everything is falling apart...

-sigh- where do i begin? last night a friendship with a very good friend was lost. because of "my issues". again. last night i got a bank statement and i overdrew my account -$80. i owe my mom and dad a total of $50 (dad) and $20 (mom). i have no money. i am flat broke, i probably won't get to go see vanessa this christmas. last night i found out my dad spent yesterday in the emergency room cause he cut his leg really bad with a saw. he and terri are having problems. yesterday would have been my parents anniversary if they hadn't got divorced. it was also an anniversary of a suicide attempt. last night i was reading through my food/exercise journal that i keep for my dietitian and saw that i haven't eaten or drank anything on my "meal plan" in about two weeks... a yogurt, banana, fruit, here and there, some crackers, a little chicken. water. that's it. i've relapsed. i quit my job so i have no income. i'm a failure. school's starting and i don't have the skills to cope with it. it hasn't even begun yet and i was looking at the textbooks and already i am overwhelmed. already i am scared. i've been crying on and off for over fourty-eight hours now... i have therapy tonight but am contemplating calling and cancelling because i don't feel like getting in a taxi and paying more money lent by my mom that i'll have to pay back that i can't afford. and because i know i'll just go and break down and who wants that. i cut today. who cares. it doesn't even matter to me anymore. i'm falling through the cracks. if it weren't for school in five days i'd admit myself to the hospital because i am not in a good place at all. or maybe i wouldn't. i don't know. all i know is i can't handle anything anymore. even the smallest thing sends me over the edge. i don't even know if i will save this. probably. but that's just because i need to vent.

i don't know. i'm taking a break from od... maybe i will from here, too. it seems like i just overwhelm people and then they leave. i would die if a few people (sarah, vanessa) left me too. i would die.

so maybe it's best i leave for a while. leave or not leave... does it even matter that i write here?

i'm just as lost as you... believe me, yeah, i'm just as lost as you...

trigger... i warned you.

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i have the fucking panic at the disco song stuck in my head. i keep walking around my house saying "what a beautiful wedding... too bad the bridesmaid is a whore." yeah.

yesterday i worked out twice. it's getting to be too much. i wasn't going to do it twice, really. i can't raise my arms above my head without it hurting. maybe i over did it. i did it once at my house for half an hour because i didn't think that my brother would be home in time or even want to go to the gym. but around eight he asked if i wanted to go and gained back a few pounds i lost so i said yes. went there, worked out hard for fourty minutes. exhausted. anyway, i came home and broke down. after i "quit" my job i had a nervous breakdown, crying and mumbling that i was some sort of failure. like i couldn't handle fucking ten hours a week. i used to be able to work full-time, fourty hours a week. but i reduced it to ten. and i'll be going to school monday through thursday, not even on the weekends, so you think i'd be able to wing it, just working two days a week on the weekend. but no. pathetic fat bitch, my mind screams.

am eating okay-ish. ate some cantelope, a banana, and dinner yesterday. i haven't purged in a month or two, i think, and haven't cut in three weeks as of today. eva left me a really sweet message on my cell phone since we missed last weeks appointment. she said to call if i needed. but i called and no one picked up so i was left alone with my feelings. i tried to call other people but they didn't answer either. i hate when people say "i'm there for you anytime" when they're really not. but i guess people have lives to live because of course i'm not living my own. i'm just walking through it like a ghost. existing. not living. essentially dead on my feet. and that is really fucking sad and i hate it.

we bought a new scale. *cringe* i gained back three of the seven pounds i'd lost. i don't know why because i haven't been eating much and exercising a lot. well i think i'll go edit my book. it's the only thing that matters to me anymore, besides you all and vanessa and my friends and family.

bye.

i kind of quit my job. i'll still come back during winter and summer breaks but i've been having nervous breakdowns and know i need to do well in school this time, so i won't be working during the school year. my dad will be disappointed in me, like i'm "giving up" but i really need to focus on school and recovery right now, not work. i'll have a lot less income but really in the long run i think this will work better because i won't be so stressed out. i cried at work last night, though, because next saturday is my last shift until december sometime. and i really like working there. but i guess my "health" comes first. and school. the manager was really uinderstanding though, so that's good. thank god for patty.

brian was over last night. the first thing out of his mouth was "have you been losing weight?" and then later when i was standing up to take my meds he asked again, and said it looked like i'd "dropped a whole size." um, no. where are you getting this, crazy boy? since i was released from the hospital at my highest weight i've lost 7 pounds. and that's probably due to the exercise or skipping a meal every now and then. but i'm doing well in recovery, i think. sometimes i want to throw up my hands and yell "fuck it" and go back to not eating and purging because it makes the depression and abuse not hurt so bad, but i know my mom would catch on. been working out at the gym every other day, for about 30-45 minutes. i want to go every day because it's so addictive (don't let my mom hear me say that!) but my mom (and dietitian) won't let me. i know why though, so there's no point arguing.

school starts in exactly a week. i'm really excited. kind of nervous but more so excited. i've been looking through my abnormal psychology and stress management books and i'm all jittery with anticipation. fuck the math, lol.

this is one of those days where i want to stay in bed all day. i think i will go do just that. later.

sand filters through the hourglass
like the hands of the clock
tick, tock, tick, second by second:
a slow but steady passing of time;
an ending of what you wish was forever,
a glimpse at what will never be:
time to fix what went wrong.
.
.
.
candles glimmer in the darkness,
flames licking wick, a breath of
serenity as the room is bathed in
light tones. the rhythm of the music
wafts through the air, eerie in the
dead of silence. the melody seems to sway,
somewhat like the arms of trees
that scratch at your window. haunting, almost,
as you finger the edge of the blade
and contemplate what lies ahead.
.
.
.
i paint my lies with a shell of sorrow,
masking them with duplicity and a
futile attempt to make you think
all is fine. voice fading, i whisper in
the night. i'm okay, i promise.
i paint my lies with a shell of sorrow,
masking them with duplicity and a
futile attempt to make you think
all is fine. you don't believe me.
.
.
.
i never knew that everyone
was waiting to run,
that the darkness had control
of the ever falling sun,
i never knew that time
had a hold on life,
that something so simple
as a hot-heated knife
could end what was wrong
and start what is right
like leaving the world
in the silence of night
i never knew that you were a lie
just waiting to decieve
pausing to let me down
as i rolled up my sleeve
i never knew that pressing
that knife to my skin
would have yourself racing [to me]
like my heartbeat within
i never knew that life could fall away
in a swift twist of fate
or that the blood coagulating
would be the last taste
i never knew the stars
would shine quite so bright
or that ending my life
would cause such a fright
i never knew putting down the knife
would be the right step
but i did it, i did, and i'm
free without regret.

those nights with you
were ecstasy. no - not the
sugar-coated lies and lust
that come with swallowing
of multi-colored pills in a
darkened room with friends.
no - the kind of drug you inhale
when the sky glimmers in a
scarlet sunset. no - the kind of
intoxication your cologne brings, your
hot breath against my neck,
kissing my hair with euphoric scents
far beyond words. no - the kind of high
of you and me and us and
the way the world just stops when you smile.
that, sweet love, is ecstasy.

saw dr. terry this morning. it went well. i think she was surprised to see me back, but it's fine with her that i continue seeing her. she really is very nice; just lacks knowledge in behavioral health issues she should be familiar with. she didn't change any of my meds, but suggested next time we talk about lithium and/or wellbutrin (again) because i'm not getting any relief from the depression. i know medication isn't a cure-all so i'm going to try to work harder in therapy, too... like bring in my art, my writing, my workbooks, help her get inside my head. eventually, it's up to me, but i need help, too.

coffee. two rice cakes. leg lifts while reading. not good. i'm gonna go see what there is to eat seeing as i haven't eaten in six hours. i took a nap and kind of just forgot to eat. maybe something's down there that will appeal to me. lately, food tastes like cardboard and i can barely stomach anything... my depression has stolen my need for satiety, food, you name it. anyway, here's a poem i wrote in anticipation of october.

october, how i love you:
your twisted, emaciated limbs
arch towards the sky,
shedding leaves like
a snake does its skin.
crisp and crunchy beneath
soles of battered tennis shoes,
i walk amongst these fallen leaves,
relishing the cool winds
swirling through the sky.
october, how i love you:
you greet the world with beauty
in the changing of the seasons.
summer reaching an end; sticky
heat no more. winter on the horizon,
cold, frightening life ahead.
yet you bring peace and beauty,
solitude and comfort.
october how i hate you:
for thirty-one days you are
but a blessing in disguise,
for autumn meats winter in a
tangeled mess of withered branches,
frozen ground, abscence of sun,
and the center of what kills us all.

faster, faster,
don't you know the monster
takes no breaks in bringing
about your demise?
faster, faster,
don't you know the monster
stops at nothing
to bring about your cries?
faster, faster,
don't you know the monster
will always be the one
who drowns the truth in lies?
faster, fasterm
don't you know the monster
is the reason your soul
eventually slips and dies?
don't you know?
or did the monster lie to you, too?

poems...

