No conscience but an addiction to pain

The last few days were really strange and it seems like normality doesn’t want to show up again. My mood goes up and down like a roller coaster. And the most important thing is that I don’t know what’s happening to me.
I’ve changed and I’m not sure if in a good or a bad way. Until yesterday, I didn’t even realize it. I’ve turned into a girl I never wanted to be. What’s wrong with me? What am I doing? I love the the ones that hurt me and hurt the ones that love me. Why?
When I was small, I only had three rules for my life: no drugs (no matter if legal or illegal), no betrayal and I promised myself to marry the one man I wanted to be with forever and have kids with. I broke every single rule.
That’s the strange thing about my behavior: when my disorders take over me, I harm myself, when I feel good, I harm others. It’s like I can’t live without causing pain.
And even worse: I never regret anything. The only moments when I experience regret is when it’s got to do something with food. (Like eating ‘too much’)
Is the only love I’m capable of the love for my sister?
I fucking hate being unaware, but I don’t have a clue about myself.
Yesterday, I betrayed my boyfriend. We’ve been together for 2 months so far and we didn’t have sex yet because I can’t sleep with anyone without drugs like alcohol or weed (reason: rape) and he didn’t want to have sex with me in that way and I was so happy to finally have a guy who’s able to wait. The last guy I had fucked another girl because I didn’t want it with him.
And now, for the very first time in my life I have such an honest guy and then I do something like this! Dear conscience, why don’t you exist in my life? Afterwards, I realized I had made a mistake, but I didn’t care and we had our fun for the second time. That’s what I don’t understand: I don’t want to hurt him, but I do it anyway and don’t even feel bad about it! I even promised my best friend I’d never sleep with him because she had already done that and for some reason I don’t understand she doesn’t want two girls to have sex with the same guy. She made out with me, her best friend, but she cares about something like that? She doesn’t even know the man we both had sex with, only his name and that he is really, really good in the bedroom although he doesn’t look that good.
I mean, he wasn’t that good that I was able to have an orgasm, but actually the only person who was ever able to cause an orgasm in my body was myself.
Which is pretty sad.
I never wanted to hurt the very first honest guy in my life, but I did it anyway without regretting it. I’ll do it again tomorrow because I’ll celebrate Sylvester with the same man and we’ll definitely drink something and then we’ll both want each other again. (Although we both don’t have feelings and would never want to have a relationship- it’s more like in ‘friends with benefits’ without the romantic ending.)
I’m addicted to causing pain. If I don’t hurt myself, I hurt others and I’m not sure which one is worse because I only hurt the ones who don’t deserve it.
I’m a slut, okay. But I never wanted to become this bad person I am today.
All I’ve wanted was to be the good girl my parents always wanted me to become.
But the opposite happened.
Now I have a couple of mental disorders and a trauma, lost my best friend, hurt myself and others, betray, cheat, drink, smoke and lie. I started to do drugs to be a rebel because my mom always controlled everything I did, but then I suddenly couldn’t stop and it became even worse. The disorders are already bad enough and I make it even worse with this behavior!
Guess I’ve lost myself some years ago.
At the beginning, I wanted to be happy, then thin, then perfect, then different than others, then a bad girl and then I wanted to be dead. And all these goals still exist in my head. Now I realized most of these things are no goals, but only a way to destroy myself and the people in my life. Still I’m not able to stop.
I tried, yes, but I can’t! I need to see the pain I cause. Right now I remember that my boyfriend knows about my blog and may read this post, but I smile while thinking about that! I like to imagine the hurt feeling in this dark eyes…
I’m a bad person and I lost myself, but I don’t regret anything at all.
What the fuck is wrong with me.
Yesterday I was able to eat and didn’t harm myself and felt good and then I betrayed my boyfriend and my best friend, too.
I’m honestly the most confusing person I’ve ever met.
Nothing in my head makes any sense.
And then I wonder why I always stay alone in the end.
Nonsense. Sometimes I wish there was a God who could help me, but he never was and never will be. Just an illusion mankind created to give themselves some hope. Otherwise they wouldn’t be able to make it through.
Wait. If that’s the definition of what a God is useful for, my pills are my Gods.
Lol. I imagine myself praying to my colorful little pills… I’m getting crazier every day…

I feel like a chameleon in a bag of skittles: confused like shit.

