Jun 30, 2009

176 happy birthday to me happy birthday to me

seventeen was a big year for me. huge, beyond words. i can't tell you how many firsts, how many lasts, how many tears and how many smiles have come together to make me who i am today.


my heart can't stop fluttering and i love it so much, so so much. i never want to not feel like this, ever.

hmm as for the big one-eight i don't feel like an adult but i never really want to lose that part of me who melts inside watching the fox & the hound, and is most comfortable sleeping with rocky the raccoon. life is simply, simply as it should be

Jun 29, 2009

175 i've picked myself up off the floor and heard the dawn break against the door



hey i'm alright. maybe it's not about whether i'm happy or sad, maybe it's about the face i see in the mirror. not the dark undereye circles or the little chickenpox scar on my cheek but what's behind my eyes. if i let it, the sun shines from somewhere inside and it kisses the world with memories of bright sky and sweet wet grass. but only if i let it.



every time i get a text from you my stomach does these little flips and sweet merciful jesus i feel like i'm in middle school again. tomorrow you're going to teach me to play guitar and we're going to watch a movie at your house and there are little tiny shocks going through my body, everywhere.

Jun 26, 2009

174 maybe you just missed the sun

it's so, so hard to let yourself be happy when it always turns into this


i'm so frustrated i'm about to cry but i'm so exhausted that i can't

last friday i was walking on air and the sun was jealous of my eyes and i couldn't stop smiling even when i was alone. saturday i was still breathing deeply and happily and i went to bed with hope and cheeks sore from laughing. i woke up sunday morning and for no reason i couldn't stop crying and it was all i could do to get out of bed and go to work. i've been lying about how well i've been doing


i'm so fucking tired of being sad. i'm angry and i'm frustrated and i don't want to climb that mountain anymore, the one with laughter and hugs and peaches and eyes crinkling in the corners, because i know what's on the other side and it breaks my heart to let that joy go. every time it gets a little harder and


i'm crying now

Jun 23, 2009

173 flutter


sometimes my words are featherlight and they come like breath and fog up the mirror so i can draw lines through the ghosts and turn any face into a smile. other times i'm doing anything i can to cough up the words but they're stuck somewhere way too deep just waiting for the right time to come out. lately i think i've been doing a lot of that and i'm starting to doubt my way with words.

hmm i messed up again today and every time i swallow i'm reminded of the shame and the disgust and the regret. you'd think something with such awful consequences would be easy to stop, but this is just an addiction. no matter how much the heroin addict with their bruised arms and charcoal eyes and sharp bones hates what they're doing to themselves, they feel so overwhelmingly, numbingly powerless.
i'm not going to be powerless anymore, though. tomorrow is a new day and i intend to treat it as such

Jun 20, 2009

172 wanting to feel you, wanting to breathe

and i thought you wanted to feel like breathing
you have delicate hands
and i know why


i'm all flushed cheeks and breathlessness with a joy i'd only ever read about until recently


last night i got home around 3:30am and tried to sleep but gave up around 6:30, when was the last time i slept? i'm still not tired, it's like my mind doesn't want to slip into dreams and let go of this unbelievable reality. it's holding on to these feelings and i'm saying shh, they will still be here in the morning. i know they will

Jun 17, 2009

171 the night is here and the day is gone, and the world spins madly on

my heart is aching so badly. i'm tired from not getting enough sleep and i didn't take my effexor until 2:30 so it hasn't quite lifted the fog yet. this song just hurts me in the most sad beautiful delicate way possible, there's this stirring inside of me that if i close my eyes will take me over.



i'm going to go for a run to clear my head. i used to be so much happier than this, even this morning i had wings and i blushed a little when a cute stranger caught my eye and smiled. i try to catch those feelings and if i could i would keep them in a little jar or in little tiny bottles by my bed. but i already know that none of the things i want are tangible, so i run and keep running until the ground is flying out from beneath me in waves and in my mind i'll tear the pages from notebooks and leave them on the floor because i don't need them anymore, and i'll smile and watch the white wordless confetti falling down around me. the things in my mind will never be captured with ink and bound to paper. so i'll just keep running

170 and from this gutter we're still staring at the stars


i watched this movie yesterday, it got 0 stars but i quite liked it. well enough that i could sit through most of it without heaving a great restless sigh which is saying something.

today i was cold a lot and i put on my favorite hoodie and then i ______. again, again. always but i'm trying not to let it drag me down again. i'm still smiling. i had a great day at work, my best friend of 7 years came in all sunburned (but not farmers-tanned as she pointed out) and i hugged her bright red little self to death I LOVE YOU MORGAN. also some of the people i work with are just wonderful and i'm looking forward to getting to know them more.

over the summer i'm taking english 101 at the local community college (hi i know how to write please do not make me conform to your silly rigid little rules) and **mass murderers and serial killers** which is quite a fascinating class. for some reason the more grotesque and completely fucked up the serial killer is, the more interested i am in them. knowing they had something as frail and just plain incredible as a human life completely under their control really does something to me. i'm kind of bored of jeffrey dahmer and btk and ted bundy and the like though because you kind of hear about them a lot and blahblah. i'm into the likes of andrei chickatilo and joseph vacher. i'm doin my report on him yyyay!