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hop in the car, just cruisin downtown
bouncing to the beat, moving to the sound
rhythm washes over and sorrow plays guitar
every single lyric just adds another scar
and then it all comes down to memories at dawn
i gotta face the music, no more, you're gone.

during a grocery shopping trip with my mom and brother my mom and i had quite the discussion/argument about my progress with recovery from my eating disorder. it started with my brother michael (home from college now) saying that he wanted to join the gym i previously belonged to but had to cancel my membership to because of the "no exercise for six months" rule at sheppard pratt. he started talking about getting a family plan and it got me all excited. at first my mom was adimantly saying no, that would be breaking your recovery. but then she was like "who cares, you're not trying anyways." basically. um, excuse me? i AM trying, thank you very fucking much. i am paying out of my own pocket ($140 a month) to see a dietitian. i am eating a hell of a lot more than when i was first admitted to the hospital. i am not overexercising. i am not taking diet pills. i have purged only twice. i am not restricting or starving. true, i have a problem keeping myself hydrated. but that is it. i am trying my ass off. it is hard as hell and she has no idea the dedication i am trying to put into it, or how badly sometimes i want to just scream at her "fuck you i'm trying!" or how hard it is. she has no fucking clue how badly i feel about myself. she took the scale away, with the rule of letting me weigh myself once a week when previously it was 20 + times a day. does she have any idea how hard that is? but i'm trying. i'm fucking trying and she is just burying her head in the sand and saying that i don't eat enough "balanced" meals and that i am not "waking up on time to eat breakfast with her." as long as i eat, who gives a fuck what time i wake up. true there is strength in routine and schedules and eating at the same time each day like they suggested in the hospital but i can't follow EVERYTHING and still keep my sanity. i am not losing weight or gaining. i am maintaining and so we started having this discussion about how i'm not trying and how if i went to the gym and got a family membership with my brother i would go crazy with it. i have learned a lot from sheppard pratt and i feel okayish in recovery enough to go to the gym. i never agreed to the no exercise for six months in the first place. i am an adult and fully capable of making my own decisions. true, i have had issues with compulsive exercise in the past, but why not give me a trial period to see how i do? why not let me try? why not give me a chance? where is the trust. i know i lost it with my disorder and lies but it has to be restored sometime. i don't know.... i don't even know where this is going. i am just so angry that she says i'm not trying. if i wasn't trying i'd be out exercising in my room, running when she wsn't home, buying diet pills, buying my own scale and weighing myself secretly as much as my fat ass pleased. i would be starving and purging and not eating and lying and not going to a therapist, psychiatrist, or paying out of my own pocket for a dietitian. she makes me want to scream. am i doing those things? no. no, i am not. so shut the fuck up.

to make matters worse today is the three-year anniversary of my parents separation. it always hits me hard because i am still not over it. i still miss my daddy whom i don't see enough. i still hate their arguing and name calling and bickering and immaturity towards eachother. i still cry on father's day and the holidays because it is splitting the family and i wish everyone could just get the fuck along. but no. today is the anniversary and i am just sad as shit and my mom just needs to deal with it instead of trying to piss me off about "not being in recovery" which is a load of shit.

i have to get ready for work soon... just wanted to do an update on how things are here. oh, and for all you "saw" and horror movie/thriller fans: saw III comes out halloween 2006. hell fucking yeah.

later.

it's a miracle! my computer works! jack like went in my room and all of a sudden it was working so i'm doing a quick update before i go see the descent.

michael graduated today - yay michael! it was anixety and nerve wracking having the whole extended family there with people not speaking to eachother and all but i guess that's just the way dysfunction and family events work.

i'm exhausted lately... depressed... anxious... haven't cut since the first. went to a buffet today for the lunch after the graduation and only ate cottage cheese, fruit, and soup. everyone got worried. "is that enough?" and my mom "monitored my bathroom use" afterwards. that pissed me off. i'm not some child who needs to be watched. i can not puke on my own, thank you very much, and i haven't in quite some time.

get paid tomorrow at work. i need the money to buy books. school starts in 3 weeks... i'm really excited. anyways...

off to the movie.

I just got on a huge writing kick... here's the latest batch of poems. A few have been posted here before but were edited a little. Opinions please!

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our love was like fireworks

exploding across a midnight sky:

bright yet explosive, full

of newfound hope and

electrifying gratification.

our love was the stars that

burst against a palet of darkened

clouds, it was the shine after the storm,

the calm at six a.m. our love was you and i

and our fingers entertwined, our love

was the smell of april breeze

and the taste of fresh strawberries

on a hot summer day. but now our

love is you and i, and my heart wrapped

around a string with freyed edges. now it

is the quiet in the night as i wish

on broken stars. it is the lonely morning

hours, it is the space where you're not there.

our love was once my everything, but now it

is my nothing.

.

.

.

Brian just left. He visted with me for about an hour, helped me cook dinner for my mom and I, and played with the dog. We had a talk in my room: me crying, him struggling to calm me. He was the first to ever love me like that. Even though we were only together a short while, he really, truly loved me and cared for me. And tonight he made it clea rtht we will only be friends and it will stay that way. We're both in a pretty bad depression right now. It just hurts so bad knowing I can't have something back that made me so happy, knowing I can't have someone who will treat me right. He (and my mother) say, you'll find love again. You'll find someone who treats you right. There will be others. But will there? How can I believe that when there has been so much hurt and mistrust in the past? When I have been violated and abused by people who were supposed to care about me. I know love is out there and I hope someday I find it, it's just right now this really hurts.... and I don't know what to do.



take the rope to my heart, and fall.

and i miss you love...

remember i said i had written a really weird poem? this is it.

my bracelet's coiled on your nightstand
the brush is gripped between your hand
my lipstick stains your cheek
the flavor of the week
playfull you tug at strands that aren't brushed back
i push you on the bed, you say "time to hit the sack."
night comes and then it goes. we wake up in a while,
you smile sweetly, brush your mouth across my lips curled in a smile.
the months, they pass by quickly, i start to see a change
you slouch at breakfast, clench your fists, seemingly deranged
to our bedroom we will go as i'm briefing my concern
you raise your voice, you yell at me, "when the fuck will you learn?"
we try to talk but you avoid to deal with what is real
instead you hide, i die inside, lose all that's left to feel.
your anger breeds cruel hatred, your eyes burn hot with pain
i watch this night flourish as life slips down the drain.
and then one night it's raining, you say, to me, "i'm done"
i ask you what you mean and then the tears begin to flood.
you pull the pistol from the drawer - you cock it in your face
"i hate myself," you say to me, "i want to be erased."
i cry out loud and tell him no, don't end your life like this
i love you honey, don't let go, oh god you will be missed.
your eyes are sad, your body tense, "let's put the gun away"
cold, slick metal meets your flesh, you say "i'll never be okay."
i plead with him, dear yes you will, we can fix this here and now
tears stream down, i cry, shake, inside i wonder why and how
what brought you to this point in time when death seemed like the cure,
to broken dreams and silent screams and the truth that is obscure?
finally, he drops the gun, i rush forth to his arms.
he trembles, cries, looks in my eyes, say's "babe, i guess you won."
that night we lay together, feet tangled; entertwined.
i wrap him and close and whisper softly, "i'm so glad that you're alive."
that night is cold, it's oh so cold, the week is horrid - long.
but i hold your hand and smile as you face your demons down
two years later we stand before a church, a preist, some friends
rings slip on, our mouths meet, the darkness seems to end
i wake again, happy calm, forever will i stay
with you in my world, my arms, until our dying day.

weird huh? totally random, somewhat inspired by "the center of winter" in weird ways. anyway, tell me what you think. this should be interesting.

i'm sick. stayed home from work today. honestly even if i wasn't sick i wouldn't go. i can't get out of bed anymore. i can't. -sigh- i'm drowning. not much to say when you've lost your words. i suppose my entrues will be like this for a while... until this darkness fades.

that's it for now. i wish i had something more. but i just don't...

i'msorryi'mlikethisireallyam.

i got a new computer, email, and screen name. (for my vision accommodatios, no i'm not that rich to be able to afford a new one.) anyway, my new email is: breakxthexstars@aol.com and my new im is breakxthexstars, so everyone add me. :)

blah. depression is killing me. it took two hours to get out of bed this morning. yes, two. this is bad, really bad. i can't seem to get better. i'm breaking. i have therapy tonight and i don't even know what to say. no words can encompass how depressed i feel. words can't describe the pain raging through me or the severity of this hell. no words can even begin to express how bad i want to cut, nor do they bring light to how this eating disorder is really going. -sigh- i just don't see an end to this, other than you know what.

fuck. how did i get this so far down?

i'm sorry i have been lacking in writing lately. i am so far gone. the depression is haunting me. my voice sounds so sad. my eyes even sadder. before she goes anywhere my mom asks if i am going to be okay. sometimes she makes me sleep with her in her room to "stay safe." -sigh- i'm really falling apart. i'm getting my wisdom teeth out on monday so i better get some narcotics so i can sleep and escape. fuck i can't do this anymore. i know i'm at my breaking point. i told eva, she's worried. we are all trying to keep me out of the hospital. i don't ever want to go back. i am so lost. broken. nothing is okay. i am trying to look forward to coming to see vanessa. and i am. its just... there is no way i will eat if she's still on the tpn/calorie/nutrient iv... i'm leaving on january 7-25 and fuck i need it to be now. its whats keeping me going. school starts five days after i get back... i hope that will be a good thing and i won't get too stressed out. fuck i'm crying again... i need to go... please don't worry... i'll be fine someday... i hope.

iknowimgoingtobreakiknowiamsolostifeelmyselfdyinginsideiamdyingandnoonesees.

i am so depressed.
i am so lost.
i am starving.
i want to cut.
just maybe a little suicidal with no plan
just.... broken...

*cries*

i've mastered feeling nothing.
i know i've died inside.
winter comes with icy snow
and still and still i've cried.

xx i'm so far down xx

[[and no one knows]]

save me...

i've been working a lot on my memoir... trying to fill in the gaps, edit things, etc. this latest chapter i'm writing is about the second time i was at brook lane because i never wrote about it. i have left out so much and i'm trying to piece it all together slowly. i want it to be finished. anyway, i thought i'd offer a sneak-peak. please beware, it might trigger. opinions would be nice, if you read it. so here it is... and it's very long.

