Ups and downs

smoke, boy, and cigarette image

Some things are going really well at the moment. I downloaded an app called ‘Clean Time Counter’ and now know that I haven’t purged in almost 95 hours, which is amazing, and I hope that the app will continue to motivate me to stay strong because I don’t want to have to face the bitter failure, disappointment and embarrassment I will bring upon myself if I have to set the time back again.
So far, it has worked. The pressure is constantly there because nothing else can make me as relaxed and relieved as binging and purging can, but I’m trying my hardest.

Unfortunately, that makes my mood swings worse.
They’ve become a bigger issue over the last few months again and now they’re even worse, and because I can’t talk about them to my family, they assume I’m a moody bitch even though that’s just the only way I can express my moods when I can’t hide them.
But another positive thing is that I haven’t had a panic attack in at least a week, and I’m focusing more on the things that make me happy again. I write stories and play my guitar every day again after I let both these things slip for a very long time, and doing it again makes me feel fulfilled, happy and like I’m good at something.

Furthermore, that also causes my duties to be less important, and I avoid studying as much as possible and often don’t even bother to open the college website to get back to my works for days. And the bigger the gaps between the study sessions become, the more the thought of doing them scares me. When I do things I don’t like very often, they become a part of my daily life I just have to get done (like showering which I despise because of my naked body), but when I avoid them, they fill me with fear again because fears of failures somehow manage to get stronger again in that case.

And if there is something I can’t deal with, then it’s failure. When I’m not capable of fulfilling the expectations I’m holding for myself, the little bit of self-worth I have vanishes completely and is substituted by doubts and hatred.
To keep myself from falling apart, I constantly listen to music, but that’s pretty much the only thing that always holds me together when getting through with my chores.
Of course my son also makes me happy, but because I’m a young single mom, people constantly doubt and criticize me (especially my own mom which really bothers me), and when it’s about my own child, that really upsets me, so being anywhere around other people that might watch me somehow constantly puts some sort of pressure on me.
And it’s rather difficult for me to be genuinely happy when I feel stressed and under so much pressure.

My counselor says I’m making progress and I believe that as well when I look at how insightful, honest, strong and courageous I am, but my mental stability is fragile and can sometimes be wrecked by a triggering advert when I’m about to eat. Not that I’d let people notice, but I’m a mess in my head and often feel overchallenged because of that.
To keep myself up, I focus on my future plans and dreams, positive activities and goals in my life, but I can’t help but suffer from inner breakdowns from time to time causing me to want to cry, rip my lungs out or just stay numb forever.
It’s frustrating how uncertain everything is, and even worse is my still very twisted relationship with both my body and food, and we don’t seem to be able to get along.

It’s all a big chaos inside of me despite looking perfectly fine to those outside of it, and I just want it to be as okay as it seems. I just want to be okay. I just wish it were as easy as talking about it.

If someone offered me a flight to get out and never even come back once, I’d catch it without thinking. This place is hell, and I can’t wait to get everything on my list done and say goodbye, which sadly will still take quite a while. The way everyone judges me and puts me down drives me crazy, but what really bothers me isn’t what they see- I learned not to care about that a long time ago. What wrecks me are the thoughts I create myself.

couple, ian somerhalder, and tumblr image

Where are you?
And I’m so sorry.
I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight.
I need somebody and always
This sick strange darkness
Comes creeping on so haunting every time.

The first relapses of 2017

giphy (3).gif

Yes, they happened. And yes, I knew that they would. But still, it really, really sucks. I’m not entirely sure why it happened. Maybe I had just been keeping my shit together for too long and had to break down for once. Maybe.
Anyways, it started at the end of last week when the familiar feeling of longing overcame me and I began to miss my best friend again whom I lost in late summer 2012. I don’t know if it’s possible to completely get over the loss of someone close to you, but I know that I never did, so occasionally the pain of losing her hits me really hard and that’s what happened that evening. And when the grief returns, it doesn’t knock at the door and asks if it can come on- it crashes down on me like a wave and takes away my breath. That night, I spent hours on the tiled floor with my hands on my mouth, trying so hard to cry to be able to feel some relief, but all I got was a pain in my chest so intense that it felt like a heart attack. These panic attacks my grief causes have been haunting me for years and I often thought about talking about them to my counselor, but never did and when they stopped at the end of last year, I figured they might be over, but I was obviously wrong and now I’m guessing I really will have to finally talk about them because I can’t take them anymore.

