What if I was good enough?

My counselor wanted me to answer this question, so I decided to write about it because it’s probably one of the hardest questions I ever had to answer.
To be honest, I never even thought about it.
Being good enough was never even an option for me. Insecurities have been following me for as long as I can remember and while I’ve focused on how to get and be better to feel good enough for many years now, I never let the thought about what would be if it happened sink in. It was too far away, too unrealistic, too pretty to ever become a part of my world.

Why don’t I just accept myself the way I am? Why don’t I just stop destroying myself by thinking that there is something wrong with me when there really isn’t?
The answer is as easy as it is complicated- I’m scared. I’m scared of what might happen. They say “even hell can get comfy once you’ve settled in” and I never realized how true that is until a very short time ago.
I could live my life in heaven, but I’ve decided to create my own hell and even though I’m harming myself and making everything much more complicated than it should be, there’s something in my head that won’t let me change anything about it because I’ve gotten so used to it that I’m terrified of change.

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Do I want to get better? Do I want to recover? Of course I do! But what normal people don’t understand is that distancing yourself from your mental illness can also be scary. It’s not just living with it what’s hard. Abandoning it is too. As much as it hurts, this voice in my head gives me a certain kind of sick comfort because I know it’s always there and I can always rely on it. Does that make sense? In a twisted way, yes. We’re all creatures of habit and although it’s certainly possible to teach an old dog new tricks, it’s exhausting and in need of so much effort and time that nobody wants to do it.
I do want to get out of this endless circle of destruction that consists of making myself feel like crap for stupid reasons, punishing myself for it and feeling like crap again, but I also don’t want to leave my comfort zone and I know that I can’t have both things at the same time. I know how to choose between health and sickness today, but I (sometimes even intentionally) still choose wrong on a regular basis because it gives me a piece in mind that I know won’t last, but creates the illusion that I’m okay for a little while.

I mean, let’s face it: We all live by certain rules. Most of us might not even recognize them, but they’re down there, buried deep in our subconscious, controlling our every move in our lives. Healthy people live by healthy rules, and sick people… Well, we live by rather fucked up rules. We form them throughout our lives due to experiences, surroundings, success, disappointment and emotions. I don’t have a clue why the human mind believes it needs them, but somehow it does. These are mine:

1. Don’t let people get close

That’s probably my most essential rule and perfectly pictures the two-sided sword called my mind:
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Why? When you let people get close, you give them the chance to hurt you. You make yourself vulnerable. And yeah, I know that’s a part of life, but whenever I gave people this opportunity, it ended terrible for me. Not letting anyone get to me means protecting myself from the pain they might inflict. That actually even makes sense, but the thing is: nobody wants to be alone forever. And if you don’t let anyone near you, you ultimately end up utterly alone. You’ll have relationships, but only shallow ones, and your friendships will never be more than simple acquaintances. You will never be able to experience a deep connection if you don’t trust anyone. And not letting someone get close means not trusting them. In the end, this rule only makes me hurt myself, and that’s not the goal I have in mind.

2. Don’t show weakness

And yet again there comes the vulnerability: if you show weakness, you make yourself vulnerable once more. When people see your weaknesses, they can use them to hurt you, and because I’ve experienced that before hundreds of times, my head has prohibited admitting it. Yet again, it makes sense at some point because it protects me, but weaknesses are human and every single one of us has them, whether we admit or deny them. They’re a part of us and even though they might hurt, they’re essential because they remind us that nobody is perfect, even if it looks like they are.
We need them. They make us feel alive because they make us realize what’s important. We need fears to conquer them and grow with them. But I have too many of them and I’m not telling anyone.

3. You’re never enough

This is where we come back to the topic. It’s probably my worst rule because it makes it impossible to love or even accept myself. This rule makes me feel like there’s always something missing. No matter what, I’ll never be good, smart, thin or beautiful enough. Never.

