December 31, 2016 § Leave a comment
I would like to just cry and cry and cry.
My weight is up and I’m silly for weighing myself, especially as my period is due soon. And it’s doubly foolish because I get so anxious about my period already as I never actually bleed anymore, but still get all the symptoms of PMS (#birthcontrol #lol). So the weight gain/bloating/water retention feels even more like actual fat because there appears to be “no other reason” to its sudden appearance.
Sigh. My face is super puffy too, another sign of the bloating. But I am so afraid of a few stupid pounds. Like, let it go fool. It’s fine. It’ll go away. CALM THE FUCK DOWN K THX.
Yeah and stop fucking weighing yourself.
[LOL no, but actually, I may cry though omfg. Over “phantom” pounds. (BUT WHAT IF THEY’RE NOT????????)]
Goddamn, never underestimate an eating disorder.
August 27, 2016 § Leave a comment
“Do you miss him?” They ask, and you fight the urge not to squint your eyes judgementally at them in disbelief. Naturally, it fails.
“Yes,” I reluctantly admit, feeling suddenly sad and nostalgic, like when autumn rushes into winter, a marathon you wish it would never complete. “Yes, I do. We dated for two and a half years. How could I not?”
I knew we weren’t “meant” to be together forever, whatever that means. I was the one who broke up with him. Some could say I have no “right” to be upset, and like, honestly? Fuck them.
All obscenities aside, the fact of the matter is that, yes, I miss him. Definitely. It’s hard to admit, but it’s true.
How could I not?
I’ve been single for about six months now – the longest I’ve been single consistently since sophomore year. I’ve hopped from relationship to relationship since basically sixth grade, falling in love, hitting the pavement hard, but always coming back up for more. I don’t know why.
Until now. Now I am newly terrified, and I want to not be lonely but I want to run away from intimacy all the same.
Curse of a twenty-something? Curse of human-hood?
These are the questions.
So I’ve been newly single this summer. It’s been odd and continuously provokes a lot of feelings I don’t really want to deal with (classic stuff). I went on Tinder for a hot minute, got some date offers, and then logged out. I hooked up with one of my friends from school near the end of the semester, and we’ve been Skyping and texting often over the summer. It’s noncommittal, and I don’t know what to expect when I go back to school in about a little over a week.
I don’t know what I want, and I’m afraid to want someone again. I don’t know if he still wants me. He is good with “the ladies”, as they say. And yeah, you could argue that I’m good with “the men” (I certainly don’t feel that way 98% of the time), but it’s in a different way. I don’t know how to explain, really, except when I like someone, I find it hard to talk to other people and date around like a “normal” youngin (or person, really).
It’s not like I necessarily crave immediate commitment, it’s just like, I’ve never really “dated” around before, or been with someone who was “dating around”, and it makes me feel hella self-conscious. Like, hello? Am I not good enough for you? Even though obviously, I didn’t want to jump into anything serious, and honestly I don’t know if I do now. It always makes me anxious when I’m talking to multiple guys at once (i.e. Tinder, lol) because it feels like I’m cheating, even though of course I’m not.
I don’t know, man. This dating shit is craaaazy. To be honest.
Since I’ve been single for “so long” (subjective to my experience, clearly), I’m worried no one will ever like me again. And I like this guy. But I don’t want to date him or continue hooking up or whatfuckingever if he doesn’t want to. That’s certainly not chill.
I don’t know. I have no idea what to expect – from him or from myself.
I guess all I can hope is that it all works out, whether with him or someone else or multiple people, whenever it happens, if it happens.
And I sure do hope it happens someday, y’know, in this lifetime, ’cause you KNOW your girl here isn’t about to die alone.
August 10, 2016 § Leave a comment
First off, I just wanted to apologize for my absence. I truly was unsure of what to say. I’ve been getting a lot of anxiety recently about writing, which coincides with my OCD (classy, I know), but obvi, gotta fight it! I’ve still been writing, don’t worry (if anyone was, lawl), but it’s just hard, man, with all these compulsions and thoughts of theoretical perfectionism and all. It sucks. Clearly.