giphy (23).gif

But, of course, that panic attack wasn’t the end of it, because when I relapse, it’s usually more intense than that.
My best male friend spent a night at my place, we watched AHS when my son was asleep in his bed and drank wine and vodka together. I felt the need to relax for once which is why I drank. And I knew about the consequences. When I drink, I never get sick, slur my words or stumble around like an idiot as long as I’m not extremely intoxicated, but what I do is get really touchy feely.
A while ago, I read that drunk people do things they want to do, but would never dare to actually do sober. And that’s me AF.
I’m a lonely person. I want to be closer to people, open up, talk, share, hug, cuddle, kiss, make out and have sex, but I don’t do any of these things because shutting others out is safer when you’re afraid of getting hurt, trusting too much or have body image issues, and I have all of the above.
But as expected, I threw those morals out the window with the vodka in my veins and my friend and I made out heavily and almost had sex. Almost.
And as expected, I regret it. We’re still friends and at least I don’t think this has damaged our relationship since we’re not into each other and were simply drunk (this happened before a few years ago and didn’t affect our friendship), but it still sucks that I can’t keep my damn hands and vagina to myself when I have guys around that I like and a few too many drinks in my stomach.
Anyways… That whole incident fueled my body image issues and discomfort with myself, so when my team lost the Sunday night football game, I needed some form of outlet for all those unpleasant feelings stored up inside of me to make myself feel better and finally relax.
The problem is: I know what I should have done. I know exactly how to behave in certain situations and how to be safe and protect myself from distorted behaviors, and yet I purposely decided not to do these things and repeat the old sick patterns by binging and purging for the first time after three weeks.
Afterwards, I was definitely able to feel extremely calm and no longer stressed at all because that’s unfortunately the positive effect the ED behaviors have on me (they make me feel safe, calm and secure), but I also felt horribly guilty towards my body and my recovery, and furthermore, the urge to repeat the whole thing has been getting stronger again since that happened.
My body and I are getting along worse every day and the struggle is getting harder, but I can’t slip again. Both last night and today, I’ve been feeling really down, depressed and hopeless again, but I need to keep going to pull through. It’s the only choice I have if I want this year to finally be different than the previous ones. I can’t let all of this shit repeat itself all over again.
Right now, I hate everything around me and myself and the need to get on a plane and never return is stronger than it’s ever been, but that ain’t gonna happen.
I’ll keep going. No matter what. Even though it really fucking sucks right now.

giphy (16).gif

Now the rain is just
You’re driving me crazy
I’m washing you out of my hair and out of my mind
Keeping an eye on the world
From so many thousands of feet off the ground
I’m over you now
I’m at home in the clouds and towering over your head

Done for you

The best things in life
Come with a price
The star that burned so bright faded the fastest
You’ll always feel it’s right
Even when we end the fight
Welcome home, home tonight

Singing ohhh, ohhh
Welcome home tonight
Ohhh ohh, tonight

Words they don’t know how to make amends
And all they do is push you to the edge
But it’s not wasted

It’s all done for you

Two weeks of the new year have passed so far and I don’t exactly know what I’ve been doing, but I think I’ve been doing quite well. I haven’t binged and purged once, have only smoked two cigarettes, haven’t purposely harmed myself in any way and I haven’t studied, written and read as much as I’d wanted to, but at least I have done it. Pride is something very difficult for me to feel, but at least I know that I have the right to feel it now. Staying strong is difficult. Getting up in the morning is hard and so is getting ready and getting all of my daily tasks done. I feel stuck in my everyday life and believe me, there is nothing I want more than getting out of here and never return, but I’m making it through step by step, day by day. Eating is hard, smiling is hard, leaving the house and telling people I’m fine is too, but I never back down and that’s what matters the most.

The moments when I feel like falling, the nights when I lie awake struggling to breathe and the emotional breakdowns I suffer from silently all pass and I move on from them. I don’t know if this is what you can call recovery because I still beat myself up emotionally every day by feeding doubts and hatred about myself and my body, but at least I know that I’m making progress. The steps are small and every one of them is harder than I admit, but I make them. Often I feel like wanting to cry and never stop, but I don’t. Sometimes I want to talk about it, but I don’t. Keeping these moments of weakness to myself hurts me, but I don’t trust anyone enough to share them.

My life is valuable: My body is recovering from the pain I inflicted on it for several years, my grades are great, my son is the most beautiful living being in this world to me, my family is here with me, I have very few, but lovely friends, never money, but only because I always spend it, and as far as I can remember, I’ve never felt as good as I do right now, but what I can’t really speak out loud is that I still feel pretty awful most of the time and like I’m on the edge to crumbling completely. But I don’t. And that’s what I need to focus on.