Could I change these rules? I think so. Somehow.
But I can’t.
I’m too scared.
I’ve gotten used to living this way and giving it up might be the healthiest thing to do, but it scares the shit out of me. The way I treat myself is horrible, but I’ve gotten used to it. At some point, you don’t even care that you’re destroying yourself anymore. You don’t know anything else. Giving up on habits is scary, no matter how unhealthy they are.

So, to respond the original question, what would happen?
Would I live the life I really want to live? Get the things I always wanted? Make my dreams come true? Love myself?
Everything would change, that’s for sure, and I don’t even think I’d still be the same person because my entire self centers around the problem with never being enough and not knowing who I am and want to be. A part of me wants to be that person, but another is way too scared to even think of it because there are way too many horror scenarios in my head that picture what might (very unlikely) happen if I stopped beating myself up for who I am: That I would lose control and not try anymore at all. That I wouldn’t fight for anything and turn into a lazy piece of shit. A fat, disgusting waste of space.
Yeah, I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help but feel like this. So many things terrify me.

Fear is only in our minds, but it’s taking over all the time

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Obsessions

I’ve probably already been through this topic countless times, but it’s still important, so I’ll just post about it once more and dive right into it by stating that we live in a society that’s obsessed with perfection. Don’t believe me? Just think about it. Perfection is everything. All we want is happiness and it’s like we wrote specific rules in our minds we need to follow to achieve the ultimate happiness. We want to be as beautiful as possible, need to make as much money as much possible, and be well educated, smart, funny and either married with kids and a house, car and golden retriever in addition or be a super star in a band or on the runway. Either way, there is definitely a certain concept of happiness and it expects perfection to be reached.
But how can we be perfect when nothing is ever good enough?
We never have as much success as we want to, never have as many relationships as we need to be considered truly valued and beauty? What is beauty? How can you be the perfect looking person you want and are secretly expected to be when there is no definition for it? Is the skinny white girl in the magazine with the crop top, tanned legs and no food for three days the perfect girl? Does she know she is or is even she, the girl considered perfect, thriving for something more? Does she believe she has what she needs to be perfect? Is she happy this way?
Does it make us happy at all?
And if not, why do we want it regardless? Why are we so obsessed with this concept?
The girl in the magazine doesn’t even look like the magazine. It’s an illusion. Smoke and mirrors and nothing more. But we keep creating lies to deceive us into believing that perfection is achievable and that we just need to try a little harder to get there.

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There’s nothing wrong with us, but we keep finding something to criticize just to have a reason to doubt ourselves so long that our fears take over despite them being nothing but thoughts in our minds. When we’re young, nobody tells us how much power thoughts actually have, but they truly rule everything.
All it takes is one single thought, one sentence, one spark, to change everything.
And sometimes, ruin everything.
All it took me were four short words to change my life forever.
I am not enough.
I still remember the day I thought it for the first time and the thought has never left me since. The perfection I have in my mind is nothing but an illusion, but I keep trying desperately to reach it because if I don’t, what else is there? What am I supposed to do with all this self-hatred when there’s no way to convince myself into believing I’m actually trying to change something to please myself? Right now, the only thought that keeps me from falling apart completely when I’m alone is that I’m on my way to change. Deep down I know that changing my appearance won’t change my doubts, but I can’t do anything but keep trying.

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All we want is to feel like we’re good enough the way we are, but actively loving yourself is so much harder than talking about it and motivating people to do it on the Internet.
The poor way I treat myself is destroying me piece by piece, but I can’t stop if I want these voices to stop. I’m barely holding it together, obsessed with thinking that someday, maybe I’ll feel genuinely beautiful for once like the girls on Instagram pretend to be when they’re not standing in front of their mirrors pointing out their flaws and insecurities we all have, but won’t admit, because it would ruin the image of our endless happiness in a sick world.
Ah hell.