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it's been said before: i am sick and tired of being sick and tired and tired and tired and tired and i am not sleeping and it is literally driving me insane. i am now addicted to tylonoel pm and i am going through trazodone withdrawals and i am shaking badly and hearing things occasionally and my heart races and i get very dizzy, so fucking dizzy that i grip the counter at the register at work so i don't fall flat on my face. it wasn't so bad yesterday but the last week has been hell. i haven't taken my trazodone in about two weeks. i have two more weeks until i see dr.terry and i don't know if i can last that long. my eyes burn and my head pounds because i am so sleep deprived. i have tried crushing my pills and mixing it with yogurt and peanut butter and all that shit and it doesn't work because, quite frankly, i am addicted. i have been addicted to it since i started taking it back in tenth grade. i have been on this medication for two years. i was sick of puking them up every night so i just stopped taking it. i can't believe the fact that i specifically called dr.terry last week and told her, almost in tears, that i am not sleeping and i'm puking up my meds, and can't swallow the trazodone and she said "there's nothing i can do, try mixing it with something." what. the. fuck. i can't work like i am and not sleep. i can't function and not sleep. true, i have slept some with tyloenol pm but even that doesn't give me a good full eight hours or so that i need to be able to drag myself through work. i am basically working full time right now and denying my depression and my eating disorder and ohimfinereally and everyone thinks so and my mom says i seem happy and inside i'm dying and i hate i hate i hate this all. when i go to therapy on wednesday i am going to see if there can possibly be an emergency psychiatrist appointment so i can see someone - i don't care who - and just feel rested and okay. i am so fucking worn out. and the adult psychiatrists are sooo overbooked and it is crazy and i know it's not dr.terry's fault that i can't see her enough but shit, i am falling apart here and i can't work without sleeping and i am so upset and depressed and no one knows, no one fucking knows. i am ready to take whatever fucking medication they want. anything. please. just let me sleep just help me. i don't understand. why is my depression so resitant to treatment? why? i counted the other day - i have been on seventeen different medications in the last two and a halgf years. seventeen. you think something would do the trick. but no. medication is not a cure, i know that. but something, please, something, please give me a break, a reprieve, this is no way to live and yes therapy helps but i feel like i am lost and dying and there is nothing to look forward to and fuck i just can't do it sometimes. today is my half a year anniversary of not cutting and i just want to throw it all away because i am so fucking frustrated with all of this shit. i am working too much and i just want to quit. but no. my parent's wouldn't have that, because i'd be "giving up" "succumbing to my illness" "overreacting". yes, i could ask for my hours to be cut back, but that is nearly impossible since the holidays are coming (basically here now) and work is busy as all hell. like long lines and bitchy customers and no way in hell and i getting off. i just want it to be january so i can see my faceyo and start school which i am excited about and just work two days a week. i have today off and wednesay and thursday which is good but i am working every weekend and barely get to see my dad and it is just sad. it's good money and yes, i need it to pay rent and everything else, but still. i have basically lost my ssi money which doesn't matter since i'm making more than they pay me anyways, but i'm worried about losing my medicaid so i am going to call today and find out. i don't think it will happen, but some people have brought it to my attention and i need to find out and i am so sick and tired of being like this. a fucked up girl. a mental patient. a depressed anoretic and all that shit. i try to recover and it doesn't work. i go to therapy and swallow (try to anyways) my meds and i talk and i cry and i write and i try and i try and i try and i swear to god i'm trying and it doesn'ts eem to help and i am ready to say lock me up forever throw me in the looney bin because i'm hopeless. i'm so fucking lost and no one sees... no one sees me and this pain i'm in. and i just want to throw everything away...

i'm sorry for complaining but i needed to get it out. i'm going to go back to my bed and od on tyloenol pm and hope i sleep and cry because no one in my family except my mom and dad even remembers it's my half-year anniversary probably and that took so much work and FUCK. i hate myself. death seems clearer througfh bloodshot eyes - that;'s what silverchair said. and what do i say? i understand. i fucking understand.

x----posted to od

due to work, i haven't updated in a while and i apologize. here's my update:

work:

i'm working too much for my liking (though financially it is kicking ass) and i am getting really stressed out. twice i have broke down crying. the busiet most stressful time for retail is coming up. and i am scared i won't be able to handle it. yesterday a man threw candy in my face because i wouldn't exchange it for another one after his son had already licked it. a fucking woman bitched at me for twenty minutes because i politely told her that no, her lovely fucking candle seyt was not on sale. of course, it's MY fault. right. twice now i've been ready to quit. but i know i need the money that i should be saving for college, life, seeing vanessa in the summer, etc. plus i like my co-workers, except fat pat, but sometimes i really don't know. my parents would have a heart attack if i quit. but you're doing so WELL, they say. well. well my ass, i'm fucking falling apart and even that is an understatement. in good news, though, my last paycheck was $404. that means they are going to discontinue my ssi money, although i'm hoping it will still keep my medicaid so i can have therapy and medication and doctor's appointments covered. speaking of that, my case is up for review soon. -sigh- just more paperwork to fill out and things to get done.

school:

on wednesday i went to fcc, the community college and registered for my classes. first i met with a counselor and class advisor named debby. debby was a really sweet person, very caring and understanding towards my disabilities. we talked, at length, about my mental problems, my vision impairment, what classes i wanted to take, etc. she went over the requirements about what i need to take to get my associate's degree in psychology, and that will probably take me two to three years, she said. after we talked we went over some classes. i wanted to take a class called serial killers: psychosocial perspectives, but it was full. so i'm taking english 101, psychology 101, math 91 (pre-algebra), and health. honestly, i am a bit afraid and worried about how i'll deal with it all, but i'm excited, too. i miss the structure of my day. i miss school in the fact that i could express myself in art, writing, could learn about interesting things. believe me, i didn't miss the schoolwork or homework, save for the essays, or the tests or the math or anything having remotely anything to do with math. but i miss some of it. so i'm excited. and honestly, i just want a fucking place to go and be alone and huddgle in the corner of the cafeteria and write with out anyone coming in and talking to me or asking this and that and blah blah blah. i really want to do this; i want to do well in college. i always have. i really just want to... i don't know... succeed. but success is frightening to me. i'm scared. and that's why i doubt myself and my capabilities. fear. classes start january 30 so i have time to wait. which is good, cause i'd hate to go to school and work this much simultaneously. i talked to my manager at work and he said that since my job is seasonal and i would have to leave in january when i go to school that they were going to let me go anyway, but i love michaels so i asked maybe if i could work just on the weekends and he said that would probably not be a problem. so that looks appealing. school, a little work, and time for myself. if only i could escape out of my hellish life, then i'd be set. :P

depression:

it has been particularly bad lately - especially with the changing tide of the seasons and the weather and the cold nothingness that haunts me restlessly and the night that grows darker by five and the pain, the pain, the pain inside of me that hurts so badly and i just don't know WHY. for all my life i have not known why. only that it's there. and it hurts so fucking bad. sometimes it hurts so bad i walk down the aisles at work, eyes darting around, heart pounding in my chest. down the first aisele, first row, craft section. across from scrapbooking. and there they are: pretty x-acto knifes, sharp and silver in their pristine rows. refillable balades, rotary cutters for sewing, razor sharp scissors. so much temptation. and it's all i have not to give in, buy them, run to the bathroom, and not press down. it hurts... mommy, you'll never know how bad i hurt inside.

also, there is the drugs. i mean, my medication. i saw dr.terry last when she threw my bipolar diagnosis at me and fucked with my meds. that was two weeks ago. during those two weeks, among other things, i have thrown up my pills every single night because i cannot swallow the 300 mg trazodone pills she has prescribed me. every night i throw up white pills into the bathroom sink. every night i do not sleep. i am not joking or exaggerating when i say that i have literally not slept in 12 days. i am running high on a sense of insomnia-induced mania and an eating disorder rollercoaster of emotions. i left a message at theray on wednesday for dr.terry to call me immediately, that it was an emergency. she never called so i called later, frantic, crying that i wasn't sleeoing and could she please prescribe the 100 mg pills so i can swallow them. break them in half, she says. i can't. they are a chalky pill. they dissolve in my mouth. i can't do it. i throw them up every night. god knows if i'm throwing up the other medication i take. probably so. she says she cannot fill the prescription again until the next time i see her until two weeks. mix it with some applesauce she replies, voice flat. what the fuck. i don't eat applesauce, and no, bitch, i've tried that with every food imaginable and it still won't happen. give me my fucking meds. i am ready to say fuck it and switch sleeping pills. maybe ambien. i want seroquel back. i want my topamax back from forever ago. i want my life back. i want me back. i want me back...

cutting:

my half-year anniversary with out cutting is on monday. i don't know how i feel about this. i am excited, but scared. it has been so hard to deal with things with out cutting. but i've done it. of course, self-destruction hs manifested itself in many other ways... starving, purging, spending entirely too much money, burning, etc. so i don't know... day 182 (half-year) is right around the corner. and damn, i'm speechless. quit forever, run back grateful. quit forever, run back grateful. i can't help but say i would pick the latter. run back grateful...

eating disorder:

what a bundle of joy this has been the last two weeks. boy, i tell you. since my mothers little comments that have scarred me completely, i have either not eaten or binged and purged into oblivion. my weight has dropped five pounds, increased seven, dropped three, and now remains the same. fucking fantastic. i love this. i really do. *shakes head* can't you tell? i don't even want to talk about it. this disorder has ruined my life. ruined it. or what was left of my life. ha. ha ha fucking ha ha. let's not go there. not tonight. let's just say this: i am not doing well. with anything. at all. at all...

