Advice

As a rule of thumb, i typically don't ask for the advice of others.  I live my life with the sole intentions of being the only person i can blame for my actions.  Therefore, unsolicited advice is very often unwelcome.  Tonight, one of my girlfriends friends added me on facebook.  He is a piercer and has done a couple of my piercings. We all joke about how good looking he is (although he is relatively unattractive) because the first time i met him i was getting a tattoo and couldn't stop focusing on the spot he was sitting. He texted me out of the blue for the first time, even though i didn't think he had my number, i asked about getting another piercing and i didn't want someone i hadn't stared down to do it.  He made some comment about how i enjoy staring at him and i replied with this awful phrase 'of course, i only let good looking people put holes in me'.  He flipped shit and told me not to hit on him because my girlfriend wouldn't like it.  I made a joke.  I wasn't hitting on him.  I am very much in love with my girlfriend and she was reading my texts! I don't hide anything from her.  The balls of some fucker to assume i was and then scold me for allegedly hitting on me. 

Clearly when he met me, my emaciated, drugged out image didn't convince him i don't take advice very well.  The nerve of some fuckers.

Just keep spinning

It's that time of year again, my birthday is close by and as a special treat to me and a big fuck you to everyone in my life, i bought myself an elliptical.  I have retreated further into myself than i could ever imagine i'd be.  I no longer leave my room unless i have to for work or school.  I no longer eat solid foods which, as a vegetarian severely limits my diet.  I have eliminated caffiene, carbohydrates, and inorganic foods.  My days are so predictable you can almost follow them like clockwork, get up before the sun, cigarette(s), do a line, use my elliptical, cigarettes(s), shower, cigarette(s), school, cigarette(s), black decaf coffee break, home, elliptical, cigarette(s), do a line, yoga, cigarette(s), feed my puppy, take him for a walk, cigarette(s), black decaf coffee break, play with my puppy, shower, cigarette(s), 15 minute nap, do a line, cigarette(s), work, cigarette(s), girlfriend time, home, elliptical, cigarette(s), shower and finally by 2 a.m. i can lay down and try to sleep.  Try is the key word.  My schedule looks so boring typed up like this, so....not who i was.  The girl i used to be.  Even the party girl i once was looks at this schedule and says, 'chick, i think you need help.'  I've dwindled below a hundred pounds. Not much but, I have.  I don't know how much i'll continue to post.  My health is horrendous right now and i am fighting with everything i have left not to be hospitalized.  I'm facing eviction and being fired because of my diseases and all I can think when I look in the mirror is i shouldn't have had that coffee today.

Ryan, remember when you told me i just wanted attention?  That there was nothing wrong with me?  I still believe you but everyone else i meet and know either wants my body, my disorders (they clearly don't have good eyesight), or avert their eyes because theres nothing they can do to help me.  Mind explaining to them i don't have a problem next time you stop by to make sure i'm still alive since i no longer answer your calls or texts.

Another Mistake

I am a bad friend.
A liar, slut, bitch, annoyance, fat, OBESE, crack head, a lesbian, bisexual, experimenter, dirty, insane, and most of all, a failure.
I don't know how much longer i can take fighting to be perfect all the fucking time and never making progress.  Every single time i forget who I am, society decides to classify me.  I MUST be all those things because I MUST have a title.  There must be a way to catagorize me amongst the masses.

Individuality is dead.  We all fight to be the exact same fucking person.  The girl or guy who has it all.  We all envy the head bitch whose out 'living their life to the fullest' but, in reality the head bitch is looking at someone else with green eyes.  'Be yourself, thats all you can be' those fucked up self help books preach.  What happens when you hate the person in the mirror?  The person whispering softly in your head that you're nothing, just another generic crying to be the head bitch?  Not just a head bitch, THE fucking head bitch.  My girlfriend can't stand the woman in the mirror and that kills me, i envied the apparent love she had for her body, i craved to be so free.  Meanwhile, she's out running everyday trying to achieve my starved, ravaged look.  I am no longer sober.  I am a cocaine addict, an anorexic, and a disappointment.  I am no longer the little girl mommy was so proud of and daddy wanted nothing to do with.  Tables have turned and sides have flipped.

