"Imagine meeting someone who understood even the dustiest corners of your mixed-up soul."

For the first time in a very long time, I can actually breathe. 
I feel like I am taking in breaths of air and letting them out instead of hold my breath to gather strength for the next insurmountable challenge.

When I wasn't looking, my knight found me. 
He hasn't swooped in with his trusty steed and slayed the dragons, he hasn't beheaded the demons. He has done something better.
He has held my hand. He has ridden next to me as I've been slaying my dragons and am struggling to behead my demons.
He has reminded me I am the dragon slayer.

He has given me courage, strength, faith and Grace.
He hasn't "saved" me. He has had faith in me. In my own strength.

I haven't slayed all my dragons, beheaded all my demons or conquered my weaknesses. But there he is, riding right next to me, holding my hand, and softly whispering in my ear, "you've got this."

I am...breathing.

Trash

Disposable, dispensable, disowned, useless, unworthy, disgusting.

Trash in your way.
Disgusting you.

Scrap off the shit under your feet and keep going.

You are useless.

DISposable, DISpensable, DISgusting

I am my DISorder.

"did I say something wrong to make you feel bad?"

My "depression" isn't about you, it isn't about my eating disorder, it isn't about
"drinking too much", it isn't about not wanting to quit smoking.

My "depression" is about me.

It's about having lived with a woman who hated my guts since before I
knew who I was.  
It's about a sibling who tried to rape me.
It's about having loved the wrong person.
It's about having spent my entire life fucking meaningless, useless
bodies Just Because I Could.
It's about having been alone all my life.

It's about missing my daughter so much, that I can't even hear her
voice without wanting to cry.
It's about loving my teenager so much and being so scared that I'm
failing him.
It's about having a pre-teen who is so concerned about other people,
that he will never ever say what's hurting him.

It's about never ever being THE ONE.

It's about having been attacked, it's having faced the barrel of a gun,
it's about being beaten by men who were supposed to take care of me,
it's about having had to arrest a man who I never, ever thought would
ever hurt me.

it's about wanting to belong, it's about wanting to be loved.
It's about not caring what people think of me, not giving a rat's ass
about whether I'm smart enough, pretty enough, intelligent enough, but
just KNOWING who I am inside.

It's about knowing that I am a good person, that I don't wish anyone
ill-will, that I truly care about people and I cannot trust that
anyone will ever see that.  EVER.  

It's about not wanting to be labeled with depression, anxiety, PTSD, eating disordered, a survivor of domestic abuse, sexual abuse, the adult child of an alcoholic.

It's about all the fucking past that I have kept bottled up inside
until it began to affect the one adult relationship in my life that I
really want to keep.

It's about trying to figure out how I've managed to be able to live my
life not letting these feelings bother me, and now I can't be strong
enough to just let the past go and forget it.

It's about the most difficult four years of my life.

It's about not knowing who I am any more and wanting myself back. 
It's about knowing what I want and not knowing how to get it. 
It's about finally saying, "I can't be what someone else wants me to be."  
It's about finally being able to be me, but not knowing who that is.

It's about wanting to feel...

Empty

I am the good little girl.

I am the one who bottles it in,
who "smiles and waves",
who starves to feel no pain.

I am the good little girl.

Who closes her eyes and pretends this isn't her.
Who closes her eyes and imagines her soul disappearing.

I am the good little girl.

Taught to keep it in, to hide, to pretend.

I am the good little girl.

Don't be Rude Little girl.
Good little girls don't feel.

I am the good little girl.
Don't ever let her go.

Autumn Mist

I remember mornings like this.
Sitting on your balcony with the crisp, clear dawn on the horizon.
The city lights reflecting off the lake.
My legs draped around yours and the glow of our passion still on your skin.

I remember your curls slipping over your face as you nuzzled closer to me to keep me warm.

I remember the cigarette smoke as you exhaled your pleasure.

I remember you.
Your scent, your breath, your profile.
The feel of your skin as my body sank into yours.