i had two poems to post here but i lost them. they were both very weird, completely unlike me or my writing style. one of them actually involved a husband and a wife, a relationship, *gasp* not just me and "a broken girl that falls and dies", although, of course, knowing me, there was suicide in it. but it had a happy ending. when i find it you'll all be privy to my bizzare writing.

enough... very tired, going to try to sleep.

oh. my. god. my mother has just gotten on my last nerve. i can't believe her. i really can't. so i'm in the kitchen yesterday morning, dehydrated and lips cracked and bleeding as they always are from my meds, and drinking ice cold water to try to melt away the pain on my lips. i am wearing a shirt that makes me look huge seeing as i could fit into it in fourth grade. but i slept in it, so i wasn't expecting her to see me like that. but she walks into the kitchen. i mutter under my breath: this shirt makes me look fat. and this is what happens: she says "i know eva told me i sholden't answer you when you say you're fat, but i have something to say this time, and, well, i'm just going to say it." i brace myself, hold my breath. and she lets me have it with the words that kill. "i think you would be happier with yourself if you lost some weight and ate healthier." translation: you are fat. stop eating. you are disgusting. my mouth literally gapes open. what? she goes on. tells me i could stand to lose a few. how much? it doesn't matter. how much? fifteen or twenty. fuck i am fat as hell. fat fat fat. i start pacing. why are you doing that? i'm angry. fat. did i trigger you? YES.

i hate her, damn it.

in better news, my half a year cut-free anniversary will be next monday. i'm not sure how i feel about this. in a way i am overjoyed and proud of myself. but in another i am scared i will fall. i know i'm not better mentally and that i have been substituting cutting with my eating disorder. it is so terrifying.

i'm off to scrapbook and make christmas cards...

my psychiatrist appointment on friday turned out like shit. apparently i am now bipolar. ha. ha. ha. she increased my trazodone (now 900 mg) took me off seroquel, added geodon (180 mg) and increased lamictal (now 150 mg) my mom is so excited and enthralled about all of this because "maybe this will be the right combination!" and yet i am so angry because of the bipolar diagnosis. that's fucking bullshit. i am NOT manic nor have i ever been. yes, my depression is treatment-resistive, severe, and chronic, but it is no fucking bipolar. unipolar, maybe. eva & i decided it was chronic severe major depressive disorder and yes, thats in the dsm-iv. i hate my psychiatrist. i hope she chokes on her coffee. *im so mean*

cut-free days = 169.

working SOOO much. next week i have 39 hours.

depression = red flag bad. :(

therapy tomorrow.

going to fcc to take placement tests and hopefully talk to sven, the disability coordinator to plan my schedule and hopefully get things rolling.

er previews look awesome for thursday.

im having stomach pain.

everyday at work my vision is fuzzy, i'm dizzy, and things move very fast. its the meds. dont know which one since they were all increased but whatever. its getting hard to focus with all the dizziness/blurriness, the fuzzy feeling. FUCK MEDS!!!!

went to see SAW II. OH MY GOD IT KICKED SOO MUCH ASS IT WAS SOO GREAT AND DAMN WAS IT GOOD WITH A TWIST AT THE END!!

megan i hope you had a happy birthday and got my message i left you. need stamps so when i have them your package is in the mail. i love you.

love you too, faceyo.

got to go. my stomach hurts too much to sit.

i'm listening to nirvana. kurt cobain is a god. mmmmm like walking sex.
anyway.
vanessa is home... yay! i love you baby.
i ended up giving my mom the razor blade.
then the very next day i bought an x-acto knife at work.
stupid girl.
gave it to eva on wednesday.
still don't know if it was the best thing to do.
i want to cut still.
it's died down a little.
164 days bitches.
but the anorexia haunts me even more now.
take me back into your arms and watch me waste away.
work today. 5-9. get paid on saturday. i owe my mom $72 and then another $200 on the first of the month for rent.
happy early birthday to megan. your present/card are on their way.
kyle, dude, where is my sublime mix cd? i want to hear it!!
psych appointment on friday.
don't want to see her.
she never helps anyways.
saw 2 comes out on friday night.
i am beyond stoked. the first one kicked ass.
my depression is indescribably bad.
like... really fucking bad.
i am starting to revise/edit/add to my book/memoir.
my uncle knows someone in new york who might publish me if/when i'm finished.
this keeps me going in that aspect of writing.
that would be a dream.
so, in all, things are weird.
a few things are good.
more are bad.
i am lost in my cliche world of depression.
and i'm sad. so sad.
i want to be held.
[someone hold me]
but i have to get ready for work.
boo on jobs.
tired, so tired... of this all.
haven't eaten today.
feels good.
have to go.
sorry for all this.
you'll never know how bad i feel for being what i am.

there's a razor in my room.
here. on the desk.
so close, so close.
new and shiny and oh so sharp.
tested with my finger.
oh i want to want to want to.
i was looking for scissors to scrapbook with.
innocent enough.
then i see it in the drawer where the computer is downstairs.
why. why do we have this.
why is it here when they know i hurt myself.
why. why. why. why the fuck why.
so now it's here.
because i couldn't stop.
i am too weak.
i couldn't help myself.
i couldn't walk away.
there's a razor in my room.
here. on my desk.
near my hand.
so close. so close.
here. on my desk.
want to want to want to.
blood would be so nice.
swift motions, nice and deep.
crimson all around.
bleed and bleed.
make the pain fade.
make it go away please.
please please please go away.
don't haunt me anymore.
i can't take this anymore.
there's a razor in my room.
here. on my desk.
so close. so close.
just one time, just once.
once i start i can't stop.
again and again and again.
please please please.
one time one time one time.
158 doesn't matter anymore.
there's a razor in my room.
here. on my desk.
so close, so close.
it's in my hand.
it's in my hand.
it's in my hand.
everythings so dark and fuzzy.
can't feel much.
slipping...
there's a razor in my room.
here, on my desk.
here, in my hand.
here, on my wrist.
here, please let this end.
end................

not much to say.
therapy yesterday. my family is fucked up. possibly even more so than me.
eva & mom still want me to go inpatient.
ha fucking ha. yeah right.
job's going okay.
haven't cut in 157 days. want to. bad.
today's my half birthday.
eating is hell. purging.. restricting.. fat..
depression = death.
enough.

don't really have anything to say, just wanted to update this to let you know i am alive even if i don't want to be.

when words come, i will write.

until then, i love you guys and i'm trying so hard... i really am...

x-posted in od.

it's taken a long time to formulate words to type out an entry. words - they have become a foreign entity, and it is had to form sentences, to put into words what i have been feeling and experiencing. i think i have something now:

the feelings of depression i feel have been paramount; undescriblably bad. like, suicidal bad. no, i am not planning to kill myself, but i can't deny the presences of thoughts and ideas. i can't deny how bad i have crashed and how prevalent the darkness is. how the pain seeps through every pore of my skin and burns and scratches at the surface of my skin, begging for a razorblade to cut and feel the sting of crimson release. oh, how i want to give in. some how i have resisted. yet, in writing this, i am not so sure this will continue. three people who self-injure (two cutters, one burner) have been in my check-out line at work in the three weeks that i've worked there. sadly, one girl purchased an x-acto knife. her eyes were sad. mine are sad. i want to cut. i want it so bad and it is so hard and i don't know if or how i am going to make it. i just don't know. these are not simply doubts and hesitations, but anxiety that runs through my mind in such chaos that i can not think of anything other than the imminent self-destruction i fear will soon follow in the wake of this depression.

i need to deal with my eating disorder. well, not deal, yet rather talk about it. it is here and strong and it is not going away. pretending i am fine is doing nothing. let me get it out in the open and just say it: i am struggling. i am restricting and purging. i do not have the strength or energy to exercise. i do not have a state identification card to purchase diet pills. i do not have the ability to fake a smile and pretend i am fine anymore. because i'm not okay at all. i see myself falling into the same disordered thought processes and behavior as i was at the depths of my anorexia. my thinking pattern and distorted thoughts and imge of myself now and then is strikingly and frighteningly the same. and this scares me.

therapy tonight went well. we explored a few things we never had before, one being my diagnosis. as i am beginning the admitting process to the community college in frederick, i met with a counselor and the disability service coordinator. his name is sven and he is a really nice person. obviously, i have a permanent and severe vision disability that limits me in different aspects. due to this, they will waive my tuition, which is an enormous financial relief and one that is much needed since both my family and i are definitely not capable or have the resources to afford college what so ever. in accordance with this, sven has been informed by the department of rehab services that i also have an emotional disability. i am supposed to have a psychiatric evaluation and report from eva or dr.terry, so in therapy tonight eva and i focused on my diagnosis, and establishing one that reflects the true situation i am in mentally as of present. previously, my diagnosis was clounded by diagnosis marked with "not otherwise specified" at the end. eva and i both acknowledge that, as much as we don't like putting labels on things, that "nos" is just a way of herding me into a category that my psychiatrists didn't want to deal with because she is a)lazy and b)incompetent and c)has a heavy caseload with little time to devote individual attention to patients. that being said, eva said we should review the dsm-iv and get a better diagnosis clarified, because not only was my previous one incorrect, but my anxiety disorder was not even documented, and sven needs to have it written down for my file because he said he can provide accomodations in relation to testing separately (test anxiety) and not having me do speeches orally in class, and rather having me do them indivually with the professor/teacher (severe public speaking anxiety and social phobia.) so, as of now, my diagnosis stands at:

Major Depressive Disorder, chronic & severe, no psychotic feautures
Social Anxiety Disorder
Anorexia Nervosa, purging type
Primary Insomnia

so that's how i stand. basically, i'm fucked up. but we all knew that. :) i don't want to focus on the diagnosis too much. but i guess it was good that we settled it all. my mom is calling me for dinner, so i need to go think up an excuse of why i can not consume the meal she has prepared. i leave you with an apology for my abscence and withdrawal, and my essay i wrote for my placement test to be admitted to frederick community college as a writing test to determine class placement. (topic: state whether you agree or disagree on a quote written by hemingway). eva made a copy of it for her file because, she says, it is "beautifully written and i should believe it even if i made it up." so, i leave you with my thoughts and words, and the hope that you all are doing well.