One day I will be free. Free of the confines this cage has reduced me to.  This rib cage, the metaphorical bird cage trapping my soul within my caving chest.  locking out all forms of substinance until the fucking iron door can be ripped from the hinges.  I no longer feel i can't be saved from my diseases.  I no longer feel i am beyond recovery.  I have come to terms that i am not hopeless, i just don't have hope or ambition.  I'll die with my labels.

“Above all, be true to yourself, and if you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it.”

@cryotaneko

That particular post is about a guy i used to be infatuated with.  I guess most of it can be seen as relating to my battle with anorexia but, that wasn't it's intentions.
His best friend would go behind his back and flirt with me, he tried to fuck me, and would pretend to care about what i'm going through.  I am drawn to people that i know don't give a damn about me.  Mostly because it makes it okay in my mind for me to not care about me.  It reestablishes that I am not worth genuine affection.  The guy i was infattuated with tried very hard to show me he actually cared.  That he truly loved me for me.  I of course pushed him away and would always mess with his best friend, almost to throw it in his face, showing him that i was just a dirty coke addict who didn't deserve his love.  Thank you for reading.  I hope to stay sober for a bit longer,  there's is a new female in my life who I am honestly happy with and i'm hoping she's everything i've needed all this time to hold myself together.  Unlike every past lover i've had, she's not trying to play games with me and that's all i've ever wanted.

I appreciate that readers like my writing style.  It means alot to me and encourages me to continue to write more,  I have so much to say and my brain moves so fast that often, my fingers can't keep up with my train of thought.  Again, thank you for reading.  BTW, i love questions.  Feel free to ask them, there is very little i am ashamed of anymore.

And for old times sake:

You wonder why I don't talk to you anymore and please believe me when I say it's not that I don't want to, it's just that everything I want to say I can't tell you anymore.

Love

Whats love got to do with it?  Love isn't what bonds us together hun, it's something much more simple than that.  I'm sick but, so are you.  Being drawn to me like moths to a lamp.  You're chicken little baby and my sky is falling.  I know you can't help it and that's why i let you stay.  You want the very worst parts of me, those unspeakable qualities.  Tell me you love me again.  I love the way it sounds. We both know you're lying.  That part doesn't matter though.  Tonight you'll crawl in your bed and think about it.  Think about trying to belittle me, your boy is watching.  Don't forget the bro code but, he doesn't see you're twisted.  He doesn't see that longing look in your eye.  The twinkle of fury you never unleashed on him for playing my game! He knew you loved me, or atleast you believed you did.  He knew i'm sick in that lovely submissive way and he still touched me!  He still tried to fuck me.  Keep whispering you love me under your breath.  The insult lingers longer.  The venom doesn't subside.  Remeber what it was like waking up next to me.  Remember what it was like in those cold early hours when i glanced at you, sleepy yet sober, and you knew you loved me.  Then, pull the dagger out of your back babe cause it's still lodged.  He hasn't let go.  Don't forget it's not love that keeps you coming back to me, it's looking at him and realizing, your BEST friend got farther with the girl of your dreams because he was everything i didn't want in life and you were everything he didn't want me to have.  Sing me that lullaby one more time, 'and shut out what they say, cause your friends are fucked up anyways'.  Love you too baby.

2+2

Life has a really funny way of deciding when it's gonna call your bluff.  You can pretend to be someone you're not but, eventually facades crumble.  Recently i was prodded by a random person of no particular importance in my life and told, 'Wow, even you seem to be unable to avoid the inevitable 'freshman 15' i don't think i've EVER seen you eat french fries with cheese on them.'  My jaw dropped along with my cheese covered french fry and my use of ephedra products and that magic pick me up necessary to make things happen has once again been fueled.
Today i watched my mother groan as she noticed the bottles had once again reappeared next to my food scale and truvia (i've somehow overtaken a corner of countertop space with my excessive and frequent use of items my family finds strange). She was clearly upset that all her effort had washed away that quickly by a comment an ignorant accomplice made.
However, the accomplice was right.  I had been feeling softer, my bones feeling as if they were diminishing.  I had even gained 2 pounds the past few weeks bringing my massive weight up to 108 pounds.  For the rationally minded and those who calculate bmi's i'm 5'7 and it's 16.9, my bmi.