I remember mornings like this with you.
So close.
I remember the feeling of your bones.
We shared our bodies, our souls, our existence.
You loved me then.

You promised eternal love.
Always and Forever.

I remember mornings like this with you.

I remember you.
I carry you on my skin.
I have you inside me.
Always and Forever.

Fear

It's scary being me.

Just as I imagine it must be scary being my partner. Neither one of us knows which one of me I'm going to be on any given day.
I'm thinking I'm going to have to google "bipolar" "schizophrenia" & "multiple personalities".

I have never given any thought to possibly being bipolar.
Don't we all have a little bipolarity in us? Don't we all feel really really great sometimes and pretty shitty at other times?

Are the highs and lows so fucking drastic for everyone?

I am amazingly happy today; the sky looks beautiful, morning sex was fabulous and the coffee was fucking orgasmic.
And that feeling of happiness scared the shit out of me.
I see that I am truly imbalanced.

Is this because of my disorder or is my disorder because of this? An egg or a chicken? Would it make any difference?

Why can't I just turn my mind off? Is everyone walking around the planet right now, working really hard at holding on to their reality?
Are some of us mentally stronger than others?

And what happened to me? When did I turn into this person? I've always had ups and downs, sadness and depression, huge problems with anxiety; but I've always held on to my brain. Haven’t I?

I've known my daughter's dad since I was 18 or 19.

Our relationship was tumultuous, abusive, twisted and unhealthy-ok, all my relationships have been unhealthy, I don't think the word "healthy" has ever been paired with "relationship". I think we loved each other once, that’s what he says…we must have.
I called him one day after having spent three or four days unable to sleep, feeling my mind slipping further and further into the vortex of hell.
"Have I always been crazy?"
"What?!"

That was the first time I've ever taken him by surprise.

I think I may have started crying or maybe I already was by the time he answered the phone.  I guess I called him because I thought he'd be someone who "knew me when..."

He's such a wonderful bullshitter he knew exactly what to say.  

Actually, I'm being very unfair; I'm surprised at how well he knows me, how he knew what I was asking him.
How he put into words what I had going on in my head.  I shouldn't be surprised.  

You can't have a relationship with someone for so many years, have a child together, try to mend so many years of anger and hostility and not know each other.

Or maybe you can…I don’t know who I am anymore. 

I can’t figure out when I went from burying all this shit and keeping it hidden through my disorder, to trying to hold on to sanity because all of this shit in my head is finally beginning to come out. 

And what he said to me was maybe the truth?  I’ve been so angry for such a long time now that actually facing that anger is something I can’t deal with.

Maybe having a HEALTHY relationship is something so foreign and so scary, that I want to fuck it up.  That I want to say “Nah, it didn’t work out because I don’t have healthy relationships.”

What I do see is my mind at work.  I see it trying to fuck with me.  I see myself fighting to stifle everything that wants to rear it’s nasty, disgusting head. And that is what causes the insanity.

I see a man who is trying hard to understand, who I actually feel safe and comfortable with, who hasn’t turned to run away from “ME” and I see myself WANTING to destroy that.

I see the anger I have been stuffing inside of me, trying so hard to come out and I see my starvation mode kick in when my feelings need to be checked.  And I see myself weak and useless and needy when I have to eat because somehow, food is related to letting go.  To losing my strength, to facing my brain, my thoughts, and my insanity.

There is a huge gap of me I cannot remember.  I can’t remember between the ages of 9 and 15.  Or maybe 13?  I remember my mother’s dad died when I was 9 and that’s when I remember my mother’s drinking becoming insane, that’s when I remember my brother’s sick, perverted self coming out, and bits and pieces of life.  But I remember always saying “I can’t remember if I was 9 or 15”.

Maybe that was when I lost my mind and I’ve been living without for so long that, now that I need one, it’s having issues coming back to live inside my head.

I don’t want to fuck this up. I don’t want to fuck up this relationship, I don’t want to keep falling back into the bowels of hell, I don’t want this INSANITY anymore.