Saviour- a song that’s probably saved my life a dozen times since 2012

I never meant to be the one
Who kept you from the dark
But now I know my wounds are sewn
Because of who you are
I will take this burden on
And become the holy one
But remember I am human
And I’m bound to sing this song

So hear my voice remind you not to bleed
I’m here,

Saviour will be there
When you are feeling alone, oh
A saviour for all that you do
So you live freely without their harm

So here I write my lullaby
To all the lonely ones
Remember as you learn to try
To be the one you love
So I can take this pen
And teach you how to live
What is left unsaid
The greatest gift I give

So hear my voice remind you not to bleed
I’m here,

Saviour will be there
When you are feeling alone, oh
A saviour for all that you do
So you live freely without their harm

When I hear your cries
Praying for light
I will be there

When I hear your cries
Praying for life
I will be there

I will fight
I will always be there

The voice in my head

These days, when people ask me how I feel, I don’t know what to answer anymore. Of course I always tell everyone that I’m just tired and fine besides that, but am I fine? I’m a mess, but that’s not a condition or feeling.
Eating is getting harder again. I’d come so far with my recovery that I was able to feel happy and relaxed while eating and do it in a normal and healthy way, but that’s definitely over. Food makes me panic again and I always struggle between eating and not-eating because I know that I’m hungry and my body wants and needs it, but I don’t want it. It tastes good for a moment, but afterwards I feel terrible. Even if it’s just fruits or a salad, it makes me feel guilty, hopeless and depressed and brings back so much self-hatred that I can hardly handle it. I never fall apart because I strictly and resolutely hold on to my daily schedule and rituals, but I don’t know if any of my smiles are fake or real.
How lost am I that I don’t even know if I’m pretending not to be anymore?

If I can’t feel, I’m not mine, I’m not real

I guess that’s what I’m feeling. Like I don’t belong to myself anymore.
But who or what do I belong to instead?
I’m being torn apart by the things I love and hate, the stuff I want to hold on to and let go of. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.

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Sure, the rational part of my brain wants me to exercise less, accept and love myself, dress in a way that makes me comfortable, stop focusing on negative stuff, be honest, stay strong and eat normally, but there’s this other part that keeps winning. The darker part. The part that seduces me with sweet promises and pictures of what I want to have so badly. The part that swears it’ll lead me to the perfection I’ve always wanted even though the rational part knows that it’s an illusion that can never come true. I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle this.
Sure, I smile, but every time I look into the mirror, everything I despise in the world comes to life again. I shouldn’t hate my body because there’s nothing wrong with me, but I can’t help feeling like there is.
It’s far too easy, slipping back into the eating disorder. A daily run, a few skipped meals, a few more calories counted and calculated, a few more lies, a few more times I think before I enter the kitchen. And just like that, I’m back where I was and everything I’ve achieved on my way to recovery concerning the ED is gone.
I’m now determined to lose weight again because I can’t stand myself, but is a diet going to solve any of my problems? No.

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I’m afraid I’ll never love myself and that scares me because I don’t want to hate myself so much. Still, the part that promises me how much better my life will be once I’m skinny again and no longer have a normal weight keeps winning.
I keep struggling with food, eating, starving, binging, purging, exercising.
What for?
For a peace of mind I’ll never achieve.
I’m suffering for an illusion and there’s no way to save myself from it.
How could it come to this? How could I relapse so deeply again?
Who am I and what’s happening to me?

Beautiful Pain

Our life was a shooting star
That burned out way too fast
And all the memories
Of a dream that’s built to last
Don’t wanna wait for my next panic attack
Don’t wanna wait for my next crash

It’s a beautiful pain
When I remember the good times
When I remember the gone
It’s a beautiful pain
When I let go of the heartache
When I let go of your heart

All the times that I keep holding onto
Even though you’re gone
And the nights that I keep holding back the tears
I hope you found what you’re looking for

I pray that you’re happy now
You’re never looking back
Rest with the angels now
Heaven’s gate you left

Don’t wanna wait cause you’re never coming back
Don’t wanna wait for the last dance

It’s a beautiful pain
When I remember the good times
When I remember the gone
It’s a beautiful pain
When I let go of the heartache
When I let go of your heart

All the times that I keep holding onto
Even though you’re gone
And the nights that I keep holding back the tears
I hope you found what you’re looking for