As hard as it is, the Tumblr quotes are right: The storm will pass, things will get better, it’s not the end and it will be worth it at some point because I am worth it. The journey to get there is just much more exhausting than people admit.

My thoughts are still very twisted, many of my behaviors influenced by my still present mental disorders and I’m not leading the life I want, but I’ll get it one day if I keep going and don’t give up on my dreams.

Most of the people around me don’t know what I’m struggling with because it looks like I’ve completely recovered on the outside and don’t think I’ll make my plans reality either because that’s just ‘a phase all kids go through’, but even though it’s hard to distance myself from the things here that harm me emotionally (and there are a whole lot of them), the way I deal with all this is satisfying.

No matter what anyone including the voices in my head say, I’ll get what I want. I’ll get my degree and my carreer, my tattoos and my clothes, my apartment, driver license, dog and car, be a good mom, make it out of here with my son, leave this horrible small town life and small town world and never come back. I’ll leave everything behind without even looking once. And most importantly: I’ll be healthy and happy.

It’s all still very far away from me at the moment and that’s what makes it so difficult to hold on to, but I’ll pull through.

No matter what anyone says. This life will belong to me and only me and I’ll make it what I want it to be for me and my child, regardless of other opinions.

I’ll free myself from this cage. I just need to continue to keep my shit together and move forward until then, no matter what it takes and how tiring it will certainly be.

Time, strength, determination and willpower. These are the things I need for 2017.

Dear eating disorder

I’m writing this to let you know how I feel and why I am no longer able and willing to trust you.
Your one and only goal has always been to destroy me, and I unfortunately didn’t realize that until you had almost succeeded. I wish I could say that it will be easy to let go of you after everything you’ve done to me, but it won’t because as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me still loves you despite the awful things you put me through.
But the problem is that, while ruining me, you also give me something nobody else can provide me. The safety and security I feel when I’m with you cannot be compared to the feelings I have when I’m with other people. You make me feel like I am not a lost case and that there’s still hope left, that following your advice will give me what I’ve always wanted. But this is the point where things don’t work out anymore: Listening to you has never solved any of my problems and just added new ones.
You recognized all of my doubts and insecurities the second you laid eyes on me and knew exactly how to make them your weapons, especially in terms of my perfectionism and body.
Being the best liar I’ve ever witnessed, you lured me into your trap, promising me everything I’ve ever wanted if I’d be willing to make some sacrifices. What you didn’t tell me was that the sacrifices wouldn’t just be some discipline, guilt and willpower, but my entire life. Saying this, I’m sure you’ll defend yourself and state I must be confused and therefore simply exaggerating, but deep down we both know which one of us is speaking the truth this time. I’ve told many lies over the last few years with you in my life, so many that I went through times when I started to believe them myself, but this time, I can see through your games and tell things as they are.
To make you a part of my life and get what you tempted me with, I had to push away everyone I had once cared about, give up on my health, let go of my sanity and devote my entire existence to letting you tear me down.
And guess what?
You never even kept your part of the deal.
Instead of giving me the perfect skinny body my insecure inner self with its twisted mind had always dreamed of to finally be appreciated, you turned mine into a wreck.
Instead of making me someone strong, disciplined and determined, you made me obsessed with thoughts so repulsive I’d rather not even name them.
Instead of giving me perfection (both inside and outside), you attempted to kill me.
And nothing you say can ever make up for that.
Our relationship was never real.
You never gave a damn about me.
I gave you way too many second chances because I put my faith in you and was loyal, sick and naive enough to believe you’d actually help me, but every time I let you guide me, I came one step closer to my own death.
This letter could continue for many hours and I could tell you so many things I have on my mind when thinking about you (especially negative, but actually even a few positive ones because no matter how sick, you always made me feel safe), but where would that get us? How would my rant help either of us?
It wouldn’t. This is all that matters, all I need to say.
I don’t care what you think about it. You’ll think that it’s not over yet and I’m just having another one of my doubtful phases when I try to distance myself from you but end up crawling to you again, desperate for your self-proclaimed ‘support’, but this time, it’s different. Say whatever you want. I know I’m not rid of you just yet and it’ll take a lot more time to let go after all these years we spent together in our own world, but I’m starting to leave right here and right now.
We’re not done yet, but we certainly will be, becauase this year is the year I’m actually starting to fight you and don’t just pretend to make others happy and keep myself delusional.
Say whatever you want; I know you think you’re smarter than me anyways. But I’ve seen every single one of your tricks and know them good enough to be able to recognize them before I fall for them.
You’re disgusting and the only one worthless here, and I guarantee you’ll miss me once you realize I won’t come back for you.
This is my the beginning of the end of the two of us and there is no turning back. It’s far too late for that and you know who’s to blame for what happened.
Keep my smile in mind because you’ll never get to see it again.