Anyway, last time I wrote, it was the previous summer. I had just gotten out of an acute inpatient stablization program for my eating disorder. I was headed off to my boyfriend’s and then off to school.
I don’t want to get into my past too much here, but let’s just say this year was…interesting.
I got closer to some friends as some traumatic stuff occured on campus and in our group unfortunately, broke up with my boyfriend of 2+ years, cried, laughed, went to class, turned 21 with an ER trip for severe vertigo, skipped readings and pretended I hadn’t, tried my best, studied hard, went to another campus for classes, went to parties, acted on urges, did not act on urges, kissed cute boys, attended therapy, got lots of blood taken, bought a scale that my parents intercepted, went on birth control (that I am switching to another one soon, actually…damn Nexaplanon!), got a bad viral infection during finals, got a wisdom tooth infection, flew to my parents’ house, got my wisdom teeth removed, felt lonely and depressed (duh – it’s me, after all!), hated my mother, grew more and more grateful for all the amazing people in my life, and got a job in an office!
In a nutshell.
I’m headed back to school in a month, and I’m so excited. But of course, I’m also terrifed. It’s my junior year, and shit’s getting intense, especially with all the work to be done in preparation for our senor theses/projects. I’m SO SO hyped to get back to the East Coast, though. That’s my home and I fucking miss it insanely.
I guess, with all this stuff having happened, I am feeling weird. Dejected, if you will. What the fuck is life?! I can’t believe I’m still struggling so much with everything – suicidality, eating disorders, self-harm urges. It’s so stupid. I hate it. So I’m ranting.
These feelings have been getting worse since I’ve been trying to find a nutritionist near school to complete my team there. However, I can’t seem to find one, and it’s making me feel hopeless. It’s also bringing up feelings of when people refused to treat me/didn’t listen to me/decided they couldn’t help me/didn’t set up aftercare/etc etc etc.
I just wish I was fucking better already.
Good god, I’m so sad.
August 15, 2015 § Leave a comment
I don’t know what to say.
That’s not the way to start a blog entry, but I’m going for it anyways, even though I can literally hear my middle school English teacher screaming at me from states away to make a better introductory sentence. But here I am, yours truly, Saturday night in the city summer, almost 21, saying fuck it. Some people drink as they turn of age, some ignore conventional sentence structure, you do what you gotta do.
I guess rebellion isn’t one-size-fits-all.
My emotional energy is burning through my synapses quicker than my fingers can dance across the keyboard and I feel like a slave to indifference. Why do I always have so much to say when I have no energy to say it? It is truly one of the most cruel experiences, to be so full of emotion with no way to let it out, despite all you do in vain. Eventually, I might write a sentence that makes sense and slides past the writer’s block that coats the sludge of my sins, the dirt of my mind. But even then, it’s a loser’s high, the one drip of blood from an infected cut that needs more to heal. Pitiful.
I don’t know what I’m saying, or what I’m doing, or who I am. I am in a strange city, I am almost 21, I am living with my parents for the summer, I have just left an eating disorder hospital, I am visiting my boyfriend soon, I am going back to school in September, I am doing homework, I am falling apart.
I put a lot of my faith in writing. But when my writing doesn’t come out the way I want it to, or need it to, then everything seems to disintegrate into ashes that cannot be resurrected. And I just stare at them, and pretend I don’t care. When in reality, it’s all I’ll ever care about.
Where have I gone if it wasn’t my choice to leave?
Sometimes I wish my eyes could talk. I feel like they tell more stories than I’ll ever be able to voice. They are more truthful than I could ever hope to be. They get tired and they close but they open and they do it again, while my voice just squeaks and cracks and dies in inferiority. A forced puberty that may never end.
I was not meant for this.
How many times have I thought this? That I wasn’t made for this life? How absurd is that? One may classify it as an overdramatic, angsty teenager’s thought. But I must tell you that it is anything but.
May you never know.
May 16, 2015 § 5 Comments
They say eat normally, and that’s cool and all, but like, what IS eating normally?
Seriously. The hell?
This is not a ground-breaking post or question. I know that a lot of people, especially those who are in eating disorder recovery/have struggled/are currently struggling with an eating disorder, ask themselves this a lot.
