The first relapses of 2017

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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.

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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.

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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┬ástruggling 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.

My tattoo

  

I felt the urge to show you my first tattoo I got in April for my 17th birthday (which was actually already in March, but who cares). It hasn’t healed completely yet, but.. Whatever. 

It’s just one word: strength. On my wrist, visible for everyone including me all the time and every day for the rest of my still pretty long life (if nothing will go wrong).

What does it mean to me? It’s quite a synonym for recovery to me. Like this ‘stay strong’ tattoo (which is really awesome), but better because it’s not clear for people on the outside what it actually means: overcoming mental disorders. You don’t get labeled by every stranger as someone crazy or sick. They don’t see it that way because it can be interpreted in many different ways.
Just a guide for life, a physical or mental sickness, a heartbreak, dark time or motivation to reach goals? Nobody knows expect me and the ones I tell.
And that’s why I got it and why I will never regret it because even after all this sickness shit is over, I’ll still have a guide for my whole life, the good and the bad times, the bright and the dark moments.

My motivation wall!

Right in front of my room in the corridor, I have covered almost the whole wall with things to motivate me during my recovery. And because I added a new piece today, I’d like to show you the whole wall.

The new one: 

  
The old ones- and because I couldn’t get the wall on one photo, I took one of each piece. (WARNING: most of the stuff is in German cuz I am half German!) 

   
         

That’s it- for now. My way to remind me every day of staying strong and never giving up. I plan on doing more collages and similar stuff to fill the whole wall.