Stuck

You’re stuck in the moment
When you thought you were rolling
But you can’t move on
You feel like you’re able
To live past the moment
You can’t move on

I’m currently debating whether I should continue my therapy because I’m beginning to feel like there’s no point in spending so much money for it at the moment. I’m stuck. Totally. I know it, my disorders know it, my recovery knows it, my counselor knows it. And the worst part? I know exactly what’s going on, and yet I’m unable to change the situation despite being the only one who can.
As usual, the problem is my overwhelming fear of leaving my comfort zone and changing something- anything. Being constantly afraid of making things worse doesn’t make recovery a very pleasant process and it looks like I’ve reached a point where I can’t go further without being taken down by my fear.
The situation is pretty much beyond remedy: I’m in the unidentifiable zone between real recovery and a real relapse where I adapt to sick behaviors on a daily basis, but realize that they’re sick and keep them under control and only act them out in a certain way without letting things slip and legitimately harming me or someone else. I’m not sick, but I’m not healthy either.
I eat, but I feel extremely guilty, I bake, but without sugar, I cook, but without oil, I eat candy, but only dark chocolate and DIY stuff (my counselor made me eat normal vegan cookies from the store yesterday and it was awful), I tell people that I’m not perfectly fine, but not how much everything stresses me, I don’t harm my body in any way, but I hate it with all of my heart.
Get my point?
I always manage to have things under control to be able to keep going without having someone notice or getting hurt in the process, but I’m not happy with the way things are.
I don’t even know what I want anymore. Sure, the long-term aims in my life are clear, but what do I want to reach with what I’m doing here and now knowing that it’s not what I actually want or need? And, more importantly, how am I planning to carry on in the future? Will I continue to live like this?
The one and only person who can change something about this is me, that’s something I realized over the years.
But I refuse to because the idea of letting go of the patterns I’ve been holding on to for such an incredibly long time frightens me. When saying that I don’t remember being satisfied and happy with my achievements and appearance, I’m not exaggerating. The thought of not being good enough has manifested so deeply that I’ve adapted to the self-proclaimed ‘fact’ that there is no way to ever change something about it, and distancing myself from this concept would turn everything upside down. Over the years, you unfortunately start to identify yourself with your disordered thoughts. Who and what am I without them? Can I risk pushing them away? Will I be left with nothing? Will I be nothing? Lose control, become invisible, gain weight, fail everything?
I don’t know. And as unrealistically as all of my fears are, they’re there and because they won’t go away, I won’t change. I’ve settled in my own little hell and as crazy as it sounds, it’s gotten quite comfortable with time because I’ve gotten so used to it.
Do I enjoy living like this?
Hell no.
Am I willing to change?
Unfortunately, no.
Because there is nothing scarier than the unknown.
So I’m stuck here, unknowing what to do with myself and my life, trying to make it through without losing myself in this chaos I’ve created. I can’t even tell anyone about this because it’s just beyond ridiculous and stupid. I could choose happiness and yet I choose to suffer because I’m a scaredy-cat. My obsession with a non-existent perfection has made me end up here, and I don’t even know where here is.
Am I giving up? Is that what I’m doing? I don’t think so. I mean, I am keeping my shit together, aren’t I? Hell, I just want to get away from everything here if I’m honest.

Take me away
Let’s get out of this town
Run, baby, run
We’re unstoppable now

grunge, night, and run image

The sick pressure in the sick mind

Okay, so I gotta write down my thoughts right now cause I’m driving crazy.

