Broke

And I just broke down.
My mother and sister are down and are going home today. Mom and dear old grandmother got into an argument about wonderful me.
It sent my grandmother into tears and my mom close to them because (and I heard this from my room) "you tell her eat, then she's fat, eat, too fat, eat, too fat. Let her eat what she wants. If she gets sick, then who cares?! I don't care. Just let her get sick. Let her eat what she wants."
Mom found the squirreled away empty pre-made food containers from A&P.
She found the empty bag of cookies and the empty cake pan.
She found the empty bags of chips and assumed, like everyone assumes when they look at a a fat girl, that I ate it all in one sitting.
Bullshit.
So she comes up the stairs as I sit, drying my wasted tears after hearing it all while trying to read the first half of my "Saints, Sinners and Soldiers" book for Social History, and starts talking.
I have to put the book down.
She tells me about how my grandmother's only looking out for me, etc etc, and how I "have to see a councilor or something about the eating."
I broke. After I told her that I don't eat it all in one sitting, I broke.
I sobbed.
She asked me what was wrong. I said nothing. She told me that there must be something wrong to have me crying. I told her it was nothing. My mind was screaming "Tell her! Tell her about feeling depressed and the binging because you feel worthless and the long gashes across your stomach that you made by dragging your scissors across your worthless gut." But I said "nothing."
She started going on about how my hiding food was because I was feeling guilty about it. That that was my "problem." Then she told me that my makeup was running and I just blurted out "It doesn't matter anyways." She then started talking about how it does matter, because wearing makeup makes me feel better about myself and...that's just not true.
I wear makeup because I'm afraid that, if I don't look good somewhere on my body, then all anyone will see is my fat. Which they do. But I didn't say anything. I just told her it "doesn't matter."
She left and I sat down at my computer and promptly took my scissors from my desk and pulled it across my skin four more times.
No one sees my stomach anyways, so who cares.

I was looking at my university's website, at the Student Health Services, looking for counseling. I found, in the FAQ, a list of signs of "a severely depressed person."
They are:

• increasing isolation and withdrawal from others, not talking much with friends or floormates.
• unusual sleep patterns (this could mean sleeping much of the time, or difficulty getting to sleep, or early morning awakening)
• significant changes in appetite (overeating or loss of appetite)
• lack of interest in surroundings
• lack of attention to personal appearance
• tearfulness or very little expression of emotion
• verbal expressions of feeling out of control
• indications that the person is dividing up their possessions or making decisions about who will be able to use their possessions when they no longer need them
• any indication that they have thought about how they would kill or harm themselves
• any sudden change in mood, i.e.: from an anxious agitated state, to a calm, peaceful demeanor
• has the individual experienced recent losses, through death, divorce, loss of personal status, etc?
• has the individual previously attempted suicide?
• is there any family history of suicide?

I read them, I recognize most of them, and I feel terrible about it all because I'm too scared to talk. And no one seems to recognize it. No one's helping. I know, to get help I have to ask for it, but I can't. I do not ask for help. I'm the middle child, anytime I needed help, I just suffered through it.
Like I said before; I’m scared to ask for help, because the last time I tried, my mom told me it was ‘just that time of the month’. Then she laughed.

I just want to sleep forever and not wake up.