2nd day of college

Looking around i pause to wonder, what am i doing here?  I don't belong, i'm the freak within the sea of expectant faces, all looking for an explanation.  A reason as to why i don't fit the pristine mold set forth by those who came before me.  The thinner i get, the more ravaged my perfectly disheveled look becomes.  The smaller i become, the more i resemble my drug fueled self.
Outsiders scan me, i don't appear to make sense.  I should either be dead or on a corner somewhere, i am not collegiate material it seems.  Then it happens, they find what appears to be the answer! My scared and battered arms tell a tale that is no longer true.   Injection points map out a story of another life, of another girl caught between life and her mind.  They are just that though, scars and a terrible tale but, with all the stumbling and bruises my fragile state impairs on me, it all looks the same to an outsider.  I'm just another lost junkie wasting her time and someones money.
She straightens her blazer and decides to take charge of what she feels is a vital opportunity to prove her worth to the institute,  she storms up to me and asks for my visitors pass, 'We can't just have random people wandering the campus miss.' I smirk back watching as her confidence slightly wavers.
' I'm glad we have people like you keeping us safe then, perhaps you misspoke and intended on seeing my student id?' This i speak with as much venom and energy that black coffee can provide to a full time student and someone who manages a full time job whom hasn't eatten in nearly 4 days.  She checks my id and clomps away while i continue to smirk and stand my ground.  My vanity and ego is an act only performed for self preservation, to protect my withering veins from hurtful words and poisons that allow me to reside in my mind, away from the every day traumas.  Gosh i miss it.

You don't understand

It's very strange to have my disorders encouraged.  It's even stranger to openly contemplate the pros and cons of purging with my boyfriend even though we both know it's been two days since i've eaten.  He doesn't understand eating disorders, he barely comprehends my abhoration of my body.  He takes me to the gym, questions my food choices, and encourages my disordered thoughts.  I love it.  I love the complete freedom i have to live as i please.  If i decide to eat, it's my choice.  If I don't, the few murmurs of protest so commonly echoing in my home are gone.  My family has accepted in the sickest and most twisted way i'm dying.  My boyfriend is either stupid or just trying to appease the control freak in me by allowing me to completely run my life and choices.

I refuse to see doctors, even as i grow dangerously skeletal. I no longer go to NA and pray to god i never run into an aquaintance who can supply me.  I hide in my house, only escaping to shop or work.  I fear friends and hanging out where as i once beemed at the thought of envious stares.

Once upon a time i thought of this as a game.  So many people will roll their eyes with disgust.  A game they'll say?  You thought of an eating disorder as a game?  The answer is yes.  Each pound gained is a point for the opponent, the inner demon forever taunting me.  Each loss yet another feat.  The prize was always clear.  I'd finally be free.  Every restraint controlling me or telling me who i am would be shattered or starved into myth.  The exercise always some mindlessly stupid excuse to witness my skin wiggle on my bones.  The doctors, parents, friends, teachers all another opponent whom to confuse, control through my rebellion.  Now i sit here, debating whether to purge stomach bile and think, 'was it ever really a game?'  I think about the texts i'm recieving suggesting i purge water if i must and wonder, who is it really that doesn't understand?

“I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant.”

Robert McCloskey

MIA

No, not bulimia.  Missing in Action.

I've taken a few steps back laely, completely ignoring my blog and not really posting on PT.  I hit a very rough pach in my social life where i wanted nothing to do with the part of me that was killing myself.  Everyday i woke up and realized that someone embedded in my heart no longer could.  This brave soul fought so hard to live while I continue to let myself waste away.

It's tough to think about.  Here i sit, refusing to eat while someone tonight will pray for some scraps;  I pretty much am looking death in the face and flicking him off.  Yet, that beloved person no longer with me had to go? 

Well, this is kind of a post to say i'm not dead, i'm just really pissed off at myself.
I hope people continue to view my blog as a source of wisdom or help and i love seeing comments so post them ladies and gents!

Constant Questioning

I struggle alot with 'why?'  Why don't I try?  Why am I unhappy?  Why can't I love my body?  Why can't i just live my life as fucked up and deadly as i'd like regardless of the emotional impact it'd have on others?  Why do I care?

