I’m back in the psychosomatic hospital (since Wednesday).
Almost nothing has changed in here. Just the food got better and some therapists were replaced by new ones. I feel like the only thing that was really changed over the past year is me. So much about me has changed since February 2014 (when I got here for the first time). What the people around me notice, of course, is my symptomatic. When I came here, I used to purge ten times per day. I seriously could never imagine a day without it. It was such an important part of my life and now it’s just gone.
The people here asked me what it’s like without the eating disorder because they think the same way they used to. I couldn’t answer honestly because I don’t even know how I actually got rid of the shit. It’s still in my diagnosis, but no longer in my life. Of course the thoughts are still there. They’re getting quieter time by time, but they’re never really gone. There’s always a risk to relapse. But now I now what it means to have an ED. And I know that it will never ever give you what you want. All it wants is your life. It just wants to destroy and kill you and then leave you behind like a piece of trash.
And I feel to precious for that. Also I have a responsibility now to fulfill. I’ll be a mom in November and in my opinion, it’s a mother’s duty to eat healthy as long as the child’s body needs her (you know, the pregnancy and the year afterwards when you give the breast). No matter how sick you are, if you decided to keep the kid, you need to take care of it and always look after it before you look after yourself.
A child needs a mother, a good one. Not one who starves, purges or harms herself.
Of course I know these things are part of illnesses because I’ve had them all, but as a mother you are irresponsible if you listen to a disorder instead of listening to your child and what it needs.
But no one believes me I think this way. They all think I still listen to the eating disorder. I think they think I’m a bad mom. I’m still sitting on a table with all the anorexics and I’m being watched by a therapist during every single meal, no matter how often I tell them I don’t need the shit because I do eat normal and healthy. But they always think they know you better than you do. Which is bullshit.
When I got here, I seriously planned on killing myself. I already knew how to do it. The two suicide attempts I’ve done once (2012) were just two slip-ups, but this time I’d make it right. Today I don’t wanna die anymore. I don’t wanna die inside just to breathe in. I’m tired of feeling so numb. I wanna live, wanna recover, wanna make it through.
Also I stopped self harming. The last time I did it was exactly one year ago and I honestly can’t imagine anymore to ever do that again. Looking at my still extremely deep and visible scars makes me feel disgusted. A blade across my skin? Gives me the creeps today. Weird, isn’t it? All these things that seem so sick to me today once were part of my daily life. Very important ones, actually.
Still sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in the person I used to be.
My mood still goes up and down and I can’t control my feelings. When I’m mad at someone, I imagine tearing him apart like in one of the worst horror movies, when I’m sad I feel like dying, when someone disappoints me with a little thing I wanna cry for hours and when I’m happy it’s like I’m driving crazy. And when I miss Leo, I feel like a part of me has been ripped apart when she died and now one half of my heart is missing. I’ve been trying to replace it. I’ve had some guys in my bed and in my life, had three relationships during the past year, but they were all assholes that just wasted my time and cheered up my genitals.
I’m still searching for the perfect guy, but I think he doesn’t exist.
I think there is the love of my life somewhere even though I’d never tell someone that because I more act like someone who’s always strong and independent- which I am, but still I want someone else. I want a love that consumes me, passion, adventure, a little danger. I want someone who makes me feel glad that I’m alive. A love I’d die for.
He is somewhere, but how am I supposed to find him? I don’t believe in destiny.
I think it’s a stupid excuse for losers who are not able to make things happen.
Wow, I kinda lost the topic. Let’s go back- to me and the illnesses. The reasons why I’m here. I still hate my body. There is the most beautiful thing in the world inside of me, but the rest is still ugly like shit in my opinion. I’ve never met someone who once had an ED and is now able to love the own body in real life. It’s my biggest goal, but I don’t have such high hopes I’m able to reach it. Still the wish is in the back of my mind and sometimes, just sometimes, makes me cry at night.
So many wishes, so many dreams.
I feel like crying right now and don’t even know why. I’m just so tired, tired of everything. And most of all: of myself. It’s all so exhausting. I just want it to be November already. Not that it’s gonna be easier then, but better.