I type, I erase. I type, I erase.

And most days, I post nothing at all.

Is there anything left to say? So much, actually. I have so much inside of me. My thoughts are running, running, running at 1000 mph. They toss and they turn and they boil through my veins and ice over my heart. I pretend like nothing’s wrong, because that’s the only fucking way I’ll ever get through the day without hurting someone else.

I can’t go to work and broadcast my issues. I’m in charge, and I need to appear like I’ve actually got shit together. I need to fake it, because if I don’t, everyone else feels uneasy. I need to keep it cool.

I can’t let others know the true pain I have inside me. I can’t express it correctly, because no one understands. Maybe there’s the rare occasion that someone does understand, but they will still encourage me to “do the right thing”- eat, sleep, take your medicines, tell people how you feel. Talk about it, don’t keep it in. But here’s my problem.

There’s really nothing anyone can say. There’s really nothing anyone can do. At the end of the day, my issues are MY issues. I’m in control, and I’m making the wrong decisions. So until I can face up to the right decisions, I need to keep it together and pretend I’m okay.

There is no use crying when you’re doing it to yourself.

And I know full well I am. I know full well I am not taking anyone’s advice, not listening to my gut, and not doing a damn thing to help myself.

Here’s the difference, which I don’t know how many people will truly understand- my feet feel frozen. I literally can’t move. I have no guts. I have no conviction. I have absolutely nothing but a hollow shell who deserves to be in whatever pile of shit she lands in because she’s DOING IT TO HERSELF.

I cannot escape when I don’t try.

But maybe there’s another form of escape that feels easier to manage.

And maybe that’s not the “right” one.

But fuck if I ever do the right thing, anyway.


I’ll be fine. I keep going, as I always do. I keep going because I’m a coward in every sense of the word, and I own up to that.

I know what to change. But change feels akin to jumping off a 1000 story building into a dark, dark ocean in the black abyss where you’re pretty much sure you’ll end up lost in again anyway.

So here I sit. Making the wrong decisions.

I won’t complain anymore. I’ll pretend like it’s fine, because that’s probably easier for all of us, anyway.

Over and out.


Apology Unaccepted

I love feeling like a piece of shit in the morning. It’s just the best way to start your day.

I forgot to pay rent yesterday (it’s May 2), so of course I’m the one who is a piece of shit for forgetting. We now have a $135 late fee (bullshit), and even though we can afford it, I’m still the fucking idiot for forgetting. It’s my fault everything sucks. It’s my fault he has to get in trouble with his dad now. Everything is my fault.

I want to break free from the rest of the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in chains. I know there’s things I want out of life, but it’s never the right time, or the right circumstances. Overall, the world would probably function just as adequately or even better without me ruining everything.

Sometimes I dream about living in the middle of nowhere and having a ton of pets. I’d get a lot of land and just let them run free and enjoy their lives. I don’t cut it in the real world. I’m just constantly doing something wrong. I’m tired of being a burden.

And everything is on my shoulders. Somehow I’m supposed to be superwoman and take care of everything. Sometimes superwoman gets tired.

My stomach hurts. I know the anxiety is building up within me. I don’t want to be like this anymore. I want to make people happy. I want to stop making mistakes and ruining people’s days.

I’m sorry for being such a screw up.

-Wednesday May 2, 2018

April 18, 2018

I haven’t posted in a long time, and I’m sure nobody reads this by now.

I’ve had a long semester. I’ve been taking four classes, two in person and two online, as well as full time work. My commute is about 1.5 hours each way. Tuesday’s and Thursday’s I have to go from work to school; Monday’s I have therapy. The only days I get to go directly home are Wednesday’s and Friday’s. It’s killing my spirit, but I have to push through. I don’t have any other options right now.

Work is going well. I seem to be succeeding at it. My company values me, which is nice. I don’t understand why they like me so much, but I go with it. I’m proud of myself for working hard and being a valuable employee. I know most years of my life I haven’t been very dependable in that sense. The commute is terrible but I don’t have much of a choice. I try not to think about it (which obviously fails).