Everyday when I wake up and look in the mirror, for a moment, just the faintest moment I get lost.  I look at my protruding bones, my sallow skin, my empty, tired eyes.  In that moment, i don't see skinny.  I don't see fat.  I see a tortured child struggling to survive.  The next instant, it's gone, I am again big.  I am again dealing with a lifetime of bad hair days, skin that seems to not have settled right on my face as i slept, aand a fear that today will be the day my peers finally tell me that i am going to be cast out and rejected, that i am not good enough.

I once read a mental health journal on trauma and abuse that said victims of severe trauma stop mentally developing at whatever age the trauma occured.  Despite a gain in intelligence, social skill, or whatever, in the eyes of the victim, they forever remain developmentally that age.  At first, i was intrigued.  Then i decided i didn't believe it.  However, after being upset i tried to conciously witness how i subconciously reacted to negative events in my life.  It was astonishing to me because despite my intelligence, despite my manners and ability to articulate myself, when i feel threatened or experience something negative, i tend to revert right back to the age i was when i experienced the trauma i can't seem to heal from. 

Maybe, just maybe that's why in that brief moment in the mirror, early in the morning i see a child.  I am staring down the very core of my psyche and it's scary.  I'm witnessing that no longer is it the abuser who is continuing to inflict that trauma on me-- it's now me.

The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Never fear what will become of you, depend on no one. Only the moment you reject all help are you freed.

Buddha

Just Dance

I must confess, i can't dance at all.  I lie to myself and blame my ethnicity (although i am often told i must be mixed because my features aren't entirely white) and my body type, i think i don't have enough meat on my bones which is why i can't shake my body all amazing like.  Anyways, this all leads up to me saying i tried zumba today.

The people i went with could see my horror and how uncomfortable i was.  Curves were everywhere in tight spandex, shaking up a storm.  I was jealous and overly self concious..  My gym clothes are baggy and don't cling.  My body doesn't shake or gyrate easily.  These women looked so happy, so care free.  I was repaetedly told i was too stiff.  I have no clue what so ever how to loosen up.  I wish i could dance.  I wish i had rythm and for once could dance and not feel like a child. or inferior.

Nobody cares if you can't dance well.  Just get up and dance.  ~Dave Barry

Why?

For some reason, despite my views towards myself, i am very vocal on the fact that the entire world doesn't find skinny beautiful and that curvy is becoming the widely thought of body type when considering sexy.  The community amongst my school is very tight knit, we hear, feel, and experience so much together and, for the majority, my classmates know of my struggles with my body. 

The other day while sitting at a table during lunch, i hear the same girls i've spent all of highschool with complaining about their weights again, one in particualar who i've known for 7 years and is practically family.  They chatted about how they would need to skip dinner or workout to make up for a perfectly healthy lunch.  In a non-cynical way i said they didn't need to focus on weight so strongly and that i bet there was a life beyond that, that skinny didn't equal sexy and beautiful, that curvy is what is now seen as beautiful in the media.  Thinking she was clever, a girl i'm not particualarly fond of flat out asked me, 'Then why are you trying to lose weight?' 

I was taken aback by her boldness.  People can be cruel about my conditions but, it's usually done with 'cloak and dagger'.  I looked at her for a minute and heard the people next to us go quiet waiting for my response.  Finally, i said 'I make no concious effort to lose weight.  Seeing the weightloss in and of itself is probably the only positive about what i go through.  We're not close so you may not know this but i'm actually trying to gain weight and have even managed to put on 8 pounds in 3 months in an effort to avoid my father gaining court appointed custody over me since i am considered a danger to myself and potentially others.  My extended family is ashamed of me, i don't get invited to baby showers, weddings, parties at public areas where their friends may question about me and it's questionable what kind of state i'll be in.  As soon as i find out my fate i'll probably be right back where i was, working way too hard at my job, school, family, and social life to make up for the fucked up person i am, and in that labor i will pray to find happiness or to die in my sleep.  I am an eighteen year old child with intelligence and manners far beyond yours because i have the courtesy and intelligence not to ask people questions that will make me look like the ass.  The worst part of that is that i'll probably die before our 10 year highschool reunion and despite these false attempts at being witty or slender you'll more than likely have 4 kids, weigh 250 pounds, and live on welfare.'  The table next to me exploded in laughter proclaiming 'roasted'.  She just walked away.