Grief is back

It just happened. I sat there and read a book (Wintergirls) and suddenly I started to slip away. I had tears in my eyes and I didn’t know why. Then I realized it. I felt this pain again. I don’t know anything worse than losing a person you love, there’s no pain compared to it. Fuck every single trauma and disorder and whatever, loss is so much worse. It’s taking my breath away because it hurts like hell. How can I describe this feeling? There’s an invisible hand pulling me down to the bottom and it slits through my skin and grabs my heart, but doesn’t rip it out of my chest. The hand keeps holding my still beating heart and slowly squashes it. And whenever it notices that I’m dying, it lets go and waits until I’ve gotten better and then… Repeats the torture. Again and again.

People told me time would heal these wounds, but why do they still hurt the way they did when it happened? Nothing has healed! My therapist said it would be because of all my disorders and I’d have to recover first. But will I ever recover? I can’t do this without you! Where are you and why did you go somewhere I can’t bring you back? Why? I’m not mad at you, I never was. I’m hurting and more disappointed and sad than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Not to blame you for all this, but yes, you made my mental condition get much worse. You fucking pinky promised me you would never ever do that without me! You said you’d never leave me. Was it so easy to break the most important promise we both had ever made? I tried to stay strong and believe me, it’s been a though time. But we could have done this. Together. I trusted you with my heart and my soul and EVERYTHING. You said you didn’t have anyone, but what about me? Am I no one? Did you just erase me from your life? You know, sometimes it still feels so unrealistic. After many months of staying away, I went back to our favorite place some weeks ago. Nothing had changed there. But everything had changed inside of me. And I sat there and I actually expected you to come around with your cute smile and adorable eyes, just like you always did. I expected you to sit down next to me and give me a hug and then tell me about your day while you were drinking another coffee. And then you had one of your sudden emotional blow-ups that never had a real reason and we talked for hours until you were able to calm down again. We always catched each other when one of us fell. I had never had a friendship like the one we had before and I never experienced it afterwards. I don’t think I ever will. At the beginning, I dreamt of you almost every night, but even the dreams have stopped. You’re completely gone.

Likes | Tumblr

Sometimes, I still see your silhouette in the middle of a crowded place and then I don’t know if I should smile or cry. The worst thing is the fact that nobody can replace a dead person. No one is like you. Some tried to comfort me with fine words, but it didn’t work because I always knew they were lying. Believe me, I tried to find someone to replace you in my heart, but it’s impossible! It’s crazy that you only actually value someone when they’re dead. It’s always so normal, natural and taken for granted that this person is there. And when they’re gone, you suddenly start to realize that’s an illusion. Life can be so imperishable and sometimes so fragile. It may be able to survive the worst wars or it fades away when you don’t see the small car coming from the other side. Your mom said we all should have seen it coming it because you had always been so sick. Is that true? Should I’ve known you were gonna die? I didn’t because I believed in your strength. Obviously, I was wrong. I can’t get you back. The day you slipped away was the day that I found it won’t be the same… I don’t believe in heaven and hell, so I don’t have a clue where you are right now. All I can do is hope you’re doing fine there and you’ll have an eye on me and maybe, we’ll meet again some day. Maybe very soon, maybe in a 100 years, who knows.

🚬🔫

I heard somebody is not dead as long as you keep them in your heart and eternally love and remember them. The love makes them stay alive, inside of you. Where is this love? All I feel is the pain. And it won’t go away. Damn, I wish you were here. I need you. You’re the good in my life and without it, there’s an awful lot of darkness. You’re so far away from me and it’s so sad that I can’t even remember the sound of your voice anymore. Part of me wishes I could erase every memory I have of you because I don’t want to face reality. Even if I wanted, I couldn’t. I still remember the first time we met and talked and still see you right here, next to me. It’s a pain that never fades away. There’s nothing else left. Moving on is so fucking hard after everything that happened. My whole world is so fucked up. Completely. I need to feel your presence, need to know you’re here.

But you’re not.

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The ghost of Christmas past or another relapse?

