Catching Up On Stuff

Another day goes by, and here we are.

Things have been stressful lately, but thankfully not every day has been panic-inducing. I haven’t had to take my anxiety PRN medication every single day, and that’s good for me (these days).

I feel like a lot of my anxiety occurs in the afternoon/evening/nighttime. Things just start getting into my head, I start obsessing, and there’s no turning back. I’m not entirely sure how to stop obsessing, but I’m trying to work on it.

I’ve been doing things that really aren’t healthy for me lately, like smoking weed and eating whatever shit I feel like. I weighed myself for the first time in forever the other day. Thankfully I wasn’t too shocked/upset by the number (it was kind of what I expected). I know that my body right now doesn’t gain weight very easily. However, I realize that I can’t live my life like this regardless. My diet isn’t very healthy or thought through, and I think I’d like to make more of an effort to make it better…or at least put some thought into it besides whatever I’m craving in that moment. To be clear, this is not ED-motivated. This is purely for the reason that I want to live a healthy lifestyle and eating healthfully is a part of that.

Smoking is something I’d like to stop also. Or at least not do as much. I’ve had a really bad cough for the past two weeks, and whether it’s from smoking or not, it’s hard to think it isn’t. I feel like shit all the time, and I’m tired, and I don’t like feeling like bingeing when I smoke. Smoking helps me sleep, but I’m also on medicine for sleep, so maybe I can try to make that work instead.

At the same time, I still wish I didn’t have to be on so much medication. The amount of pills I take is kind of ridiculous. I have tried semi-recently to come off of some medication, and it didn’t work out. My psychiatrist ended up increasing it back to where it was originally. Maybe one day I can at least come of something…

The craving to move out of Georgia is getting real. The summer heat is something I can’t stand. Wearing my hair in a bun every day and sweating my body weight by standing outside is not at all appealing. I hate it. I want fall, or cold, or something. Bleh.

I have two job interviews coming up this week, and I’m interested to see how they turn out. The first on Monday is actually with another coffee store, but a local shop (instead of a big corporation). I think that could be interesting. On Wednesday I have an interview with an answering service. The answering service one would just be taking phone calls and making appointments. Kind of boring, but also more predictable and reliable. Coffee shops aren’t always reliable for getting the hours you need. Case in point- I tried to transfer to a Starbucks closer to my house (so I could actually make money off being promoted). My boss had a talk with me, told me she would give me the hours I needed…and for the next two weeks I have less than 30 hours each week (which is not at ALL what I can afford living off of by working there). I hate that it’s becoming like this with Starbucks. I’ve always loved this company and what they stand for. I’ve had so much fun learning new things, growing with my stores, and being surrounded by generally awesome people. Starbucks is growing more and more into something I’m not recognizing. Something not appealing to me. Something not appealing to many baristas, actually. Still love you Starbucks, but we may need to part ways.

I have decided to change my major to early childhood education (for the time being). I’m going to go to my local community college again instead of Arizona State Online, because online classes are NOT meant for me. I miss Georgia Highlands, actually. They’re an incredible school. Sadly I can’t go there for much longer (since they only have an Associate’s degree for my major interests). I might as well go there while I can, though. I’ll be taking four classes in the fall, if everything goes as planned. I might have to be going to school Monday-Thursday, which I know will be a pain in the ass, but I need to do it. And I can’t figure out a class schedule that only has classes on two specific days, so here we are.

I have been exhausted every day lately, so I’m probably going to bed soon. It’s 9:18pm right now. But I’ve also been awake since 3:15am for work this morning. I think I should get to go to bed soon.

Peace and love ❤

-July 21, 2017

 

 

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I’ve been a little absent again. I’m sorry. Things have been crazy lately.

I’ve gone to Baltimore twice in the past month or so, and I’m going back Wednesday-Saturday. Well, Wednesday and Saturday will most likely be spent driving. 12 hours of fun! My dress for the wedding is ready and fits, and I’m super excited for it to happen.

I don’t know if I said this in the last post…I could go check but I’m being lazy. I got a dog, Oliver. So he’s been filling most of my time. He’s eight months old and doing well, but not fully potty trained yet. It’s kind of a nightmare with that. I had him in this mesh enclosure thing I used to transport White Kitty down here to Georgia, but he ended up chewing through it and escaping. I do need to get him a crate, but I’m royally broke right now. This sounds insane but I am trying out a doggy diaper to see if that works at all. It’s mostly just when I’m gone for work that he has accidents. But we’re working on it.