I love the feeling of emptiness in the pit of my stomach, it makes me feel strong and powerful and ready to battle these demons.  “All of us are fighting our demons, some of us just fight them louder than others.”  Can mine please shut the fuck up? 

But they no longer can.  I have to let go of this fear, this anger, this hatred for the damned demons that I keep trying to drown and it’s not working anymore. 

I need to seriously stop holding on to this fear of letting them out because I can’t fight them any longer.  I am not strong enough anymore.  And now that I have a hand to hold on to, maybe this is the time to do it.  In the safety and comfort of my partner’s love, patience and understanding.  I am not alone anymore. 

Don’t fuck this up, don’t let go don’t let THEM win.

I am…hideously insane.

My Desire

I love you. Passionately. Without explanation.
No thought.

You warmed my hands in the cold universe of loneliness, holding on so
tight I knew I wouldn’t fall.

It scares me to think you may one day let go, and I will once again
fall into the void of uncertainty.

I want you to trust in that love.

I have offered you my soul, my body, my being.
For you to keep, to own, to do as you desire.
I want you to remember for all eternity that someone loved you so
much, that their being cannot be separated from you, from who you are.

I gave you everything I have.
I want to belong.
I want to belong to you.
A possession. An object for sex, for bondage, for use, for love, for passion.
Only for you.
My Master
My Man
My Lover

Mine in a way that owns my soul. I don’t have you.
You are not mine, you OWN me, you own my body, my sex, my desire, my love.

I see your beautiful body as you own me, possessing my entire being,
taking me and forcing yourself into me and it makes my love for you so
much stronger.
My weakness at your body makes my body desire you with a fire so
fierce I want you to wrap me into your being.

Make me yours.  Own me. Forever and for always.
I want nothing more than to Belong.
Only to you.

Make me your object of your deepest, darkest need.  Your most naked
desires, the wants inside your body.

Make me your object.
That is my only desire.

You get what you deserve

I wonder what happened?
I wonder what went wrong when the divine universe decided to spit me out into the great wide open?
Where and when did the glitch happen?

"Remember that you were given this life because you are strong enough to live it."Really?  
How much stronger am I supposed to be? 
How much more fucking strength do I need to have? 
And if I'm supposed to be strong enough for this life,  why didn't I get the mind and body to handle this life?

My mind is so weak I am insane. It's an interminable, rusty, squeaky, loop that drags me down and keeps my head under water. And I gasp for air and swallow gallons of nasty, murky, vile muck that fills my nostrils and clogs my lungs an threatens to choke the very existence out of me. 
And when I finally gasp for air, when my mind has finally allowed me to take in gulps of clean, pure, soul-filling breaths, my body starts attacking me.

Constant, never-ending, mind-numbing-incessant physical pain.
Why bother to complain about the pain? Why even mention it if nothing is going to change it?
When it's a "good" day without as much physical pain, a sudden jerk, a wrong move, a bad position and the pain sends shards of agony though your entire disgusting, weak, useless body.

Once upon a time I was told the damage I did from years of starvation did this to me.  Once upon a time I was told the years of being beaten made my body weak.  I accepted it.  I don't care if I did this to myself, but I can't believe I cannot have been given a mind strong enough to deal with this.
Why can't my mind accept that this is the life I was given "GROW UP AND FUCKING DEAL WITH IT!" but no! always, always going around and around in your fucking puny mind about shit that you hate having to face.

"Why are you so grumpy?"  "Why are you unhappy?"  "Why are in such a MOOD?"  Really, WHY?  WHY THE FUCK?
Because I AM IN PAIN! Mental, physical, spiritual, constant, suicidal PAIN.

