Put Up or Shut Up

I don’t like living the way I am. It’s full of hostility, anger, retreating, not knowing how to make it stop. I am tired of the yelling, tired of the anger, the explosiveness, the fights. I’m tired of re-living my childhood…except this time I’m not hiding in a closet trying not to scream. I’m in the line of fire. I’m frozen, knowing I can’t run, can’t talk my way out of it, can’t win. I can’t escape.

I don’t know what to do anymore. I want to make it stop. I feel like nothing is my own. I have given my rights up, and I don’t have any say in anything. Even if I did speak up, I’m wrong. I am always wrong. I am always stupid. I am always inferior. I am always worthless, until I’m needed for something specific- then I go back to worthless.

This life is nothing. I don’t find it worthwhile. I know exactly how to escape…but I can’t. For a few reasons. None of them very compelling. I wouldn’t get away with it, though. Someone would try to save me, try to be the hero. I don’t want you to save me; I want you to let me go.

Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.

I don’t need this anymore. I don’t want this anymore. I’m tired of thinking it will get better, because it won’t, and it’s useless. It’s terrifying to think that I let myself believe anything could get better. I knew better. I know better. I let myself go. I think things can be like fairy tales. They can’t.

So do I drink myself into oblivion? Cry myself to sleep at night? Claw at my arms wishing I could slash them like I used to? Starve myself because I don’t deserve anything anyway?

Does any of this even work anymore, anyway?

Starving can’t make me numb anymore. Drinking ends. Clawing doesn’t really help and the fear of others seeing my scars again is too great. I covered them, masked them, and put a fucking smile on my face like it means something.

Does any of this mean anything? Am I prolonging the inevitable?

Probably. I think I know what to do…it’s just doing it.

This probably makes no sense. Or it makes a great deal of sense. I don’t know.

Sorry.

-July 26, 2017

P.S- Happy fucking three year anniversary, self. You’ve really made yourself proud this year.

Fuck this shit.

(Three years out of treatment, and this is how I spend it.)

Advertisements

Necessary Mood Lift

I’m feeling really good at this particular moment, which is nice. I’ll savor it while I can.

Another semi-stressful night at work…although my boss was very encouraging, which helped calm me down a lot.

Anyway, I closed, and drove home/checked the mail. I got a letter from the college I’ve been attending, saying I’ve made the Dean’s List. Hence my feeling good.

I just had this immediate thought of, “I’m finally doing something right!”. I know I do a lot wrong, but I also know I do some things right…so that isn’t the only “right” thing I’ve done lately. But it’s had the most impact on me. I think because everything else I do “right”, it’s kind of expected. It’s the norm/really isn’t anything special. But upon reading this letter, it’s just something extra that I didn’t really expect. Honestly I didn’t even think about the Dean’s List, or any other awards I might have gotten lately. The surprise helped a lot, I think. It just feels really nice to have this accomplishment. I worked really hard these past few semesters, with not a ton to show from it. Now it’s changed.

So besides feeling that, I am also feeling a little bit of anger. I feel like I’m kind of being used, in some regards. I don’t really want to go into huge detail…just the feeling kind of sucks. I feel like a good part of my meaning to this person is certain things I have. I want to be enough on my own. I also want to be able to say no and not regret my decision.

All in all, it hasn’t been a terrible day. It is 12:42am, though, so bed is getting a little necessary. Until tomorrow. ❤

-May 27, 2017

This World

This world frustrates me. On a constant basis. Whether it’s my friends being shot down by idiot boys who need to realize when they have something awesome, or my workplace constantly pointing out everything I do wrong.

I don’t enjoy living this way.

I feel like I try so, so hard at work. I try to do everything right, but obviously that’s not always going to happen. And then every time I do something wrong, it’s pointed out. I can’t take it anymore. It’s never, ‘oh good job on that whatever’…it’s always, ‘in the future, you really should do ___’. I am one who likes to learn from my mistakes. But I am also a firm believer in praise as well as criticism. I will resent you, like I do now, if all you tell me is criticism.

I hate that I’m even scared to type these words, in fear that someone will read it and alert my work. I shouldn’t be scared to vent my frustrations. But I am. In this world, you’re always wrong, and they’re always right (when it comes to work).

I don’t know how long I can take this for. I need to transfer, or something. I feel obligated to work at Starbucks until I finish my degree, now that I’m doing their tuition reimbursement plan. It’s a really good opportunity, and if I don’t do it, I will be in a lot more debt that I already am. But can I really take this pressure for much longer? Three years longer, to be exact?

I hate that I dread work. I hate that I’ve grown to be cynical of the place I once used as an escape. Starbucks used to be my safe place. Now I don’t even like being in one. I just feel the pain radiating.

Is it possible to look forward to your job? Without getting a degree in something you’re passionate about? I wish I could afford to work less…take more time to do things I love. I feel like my life revolves around that place. Revolves around each paycheck. No matter how hard I work, the paycheck still sucks.

I’m diving lower and lower in my bank account. I don’t have much room to mess around. Whatever comfort space I had in the account, it’s gone. Which makes me more miserable. I work hard and then have to sit at home watching Netflix every single night, because I’m scared of spending money out that I might need for something more important.

I feel lonely. I do spend most of my time not at work alone. If I’m not with my boyfriend, I’m with my cat. I like my alone time, but it’s getting depressing. I want to be around people, but I don’t. I want to be happy, but it’s hard to maintain.

I just wish I knew what to do.

-May 23, 2017

Where Did The Time Go?

