Friday, July 9, 2010
So I've moved to here www.hangingfromchandeliers.blogspot.com should yo care to read... (Don't worry, I won't take it personally)
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Somehow, I do wish that I could write sometime eloquent here. Something of significance. But seeing as I have never managed to do anything of significance it's rather apt that this is absolutely not reflective of the potential I sometimes thought I had.
I'm not fighting it anymore.
I don't want another year to pass and for it to be in vain, they say it's all downhill by twenty three anyway.
You see I understand how this will come off, it's all been done before, it's selfish and it's cliched. But I'm not trying to portray anything. I've given up. What would be the point, why leave a note that tries it hardest to mean something. See this is the difference, I now realise that none of what I did meant anything, I never amounted to much and I'm a pitiful waste of any potential that was ever there. I am not seeking validation; I truly believe this. I cannot articulate what it is to go beyond any depressive stereotype and to realise, actually see and understand that those thoughts are the absolute.
They are the absolute.
And I'm not fighting anymore.
I want to scream at how everything I held dear was taken away from me. But it wasn't. I did it to myself. I lack self control. I did it all to myself. I ruined myself. I, I, I.
They were my values, and let myself fall prey to everyone who tried to tell me I was wrong, the patronising compliments, no I don't fucking look great, I look fucking vile. Maybe they're happy to see me fade into everyone else, but they were my values, I may sound ignorant or insane but I truly know what beauty is, not merely the physical, I mean my mind. My poor mind. Such a waste of a perfectly adequate mind. I cannot explain what I mean by my values. I cannot explain much. My mind is too tired. Again, what's the point in trying to explain, that would be some sort of effort to leave a mark, and do not deserve to leave a mark.
I clearly don't deserve much. I grasped what I wouldn't, and then I threw it all away. How dare people assume that I don't know what I want. And cheer on my disgusting disintegration of strength. I failed. There's no saving grace, when I say I failed, I really mean it. Hand on heart, I weigh so much more than I ever want to find out. Honestly, this is not an eating disorder anymore. Because my body is decidedly average. I am not skewing or exaggerating. I have gone too far, too quick. I am a mass. I take up this hideous space. I am bigger than I can remember being before.
I am done.
I am not worth this fight. I am a pathetic excuse. Why be half when I can just be nothing. I am saying 'I am' a lot, I'm acutely aware of sounding like a teenage brat. But how else does one write these things. I don't know how it's supposed to go. Why am I ashamed to write so indulgently about myself when that's what this sort of thing is after all.
I should be writing my college assignments. Just another example of how I am not gripping my life back. Not one ounce. I've let it all fall to shit. I know I'm capable, somehow, but it just won't come through. I don't know how to express the utter disappointment in myself when I think of all the things I could be doing these past months, and how I ruined everything. My academics are shot, and I wanted so bad to be an absolute paradigm of academic achievement. I wanted it to branch into my life, I anted to keep writing, I wanted to get back to doing some art, I wanted to take photos, I wanted to review, I wanted to socialise, I wanted to everything. Everything I knew I had the power in to me to do.
And now it is utterly shameful to see how I wasted it all. It's too late. I always thought I'd want to leave something of significance. I was a dreamer. There is absolutely no significance. But that is not what kills me, it's the very fact that I believed there could be and I've wasted it. I'd rather leave than continue on with this sham, I'd rather exit than have everyone around me watch my pathetic failure. Failure is far too grandiose a word. I don't deserve it. This is more a mundane recounting of the facts.
So see I am not so self absorbed or petty for this to be about the fact that I weigh so much, it is about what I had and what I, myself, lost. It is about how I did it all. It is about how now I have nothing, not even my bones, and without them it appears that there really was nothing left to me.
A fucking sham, all a sham.
But I am a horrible person, do the movies not show us that there's an etiquette? Yes I should subscribe to proper order. What the fuck is this proper order, am I fucking thinking straight enough to plan what to say to each and every one? God I don't deserve the chance. I toyed with this everyday for so long, but I couldn't realise it, there was always one person who stopped me from seriously following through. I didn't think that would change. But I guess it has. So I must be truly selfish. I am not planning this, I am cruel and selfish because I don't want to consider the disturbance this will cause to the people I live with. I just don't want to think, please god I want to fucking stop thinking. But I didn't plan to feel like this today, oh god I really didn't. I kept fooling myself that tomorrow would be better. But it's a never ending cycle. God , this hurts, hurts to know how it will kill the one person I love the most. I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. There should be stronger ways to say how sorry I am. I wish you could know. I never wanted to hurt you. If I even try to plan this out and write to you personally I won't go through with this. But my mind is so far gone I can't feature an alternative. You deserved so much more in a daughter. I'm only doing what I think is for the best. I am coward. I can't type anymore, I can't find the words, they're all too shallow for what I want to say. And yet I've said more than I ever set out to.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
I know this is long winded, but any thoughts would really help...
I gave up Prettythin a while ago, it all got too much for me, I went to the doctors, got put in a program, I've left the program, I'm scared to know what I weigh. Terrified. They told me I was anorexic.... Well if they could see me now.