And clearly, I am one of them.
But the particularly bothersome part of all this “normal eating” jazz is, after all these years, is that I can so definitively see others recovering – eating the foods they like, knowing when to stop/start, getting a balance of food groups, not purging, and so on – but for me, it seems like this is a life sentence. If it’s not one illness, it’s the other. If it’s not one symptom, it’s the one I thought I didn’t struggle with anymore. Or a new one. You know, just to keep it fresh.
They say that cursing is a sign of a poor vocabulary, but honestly, times like these no other word seems adequate other than FUCK. (In other news, my mother is seriously getting on my back about that one these days…oh, the joys of being home for the summer…).
No, but really. Fuck this shit. Food is fuel. It is necessary for not only the body and mind, but the soul. The reason why it’s a social focal point isn’t to torture us disordered (one day, ex-disordered) folks, but to give joy. To share. To receive.
It’s not supposed to feel like you’re covering up a murder scene every time you put your fork to your lips, or throw out your empty plate. The dining hall is supposed to be a communal space to meet with your friends and laugh over coffee, not a place to stuff yourself silly with “free” food (three cheers for meal plans) and puke in the dorm bathrooms because you’re so stressed about that paper due at midnight. Your brother’s birthday is supposed to be more than the food. It’s supposed to be celebrating his past, his future, his life, not just the beauty of modern day baking and the puzzling magic of fondant.
So…yeah. Hi, friends. I am more than halfway to 21, and I have had an eating disorder for more than 3 years. Shit. Just typing that brings up waaaaaaaaaay more than I am capable of dealing with now (or y’know…ever). I need to get this shit on lock and just like, be normal. Whatever the fuck that is.
But how do I get there? How is this alleged normalcy achieved?
What if I’m one of the ones that never make it?
February 8, 2015 § Leave a comment
2:17 A.M., fourth day of the year.
Crushing moments when you remember everything,
sliding down the veins of the walls
close your eyes, baby,
(I’m not your baby)
and breathing wasn’t a part of my allowance,
so I demanded a recount.
last year you told me drowning was never an option
so I’ll run down the list of self-destructive ploys, nails on the chalkboard;
we’ll laugh and throw it away
but I won’t bring it to the curb.
so I go bed without the pills for you but tell Mom
that she never knew what you would of wanted,
what if you wanted me to join you
and would I be welcome?
The phone calls, the texts, the eyelashes burnt with the smell of another day ripped from the chapter,
**Side-note: where the lines are, I wanted to be spaces to begin the new stanza, but for some reasons they’re not showing up! Sigh…technology somedays…
February 8, 2015 § 4 Comments
“This illness is horrendous.”
I’ve heard the saying uttered in countless groups, therapy sessions and casual conversations. God knows I’ve gravely said it many, many times. But no matter how many times it’s spoken, whispered in hushed tones or shouted from the rooftops, it will never do this pain justice.
I am writing rapidly right now, for it is about 7:30 P.M. where I am and I must do some reading I’ve been putting off all weekend. I also should really do some laundry, but fuck that frankly. That’s what college is for, right? Neglecting the concept of clean clothes?
Anyhoo, here’s a quick rundown of what I need to say:
- I do not know if I like college, and I feel guilty and abnormal for this.
- I am sad and would like to return home, but do not exactly know where that is.
- I miss the mountains.
- I miss my Dad terribly.
- I am anxious about my relationship – the major con of long distance.
- I am sad that I spent my spring/summer in treatment only to feel more loss than ever here, and only to regress in too many ways.
- I hate my body I hate my body I hate my body.
- I am so fat I don’t know how I exist some days.
- I do not know how I am going to get through this.
- I am sad.
I don’t know, my friends. I just don’t know.
Fuck mental illness. Fuck eating disorders. Fuck the diseases and everything I’ve lost to this and fuck everything I’m still losing and fuck me for still listening to the daunting, taunting voice in my head. Fuck this, essentially.
It may look easy to eat a balanced diet/enough/not too much food and keep it down, but rest assured, it is a battle I fear I will never truly win.