I have this extremely strong urge to freaking purge everything out of my stomach right now, and it makes me so stressed and anxious because it doesn’t make any damn sense. I mean, yeah, I ate a hell lot. And yeah, I feel really full and bloated and fat and stretched and whatever right now. And yeah, my body is digesting. And yeah, I hate myself for it because it terrifies me. But the thing is: Despite having had a small binge, everything I ate were safe foods. Unsweetened soy yogurt, 1/2 avocado with chili, a banana, 2 clementines, some zucchini and tomatoes with pure herbs and some nuts. Oh, and a bite from smoked tofu and some wheat free pizza crust.
It was a hell lot and I regret that I was so weak, but it was all ALLOWED.
No forbidden foods. At all.
Yet all I feel is this strong sense of hatred, guilt and the unstoppable wanting to puke my god damn guts out until I see blood, my tummy hurts, my hands are bruised, nose running, eyes red and I can finally feel the wonderful relief of the emptiness inside. But I can’t do it even though I want to. Even though the eating disorder makes me believe I should and that it would be the right thing.
Even though I feel fat, disgusting and weak. I need to stay strong because I can’t lose this fight again. I don’t want anything more than to raid all the cupboards, eat all the candy, drink some soda and spend half an hour bending in front of the toilet. It’s pathetic, stupid, sick and useless, and yet I want it more than anything and feel awful for not doing it. It’s like I can feel my stomach expanding and my body getting fatter, and only writing this already makes me feel more repulsed by myself than words could describe. I’m such a stupid, fat, disgusting loser. No strength, no discipline, no success.
It’s wrong to think like this.
But I can’t stop it.
I don’t want to stop it.
It’s the only safety I have in my mind.
If the self-hatred is gone, I don’t know what’s left.
It’s all I remember feeling in terms of myself.

I hate all of this so much.

But I can’t lose. I can’t. I was there before. It could kill me this time and I can’t risk that.

Isn’t it sad that women have fought so long and hard for our rights and equality, and now all our attention is put on being a size zero?

Control

So… My eating disorder has kind of taken over again. I wish I could say I stopped it before it happened, but I obviously didn’t. Food possesses my almost every waking thought and I’ve gone back to getting tensed and nervous around it. Everything consumed makes me feel guilty, I need to write down everything except water and despite my attempts to simply live healthy, it’s getting harder to draw the line between that and my disordered behavior every day. All I can think about is the sick wanting to lose weight and be thinner than I’ve ever been, but I don’t want to devote my life to and sacrifice my health for it either. I’ve been there and it almost got me killed.
So what am I gonna do?

fat and society image

I try my best to stay on track, but I think I’m starting to lose control again.
Starvation is fortunately not an option, but claiming that my behavior around food is normal would be a lie as well.
Food is my one and only thing that makes me feel in control and not completely lost, so it gives me a sick form of safety I need to not feel completely lost. And, most importantly, the eating disorder is the only thing that makes me hate my body at least a little less and deal with my distorted body image a little better because I know that I’ll lose weight by listening to its words.
I need something to focus on when everything else slips out of my hands.
This shit has been on my mind for more than half a decade now, and the only time I could let go was when my body kept my son alive during the pregnancy and breastfeeding, but now that it belongs to me again, I feel the mad need to destroy it all over again.
I have dreams, plans and reasons to stay alive today (unlike a few years ago), but the problem is that being skinny is a part of every single one of them.
The healthy part of my brain has grown big enough to be able to convince be that these thoughts are nothing but invalid ridiculous crap, but it’s absolutely impossible to let go of them regardless.

I want to go out and attend concerts or parties again, but I need to be thin to wear a sexy outfit.
I want to graduate, but I need to be thin to wear a robe when I receive my certification.
I want my own apartment, but I need to be thin to allow myself to have food there.
I want to go to college, but I need to be thin to find friends there.
I want to get a good job, but I need to be thin to succeed there.
I want to be in a relationship again, but I need to be thin to be able to show my naked body to another person again.
I want to be a good mom for my child, but I need to be thin to be a good role model.

Isn’t that pathetic?
My weight doesn’t have anything to do with these goals.
I’m driving myself crazy and can’t really focus on anything anymore for absolutely stupid reasons. My eating disorder is maddening and deranging me so bad that I’ve been neglecting my friends, family and duties again because I frantically run around wondering whether I’ll eat or skip the next meal.
Control.
That’s all it’s about when I feel lost inside myself.
I just wish there was a normal way for me to achieve it because I don’t want to live like this again.
But I don’t have a choice anymore because I’ve already made one and it will make me go down again.
Strength, willpower and determination- those once were the things I was proudest of in terms of my personality, and now I’m throwing it all away to feed a disease. The probably saddest thing is that I now even realize what I’m doing to myself and no longer deny anything when I look into the mirror, but somehow this realization can’t stop me from my road to a huge relapse.

author, writing, and authors image

Pretending everything is right
To make it better
I’ll hide my makeup smeared eyes
To show that I try