how embarrassing the last text i sent ended with "HE IS BEAUTIFUL OMG." talking about a professor at the college. hey sup i'm still a teenage girl okay.




oh ps i kind of am starting to think i'm an okay person... a little bit

Jun 16, 2009

169 sleeeeeepy eyes sleepy sleepy gotta get up at 5:49

i realized the other day that i'm 17 and already a sophomore in college, life goes too fast what a TRIP


imagine that hehe

ugh guys i swear i'm trying to conjure up something interesting but lately all of my thoughts have been like the little squiggly lines you get in your eyes and the harder you try to make them stay still so you can look straight at them, the more impossible it is to catch them FRUSTRATING!!!!!!!!

wow just tell me to shut the fuck up do it do it do it

Jun 14, 2009

168 the day i thought i'd never get through

i'm so sick of this. i'm sick of dizzy headaches and that dull ache in my gut from not eating in days. i'm sick of purging until i puke blood. i'm sick of crying in front of the mirror and i'm sick of hopelessness.



i'm finally ready to change. this is OVER. i don't need an eating disorder to hold my hand anymore. my eating disorder is not my best friend, it's taken so much from me. i can do anything, i can be anyone, i can feel anything

this is not going to pass. i'm going to hold onto this, i'm going to break barriers and i'm going to change.

Jun 13, 2009

167

oh my god i really can't do this

Jun 11, 2009

166 hands in my pockets, straightjacket mind, it's gettin easy

so if you couldn't tell (i don't really expect you to be able to) i've been slipping backwards, supposedly "pretty badly" but i never think anything is bad enough. my mom called my old trainer in colorado and asked her to look for a buyer for lenardo. if they get rid of my horse i will literally have no reason not to starve myself to death. just sayin


my hair isn't that disgusting anymore i promise

my friend keeps texting me and i'm too tired to reply. no i don't really want to hang out on sunday. hey this is so familiar, it's amazing how easy it is to fall back into this bullshit. i'm not really seeing what i'm typing the world is kind of far away and the screen is just a hallucination, there's something pushing on my eyes from inside my head and i have a headache

you blink once and the ghosts are back and your skin is just paper stretched across bone, the things i want i can't hold

Jun 8, 2009

165 how weightless they must be, without feeling

close your eyes
everything a different shade of gold, shimmery flakes of dust floating through the air to land softly on the smooth skin of a little freckle-faced girl, golden locks falling in ripples and waves around her shoulders and down her back
you inhale and the smell is cinammon and clean, something clean, anything clean and you don't feel dirty anymore. nothing is dark and nothing is gray and everything holds your hands and leads you around this corner, that corner to discover what lies ahead. and you find it and laugh and your heart sighs one of those nice sighs and you wish on fallen eyelashes and even if the wishes don't come true you just close your eyes and say thank you to whoever will listen





now open them
the world is raining and you're lost on an empty street. the buildings are gray with nobody inside them to light a fire or flick a light switch to chase away the demons and the doors are locked. so there you are standing outside while it pours and you used to like the rain but now it just hurts. you're drowning in something but it's not the water, you look down at your bare feet and they're so pale and sad looking without the bright polish you once wore. your stomach growls and you go to take a step forward but you're just too tired. you look up at the clouds and it's a sea of silhouettes and weightless ghosts and you wish you were like them but you never will be so you start to cry and the salt water of your tears falls heavier than the rain ever could

Jun 6, 2009

164 i really do have so much to say but i'm no good with words

"there's nothing to writing. all you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."
walter wellesley "red" smith



sometimes things are just so wonderful and i don't really know how to react. i've never been good at dealing with life when it's going right, this is hard to explain but i usually end up sabotaging myself when things start to go well. this time i'm trying not to, but isn't that what i always do?


oh hey i put a negative spin on this already, i didn't mean to do that so soon (or at all). i had a good day at work i guess, and then afterwards in the grocery store i was just all chatter and wit and smiles and push push pushing myself around on the shopping cart, you know when you stand on the back and wheel down the aisles at BREAKNECK speed or at least fast enough to do considerable damage if you hit a liquor stand.


there was a boy working at the grocery store who went to my middle school (oh hey **english 101 lesson** that was a misplaced modifier i love not caring), it was kind of weird. blast to the past or whatever. see in middle school i was this painfully awkward passive-aggressive wallflower and if i spoke i turned the color of a tomato. i had messed up friendships and ALWAYS wore my hair up and almost cried when i got sent to the guidance counselor for writing a mean note and never kissed a boy or anything. i used to walk up stairs and imagine jumping off and lying there and nobody would know my name when someone asked who was the weird chick with the broken neck and the bloody face. i've always been a people-watcher but in middle school i spent more time looking down at my feet, now that i think about it i must have looked unapproachable all the time because i rarely focused on anything but the way my jeans looked with my shoes. i used to always wish i could go back knowing what i know now, just to know how different my life would be






but maybe i don't want to anymore

Jun 5, 2009

163 i owe you more than this

i think a sigh can say so many different things
it can say i'm bored or i'm tired or i'm sick of your meaningless words, when will your actions come to life? it can say i don't want to do this anymore.