I’ve decided to come off of two of my medicines. I don’t want to admit it but it’s already affecting me. I stopped taking my Remeron about two weeks ago. I tried to stop taking my Seroquel altogether as well, but I ended up extremely sick and almost had to go to the hospital. Apparently you can’t just stop taking Seroquel. It was akin to coming off of meth (not that I have experience with that, it just felt like it). Couldn’t sleep for days, couldn’t eat or drink, vomiting constantly, shaking, hot and cold at the same time no matter what I did, crying my eyes out because it felt like I was dying, and could hardly move without it being painful. This happened over the weekend. I ended up taking one of my pills and was able to keep it down. I took that Monday off from work to try to recover a bit. It’s not joke.

Which leads me to my question…why was I put on a drug like that in the first place? I feel cheated. I feel lied to. No one ever told me how difficult it would be to come off of medicines like that. It takes weeks, if not months. It alters everything about your body. It’s mind blowing to me that in treatment, they hand out pills like candy and only tell you it’s to make you feel better. No consequences, no talk of what your life will be like after the medicine. It’s just a quick fix for now.

I’m not knocking medicine. I need medicine to function normally. I am staying on my antidepressant. I think this is more aimed at medicines like the Seroquel where it’s insanely difficult to come off of. I wish I had prior warning. That’s all.

Like I said, I am noticing the difference between myself on the two and myself off the Remeron. I’ll be off the Seroquel in another few weeks. I feel like I get upset more easily, anxious quicker. I almost cried at work yesterday because it was so overwhelming. That could have just been a bad day, but I think it was the aftermath that left me feeling worse. I had terrible thoughts, wondered if life is even worth it. Wondered if offing myself would solve my problems. Because if I’m not normal off of medicines, maybe I’m just not meant to be. Maybe I am meant to be miserable. When I take medicine, it’s fake happiness. I want to be able to be happy on my own. Does that make sense? Who knows. It’s just scary to me that I am a completely different person naturally. I want to be the person I am on a good set of medicine without the medicine. I think I’m mostly bitter that my life needs to be this complicated. I’m angry that I can’t feel happiness unless it’s induced.

So I had a terrible day yesterday, and then on the way out of my history class, a girl stopped me in the parking lot. At first I thought she thought she knew me from somewhere. Then she invited me to her ministry meeting. It was completely out of the blue, and even though I didn’t go, the entire conversation left me feeling a little better. I was having a day consumed by depressive thoughts, wondering if my life is even worth living…and then someone takes the time to stop me and bring me closer to God. She could have stopped anyone. She didn’t have to talk to me. She did because she is a kind person, and I needed it. I sat in my car after that interaction, and nearly got out to go to the meeting. I didn’t because I had a long terrible day and hadn’t been home in over 12 hours yet…but I might plan to go next week. I’ve been really wanting a better relationship with God lately, but I don’t even know where to start. I had such a bad experience with a church down here that I’ve been turned off ever since. I want to have a better relationship with God. I want to feel God’s love more present in my life. I think He can get me through the bad times, and make me cherish the good. I want to feel secure again.

Maybe this meeting is the way to get back into my faith. Maybe these people can be an outlet for me. I struggle greatly with being social, and the idea of entering a room full of people I don’t know and talking to them about God terrifies me. This is so stupid, but I’m scared they’ll want to be friends. I don’t consider myself a good friend, and I’m so busy all the time that I know I couldn’t be as deep into my faith as I’d like to be. It’s mostly just myself getting in the way. I’d like to go and check it out, at least. I think the less expectation there is, the better.

It’s about 8am, so I need to switch from this and start work. It felt good to write though. Helps me get some of my frustrations and emotions out.

Thanks for reading, if you happen to see this and actually make it this far. ❤

-April 18th, 2018

The Ordeal

I am really, really struggling. I feel like I am falling to pieces. I haven’t really had an active ED symptoms, but the thoughts are powerful. As they always are. My body image is distorted, or so my therapist says, but it’s hard to believe that sometimes. I use certain things to “reality check”, like sizes of clothes, but for some reason it doesn’t make me feel better.

I hate everything right now. I want to escape. I want to be alone. I don’t want a single person to follow me, try to talk to me, make it better…anything. I just hate everything.