Christmas days ain’t even over yet and I think I can already state it was horrible. I mean, I’ve already had so much worse Christmas eves when I thought about committing suicide or spent the whole evening being insulted by my father and purging the food my mom had forced me to eat. But this year was awful anyway. I forced myself to smile and repeat that I’m fine and everything’s okay and actually it should have been, but it wasn’t and I just don’t know why! My mom, sis and I are finally able to take care of each other and I’ve never loved them as much as I love them now. My mom believes in me and trusts me and finally accepts me just the way I am, but still… It feels like she’s a stranger. We sat around the tree and got our gifts, but I felt so cold and numb inside. All I feel is this fucking emptiness and the only person who can take it away is my boyfriend who’s not here. It’s like I’m dead inside. I’ve lost myself, drowning in my demons because they know how to swim. And right now I’m crying. Why am I crying? I’m so sick of crying! 

I can’t take this. Everything’s overwhelming me. I was not able to eat since the holidays started. I threw it all up again even though I had promised myself to stay strong and stand the urge. My twisted mind was stronger, again. I know it’s not real and just an illusion the ED creates, but I feel like I’ve gained at least 10 pounds and I’m so heavy and fat and chubby and disgusting. Tried to keep telling me I have a normal weight, but I don’t believe it anymore and think about starting to starve all over again. But then every single part of this process recovery comes with is lost and worthless. And that’s what I wanna avoid the most. What the fuck is wrong with me? After years, I finally WANT to get better and healthy and then ‘Ana’ and ‘Mia’ and ‘Cat’ and ‘Sue’ and whatever their shitty cute liar names are are stronger than me?! Today I went through my old stuff today and found my old journals and diaries. I kept them all, in books, USB-sticks, folders and writing pads. I shouldn’t have read them. Now I’m even more depressed than I was before. I’d like to show you some little parts of it to make you be able to understand my thoughts about it. I realized how insane this stuff is, but still a huge part of me believes the stupid words. PS: I didn’t write down any specifical weight numbers because I hate telling them. 

BMI 20,7

“I’ve never weighed this much before and I can’t stand it anymore. Fuck the therapies, I’m dieting again. My own personal bootcamp I designed like a weekly schedule: Monday 200, Tuesday 400, Wednesday 300, Thursday 200, Friday 500, Suturday 600, Sunday 200 calories. It’s easy and very effective. I started to notice the deficiency signs, but I don’t care at all. All that matters is losing weight. Not that much. Just some pounds, that’s all.”


BMI 19,5

“It’s disgusting that I’m actually happy about this weight. It’s absolutely unacceptable and definitely no reason to be proud! I have to keep going and I am not allowed to rest and get fat and lazy all over again. The most important thing is to get away from the normal weight. I have to get under 18,5. That’s all that matters. Normal weight means failing.”


BMI 18,0

“Finally finally finally! I’m officially medically underweight. Sounds crazy to be so cheery because of that, but I am. Still I’m not done with it. I had a relapse and gained, but I punished myself for the mistake and got better. Because still I can’t get around my upper legs with both hands and that’s a sign for being way too chubby and fat. I wanna get away from the 8.”


BMI 17,1

“Yeah, I’m going down! Isn’t that awesome? Can’t tell you how glad I am. It still feels unrealistic, but compared to some weeks ago, my tummy is much flatter. I’m getting better and better day by day and if I lose control, I punish my body and get my discipline back. Everything works.”


BMI 16,3 

“How is this possible? I have a 16 BMI and still my body is so damn fat! I don’t get it, I really don’t. Where are the beautiful bones? I don’t have a twisted view, I can clearly see how heavy I am and how much rolls I got there! And everyone who tells something different is a liar. Just 10 more pounds, okay? Then I’ll see it. Of course I will. I’ll be thin then. I WILL BE. I HAVE TO. There is no other way. I need to be the skinniest person.”

I don’t want to be like this again. Fragile and weak, a slave to my scale. That’s not how my life is supposed to be. Why am I so scared of relapsing since holidays started? Is it some creepy ghost of my Christmas past or is this a real relapse? Please, I don’t want this. I couldn’t take it, I’m not strong enough yet. I don’t want to die, but the blade is laying over there waiting to be slit through my skin. I don’t wanna do this, but I think I can’t stand this force anymore. I wish I could just start over with my whole life. Everything would be so much better cuz I’d know what NOT to do. Like caring about my father or having junkie boyfriends or keeping all my problems to myself or doing crash diets or getting drunk as a 12-year old or… You know, all the mistakes I’ve made and I can’t erase now. The past can’t be changed and it’s pulling me down every day all over again. I’m torn apart. Lost inside. Time doesn’t heal any wounds, I just got used to the pain. One of my favorite quotes



 

Please, don’t look for answers where you will find none.