And the most beautiful thing I was given on this earth is the only three humans who get it.  Who understand mom's physical pain.  They can read when mom has a day when her body hurts so much, she can't even talk. My 19 year old used to make sure the boys kept the noise level down when I just needed a moment to lie down (or is it lay?  Who the fuck cares?) My 15 year old comes to me still and says "I can feel your energy mom, something is going on inside your mind."  And my sweet, sweet little baby boy "it's ok mom, I can make my own breakfast if your body hurts."
I can still take care of them through the pain, the madness, the insanity, because nothing is going to change.  It's always there.  The insanity, the physical pain, the body that just never stops letting me know how weak it is...it's there.

If I were ever going to write a suicide note, this would be it:  "I am tired of being tired. I am tired of the constant pain, of the incessant fucking mind that never stops hurting, the body that feels like shit all the time, the 'why are you always so grumpy?' from people who will never get it."  The callous nature people use to discuss pain, the 'oh yeah, my body hurts too, but I take pain pills, I'm on disability, I go see a shrink, I just rest, why don't you just TAKE SOMETHING'" 

Because nothing has ever taken away the pain in my body that starts at my jaw and goes all the way down to my ankles.  The pain of a knee that doesn't stop pinching, the jaw that makes your entire brain hurt, why fucking complain constantly?

The mind that just remembers all the horrible, mean, hurtful, hateful, disgusting things you are.  Why keep saying anything?  Just stuff it down, just keep quiet.  And if one day you snap and someone takes offense, Bite your tongue and don't yell out, "DO YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ME?"

That would be my suicide note.  Except, I would never, ever make my children ever believe, that I didn't love them enough to deal with the pain, in order to stay in their lives.

There must have been a glitch somewhere, I must have done something to deserve this, and thank you whoever thought I deserved this, to give me my beautiful amazing angels.

It belongs to me

I discovered Somethng about my ED. Or maybe it's Somethng I already knew and I just tuned in to it. I know why my disorder has been so out of control. Because I was letting out emotions. I was sharing my feelings with my partner, And that felt so strange, so out of control. And when I stuff my emotions inside me, when I don't share how I feel, when I keep my guard up, my ED is "under control", because I starve myself, and I control my feelings, my food intake, my emotions.  My anorexia is my strength, my bouts of purging is my weakness...

Omissions are Betrayals...

Omissions are lies...they are deceitful betrayals. Whether or not a question was asked and given an answer, when you withhold information from someone else purposely, that is a betrayal...and by default...a lie.

A few days ago my best friend and I were talking about our ED...

We know how to be good little girls, stuff all our emotions inside, be polite and pretend to give a fuck and no body would ever know the difference, because we are "good little girls."

But we really aren't, since we stuff and hide all those emotions inside, we starve, we are little whores who fucked around way too many times and no one would ever know everything inside us. Ahhh, yes, but we are the EMOTIONALLY unstable ones.  Because you don't know why we are who we are, because we keep it bottled up inside.  We keep in control of the emotions we can't let out by starving ourselves.  She and I, we know each other really well. Really, really well.

And we talked about Omissions.

Betrayals...

We can look into someone's eyes and KNOW they are LYING, by OMITTING HONESTY.
WHY THE FUCK?  Why are you such a DISHONEST PERSON that you have to LIE.  
And she and I both agree, (of course, we agree on most everything!)

The guy I'm "seeing"...he and his Best Friend, one of his exes, have the same type of friendship a lot of us have, I'll talk to you, you'll talk to me, if you annoy me, I'll take a break, and so it goes.

My best friend and I talk every day. Both my best friends and I, talk or text every day.  So, the guy I'm "seeing" says to me "No she and I aren't talking because A WHILE AGO she said something and I didn't want to hear it so, you know, I haven't spoken to her in A WHILE."

So, last night I find out, that's a LIE, an OMISSION, a NOT TRUTH.  And to be honest, I could give a fucking rat's furry behind who, when and what he talks to.  I DO NOT CARE.  I do not expect anything from anyone, I do not demand anything from anyone and I DO NOT TRUST.
Problem is I trusted.