White Kitty has been hiding a lot, which is kind of sad for me. I miss her. She’s taken to hiding in my bathroom cabinet (below the sink), so I made it comfy for her. Pillow, blankets, etc. Hopefully she comes out more soon.

Work has been…work. Busy. Hectic. Stressful. I had a job interview yesterday. It was a culture interview, actually. Second of third; if they like me, I’ll go on to the third (a resume interview). I haven’t heard anything, though. My anxiety has sky rocketed. I wish they would have told me something today. My boyfriend applied to the same job, but he had his interview on a Wednesday (and he heard back Friday). So I suppose I’ll hear back Monday? I guess. He didn’t get chosen, which really sucks. It kind of makes me feel bad. I don’t think I’ll get it, but if I did…I don’t know. I’d always feel self-conscious.

There’s a lot going on with that. Feeling self-conscious. Contemplating if I matter. If my opinion, ideas, or anything I have to say, matters. Does anyone really want to hear me, anyway? People constantly talk over me. Cut into what I’m saying. Why do I even bother speaking? This is why I stopped when I was little. I went silent because nobody heard me anyway. Why keep trying when it’s useless. Nothing I said mattered, nothing I did made anything better. I could wish and pray and hope with all my might, but it would never stop. Until it did, and I blamed myself anyway.

I miss my dad. It’s Father’s Day soon. Everybody coming into Starbucks is buying the Father’s Day gift cards. Tomorrow there’s supposed to be a group of thirty people celebrating fathers coming into the store for their celebration. I don’t want to be there for that, but I don’t have a choice. I ache to feel my dad’s presence again. I ache to feel his touch. I ache to hear his voice. I wish I had him back. And I hate myself for being jealous of other people who do have their dads. I hate that I’m so bitter towards them. There’s no reason for me to be. I’m glad for you if you have your dad. I just miss mine. I don’t wish this upon anyone, though I know it will happen eventually to most.

I hate the hole it’s left inside me. It’s a giant void I feel myself slipping into from time to time. Like right now. It’s a black hole filled with shreds of my broken heart. Desperation, longing, and bitterness reside there. It’s funny how you wish you had someone back, but can’t stand to be around anyone else who is actually here.

They can get it, they can not get it. The point is, nothing anyone ever says will make it better. And I don’t say that in a mean way…it’s just kind of the truth. It feels nice to have people care, and try, but no one can be my father, or bring my father back. No one can tell me why. No one can explain why that was necessary…a reason that would actually make sense to me. Why is it supposedly God’s will for my dad to succumb to cancer? He went out in pain. He left me in pain. Why is God’s will pain?

I wish I had answers. I wanted to be able to go to church…and I actually asked my boss if I could have Sunday’s off for school this coming semester (so that I could go to church in the morning). But she said Sunday’s are tricky, and she needs me to work. I close Saturday nights, so that doesn’t work for church either. Maybe one day I’ll figure something out.

I don’t know why I’m becoming to anti-people lately. It’s like I crave love, I crave having people who care…but I also crave sleep. And being alone. And not bother humanity with my insanity.

I don’t know what I want. But something has to change. This isn’t tolerable.

-June 16, 2017

When You Read a Book That Sparks a Light Inside of You

I bought a book the other day from Barnes and Noble. Well, I bought several, but this one was read first. It’s called, “The Princess Saves Herself In This One” by Amanda Lovelace. While there are several pages I have tagged, and I did make a word document out of all my favorite passages/quotes, I think I’ll talk about these two today:

Pages 96-97: Fuck the idea that there is such a thing as destiny, that there exists some kind of mysterious master plan, that there is a god who simply does not give us anything we cannot handle. The pain did not make me a better person. It did not teach me not to take anything for granted. It did not teach me anything except how to be afraid to love anyone. I am far too young to be so goddamn broken & if I could go back in time & give myself her childhood back, I would. –what was the point?

Page 142: I let myself know that my life doesn’t have to be over just because theirs are & I went ahead & painted the sun back into my sky. –I am allowed to live my life

I’ve been working on this a lot- living my life even though my dad can no longer live his. Living my life despite the fact that several people have lost theirs in the past few years. Living my life despite the fact that I have no idea why it was them and not me.