it can say wow, this world is beautiful. this has been the tone of my sighs today, and

i get a little braver every day

Jun 3, 2009

162 we've got a lot, don't you dare forget that

SO, for my english 101 class (omfg this class makes me want to shoot myself btw i know how to construct a sentence and i hate the rigidness of the way we are "supposed" to write) we have to write a descriptive personal narrative about overcoming a great challenge that has made us into the person we are today. one guess what my first thought was!
so i'm sitting there in class all excited because i know how i want to write this paper and then i realize, the professor is going to read this paper. and then she's going to know. and then how will she look at me?

and i start to second guess myself because i'm not sure if i really want her to know all of that. then she reveals that we will have to share our rough draft with a group. and then i decide that i am 100% not, no way, no how, ever going to write about my eating disorder.

(keep in mind x number of years ago, any time the words 'eating disorder' entered my thoughts, i was certain that i was 100% not, no way, no how ever going to have an eating disorder)

so i wrote it. and i decided i'm going to share it and i'm fucking terrified, honestly. but i want to put it on here before i read it out loud to a bunch of strangers (HEH??) because i want to go through it one more time so i can be absolutely sure of what i'm doing.

sigh, here goes. sorry if it's all stuff you've heard before and it's terribly cliche and it's really... ugh whatever this is bullshit don't read it if you don't want to i'm done with the stupid disclaimers

"Every day I struggle with the demon that is an eating disorder. Every day I worry, calculate, analyze, poke and prod at my body and try to drown out the disgust that fills and coats my mouth. I fight the urge to cut out calories and meals. I shake with effort as I resist the impossibly powerful drive to rush to the bathroom alone after a meal and rid myself of the food that leaves me feeling dirty, worthless, impure. Every day I fight the impulses that send me blindly catapulting into flames of self-destruction and I fight the anxiety that drives a million tiny needles into my skin. I spent three months in a treatment center where my weight was stabilized and I received therapy from several talented psychologists and since then I have been home for about two and a half months. It feels like a lifetime since the first time I realized I really had a problem, but thanks to a treatment center called Mirasol, I am lucky enough to still be here.

The day my problem became most real to me, looked me straight in the face with bone-chilling coldness, was just the start of a very long journey. It was around noon when my mom announced that she was going to run errands and asked if I wanted her to bring me back something to eat. I hesitated and bit my lip, staring straight ahead, before bursting into tears. I was agonizing over whether to give in to my hunger and endure the inevitable self-loathing or keep starving and hang desperately on to the feelings of pride that came with fasting. My mom decided to bring me something back, and I ate it through tears, sobbing and choking and feeling completely disgusted with myself and my body. I swallowed tear after salty tear and it became apparent to me that maybe my mom was right. Maybe I really did have a problem. Unfortunately, by the time I realized the hole I had dug myself into, I was further down than I had ever imagined and looking up out of the ground wasn't so easy anymore.

After the breakdown, my parents had me see a therapist, who suggested I try an outpatient program called Healthy Futures. Twice a week for four hours at a time I sat with either a therapist, dietitian, or group of four to six other girls in a room that smelled like cheap home fragrances. I found the groups essentially useless; we "checked in" and talked about what was going on in our lives but were cautioned not to talk about anything that might trigger another girl, which meant topics like food, weight, and body image were forbidden. I continued dropping weight and restricting food intake until they told my parents that I couldn't stay. They recommended trying an inpatient treatment facility and soon we were on the phone with endless facilities across the country. We eventually settled on a treatment center in Tucson called Mirasol.

Mirasol was my saving grace; there, I was provided consistency, safety, comfort, and an acceptance I had never known to exist elsewhere. The staff became my friends and saw me through times of desperate tears and brilliant shining smiles. I became friends with some of the other girls there and found an indescribable comfort in the things we shared. I could finally relate to people. I was able to harness my creativity and pour myself into collaging and writing when I was struggling. I learned about the causes behind an eating disorder, and for the first time I truly believed that there was nothing "wrong" with me as a person. The wounds I had failed to recognize and treat since childhood finally began to heal.

I truly believe now that if I had not gone to Mirasol, I wouldn't be here today. At best, I might be lying in a hospital bed, pale and transparent as a ghost, eating through a feeding tube. My struggles are still a daily challenge but I am more able to cope. I am able to go out to lunch without the road in front of me blurring through tears into a haze of gray as I drive home. I completed the testing necessary to receive a GED and I have a job I love. I still work with my therapist from Mirasol, who helps keep me in line with her extremely effective and unconventional methods. And, for the first time since that unforgettable, eye-opening breakdown, I have hope for myself and my future."

omg how corny am i.
really i'm just scared, do i really want to be split open and exposed and that pure and raw in front of people i've known for 2 days?

hold my hand please