I’ve been dealing with a migraine for the past few days, which I think is amplifying things a bit. The first day it was more of a migraine, but the past two days it’s been a little pain and a lot of pressure. I don’t know what is causing it, or how to make it go away. I literally slept from 6:30pm last night to 5:30am this morning. Eleven hours of sleep, that’ll make it go away, right? No. It came back. I’m popping migraine relief pills left and right, and it seems to get me by until I have to take more. My eyes just feel blurry in between and it’s hard to concentrate when I feel so overwhelmed.

I count down the minutes until work is over, even though I know I have nothing better to do afterwards. I’m still going to feel overwhelmed and uncomfortable, no matter what time of day it is or where I am. It’s all going to be overwhelming.

I’ve been going back and forth with my doctor and Walgreens for two weeks now trying to get my medicines refilled. I don’t know who really is dropping the ball (probably my doctor), but I’ve officially run out of one medicine and I’m about to run out of the other. A majority of myself is saying fuck it right now. Maybe I just won’t take the fucking medicine. Maybe I can stop and not have to worry about it constantly. The real problem is that one of them is my sleeping med. If I don’t take that, I don’t sleep. But I have to fight to get it refilled every fucking month. She won’t fill it more than a month out. It’s time consuming, it’s irritating, and I’m sick of having to do this ordeal over and over and over. Why can’t I just be able to sleep???

I’m just not happy. I want this to end.

-November 1, 2017


This past week has been really difficult. Work is becoming stressful for the first time since I started. I’m running out of people to call, feeling pressured to be on the top caller list, and the mistakes that I make seem to be frequent and aggravating. I wish I could just do my job correctly the first time. I feel so stupid and useless. I hate knowing that people are probably mad at me, or frustrated with me. I’m frustrated with me.

Monday I found out that a girl I knew from treatment passed away. That kind of set the tone for this week, I believe. I knew she was in the ICU for a little while, and they were unsure if she would make it or not at that point. It’s particularly upsetting because she just moved into a new state/got her own place. I know that was partially fueled by the “no more treatment” attitude (which isn’t always healthy)…but it still sucks nonetheless. I hate watching as so many people I know die from their eating disorders. I hate not knowing why I am one of the ones that survived, and they’re not. There is literally nothing more special about me than them. There is nothing I can do that they couldn’t. I have no meaning, as far as I can see. I’m a friend, a sister, daughter, girlfriend, whatever else…but isn’t everyone? Everyone is something to somebody. That’s not a valid reason why I made it and they don’t.

I want answers that I won’t receive. People can guess and speculate, but I want a definitive answer. Why did I survive? Why am I still alive? Why them and not me?

I put my body through so much hell, and it doesn’t make sense. I overdosed repeatedly, should have needed a liver transplant the last time (but oh, hey, it miraculously recovered). I laid on the bathroom floor, room spinning, heart about to explode, multiple days out of the week…and I’m still here.


Sorry. I’m not suicidal, I promise. Just angry…upset, unsure, bitter. In need of life answers.

I wish I could get myself to calm down. I don’t need this stress on top of the work stress. Together they’re pounding me into the ground. It’s harder to sleep, harder to be awake. I catch no breaks.

I at least made an attempt to make work a more positive area for me. I bought a dry erase board, and every day I’m going to write an encouraging/positive quote on there. I also need to keep telling myself that my coworkers are the sweetest people ever, therefore they actually do want to help me (not be mad at me for all my mistakes).

I don’t have much else to say. Signing off.

-September 27, 2017


It’s not like today should have been a bad day, but it just was.

I was already 2 minutes away from work when I got the text that we didn’t have power. Which is fine, because we still had to come in anyway. I’m just like okay, I’ll go to Starbucks and hang out until the power comes on. False, actually, nothing in the vicinity had power. So I went to work at 7:30am. We proceeded to sit there and basically do nothing until 5pm. We went out to breakfast, came back and did a little filing, walked across the street to Publix for some food, and basically sat around for all those hours. None of the above things took very much time…but it felt like we were sitting there for days. We couldn’t leave because corporate down the street had power, so they were hoping ours would come on sooner or later. It was later. It didn’t come on until 4:45, and at that point we couldn’t do any work anyway. Our phones were still be re-routed to another center. It was just a lot of sitting around, and it made me really exhausted and cranky. I would have rather come home and not gotten paid than sat there all day doing nothing. Which was the general consensus. Moving on.