"When it is dark enough you can see the stars." These few words, spoken by Helen Keller, were whispered to me by a close friend on a cold, December night when I found myself struggling to make it through another day; to see through the pain and grow stronger in its wake. Ernest Hemingway's quote, "At some point in everyone's life, the world breaks us; but some, some grow stronger in the broken places," is strikingly parallel to that of Helen Keller's, and relates, almost eerily, to my own experience. Therefore, in retrospect and in present, I concur with Hemingway's statement.

I believe what Hemingway was trying to convey is that, even through depair and times of heartache and sorrow, there are some that rise above their demons, face them, and ultimately grow stronger in the challenges they've faced, and the obstacles they've overcome. For example, in recent world affairs, such as the devastation of Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath, people and families of those afflicted have gone through unspeakable depths of turmoil, yet have risen above the darkness and found the courage to survive and hold on to the little fragments of hope they still have.

I, too, have fought this fight of pain and grief, have looked in the mirror and saw no hope, have searched through the darkness in search of a light that failed to be. With hope wavering and time passing, I thought myself to be destined for an eternity of melancholy days and lonely nights, yet I grasped at the fragile strings of faith that time would heal all wounds. It took me many tears and strength I didn't know I had to see that I was not merely a broken girl caught in the throes of depression, but a resilient being that, despite doubts and fears, could rise above all else.

Through tragedy and pain, death and loss, some fail to find the strenth to rise above, for they are so immersed in the struggles that they face and the hurdles they must jump that they can not see a better day. However, there are others who experience the same suffering, yet, regardless of their troubles, have the ability to hold on to hope no matter how small or far away it seems. These people, as Hemingway implies, undoubtedly have been broken, but possess the unwavering courage to rise above the ruins and gathet the strength to mend those broken pieces.

"At some point in everyone's life, the world breaks us; but some, some become strong in the broken places." Hemingway's words resonate with hope and understanding that was does not kill us makes us stronger, and that, if nothing else, when light is lost and faith is gone, do not give up. A friend once said to me: sweep a pathway through your dreams, the world is waiting at your feet. And that, in all its entity, keeps me going. When times get hard, I know I am not broken. I am merely piecing together what is already there, knowing some day everything will come together.

do not give up, my beautiful girls. (and kyle and alex, of course.)

nothing to say except i'm not okay.

this is my breaking point.
no more.
no more.
no more.
fuck it i said fuck it.
sorry, but it hurts so much
so much.
so much.
cutcutcutcutcutcutcut

not much to say... when words come to me, i'll update. sorry. everything is spiralling down, and it takes too much to think...

thanks to everyone (megan, nina, kyle, sarah) who noted me on my last entry. you made me smile. :)

i've been trying to get dusty to sit still to take a picture but its hard when he's so squirmy. silly boy. maybe i can get him to later.

i need a paycheck. badly. i get one on friday but it is probably only about fifty bucks or so since i just started. at least it's something. i owe my mom $200 rent on saturday, and my cell phone bill, plus i have all of this shit i want to buy...

depression is so lovely, it's killing me, fun fun fun. not. i am drugged on codene and it makes me so tired and i just want to die and megan thank you for your offer about the hospital money but... its so expensive and we cant afford it and no way could i ever let you help pay for it and im not "sick enough" and i dunno, its so expensive. fuck insurance. believe me, if i had the opportunity to go some place like menninger or renfrew or someplace and i thought i needed it and could afford it, i'd be there in a second. but right now i am fat and depressed and losing my mind and have absolutely no money and neither do my parents. but thank you for what you said. its really toucvhing and im glad i have someone like you in my life.

i am getting very shaky i need to lie down, codene is kicking my ass...

kyle: you rock my socks. "i be this way today, mmmmmkay?" "i be drugged up on codene"

love you all. excuse my weirdness, yay for drugs!

it's been a while. i haven't written due to a short-lived computer virus and a smoldering depression that has robbed me of the energy or interest of doing anything but sleeping. i've said it before and i'll say it again: the depression is bad. b a d. thoughts of suicide and death have made their way into my mind once more, seeping slowly into my skin and infecting every muscle, every tendon, every bone, until it is inside of me; strong and profound. do i have a plan? no. but that comes with time.

aside from the monstrous depression killing me softly, i have not cut myself or taken pills in 132 days. i have, however, binged, purged, starved, and starved some more over and over and over. a great alternative, i know. but what can i say. i don't know my weight because our scales batteries are dead. this infuriates me. i do not have money to buy more, nor am i about to inform my mom that my scale is broken and i need money for new batteries, hence bringing her denial full circle and screaming "yes, mom, i weigh myself six million times a day. buy me some batteries, damn it!" yeah. right.


in other news, i got a job at michaels working seasonal/part time. i started on monday. it's been good so far. michaels is a very peaceful, crafty place. i fit in there. it's quiet and calm and i like it. i have a discount there which is the icing on the cake seeing as i spend way too much money there in the first place. i get along good with the other employees and my managers a real nice guy. it's good. however, it is one of the hardest things in the world to force myself to crawl out of bed for work a few days a week when depression is raining down so hard i can barely take it. it's hard. it hurts. but i am trying. i ma trying. unfortunately, it's not exactly working. keeping up a facade is very difficult. i seem to have lost my knack. i used to be such a good faker of smiles, a good liar, a good "i'm fine, really". but no. not anymore. nearly every person i see asks me what's wrong or gives me a concerned look. for christs sake, the fucking taxi driver spilled her life's story and dealings with depression to me after she decided to take it upon herself to point out that "you look depressed, dear. i used to have depression-" blah, blah, blah.


we also got a kitten. his name is dusty. he's about twelve to thirteen weeks, grey and white, adorable and loving. he is the sunshine in my day right now. other than him and my job, life is shit and i would rather not be living it. i am struggling with my depression so badly i can't even describe it. even eva has prompted and asked if i needed to be hospitalized. ha fucking ha. over my dead body. of course she didn't like that idea very much. she still loves to remind me, all the time, that just because i am eighteen does not mean they cannot force me to seek inpatient treatment for an eating disorder and/or depression and suicidal thoughts. yeah, yeah. fuck you, too.


and to top it all off, my fucking wisdom teeth are coming in. like, right now. my mom and i went to the oral suregon yesterday and i am scheduled to have surgery in about two weeks, once the insurance covers it. they were going to give me a general anesthetic in the regular hospital but because of the medication i'm on the dentist said he would rather have it done in his office, with a local anesthetic and laughing gas. fuck. right now i am taking aleve and tylonel with codene every four hours, sneaking extra here and there to dull the pain and escape from the darkness. two more weeks of this and i'll be a codeine addict. fun. after the surgery i get breakfasts of penicillin. oh boy. i am not thrilled about this. at all.


life is just great. just fucking fantastic.


and i miss my faceyo... i love you vanessa and i hope you get better soon.

i wouldn't mind dying right now.

i don't really know why i'm writing. i don't really have anything to say. guess just wanted to do a little update of some things.

i go for another interview at michaels on monday at 10 a.m. i'm nervous and i really hope i get the job. i need money badly. i've been broke ever since i got back from vanessa's... ahhhh i need money.

on monday i am also hoping to go to frederick community college and look into registering for my classes and taking placement tests. i want to take general ed classes and get them out of the way (math, english, science, history) and then take criminal justice, psychology, creative writing, health, art maybe. i really need to be back in school. i need structure. all this staying at home during the day is driving me insane. all i do is sleep. of course, that's all i want to do, but i think going to school will be good for me. i am worried i will get stressed out being a full-time student and working part-time but i feel pressured to. my parents expect me to. especially my dad. he expects me to be out there applying for jobs even now to secure one for when i go to school. that pisses me off because i haven't even gotten my first job yet, and i am under pressure and i always break under pressure. it sucks.

anyway. today makes 124 days cut-free. i was really close to breaking last night. dealing with a lot of anger and depression, i felt like saying fuck it and just cutting. what did it matter. all i wanted to do was bleed and feel some kind of release. i hate this. in the end, i talked to vanessa for a bit, took my meds and some aleve for my headache, and went to bed. i had really weird dreams and didn't fall asleep for a long time, but somehow managed to stay away from where there are sharp objects. so go me.

depression's still kicking my ass.

eating... blah. i don't want to talk about it. my weight keeps bouncing around and i hate myself. my mom has been watching me ever since she talked to eva about me going inpatient, which i don't need. i guess she's convinced that if she realized i am relapsing then it's a perfect way to get me to go into real treatment. ha ha ha. i laugh in the face of danger. ha ha ha ha. (anybody see the lion king, lol) i refuse, so fuck them. if i need it, i'll go. otherwise, they can kiss my ass.

and in tv world, ER premiers on thursday!!!!! i am so fucking excited and i saw a preview for it and it looks good and they are adding three new cast members and i'm just like ahhhhhhhh i can't wait! and law & order:svu premiers on tuesday which is amazing and oh my god i can't wait. on wednesday i have an appointment with my DORS counselor and therapy so that will be a long day but oh well it will keep me busy and hopefully i won't eat. yeah. but i'm going to miss dr.carter. he is so sexy and i love him and it won't be the same ahhhh no, but i still have dr.pratt and shane west (i cant remember his tv doctor name) and i love luka too and abby and everyone, ah just er is my life. as you can see i am obsessed. yes.

ummm my dad's sick so i can't go see him. and my brother jack has terrible poison ivy all over his face and eyes and neck and arms and i feel bad for him. mike came home this weekend and i didn't even get to see him because they went over to my uncles house. :( i miss him even though i say i don't sometimes. he's my twin, i can't help but miss him and his annoyingness.

well i guess i had more to say than i thought. i'm off to go research classes at fcc and maybe clean my room. god, i clean it every day and it still gets messy. i have like ocd with room cleaning, i swear. sometimes i mess it up just to clean it again. yeah, i'm weird.

okay, i'm going now. bye love you all and christie i'm glad you had fun at your hanson concert!!!!!!

