I allow the US government to use my growing digital signature to catch an international ring that provides technological backing if you only become a professional thief? Maybe try to be a slave handler?

Apparently I’m considered a fascist [I don’t like that word either. Censored]

Oh you tell me to kill myself to drive me to a hospital so you can safely steal from me?

You’re more likely to get a dead body that way.

How many have you racked up and brushed off. You said go to a hospital so why should you take responsibility for your abuse? In your mind anyway.

You lying, murderous, gaslighting, abusive ring of thieves.

Leave me, my things, and my cat alone.

Not that you care about what I want. It’s just an avenue to abuse anyway.

To sum up:

You steal identities, belongings and work.

And peace of mind.

Some of it done through computer vulnerabilities like bluetooth (since itt can’t be turned off), backdoors designed for testing, software meant for the police to use, and installing firmware updates that hose a computer with a fake operating system on top.

(You always break system preferences. And can’t avoid it)

You then use gaslighting, harassment and reactive abuse to disguise your tracks.

And the gaslighting became so elaborate you stole my privacy so people could laugh at me. Because it’s impossible trying to unravel the truth with the amount of bull crap you shoveled.

You have technological backing and lots of google plays to create your espionage, gaslighting, and the development of a scapegoat.

I have no freedom for my soul to heal because you practically also sell tickets to play “angels and demons” or treat me as an emotional punching bag. Or so you can try to have power and control.

The boss fight.

You also practically sold tickets to a peep show when “the fat Sylvanna” got naked. Some of you exchanging bets at my expense.

The only thing you haven’t sold is my body and you’ve been trying.

It’s all real but save the reasons given. Because I’m not real to you.

I don’t matter.

I’m a thing.

A commodity.

Why? Because I’m disabled? Or some other crappy reason.

You’re just a bunch of thieves and arseholes. And the patsies having a good laugh at me. Maybe testing out their abuse on a pay to play system that treats me as sub human.

And keeps me that way.

I did come back to reality, and it’s inconvenient for you.

I’m dealing with the return of an eating disorder because of you and you’re gloating you hope I get sick.

You

[ I don’t think we need these swear words. Censored]

But you don’t care.

Because I’m not even real to you.

As a side clarification. I don’t wear makeup in most posts. Or use filters. I really do look like this. So bugger off with your “too much makeup” you [oh my goodness! Censored]

That picture above has me with moisturizer coating my face. The one below is not “too much lipstick” it’s my natural lips after salty rice cakes. Are you now going to criticize my diet food?

There is something wrong with you.

And I’m keeping the “ugly photo” it’s not “what I really look like” it’s my face contorted by rage you stupid [let’s not! Censored].

Maybe you could avoid the reactive abuse if furious photos are going to be sniped at as “not my best.”

No you stupid [I don’t think I should know that word. Censored]

Anger isn’t pretty.

But neither are your lies, the gaslighting, and constant criticism meant to demoralize me. Some of you just say anything to hurt me even if it makes you sound stupid.

Here’s a particularly pretty one.

Since you’re expecting makeup and I don’t feel like complying.