I’ve been struggling emotionally lately. I’ve been feeling a lot of anger…but more at myself than anything else. When something bothers me, I don’t know why, but I hardly ever say anything. It’s so automatic that five minutes later, I’m wondering why I said nothing. I had several opportunities this past week to speak my truth, and I naturally skipped out. So I am left with myself, laying in bed at night, hating that I have no courage. Hating that it’s so damn automatic for me to just shut up. I don’t even know that I think to say anything in the moment. I just…freeze.

Anxiety is building, anger is building, and feeling trapped is almost consistent in my life right now. I want to have five minutes to myself, yet I’m always caught up doing something. I feel like I need a retreat. To just take a few days to myself. I’m too overwhelmed with this fast pace of life. Especially since I don’t feel like I’m getting closer to anything. I’m just gliding.

On the more positive side, I applied to volunteer for the Crisis Text Line. I would spend four hours (or more) a week with them, answering the texts people send in. I could see it being somewhat difficult, just with my nature of wanting to save people…but they provide a lot of training and assistance, so I think I can learn how to be effective in this role. I’m really looking forward to it…it’s something that actually works towards what I believe is my purpose (helping/inspiring other people). After going through treatment for seven years, and going from hell to the top, I’ve always thought I made it through so that I can help other people do the same. So…maybe this will help me feel more positive about my own life.

I don’t know what else to say. I will try to update more, I suppose.

-March 31, 2017

Because We Don’t Need To Be Alone

I, by myself, am not a powerful person. I cannot take sole credit for my accomplishments, nor my downfalls. I did the actions, I made the choices, and what happens is my responsibility. But in this life…we are here together.

I spent a lot of my time in the past several years feeling very alone. I felt that those who could understand more clearly what I felt, didn’t have the answers that I sought. We all felt miserable. We all wished for change. We all felt stuck. None of us, sitting inpatient, had the key to “success”. Nobody really had a lasting answer for what I had to do to be able to eat something without feeling like absolute shit.

My loved ones and those around me could tell me things all day. You’re beautiful already. You don’t need to lose weight. You don’t need to punish yourself. You are a good person. You have so much to live for. You can do this.

As much as I was told that, “I can do this”, I felt none of it. I felt paralyzed by the disorder that I unwillingly gave permission to to run my life.

Sometimes I wonder where it really began. Was it wanting to be a model? Looking up to the thin girls on America’s Next Top Model? Was it the fighting that happened at the dinner table that took away my appetite? Was it the fact that I was constantly pointed out as being “the skinny one”, like that was my only claim to fame? Or was this bound to happen, one way or another?

Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it. Either way, it happened.

Anorexia didn’t slowly take over my life. It swooped in, told me it was my savior, and tried to cling on as long as it could. If certain things hadn’t have happened the way they did, anorexia would have taken my life.

That was always it’s goal. To run me into the ground. Because, like it convinced me, “I wasn’t needed here”.

I felt strong isolation while amidst my disorder, even though the world is full of people. Many say the world is over-populated by people. So, why couldn’t I see that? Why wouldn’t I see that?

My behaviors stemmed from messages I received or interpreted throughout my life. I began to believe the disorder more than my friends and family. I worshiped anorexia like a relentless god.

And one day, years into the battle…I looked over, and there were the people. The people who were tired of watching this battle, tired of watching me die. People who stopped trying to say what they always say, because I wouldn’t listen.

I heard them, but I didn’t believe them. A hundred people could tell me I have worth, but the one voice that told me I didn’t, I believed. The disorder.

It takes a lot to really, truly listen to the other people around you. To try with all your might to take what they have to say into consideration. To not immediately fight their words in your head. To give the thought that, maybe they aren’t trying to hurt me, a chance.

We need each other. I thought I was better alone, not hurting the rest of the world. If I sectioned myself off, I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone. I wouldn’t cause them any more pain.

What I didn’t consider was anything positive I had to offer. I believed there was nothing. But I also believe that everyone is here for a reason. It was so much easier for me to say that to the rest of my peers in treatment…but me? Nope.

Every person has value. Every person has reason. Things, situations, lead us astray. But we will always have something to offer.

I am a good listener. I love to write, and believe it’s my best method of communication. I love animals, and want to help save them from being put down for no reason. I aim to protect, and build up…not to crush or put down.

These traits are necessary in this world. If I died years ago, who would be the one with my boyfriend right now? Who would be the one in college, speaking up for the rights of others? Who would be writing what I could have written, reaching people in some form? Who would be my best friend’s best friend? Who would take the place of my mom’s daughter?

I am supposed to be here, because I am still here. I could have died many times throughout the past 24 years, and I didn’t. You, reading this right now…you are reading this for some purpose. Maybe you find nothing helpful from it, but you’re reading it anyway.

Maybe I can help that other person. Maybe you can. Without us, we’d all break. Think about the people you love most. Do they have purpose? Why wouldn’t you?

Beauty comes from the fight. I aim to spread what beauty I can. There needs to be people out there who have made it through. Who can help those who haven’t yet. Who can try with everything they have…because that has meaning. It means that not only have I made it through, but I made it through to be here right now, helping you.

We don’t know what the future brings. It will probably bring both pain and triumph. What I’m getting at is, I can no longer merely survive, trying to find a way out, to avoid the pain. Pain can later have some purpose, if you can make it. Maybe to help someone. Maybe to give you strength for other things that are thrown at you. Maybe to show others that people do survive.

This notion doesn’t make things less painful as they’re thrown at you. But it does give a reminder that not everything needs to crush you. Not everything is meant to kill.

We need each other. A solitary life is not one that can last. We are stronger together. And I won’t give up.