(excuse the randomness of this entry. i have now had four cups of tea and i am bouncing off the walls.) weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

this entry is about emotional/verbal/sexual abuse, assault, and mistreatment. do not read this if this triggers you or if you are unsafe. you have been warned.

i don't know why i'm writing this. again, i find myself before the white screen of the computer, wondering what to say to fill this void. this is so hard to talk about, but i need to get it out. therapy last night was extremely painful and hard. in the end, however, i think it was beneficial. i guess i'd blocked out a lot more than i originally thought in regards to the abuse/mistreatment i've gone through. i blocked it out because of the pain it caused me to remember, to deal with it. somehow, i let my gaurd down in therapy. it all started coming back to me. more and more, bits and pieces i'd forgotten. i'm writing this... maybe it will be a cleansing type thing. a mental purge, perhaps. here goes nothing...

andrew. brown hair, brown eyes, cute smile. he was my first boyfriend. our relationship started four days aftre my twelfth birthday. we had been friends since the beginning of school in september, though. he was in my gym class. he was sweet and funny, but known to many as a "bad boy," a rebel, a trouble-maker. but to me he was none of these. i was young, nieve, and twelve, so i jumped at the opportunity to join the list of sixth grade girls with boyfriends. andrew was good to me. he treated me like a princess. i felt special, loved, and wanted. we went on real dates often. to the movies, to the ice-skating rink, out to dinner, hanging out at his house, walking around the playground at the elementary school just talking as we lounged on the swingset. i didn't know what i was doing but i liked the way he treated me. it made me so happy and giddy. our relationship was nothing but positive. we dated for almost nine months. he was there through good times and bad. he helped me cope through the horror my grandmother's death. and then he broke up with me in early november. there was no fight. no reason. it was just over. just like that. later on, i found out that he dumped me because we were "going far enough" physically. this confused me because he had never pressured me or expressed interest in doing so. i was twelve, though, and definitely not ready to do anything sexual with someone other than kissing, hugging, and holding hands. but i guess it just didn't satisfy andrew. aside from that, i only have good memories of our relationship. i am including this to note the progression from good relationships to bad.

a couple months after my break up with andrew, a friend introduced me to jahmal. he was quiet and soft-spoken, but gentle and kind. he was liked by many and was very friendly and outgoing. deep inside, though, he was extremely troubled. he was manic-depressive, and suicidal. i didn't know how to deal with it, seeing as i, myself, had become suicidal, too, due to a variety of things i was dealing with. eventually, we became a "couple" and had a few months of notes, phone calls, and spending time together after school. the severity of his mental illness scared me, and i talked to the school guidance counselor and sought help for him. he appreciated it, but our relationship fizzeled out after that. it wasn't too upsetting since we weren't close to begin with. but again, i found myself asking why every relationship ended and i felt more and more discarded.

next comes the hard part: johnny. it was october of eighth grade, i was thirteen. johnny was loud, outgoing, and very popular. he practically had his own entourage. he was in my science class and started passing notes to me on a just-friends basis. on day he asked me to be his girlfriend. on the rebound from several relationships gone wrong, i said yes. this lasted exactly one day. i was confused. at lunch the next day he asked me out again. my answer? yes. don't ask me why. i don't know. maybe because i wanted to be liked and special and wanted. my dad was emotionally absent at this time due to his profound grief over his mothers/my grandmothers death. i craved some sort of nurturing special relationship that i felt was lacking from my father. i don't even know if that makes sense. so i took him back. immediatel;y, i felt that he had a sort of control over me. i was inferior (a.k.a. not as popular and therefore not equal.) he made the rules and chose when and how he wanted to discard me like a piece of trash and then take me back at his discretion. everytime i said yes. i didn't feel strong enough to do otherwise. i was scared. our constant break-ups left me feeling worthless and ashamed. i didn't understand why he kept doing this. i felt like i mattered to no one; like a slut no one wanted but was good if they had none other. our tumultuous relationship only got worse. emotional/verbal abuse started and continued strong. i started feeling very uncomfotable around him. he made me kiss him in class one day despite my refusal, then again every time we were out with my friends. he made a show out of it. i felt embarrassed and used. he came to our house several times for band practice with my brothers. they would play their guitars and drums in the basement. i was upstairs in the rocking chair reading when johnny came up to get a drink. he saw me, came over, pulled me out of the rocking chair, sat down, pulled me close, and started kissing me. each time was longer than the last. fear and anxiety surged through me. the fact that we were alone in a room while everyone else was far away terrified me. i felt pressured to go farther. i felt like no one could save me if things got out of hand. it stopped after that and he went back to playing drums. a couple days later he broke up with me again. he told everyone that i came onto him. he humiliated me and read the notes i'd written to him aloud to our science class, watching and grinning as my face turned a deep shade of red. he called me fat and ugly. his friends started confronting me online and in person and ridiculing me for dating him. "you're fat, no one like you, you ugly bitch." "no one will every want you." and i believed them. i believed them all. after our last and final break up in may - eight months of hell - he lost interest. thank god. after that, everything fell apart. i blamed myself for ever saying yes each time. i felt so worthless, used, and degraded. that's when i started cutting, burning, and starving myself. self-hatred flooded my self-image. worthless. fat. ugly. whore. and the thoughts never left me. never.

time passed between my next relationship evolved. i was scared and timid, i didn't want to be in another relationship. but again, it happened. again, i said yes. again, it was my fault. ryan came into my life shortly after ninth grade started, right before homecoming. we got along well, he was mutual friends with mine, and we went to the dance together and dated for a month or so after. then it ended. another chance at a seemingly normal relationship gone. why did everyone leave me? why did this keep happening? was it me? did i do something wrong? was i so worthless that no one wanted me? my anorexia heightened during this time. i basically stopped eating, exercised like a maniac, and lost fifty pounds in four months. i lose myself in depression and cutting. i lost myself. lost. lost. lost.

two more seemingly pointless relationships. i kept jumping into relationship after relationship. whore. i felt the need for acceptance, love, the feeling of being special and pretty and wanted. along comes jeff. i was a freshman and jeff was a senior. we had gym together as well as the same lunch period. he was anorexic, as was i, and we got to know each other because we were the only people not eating lunch in our circle of friends. he was previously involved with alex, a close friend of mine. after they broke up, he moved on to me. making his way around the circle. i felt like i was betraying my friend, but alex said it was okay. so begins the relationship. we basically only hung out at school because i was fifteen and he was eighteen and my parents would have kiilled me. summer started and we hung out sometimes. one day he invited me and kelly to get coffee. we went and while we ordered kelly said she was going to "leave us alone to have some fun." jeff really went on that idea. he kissed me and i kissed back. anxiety rose in my chest. i thought of all the times i felt i had been used, abused, violated, pressured. he told me to open my mouth wider - instructing me on the "right" way to kiss him. his hands began to wander; moving from my back to my breasts, to my stomach. down farther. something inside me broke, i was terrified, and i pushed him off me, got out of the car, and told him, tears in my eyes, that i "couldn't do this anymore." we never spoke again after that. when i went back inside to kelly's, she jumped up and down and asked "did you make out? did you make out?" excitement in her voice. i nodded a weak yes but kept it to myself how pressured i felt to be intimate with him after only knowing him a short while. again, i felt dirty and violated. i felt like guys only talked to me and dated me because they thought they could get some, thought i would just willingly fuck them or satisfy their sexual fantasies. i blamed myself because i kissed him back. my fault, of course. worthless, of course. dirty, of course. whore, of course. fat, ugly, stupid, of course. of course. another one gone wrong. another scar to my heart. another bruise that never fades.

june. tenth grade was over. michael, crystal and i ran away. we went to josh's house, a friend of michaels. they went off together, leaving me alone with josh. i was sixteen and he was twenty. and then it happened. he told me to get in his bed. no, please no. get in my bed. no, no, no. pressured, vulnerable, terrified, shaking. i sat on the edge of his bed, tears streaming down my face. he told me to lie down. loosen up, loosen up. it's okay, i won't hurt you. fear, so much fear. loosen up, loosen up. i felt paralyzed, trapped, uinable to move even though my mind screamed to leave the room immediatley. but i was frozen. absolutely frozen and scared. loosen up, loosen up. stop. stop. stop. he began to touch me. his fingers swept across my skin. neck, breasts, stomach, thighs. over, over, over. touching, feeling, robbing me of innocence. lost the strength to move. i was terrified he would rape me. i felt it coming. eventually i pushed him off of me, stumbled to the bathroom, broke apart a shaving razor and cut myself until the bathroom floor was stained crimson. the scars from that night are still there. a reminder of that night. punishment. my fault, of course. i got in his bed. never mind the fact that i was scared, pressured, frozen, afraid, vulnerable. never mind. of course, my fault. of course. when i hear the words "loosen up" i cringe. when someone says the name josh i start shaking. i feel his hands crawling over me. i still hear his voice. i still remember. it will never go away. it will never stop haunting me. it will always be there. always.