I’m flashed by this.

The Crazy Student.

“You cannot hurt yourself better,
you cannot starve yourself to happiness
and you will not find answers
in the destruction of yourself.
Taking yourself to pieces
will not make you whole
and hitting rock bottom
is not the only way up.

                 – I know you are hurting, but you don’t have to hurt yourself too.

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Me on We Heart It!

Hey guys! Some of you may know or might even use http://www.weheartit.com, so I’d like to tell you about my account there. My name is Poizonbite and it’s based on my second home, Milwaukee in Wisconsin. (Right now I live in my headquarters in Munich, Germany)

We Heart It is similar to Tumblr, but I prefer it to that page. I post pictures and gifs about my mental disorders, dark thoughts, recovery and my addiction to The Vampire Diaries and American Horror Story there. So take a look, hope you like it!

http://m.weheartit.com/PoizonbiteLu

Let me go

This fucking touched me…

Light My Fire

You can’t save me this time.
I feel the stares getting heavier.
You’re wasting away, they say.
They whisper under their breaths, afraid to say the truth out loud.
I just look at them, silently, without much worry.
Do we need to send you to the hospital, again?
Wake up, you’re slipping away.
You can’t save me.
Stop, trying.
You can’t save me from this downfall.
The waves are crashing against the shore and I am not going to move out of the way.
You can’t save me this time.

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My story 

Hello world.
This is my first post. For a very long time, I thought about an own blog cuz I thought it would feel good to share my thoughts with the people out there. (And my psychiatrist said it would help me.) So here I go, even with tears in my eyes.

First of all, I wanna tell you something about me. Not things like age and name, I’m talking about the personal stuff. Let’s get started: I moved for 5 times, was bullied for 2 years (age 12-14), have a mom and sis I love and a father I barely know today cuz he’s an asshole, got my eating disorder (anorexia and bulimia which means I either starve or purge all day, that changes time by time) when I was 11 years old and my depression one year later. And then there are also my social anxieties I was diagnosed with at the same age and doctors used to call it social phobia until one of them told me that’s wrong and it’s actually a social disorder. Whatever, docs always change their minds! Also, I have the so called borderline personality disorder and no one knows when it actually came up. To me, it means I can’t really handle feelings. There are overwhelming or they disappear and turn into a horrible emptiness no one can imagine without this syndrome or I just don’t know what these feelings are called. I’m like unable to trust people and afraid of letting them get too close, so I hurt them and push them away so they can’t do it. That’s why I usually stay alone. There are people I love, but I feel like they don’t even know the real me because I can’t show it. I hide behind a wall of lies, act like I have so damn much self-confidence although it never existed in my whole life. I’m a liar, but I can’t help myself cuz I’m way too scared to tell the truth. And because of all this stupid stuff, I started to self harm when I was 12 years old, too and tried a bunch of different ways to do it like burning, cutting, piercing, hitting, slapping and freezing different parts of my body and the oldest scars I have cover my whole legs. I’m glad at least the ones on my arms have disappeared cuz I hate it when I always have to hide them in summer.

What else is crazy about me… I almost forgot my trauma- no, I didn’t forget it, I suppressed and eliminated it. The memories hurt so much. And of course, you want to know what I mean and I’ll tell you because you guys don’t know who I am and I’m anonymous on the Internet. It happened with my first boyfriend when I was 13 years old and because I didn’t tell him my real age, he thought he was allowed to have sex with me. So I lost my virginity and we fucked a couple times and I thought he’d be my one true love (you know, first love is always being overvalued by the teens) until I realized who he really was. An abusive, violent, addicted junkie. Sadly, I noticed it way too late. When he had me, he started to always boss me around and made me feel like his slave. Because of his aggressive behavior I got scared of him and when I said something against him, he hurt me. I didn’t tell anyone (fear!), so I lost control and it had suddenly gotten so far that I did drugs because he wanted me to and had sex with him even when I didn’t want it because when I told him my opinion, he turned from the perfect boyfriend he was in front of others into the fucking asshole. Then there was the day when I finally stood up and defended myself and well… I went through a night I will never forget. He abused me, sexually. Rape. For weeks, my skin felt like it was on fire and I had never hated my body so much before. I felt like I was rotting from the inside. I can’t tell any more details, it’s really private. The only person I ever really told about it died. Also a depressing fact about me. I lost my very best friend. She was the only person that knew everything about me. No one will ever get my whole trust again. I was finally able to completely open my heart and head and… Then she killed herself. Not that I’m mad at her because of it, I know all the reasons. I’m just hurt and disappointed. There will always be something missing in my heart. Emptiness. A piece of me that was ripped apart by this loss. The very best quote I ever heard about this topic was said by Damon Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries):