My body was in shock, and I ate, and kept eating, my standards have gone. I have ZERO control. I hate it. God I absolutely detest what I've let myself become. I used to be stronger. I've let food ruin me, and I continually do it, everyday now. I know the strength is there, I need it back, I can't wait around for it to come.
I can't stand my crazy shifting moods, the whole fucking despair of it all. When I was skinny I was proud. I need to be back. I never planned to end up with an illness. I never planned anything. It just became me.
And now I've lost me.
And I can't fail. Can't. Can't. Can't. I've smothered myself with this horrid flesh. I can't take it anymore.
And so I come back here, half of my being, and doubling in size. I never understood until now what it feels like to have nobody around who understands. Physically I'm better, I'm fucking average, this horrible mass of body shape. So they can think they've won. I know I've failed. Physically I look average, what a horrible thing to do to myself, and yet mentally, I feel a hundred times worse than when I was 'ill.'
I left my program but the eating didn't stop. Hasn't stopped. I feel so disgusted it's hard to face people. This is not me. I know what I was then and I nobody can tell me that I was wrong then. I know better.
So in one last feeble attempt to regain me, I'm asking if anybody out there feels similar, or has felt similar, or can push me out of this. I've let other people's views trick my conciousness. Trust me, I feel pathetic that I have to ask for help on this. But I can't hang around waiting for myself to gradually get back to what makes me happy. I need to lose my gain now, it's killing my life. It's killing my mind. And yes I know that I'm contradicting any medical reasoning.
But truly, please, if there's anyone that wants to email and give some support, I promise IO can return the favour.
In December, I was teetering between 91 and 93 punds, my BMI was under 15. Today, I'm too afraid of the scales. I broke mine ages ago in fit of frustration. Honestly I feel like I could weigh nine stone. I desperately don't want this to be true. I want to look and be relieved, that I'm widely over estimating. But it doesn't feel that way. I'm am a mass. The thing is though, numbers don't matter so much to me. What hurts the most, is the fact that my beloved bones, my fragile definiton is gone. Gone. Disappeared into the rotton punds of food I surrendered to.
I turn 23 in a month, I'm getting old, I don't want it to all be in vain.
So like I said, if anybody wants to talk outside of prettythin, let me know,
Thanks for reading, I really appreciate it, I know it's long and self pitying, I don't plan on sounding like this for long... xx
(if you want a better picture; I used to blog here... www.withsilverfeet.blogspot.com)
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Well, I'm back, and I'm now carrying shame by the bucketloads. And pounds. Pounds and pounds and pounds. Sp physically I'm better. Much better.
Too much better.
Yet my mind has never felt more fucked.
I just eat and eat and, well you get the idea. Honestly I'm fucked, I can't remember the last time I ever weighed this much. And I hate it. And I hate myself for letting eveything go. In the past month I have learnt what it truly is to be disgusted with oneself. And what it truly means to binge. God, to think I thought I was binging before, that was just stupid anoretic thoughts.
Well I suppose these are all stupid anoretic thoughts. But some sit more easily with me.
I am full sure that I am walking away from my treatment. I'm done. I don't want it. I shouldn't waste their time and resources. I am not going to sit in a room with deathly thin people and whine about how fat I feel. And then tell me that I'm normal. Fuck normal, I don't want to look normal. I want to look how I feel I am. And I'm certainly not going to sit through the bullshit of them telling me it's just my body in starvation mode and that's why I'm eating so much. Because I am clearly not starving anymore. Oh no, trust me, I am not exaggerating the point, twenty pounds is an estimate. I'm not entirely sure; I smashed up my scales out of sheer frustration.
And it's so vile to see how the excess flesh just appears, my neck bones have disappeared, as have my wrists. I constantly feel my fingers are bigger, the space between my legs is practically gone, my arms, oh god my arms. No clean lines. All lost in this horrible loose excess.
Now I could write a book about how I've been this past while. But it bores even me at this stage. If I'd just admitted myself when they offered it to me I'm sure I wouldn't have gained as much as I have on my own.
I have no standards. No rules. No control. I let everything go.
And it stops. I don't want treatment. I don't want to continue. I want to stop induging in all that I hate. Surely, surely I can stop - because I want to stop. Why must I binge everyday when I hate it?
I refuse to be what I was. Please let me find the strength. Please. Please. I'm fucking desperate. I don't want to be better. I don't want to fail. I want this to be a phase. I won't let them see me fail, let them me see indulge in such disgusting acts. Everyone thinks I'm ok now. They don't matter anymore. I hate this. I'm the one who has to cop on, get a grip, and get back to me. Because right now that 'me' is lost. Lost under layers of horrible mass.
Everyday I tell myself I'll stop, and everyday I find a way to binge even more than before. So once more, I'm saying that when I wake up I'm going to stop. Will I have enough strength of mind to actually get over this hurdle.
It's never been clearer in my mind. I want back. I can't keep going like this, I'm afraid where I'll end up.