so why does this happen? why can't i say no? why does it feel like it's always my fault even when, sometimes, i recognize that it's not? why do people treat me like i'm nothing, a worthless girl who can be used and abused and violed and mistreated to the point of self-destruction and self-hatred? why? why? i wish i knew the answers. i wish i knew why. i wish i knew why.

and all of this has hand an impact on me physically and emotionally. i believe a large part of my anorexia is due to the abuse and mistreatment i've experienced over the years. weighed down (pardon the pun) by abuseful words, negative comments, name-calling (fat, stupid, ugly), and the overwhelming feeling of worthlessness and pressure to do things i did not want to do or was not ready or comfortable about doing all fueled the fire that brought my eating disorder to life. of course, there is the whole control factor that plays in to my eating disorder, which i believe is the core reason, but this ties into it, too. also, in a way, self-starvation to the point of grotesque emaciation was desirable to rid my body of womanly qualities (breasts, hips, ass) so as to ward off things of a sexual nature to avoid the past. cutting/self-injury began shortly after the relationship with johnny, and continued long after and up until now. i believe it had an impact on my addiction to hurting myself. however, i believe the horrid depression, anxiety, eating disorder, poor self-esteem, family and friend problems, and a need to release things were also contributors to my cutting. even more so than the abuse/bad relationships. i released my pain in blood. i also cut to punish myself for these things, to enforce the fact that i was worthless and didn't deserve not to cut myself. sometimes, when the pain became too much or the memories too haunting, i would dissociated and become numb to it all. to bring myself back to reality, to "feel alive," i would cut myself. because i felt numb and out of it, i generally cut very badly.

this is long winded and sometimes repetitive, but i needed desperately to get it out. maybe it will help heal some of these wounds. i don't know. the thoughts are overwhelming. the pain a roaring hinderance to sleep and functioning. the memories a haunting and unrelenting presence that never leaves. never leaves. and so i'm back at square one: hating myself, remembering it all, haunted by the pain and memories, wondering why, and never finding any answers. and still, it hurts so bad.

i satisfy my bordeom with being a camera whore.

( Read more... )

oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. keith, the manager at michaels craft store, called me. he wants me to come in for an interview. fuck fuck fuck i am soooo nervous. i have thirty minutes until a taxi comes to take me and fuck i am going to die because i look like shit and i'm fat and i don't know what to say or do or act like and what if i mess up and what if i can't see what to do at the register because of my vision and fuck things up and FUCK I'M SCARED!!!!!!!!

i'll be okay. i think. once i leave. lol. wish me luck... i need this job. update later to tell you if i got it.

eva,

i sit writing this, two a.m., bleary-eyed and wondering what i'm going to say. i guess i know, but sometimes it's hard to figure out until the words come spilling from my mouth onto paper. anyway, the reason i'm writing this is because a lot has happened in the week since i've seen you, and i feel the need to write it out otherwise i'll probably forget to mention everything i want to say. sorry, again, for another letter. i know they must be getting annoying. but sometimes it's just easier for me to write it out than to speak the words that hurt so bad.

i had a breakdown on thursday or friday. i was scared and alone and depressed. i was feeling all of these feeling and didn't know how to deal with them without, of course, hurting myself. i decided to overdose. i wanted the escape, the floaty, numbing, break from reality that would surely, i figured, make this go away. [this was not a suicide attempt] i swallowed fifteen pills, promptly spit them out, and called vanessa. i guess i panicked. i didn't want to break 118 days of no pills. i didn't want something bad to happen and wind up in the emergency room trying to explain that i wasn't attempting suicide. so i didn't take them. an act of strength? i don't think so. more like fear. the thoughts were so strong. the two hours between the time that i took the pills and the time that my mom came home were agony. i sat, anxious, scared and crying. when she came home i took her in my room, handed her my pills and said "i think you should take these back." we talked for awhile about different things. i tried to explain how bad this depression is, how much it hurts to will myself to get out of bed, how everything is shaded dark and undertones of something better are gone. i slept restlessly. i can't remember the next few days. it's all a haze of more depression, more tears, more minutes spent wishing this would end.

the next day i couldn't deal with the depression any longer. it had been building and building and i felt like i was going to snap. my solution: hurt myself. of course. i went back in forth in my mind... do i cut or burn or purge or take pills. which one, which one. i tried to distract myself by reading, writing, talking to vanessa, going for a late walk, scrapbooking. but i couldn't shake the thoughts of self-destruction. i gave in. i numbed my skin with ice, then burned it with an eraser. my hand looks like shit. of all places that's where i chose to do it. i don't know why. of course my mom saw it and asked if i'd cut myself. i said no. she said it looked like a cut and i responded with the lame excuse of "i fell."

i guess it doesn't help matters that, while looking through old journals, i discovered that my lowest weight was 94 lbs, not 97. it just makes me want to go lower and lower. lower and lower.

on sunday my mom came home from work and i went in her room and we started talking. she asked "what do we want to do about this eating, body image thing of yours?" she said that she'd talked to you about eating disorder treatment and seeking it now because i wasn't going to school and didn't have a job that way it wouldn't interfere with either. i still maintain that i refuse to go because i am not sick or thin enough. sure, that's the eating disorder talking, but i don't care. i can't go like this. this fat. i know you don't believe me when i say i'm fat... but that's how scary this is, this disorder and distortion get inside my head and it's what i know and i hate how i tear everyone apart and how it makes me feel like i am worthless. i told my mom that if i really thought i needed inpatient/residential treatment then i would tell her and ask for help. i don't even know why i'm saying this, i needed to get it out.

i'll see you on wednesday. sorry again for this letter. it's just easier to write sometimes... thanks for listening.

-rebecca

tears.
fall.
from.
these.
eyes.
they.
fall.
fall.
fall.
fall.

i can't stop crying. something is wrong with me. it is not this normal to cry to a song that doesn't even really relate to you... much. it is not normal. i am not lying or exaggerating when i say i have cried to this song for the past thirty-seven minutes. crying, bawling, body-racking sobs that make me shake. my eyes are swollen red. they hurt and burn. my face is tear-stained. i'm shaking. the lyrics rush through my head. she dreams she's dancin', around and around without any care...

i think i am having a nervous breakdown. it's normal and fine to be touched by a song and cry a little if it's close to home or written well or with a beautiful voice. but... not for thirty-six minutes. not to a song. and after crying, it is not normal to pace in the kitchen back and forth ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod trying to convince yourself not to press that knife into your skin. it is not normal to walk around your house shaking and mumbling and trying to find pills, any pills, to swallow and make this nightmare go away.

something is definitely wrong here.

i think, if i look at it logically, which is hard, that this is just the tip of the iceburg. the song is beautiful and touching and sad and honestly painful. it is so real. so true. it touched me and made me cry and cry. but this is not it. i am relating to it on a deeper level somehow. the part where the soft, sultry voice sings "and she dreams she's dancin, around and around without any care" just cuts me so hard. in some twisted way, i relate this to myself and cry and cry because this depression is so terrible and i dream and hope and wish and pray it would go away and i dream and remember and reminisce of times when i was happy. when i would go running through the green grass behind my elementary school. laughing and playing with friends who have now left and abandoned me. i was so carefree, dancing to life's music.

and now here i am: broken, depressed, my voice with out a sound, music just a far away melody, pain screaming through the silence of my tortured existance. lying in bed at night, tears trickling slowly down the paleness of my skin, wondering.. why, how, what can i do, to make this go away. why can't i be happy, feel better, live, dance, feel alive. just... be. with out this darkness raining down upon me.

it hurts and bleeds even more because i have been this way so long and i don't know how to make it go away. i try and i try and it doesn't and i don't understand because i don't mean to be this way. i am so sorry... so sorry to you all... i just wish this would end.

sarabeth closes her eyes
and she dreams she's dancing
around and around
without any cares
and her very first love
is holding her close
and the wind sofly blows through her hair...

*cries* god, i am so sorry... i am so sorry... *cries*
(full lyrics on last entry)

i just heard the saddest/most beautiful song i think i've ever heard:

Sara Beth is scared to death
To hear what the doctor will say
She hasn't been well, since the day that she fell
And the bruise just won't go away

So she sits and she waits with her mother and dad
And flips through an old magazine
Till the nurse with the smile stands in the door
And says will you please come with me

Sara Beth is scared to death
Cause the doctor just told her the news
Between the red cells and white, something's not right
But we're gonna take care of you

Six chances in ten, it won't come back again
With the therapy we're gonna try
It's just been approved, it's the strongest there is
And I think that we caught it in time
And Sara Beth closes her eyes.