“When you lose somebody you love, every candle, every prayer is not gonna make up for the fact that the only that you have left is a hole in your life where that somebody that you cared about used to be. And a rock with a birthday carved into it that I’m pretty sure is wrong. So thanks, friend. Thanks for leaving me here.” 

I could never express the feelings better than Damon did in season 4 (watch it, it’s epic).

Because of all this shit, of course I went through a couple therapies. The first one when I was 12, a stupid psychologist who didn’t have a clue. One year later, I attempted suicide for the first time. Tried to throw myself in front of the train. Because of my fear, I had gotten drunk before, so I was so damn stupid to miss the train I wanted to be killed by. Someone in the train saw me and the police found me before the next train could come. (I lived in a cottage, so not many trains passed) I was sent to a locked psychiatric for a whole month and I really wanted to recover. The problem was… They lock you up in there, but don’t cure you. They lie to you and say everything would change. But I never met someone who can say it really worked. This kind of hospital only exists to protect: you from yourself, the world from you or you from the world. The therapies are there to keep you from dark thoughts and boredom. But that’s the fact they don’t tell you in there. Of course I had a bad relapse at home and even attempted suicide again. Deadly drug overdose. You know how easy it was for me to get drugs although the only things I’ve ever been addicted to were cigarettes for 3 years and weed for 4 months. I’m ‘clean’ today. Back to the topic: I didn’t die because I was found by my mom and taken to the hospital by the emergency. I almost died, but barely survived. Today I don’t know if I should be happy or sad about it. Locked psychiatric again, for 3 weeks. Then I was send to an open one. Only difference: school and day-release with other patients depending on how much the doctors think they can trust you. I was allowed to go home after 4 months and yay, had another relapse. I wasn’t stable enough yet and bullied again when I went to another school. But this time, my mom realized my condition before I could try to kill myself again. She noticed it because I was very underweight at that time. The ED made me barely eat and exercise way too often. I spent other 3 months in the same open mental hospital and then people decided to not allow me to go home again. A therapeutical residence or facility, I don’t care how you call it. It was so horrible there and everything was getting worse and worse until even my body almost gave up. I spent some days in a normal hospital because I spit blood all the time and my heart didn’t beat normal. The passing out had already started at the age of 12, but now it was so bad that people noticed something was wrong with my physical health. I couldn’t stand it any longer and told my mom about it because I didn’t want to do another suicide attempt again. Wise choice. We finally found a great hospital, a so called psychosomatic clinic. You know why only this one worked? They have a real therapy concept! You don’t spend your day drawing pictures and making music, you have to cope with your illness! They focus on the reasons why. The disorders are only symptoms for your problems! That’s why their especially for your disorder made therapies work. They know what it is about. And they don’t tell you any lies there. You don’t just get through the stuff in there and then you go home and everything’s fine. NO. That’s not how it works! It’s not like a broken leg. You lay there and wait until the docs have cured it. NO. It’s a very long process and the relapses are part of it.

There is no key to recovery. But this year, I was able to find a way how to get through this without giving up. It’s okay not to be okay as long as you’re not giving up. Yes, I’m scared and I often think about dying and I binge and purge, but I have already gotten so much better! I have a completely normal weight, my body’s fine and today I purge like once or twice a week. I once did it 10 times a day. I also barely self harm, can eat in public, don’t control my weight anymore, can go to school, got my concentration back and I had sex again. Drunk, yeah, to suppress my fear, but I know I’ll soon be able to sleep with my boyfriend without any alcohol. And I’m able to live at home with my mom and my sis. I’ll try to fight, no matter how hard it is because this year, I finally found reasons to live, goals to reach. That’s the most important thing in recovery: a goal.

Although I feel so desperate and empty right now. I’ll just keep going and try to make it through. People don’t want to kill themselves. They only want to kill their pain. Stay strong, guys. Thank you so much for your attention.