Pleasure in losing?

I sit in solitude wrapped up in layers. Shivering against a cold i've chilled myself. The pill is lodged in my throat still, and I await patiently for it's endorphine release. I ponder people, and question prayer. Shaking clinched palms begging to find salvation. My throat constricts at the need to speak aloud. To talk to Him. My shame keeps my lips pressed. I don't deserve to be saved. I've built one hell of a life. One others should think I'd be proud of. My inner demons and conflictions sway my reason to think so. I've lost. A pleasure in losing? Oh! the irony. For every friend(foe)lost, another pound shed. A weight a no longer need to carry. Gravitational pull; though, what I need the most. I use my mouth to shut people out. Burning them with the realization, that I am not what they thought. I crave the need to tell them. Why I'm really hurting. Professional relationships though are not friends (So I've learned). So instead I bury them, deep along side of me. So we can swallow dirt together. I do unconsciously. You are a product of your environment, and mine has taught me to keep your "friends" close and your enemies closer. Where I go from 6 feet to a deeper level of descend, is when they gain this knowledge. Where their trust in me is broken, and I'm finally free. They claw triumphantly out of the earth, and leave me screaming silently to myself, smiling and alone. What bewilders me is my own bewilderment of this outcome. I question, why?! I question THEIR true intentions! I'M the victim! They're out to burn ME! I've created my own voids in relationships, but find all the fault to be theirs. This is where I panic. This is where the anxiety kicks in. Where insomnia starts. Where eating stops. I'm Alone. Where my disorder wants me to be, but what my soul craves passionately to have. I have no friends. I have no one to confide in. No one to tell of my secret. "Ana" is proud. "I" am miserable.
This is where I plead desperately to God. To save me. To help me keep my relationships. To help me to keep my feet grounded. Not to distance myself. I'm sorry to those I've Truly unintentionally hurt. I realize now that my "problem" is officially out of my control. I am now taking accountability, and admitting that I have lost ALL control over this. Forget the long term health negatives to this, I'm losing everything for this. Everything. I need help. Please God help me.
Last night was scarey. I was at my parent's house, and my dad called me into the kitchen. "Here baby, try this!" he was trying to hand me feed me some dessert he made. I panicked and threw a tantrum. "No dad! Please NO! I don't want it! Please!! Mom! Please tell dad to stop! I don't want any!!" I ran into the living room and dad brought my mom a plate. It was line she was taunting me. Eating slowly in front of me. Offering me bites. Making them smaller and smaller. "How about this much, will you just take a small bite?" I sat there trying to look at it. Panicking though at my "scene." Theyre going to know I'm getting worse. They're going to know I've lost control! That when once I could just take a bite. I ran desperately into the kitchen to find something to save face. I grabbed a carton of icecream and a spoon. I sat down in front of them and began to take little bites. Talking non stop about what I was eating. "This is so good! I'm trying to find the cookie pieces in this thing." after a few bites mom says, "Geeez, Mandy don't eat it ALL!" I stopped eating. This kind of confusing dialouge keeps me in an absolutely crazed state of mind.
I weighed myself this morning, and should of smiled at the solid 114 staring back at me. Especially since I'm menstruating. My mind is numb. I don't see this as a success. "113 would of been something to celebrate...you shouldn't of are that icecream." My brother on the way home tried to comfort me, "Mandy you really didn't eat that much. It was just a few bites." I drove in silence.
One night last week I binged at my brother's house. I ate mini cinnamon rolls, a pumpkin muffin, wendy's...on the late night drive home panic set in. "You can not keep this in!" I grabbed a bag that was in my side pocket in my car, and viciously made myself vomit while driving. Somehow I found humor in this. Like, "Oh Mandy, you've hit an all time low! This is a great idea! No more sneaking into comvienant stores. Avoiding eye contact with the clerk. Hoping they think I'm snorting coke rather than puking.*laughs*" Its sad when you actually want people to think you're on drugs rather than you have an eating disorder. Then I noticed my hand feeling warm. The bag was too thin to hold the contents. I flipped on my overhead light and looked down. Vomit covered my jeans. I disgusting rolled down my window and threw it out onto the street. The next day Travis saw the vomit and asked what happened, and I lied. I told him I had drank and got sick. I would rather have travis believe I was drunk then purging...