Chorus:
And she dreams she's dancing
Around and around without any cares
And her very first love is holding her close
And a soft wind is blowing her hair

Sara Beth is scared to death
As she sits holding her mom
Cause it would be a mistake for someone to take
A bald headed girl to the prom

For just this morning, right here on her pillow
Was the cruelest of any surprise
And she cried when she gathered it all in her hands
The proof that she couldn't deny
And Sara Beth closes her eyes

Chorus:
And she dreams she's dancing
Around and around without any cares
And her very first love is holding her close
And a soft wind is blowing her hair

Bridge
It's quarter to seven, that boy's at the door
And her daddy ushers him in
And when he takes off his cap
They all start to cry
Cause this morning where his hair had all been
Softly she touches just skin

And they go dancing, around and around
Without any cares
And her very first true love is holding her close
And for a moment she isn't scared


isn't that so sad yet beautiful... its by rascall flatts, a country group. i heard it on my moms radio station. will write a real entry later. just wanted to post this.

this is just a brief entry because my brother needs the computer for homework. do you guys like my new layout? took me an hour, lol. sooo... update on me:

i am absolutely drowning in depression. it hasn't been this bad since i attempted suicide in feburary. i'm surprised by how fast this has taken over. i hate it so much. i swallow my happy pills and go to therapy and try to release everything healthily through writing, drawing, etc., but no use. yeah, lately i have done a few self-destructive things, but other than that i have been clean. but still, this darkness persists. and i can't take much more. there is only so much one can take until they break down. i'm basically at that point. and i do not want to end up in the hospital again... but everyone is hinting at it. (please don't make me go.)

currently, i have not cut, done pills, purged, burned, or drank in quite a while. (see last entries stats). the only behavior i'm engaging in is starving/restricting and i really can't give that up right now. i need something and this eating disorder has wrapped itself around me too hard to just let go now. i can't. i feel like i am stuck. and waves of depression are drowing me and i don't know how to stay above water. i don't... and i'm just sinking farther and farther away.

i apologize for my entries depressing tones lately, but i figure i have to get it out somehow so... this is it. i have been living in bed, not doing anything, just wanting to sleep and sleep and hide away from everyone. it's not good but i can barely make myself get up in the morning. i talked to my dors (department of rehabilitation services) counselor today. he is such a sweet man. he told me i am one of the most favorite people that he works with, so that made me feel good. we set up an appointment for two weeks to discuss me getting a job, transportation to and from that job (because of my vision disability) and my depression. he wants to know how he can help me, and he wants to talk about that part, too. i am tempted to break down and tell him everything and have them cart me off to some hospital, but i don't know. i don't really need to be there right now. i am not suicidal (ok, maybe a little, but definitely not planning anything.) i don't know, i just... am so fucking unhappy and i see no end to it. i don't think i will end up in the hospital, in all reality. i am just saying that i haven't been lying about how i feel lately and i don't want to continue it because it never helps and then i reach a breaking point that isn't very pleasant; i.e. attempting suicide, overdosing, etc... i don't know, i just... wish this would go away. i need help. i need to make this end. and i am so sick of this all. depression, severe depression, is the worst thing i have ever experienced in my life... it is my life right now. i wish they sold happiness on e-bay. :(

i'd better go... will write tomorrow.

i need your love to hold me up
when it's all too much to bear
and when the night falls in around me
i don't think i'll make it through


so i went to therapy. a lot was said, a lot was felt. i wanted to cry but tears would not come. i showed her my pictures i've been drawing and she said i am a talented artist and a sad girl drawing her pain and she gave me a big hug. i just wanted to stand there forever and cry so hard. nothing is okay. i haven't felt this bad since i attempted suicide in february. darkness is all around, inside of me, seeping through my skin, cutting my veins, surround me, my everything. i can't take this. i am so unmotivated to do anything. the depression and anxiety are paralyzing. i can't get out of bed. when noon rolls around, sometimes i stumble out of bed, get in the shower, cry, and go back to bed because i can't face anything. other times, i lay in bed until my mom comes home and i tel her i've been up all day doing various things. she knows i'm lying. today she dragged me out of bed and took me to get new job applications and i came home and locked myself in my room and cried as i filled them out because i don't want a job and i am scared and anxious and the idea of getting a job and seeing people terrifies me. absolutely terrifies me. i am so scared and uptight and on the brink of falling apart. eva asked me if i was suicidal and/or if the depression was bad enough that i needed to be hospitalized. i shook my head no... but felt my insides turn as i knew deep down how bad the depression really is. i tried to convey it to her, and i know she got the message, but in honesty i am not suicidal so i refuse to be hospitalized... but i just... can't take this. all i want to do is sleep and hide and not face anyone or anything. this is draining me. i am so tired and exhausted from this all. and i hate being like this. i hate worrying my family. i hate worrying you all. i hate feeling so terrible like this. but that's how it is. and i'm sorry. despite the depression:


purge free days: 2
cut free days: 114
pill free days: 114
burn free days: 15


of course, i'm restricting instead.

and none of this seems to count, or matter, because of the horrendous depression and anxiety consuming me. everything is dark and i am drowning. drowning. falling. and i can't save myself anymore...

x-posted to od

your words to me, just a whisper
your face is so unclear
i try to pay attention
your words just disappear
cause it's always raining in my head
forget all the things i should have said
so i speak to your in riddles
cause my words get in the way
i smoked the whole thing to my head
and feel it wash away
cause i can't take any more of this
i want to come apart
and dig myself a little hole
inside your precious heart
cause it's always raining in my head
forget all the things i should have said
i am just a little boy inside
who cries out for attention
yet i always to try to hide
cause i talk to you like children
though i don't know how i feel
but i know i'll do the right thing
if the right thing is revealed
cause it's always raining in my head
forget all the things i should i have said
it's always raining in my head...
[staind.epiphany]

i attempted suicide to that song. i attempted suicide to that song. i attempted suicide to that song. i attempted suicide to that song.


i failed at my attempt.


i don't know what to do, say, or think. nothing matters anymore; this depression has stolen so much and my motivation is gone. i haven't found a job, nor filled out applications. i haven't registered for school in january, taken my placement tests, or gone through the process of setting up a meeting with a counselor and deciding on my schedule. i haven't done any of this and i don't want to and i don't even know if i will, i just can't handle this or anything and all i want to do is hide and sleep and waste away and just... fade. i haven't cut in one hundred and thirteen days, nor have i done pills in that long. i have not drank in two weeks, i think, nor have i purged in about one. i am eating some, i guess. a yogurt here and there. except the past few days my dad took us out to dinner while we were visiting him so i ended up eating. i am so drained and tired from this feeling of enveloping, consuming, drowning depression that is taking over everything. i don't know how to escape it. i am teetering on the edge of cutting. i am so, so, exhausted from this all. i need a break. i need to escape. i need something more than this. i have therapy tomorrow and i don't even know what to say. my mom asked me if i was suicidal on friday. i laughed. i don't even know the answer to the question. i just... don't. i'm not okay. i'm not okay. i'm not okay... and i am falling apart and i hate it and i'm sorry. i just can't take this...

x-posted in od

MY WRITER'S BLOCK BROKE!! 2 poems:

Book of Lies

I’m just a sinner on a scale,
Wishing this would end.
On a crash course road to hell,
To fix a heart I cannot mend.
Don’t believe me when I smile,
Don’t listen - I pretend.
This is my book of lies:
A story with not end.
I cannot stop the tears
That flood from crying eyes.
I’m lost inside the silence,
Pain hidden, cloaked in lies.
Although I try to shield my wounds,
It’s an act that no one buys.
So I’m screaming to you now,
Look past my false disguise
Suffocate me, whispers rush
They strengthen into screams.
I cannot fight them, do not try
As they flood into my dreams.
Darkness fills my hollow bones,
Soaks them till they gleam.
Pain seeps through, into my skin,
But the poison is unseen.
It burns, it scalds, it boils over.
This angst is sharp as glass.
My razor blade cuts through fragments,
Breaks through my tear-stained past.
This fight is nearly over.
I don’t think I can last.
Please don’t blame yourselves,
For it’s my fault the truth was masked.

© Rebecca Perkins, 9/2/05

*********************************************

Crash and Burn

Watch me as I crash and burn
And sink into the sea.
You can say you tried,
But don’t waste sympathy on me.
I am broken, lost and scared,
Hurt, abused, and cold.
My scars tell stories, long and short,
Of pain that is untold.
So look a little closer now,
See past the broken lies.
No one sees me as I’m drowning,
Can’t hold on, I close my eyes.

© Rebecca Perkins, 9/2/05

it's like your a drug
it's like a demon i can't face down
it's like i'm stuck
it's like i'm running from you all the time
and i know, i let you have all the power
it's like the only company i seek
is misery all around
it's like you're a leech
sucking the life from me
it's like i can't breathe
without you inside of me
and i know, i let you have all the power
and i realize i'm never gonna quit you over time
it's like i can't breathe
it's like i can't see anything
nothing but you
i'm addicted to you
it's like i can't think
without you in or wrapped in me
in my thoughts, in my dreams
you're taking over me
it's like i'm not me
it's like i'm not me
it's like i'm lost
it's like i'm giving up slowly
it's like your a ghost that's haunting me
leave me alone
and i know, these voices in my head
are mine alone
and i know i'll never change my ways
if i don't give you up now
it's like i can't breathe
it's like i can't see anything
nothing but you
i'm addicted to you
it's like i can't think
without you in or wrapped in me
in my thoughts, in my dreams
you're taking over me
it's like i'm not me
it's like i'm not me
i'm hooked on you, i need a fix
i can't take it
just one more hit, i promise i can deal with it
i've handled it, quit it, just one more time,
then that's it
just a little bit more to get me through this
just one more hit, i promise i can deal with it
i've handled it, quit it, just one more time,
then that's it
just a little bit more to get me through this
it's like i'm not me
it's like i'm not me.
[addicted.kelly clarkson]

that song captures how i feel about my eating disorder right now. i am getting more and more anxious and scared as the days roll on since wednesday. i am scared shitless. i will not go, i will not go, i will not. if i thought i was 'sick enough' i would readily except help, go willingly, and get the most out of the program. but now? why now? i just can't deal with NOW. ugh. im not sick............... am i? i cant see that i am... _{maybe i'm just blind}

cut-free days: 109. the last few days have been kind of hard but i've managed to pull through, somehow, by scrapbooking, writing, and sleeping. i just don't know somedays... i just don't.

i need fucking stamps and stickers and stationery and fuck im broke!!!! anyone care to donate? lol.

i'm off to read.

god saw you getting tired
a cure was not to be
so he wrapped his arms around you
and whispered come to me
a golden heart stopped beating
hard-working hands at rest
god broke our hearts to prove to us
he only takes the best

[poet anonymous]


today is the 6 year anniversary of my grandmothers death. i love you and miss you grandma- you are thought of often and you will never just be a passing thought. you will always be our angel.

r.i.p. shirley perkins.