– original lyrics by Andy Biersack

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On the edge

Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m always one step from crumbling and it only takes one tiny thing to push me that last bit off the edge. One moment I’m fine, the next one I’m losing my mind. And the worst part is that nobody knows or will know about it. I’m tired of always needing to be fine, but I can’t change anything about it. I love my son more than words could describe it, but there are certain awful things about motherhood nobody ever tells you about and the worst one is that you always need to function. And when I say always, I mean it. When you have a baby, you can’t even take a minute off because as soon as you sit down, there’s the possibility that your child might start crying. You always need to be in control, calm, smiling, careful. Everyone believes I’m doing great, and on the outside, I really am, taking care of everything, getting all of my work done, never forgetting anything- but on the inside, things are different.

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I’m constantly torn apart between happiness and desperation- literally. It’s like there are those two sides in my head and I never know which one will win because while one tells me how great I’m doing and sees everything positive, the other one finds a thousand reasons to break down the next second. My mood is really fragile and even though I manage to cover it up with my typical slightly bitchy attitude mixed with casual kindness (yes, it works) and keeping myself busy all day, I’m praying in my head to be able to keep my goddamn shit together and not lose it again. It’s incredibly exhausting and making me feel really anxious. There’s nothing I can do about it, though. I need to figure out a way a deal with it despite how much it pisses me off on a regular basis. Sometimes I think I’ve got a pro’s and con’s list in my head that refreshes every minute to keep me up to date. Right now it looks like this:

+ I: managed an entire week with my son and my dogs in the house without my mom or sis around really well; work out every morning; am an awesome mom to my son; will put him in daycare the upcoming week to start studying again; am really strong and apparently not heartbroken and make my way through everything without falling apart; am holding on and have great plans for my future

– I: am fragile; am having flashbacks from the past; had to cancel my vacation because I couldn’t take it; still need to face the walking problem named my ex because he’s my son’s dad and I can’t just cut him out of my life like I’d love to; still suffer from relapses; don’t eat like normal people do anymore again; can’t talk to anyone about everything; usually don’t know what’s going on with me and whether I’ll go to bed happy or crying tonight; struggle with my self-identify* and body image very hard again

*About the self-identity-problem: Well, when my son was born a little more than nine months ago, I decided to start to dress like a mom (you know, the whole thing with blue jeans, decent jewelry, heels and blouses like classy moms do it) and strongly distanced myself from the stuff I used to like (smoking, drinking, partying, concerts) and instead act like a role model. Also, I stopped admitting when I feel bad because that’s something parents unfortunately are not supposed to do. Parents need to function and not feel, unfortunately. I still listen to the same kind of music with my earbuds and still like the same things, but I don’t really show it anymore. I only wear my band shirts and batman stuff when I’m home or walking my dogs, wear normal makeup and have a bright room with blue and photos and stuff now.

And I’m not sure if that was the right choice. Sure, if I made the choice again, I’d still never actually smoke or drink as a mom during the day and still only attend parties or concerts on special occasions with a babysitter at home, but the whole appearance thing seems to not be a smart thing now that I live with it. To be honest, wearing that stuff makes me feel really uncomfortable. Sure, it’s all really pretty (I wouldn’t have bought it otherwise), but it’s not me, you know? It doesn’t feel right.

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Okay, so I feel like I kind of lost my train of thought. Where I was actually going is that I’m sure if this is who I really am and want to be anymore. Do I want to be this perfect inspirational ideal showpiece teen mom? Yes, I want to keep being respected and admired for how well I’m handling everything because I am, but do I want to be this perfect fake? Do I want to pretend that I’m always fine and never struggling, always wearing that smile and confidence I’ve never truly had? Do I want to wear nude lipstick and red blouses and hide my studded leather jackets? Do I want to keep all of my feelings and fears to myself and my counselor?

I honestly don’t know what I’m doing here anymore. I don’t feel real anymore, you know? It’s like I’m fine and horrible at the exact same time, all the time.

Who the hell is this person in the mirror? When did I become her? Is this how it’s supposed to be? Am I happy this way? Because, honestly, I don’t know. I don’t even know if this is a dream or a nightmare. I don’t fucking know.

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