I’ve always been so angry with the world about this topic. Why did God take my dad? There was no good reason. No one can argue with me that, like she said, there is some “greater plan”. I bought into that for a bit. I believed that there was some reason for everything, some explanation I wasn’t aware of. I thought, maybe it’s (I don’t have a good word, because “tolerable” and “okay” are not it…so fill in that blank yourself), because now my parents aren’t fighting. I don’t have to live a life at home in constant fear. I don’t have to feel on-edge at every moment, because there won’t be any more of the screaming, the banging, the tears, the wasted energy…the hope that maybe one day it’ll stop. Because it has. It has stopped. Silence has greeted this house, for once.

Then the battle began- did I do this? Every year, when I blew out my birthday candles, I wished my parents would stop fighting. I went to bed hoping that tomorrow, things would change. That the chaos would cease.

I battled feeling like God misinterpreted my prayers, to telling myself that I’m really not that important/this can’t be my fault, to being angry with God for doing this, to disbelief in any higher power listening to me anyway.

And that’s where I remain now.

It’s hard for me to believe in any higher power loving me, taking care of me, watching over me, or giving any justice in this world. My dad was a good person. He was smart, he was funny, and no, I will not agree that it was “his time”. He could have done so much more in this world.

I spent years trying to work through this mess. I nearly killed myself in the process. Yes, I am “together” today, for all intents and purposes. I’m alive. I have learned things. But I feel like I could have learned them another way. It doesn’t take my dad dying to make this happen.

People die- that’s life. I understand that concept. But I don’t agree with how it happened for me. I don’t agree with a lot of deaths that happen. It’s not fair. And no, I don’t care that that is a childish statement. Sometimes, it’s just not.

I had to learn the second quote eventually, though. I had to let go of a lot of that anger, the “it’s not fair” attitude. While that statement remains true, I learned I cannot live out that statement. I cannot ruin my life based on the fact that it wasn’t fair that my dad died.

I still hold some of that anger inside of me. It’s extremely difficult to ditch all of it. And I did learn that I have to “paint the sun back into my sky”. I can’t live my life in anger with something that I can never personally change. I can’t will my dad back to life…but I can progress in my own life and try to make him proud.

Sometimes I forget that intention. The more I was sucked into the eating disorder, the more I believed I had already disappointed my dad- and there was no way out. I imagined him looking down on me, wishing I wasn’t his daughter. Or worse, not even recognizing me.

I was someone completely different after he died. And I am someone completely different now. Some things stay the same, and I know he can see that. All things I learned from him…people-watching, cat loving, getting lost in books, writing poetry…they’re still there. And I’m proud of that. And if I’m proud of that, I think he would be too.

My dad was an amazing person, when it comes down to it. I got the pleasure of spending 16 years with him. While I have a long list of regrets, I always have the love in my heart that I need to believe he can feel. I choose to believe that if he knocked on my door today, we would smile together instead of feeling shame.

I still don’t agree that death like this is necessary…but the ability to keep going despite it, is.

-February 22, 2017

 

What Exactly Is, “Good Enough”?

Things in therapy-land have been kind of rough lately. It’s frustrating for me, because I did start eating again, and I have gained back some of the weight I had lost. But apparently that’s not good enough. My therapist wants me to see a dietitian…I said no, and she said, “You know I can refuse to see you if you don’t comply, right?”. I just hate how I’m trying and, it’s not that it’s not being noticed, but it’s not enough…and there is no way for me to possibly do more right now. She wanted me to go back on the point/exchange system I had at Focus (treatment center)…but as I explained to her, that’s not something I can just do on my own. I wouldn’t know where to begin, or how to progress it, etc. That’s something I’d need a dietitian for. However, I am eating fine, so I don’t think it’s really that necessary. She weighed me even though I told her what I weighed that morning (when I did it myself). After she weighed me, she told me she’s now going to weigh me once a week. It’s just extremely defeating. Not to mention I despise being weighed in the middle of the day. It’s incorrect, and not really that helpful. And she won’t let me see the number, so there’s that. I have no idea what that stupid scale is saying.

I am tired of this stuff. I just want to be left alone.

Work is also giving me some anxiety lately. As I mentioned, my hours are being cut, and I can feel it pay-wise. I’m constantly on edge about having enough money for rent/bills. My new manager also hasn’t confirmed when my training begins, so I’m just hanging out in limbo until they figure it out. I just want more certainty.

All in all, I’m feeling defeated. I’m wondering what the point is in doing well and trying so hard, when it’s never enough. I want things to settle down. I hate this constant anxiety and stress.

And I’m really tired this morning, which doesn’t help. I have a full day of school and I’m not looking forward to it.

Sorry for the negativity. I’m just in a weird place.

-February 15, 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.