Losing ground

A lot of things have come up this week that cause me to question friendship, loyalty, and trust.  A girl I never really liked much (because of her tiresome need to be liked) was hurt by something I shared about her.  For some reason she missed the humor in it, and wound herself around an axel taking a few deadly shots at what I would determine to be the wrong targets.  Her reaction spun me.  I can't remember the last time I thought I had extraneous friendships I could just put an end to because my feelings hurt.  Come to think of it, I can't actually remember a day when I didn't have my feelings hurt by something. 
  To be a loyal friend, do you stand by your friend at all times?  I used to think so.  I have had friends make stupid decisions, offend my other friends, or have emotional crises.  I wouldn't call anyone out on their problems, I would just be there in case they needed someone to talk to.  At some point, my friends discovered the way out of their predicament without my input.  If someone asked me what I thought of their choices, would I stand beside them and say they were doing the right thing, though?  Would I defend them if someone chose to point out their flaws?  I don't fight battles for myself, how would I even know how to fight someone else's battle?  I would stand by and do nothing.  If I did nothing, would I have betrayed my friend beyond reconciliation? 
  It doesn't really matter how I might have responded or what is reasonable.  The point is, I had a hand in ruining a friendship, and since I am prone to taking on guilt I have no way of dealing with, I have taken this to heart, and called myself a puppet of evil once again.  It made it hard to get out of bed this morning, but I am proud to say I faced the day and dealt with this by confirming yet again that I am still bulimic and don't actually know how to deal with feelings of guilt.  So, I guess the darkness inside of me is seeping out and damaging the world I inhabit.  To which I respond, "We must remove the tumor before the cancer spreads", and so begins the tumble into the pit of suicidal thoughts . . . well, shit.  That is a very worn path.  I missed an opportunity to turn at some point.  I got here too fast.   I wish I could just slow things down so I could make my positive arguments to keep me from getting here. Damn it!  I can't fucking do this.  I'm just getting worse, and I am exhausted from trying to keep track of everything I think and feel to make sure it isn't feeding the negative.
  I can't stop thinking about M.  I keep feeling like I am falling, and I just want to hit the bottom so I can start climbing back up, or just lay there in a heap of broken bones.  I wish I could understand all the things I feel.  I feel like an idiot for trusting my husband.  I want so badly to feel real pain.  I wish I could slice my wrist open and watch my life just drain right out of me.  But, I know I only think that way because I have paved a neural pathway in my brain to respond to trouble with these thoughts.  I had a dream that Steve was sleeping with her.  Not having sex, just lying in bed with her.  But, I walked in, saw the situation, and strangled her.  I woke up before anyone was actually killed.  I think my subconscious could only take that so far, but I truly understand now that I hate this woman.  I've never hated anyone before.  When I think about her, I feel chilled, hairs stand up on the back of my neck, and my jaw clenches.  I should forgive her.  I have forgiven Steve.  I don't trust him, and I am jealous of everyone and everything, but I have forgiven him.  Her, I don't have a good reason to forgive her.  She played me for a fool, slept under my roof, and tried to take my husband.  She then took my charity, and continued to try to take my husband.  Fuck that.  If that means a special place is reserved for me in the depths of hell, then at least I'll have the satisfaction of dragging her soul down as well because the only endless torture I could not endure would be to spend an eternity with this loathsome whore.
  I feel so much pain.  I can't talk to Steve because he can't understand why I am not over this yet.  Or, because he "knows he messed up" and doesn't need me to rub his nose in it.  I can't figure out what to do with this, and I feel guilty for wasting so much food on binges.  I am angry, sad, lonely, tired, betrayed, and stupid.  I hate myself so much for letting this happen.  I am hurt by the betrayal, and I have no guarantee this won't happen again tomorrow.  It keeps me on edge.  It keeps my stomach in knots.  I am trying to be sane, but I am fraying at the edges, and I fear I may not last much longer.  I need to find a better way than depression and bulimia to deal with all these feelings.