This got me thinking though.  How many people are just trying to be skinny to fit a preconcieved notion of beautiful set forth by the media?  How many are using that as an excuse to hide a deeper reason?

"I learned to love myself, because I sleep with myself every night and I wake up with myself every morning, and if I don’t like myself, there’s no reason to even live the life. I love the way I look. I’m fine with it. And if my body changes, I’ll be fine with that." – Gabourey Sidibe

Random musings

I often like to lay in the shower and have elaborate conversations in my head where i pretend i'm witty or humorous.  (maybe that's why i have a blog).  Everyone in that shower knows i'm not but hey, pretend time is always nice.  I make up jokes or plan conversations with people or complete work i'm supposed to do then, i step out, realize i'm exhausted, my energy drinks clearly have no effect anymore, and i sleep for a few hours, wake up and realize my work's not done, i haven't actually talked to those people, and i missed a spot while shaving my legs.  Oh random musings, i wish i had the super power to make some of you actually happen.  Not all of you, that could be dangerous.

Aging

How do you feel about getting old?

I have no intentions of living past the age of 27.
I cry every year on my birthday.
I cannot stand that i am aging.
I don't plan on staying sober much longer.
I am already deteriorating physically and mentally.
I am methodically losing everything.
I have lost family, friends, opportunities, my health, my education, employment because of how i am.
I don't want to be sick anymore.
I just want to be normal.
I want to be happy.
I can't live much longer like this...

"Todo hombre muere - No todo hombre vive realmente."

Update

Yesterday I overdosed on a prescription medication accidently.  It was scary only because i hadn't realized what i'd done till the medicine began to kick in.  For hours my body shook and convulsed.  I was burning up, my chest felt tight, i could feel my heart pounding in my chest and my mouth went dry.  3-4 hours after I initially took the medication I began to puke.  I puked violently until mouthfuls of blood came up.  Shortly after that I felt better.  I was no longer nauseas. My chest was beginning to loosen up and my heart rate started to slow.  The shaking lessened but didn't stop until about 9 hours after i took the medication.

I've OD'd before but, when you knowingly do shit like cocaine, in the back of your mind it's always expected.  It's always a possibility.  I never expected to OD by taking what I thought was nyquil.
I guesss the point of this is I said i'd let you guys know what happened in a more clear and concise way

Be careful, night.

Mistakes

I make mistakes.  I am human.  I am typing this in an effort to fight off the accidental overdose I may have just caused myself.   I have no cognitive thought.  My chest is tight, i;m shaking and i'm getting a major haedache.

As you guys know, i'm working on recovery.  I didn't even use an illegal drug.  I couldn't sleep and have a cough so i went and grabbed what i thought was nyquil.  I don't measure my doses ever.  I just swig from the bottle so i did.  I ended up taking a prescripton cough syrup.  A dose for my size should've been 2 tsp.  I took about 3-4 tbsp.  I'll post tomorrow if i'm ok but i'm having trouble concentrating so i must go.

Night

I feel like dying

Only once the drugs are done, that I feel like dying... I feel like dying
Only once the drugs are done, that I feel like dying... I feel like dying
Only once the drugs are done, that I feel like dying... I feel like dying
(I feel like, I feel like, I feel like...)

Life has a way of just fucking things up, i'm still sober but oh god i wish i wasn't....
They made it easier to pretend life didn't fucking hurt...

Change

I'm currently working on some big changes for the new year.  I'm detoxing which is hell.  It'll be over soon and that is when the real changes start.  I'm going to get clean and stay clean.  I'm going to start going to my NA meetings again as soon as the withdrawal is over and i'm going back to therapy.  I'm dreading therapy.  I'm not ready to work on my eating disorder yet and I plan on making that very clear.

As for eating i've decided to become a vegeterrian.  I never ate meat very often to begin with but, i feel better eliminating it all together.  Maybe after awhile i'll even decide to  take the plunge and go vegan.

Whether one believes in a religion or not, and whether one believes in rebirth or not, there isn't anyone who doesn't appreciate kindness and compassion.
~Dalai Lama