Finally we got to leave at 5pm (end of the work day). And as I walked out to my car…I dropped my phone. The new phone I just got about two or less weeks ago. Of course I dropped it on the screen, and of course the fucking screen protector did absolutely NOTHING to protect the phone. Screen is cracked to oblivion. I can’t really use my phone like that, so instead of going home and cuddling under a blanket like I planned, I drove to Woodstock to get the screen replaced. Can’t really afford it so bye bye savings. I just need my phone to be useable until I get paid. I get paid in a few days anyway. The repair was less than I thought…still not superb but less than I thought.

When I saw how badly it got cracked, I literally started crying in the parking lot. I feel stupid for being such an idiot and not getting a better case sooner. I feel robbed for buying this screen protector which literally did nothing to help. I feel angry because I’m exhausted and starting to get a cold or something, so more than anything right now I just want to be home under a blanket. I know tomorrow is going to be a hellish work day, trying to make up for everything we missed yesterday and today. And my body hurts from sitting on the floor of an office for multiple hours today.

I’m just cranky. I know in the long scheme of things, none of this little shit matters. I’m basically complaining about nothing. I got paid to do nothing today, which I suppose to anyone else sounds wonderful (but to me, not once you experience it). I mean try getting paid to do nothing when you literally can do nothing. No power, no internet, no Netflix, no lounging on your couch drinking wine and petting cats. You’re sitting on the floor of an office hoping they’ll let you go home sooner than 9 hours later. No such luck.

I will end that rant by saying that this is in no way my company’s fault. I work for an incredible company, and I know if there’s anything anyone could have done, they would have. I fully appreciate their efforts to accommodate us, and the kindness my boss extended to us throughout the day. And no, I’m not just writing this in case they somehow found this page (which I doubt they would). I’m writing this genuinely.  I love the company I work for more and more each day.

I guess the bright side is there will be a lot to do tomorrow, so I won’t be bored. It’s another short week, so the weekend will come quicker. I found a place that will fix my screen in 45 minutes. I know in another hour or two I’ll hopefully be home under a blanket being walked all over by my dog. I get paid in a few more days.

I just want this day to be over right about now.

-September 12, 2017


Dear friends and family,

Please, please stop telling me to be easier on myself. Please stop telling me that working and going to school is hard, and I should be proud that I’m even trying. Please stop telling me that it’ll be okay, and I can just try again next semester. Or that maybe I should drop a class. Please just stop.

You don’t get it. I’m about to turn 25 in two weeks, and I don’t have my associates. I’ve failed two separate classes now in college, and in both I put a tremendous amount of effort. I’ve spent countless hours studying, writing down notes, doing assignments, doing tests….doing whatever, when I’ve already been at work 9 hours that same day. I get up, go to Starbucks to do schoolwork, go to work 8-5, come home, and do more schoolwork. There is no end to my work day.

But I don’t want to hear that I, “gave it my best shot”. That’s not even the problem here. The problem is I cared, and I do care, and that doesn’t mean shit. The problem is that I am still in school when pretty much everyone I went to high school with is already graduated, some even with their masters or PhD’s. The problem is that it doesn’t matter how much I care about the class…sometimes, I’m just not good enough to not fail the damn thing.

I don’t want to be easier on myself. That isn’t going to help. I do feel like absolute shit, and it would be nice if you didn’t invalidate me and try to take it away with a simple phase. Yes, it will be okay, but it isn’t right now.

I have always done well in school. There has never been a time in my life when I struggled the way I do now. And I don’t know what to do anymore.

I hate that college makes you take all these shit classes I’ll never need information from. I hate that I have to learn a foreign language when I’m terrible at that/I don’t think I’ll need it with what I want to do in life. I hate that I have to take TWO science courses when my major is practically the opposite. I don’t understand why I am having such a hard time.

Validation does not mean telling me how to feel, or act, or respond. Validation means you listen to me. That’s it. I don’t even care if it’s a simple answer as, “that sucks”, or, “I’m sorry”. That is perfectly okay with me. The rest is not.

If you got this far…thanks for listening.

-September 7, 2017