And I found out, straight from his "best friend's" mouth 
"Oh yeah, creepy Bill, yeah, I texted him and told him, Yeah I heard you went to this polyamory thing and hit on (Insert name of guy I'm currently fucking)'s girlfriend". And she knew great detail about something that concerned me that she would only know if, yup, that's right, HAD THE OMISSION NOT BEEN TOLD TO ME!  

FUCK ME IN THE ASS!  Something she could not have known if HE had REALLY, REALLY NOT OMITTED THE FACT THAT HE AND SHE WERE ACTUALLY TALKING.

WHY THE FUCK OMIT THAT?

And then, comments come aout about things that there is no way she could have known unless HE ACTUALLY TOLD HER! Vacation, dogs, kids, parents, little things that come up in conversations between friends that are part of life that you share with your friends, which is completely normal, that;s why you're friends but on the other hand why OMIT to the person you're currently fucking? unless the person you are currently fucking isn't worth a fucking DAMNED FUCK because your "best friend" is way more important.  Huh, lookie lookie, 

So my question to my girlfriend, the one who knows how to be a "good little girl", is WHY THE FUCK OMIT THAT?  Why are you Pretending you aren't sharing every single thing in your life with someone else?  What's the bug fucking deal?  What's the big deal??????

So, if you omit that, what else are you omitting???  TAN TAN TAN!!!

My point to her, which she completely got, of course, wasn't the fact that there is a friendship, big fucking deal, we both know our 'relationship" and I too have male friends, close, intimate male friends with whom I share things, that's not the point, the point is: He keeps saying "don't ever lie to me because I don't want to feel betrayed", R E A L L Y??
Maybe because you KNOW you're omitting information and therefore are concerned that someone else would omit information from you?
You don't think an Omission is the same as a lie?  Especially when you go out of your way to say "OH WE HAVEN'T SPOKEN IN THIS MUCH TIME" and it turns out that facts about my life are being discussed to such and extent that third parties are being discussed and you want to OMIT that fact?

I don't OMIT anything, as a matter of fact, I was Fucking stupid enough to tell things I didn't have to tell him just because I never wanted him to think I was ever Hiding anything.

And what was really fucking ADORABLE was that it alllllllll came out last night, in the conversation, no big deal, but IT ENDED UP COMING OUT.  Cute little conversations between two friends who; one I trusted because he told me "Oh, she was giving me bullshit SO I HAVEN"T SPOKEN TO HER IN A WHILE" and It was a LIE.  

And like my ED friend and I discuss, we keep it all bottled up inside and put on your good little girl faces and smile and talk and you will never, ever know that I just heard you say something that wasn't exactly THE TRUTH...

Why do you fucking have to lie?  Haven't I given you everything inside my fucking soul and you LIE?  

Because an OMISSION is a LIE...
No matter how you color it, paint it, sell it, or disguise it.


The problem with "TRUST" is that once you find out things aren't exactly what you've been told, it's really, really hard to look in someone's eyes and BELIEVE.

what an insanity that rules my entire existence

Help me...
I know my anorexia.
I know my starvation.
This constant, incessant throwing up I don't understand.  This is new.
I know how to control food so that I don't feel I have to empty my stomach.  I'm so disgusted and scared.
I am FED up of cheese and sunflower seeds.  I'm scared of anything else.

My brain would like to bite into that hot dog my son is eating...my brain is screaming at the delicious smell of the rice and lentejas I've just cooked. I WANT FRIED CHICKEN, GRILLED TUNA, SHRIMP, LOBSTER, a fucking peanut butter sandwhich!
And the thought, the taste, the feeling of it in my stomach is too much for me to handle.  
Oh it's so disgusting. Having to stick your fingers deeper and deeper down your throat to vomit out the two slices of toast I just ate.  I've thrown up four times today.  I MADE myself throw up; a 1/2 a cup of rice with lentejas, two slices of toast, a spoonful of Nutella and another attempt at toast.  

It's scary.  It's not making me thinner, oh but the feeling of an empty stomach.  How fucking liberating.  I feel so fat at food inside me. I am disgusted at having lived in countries where people BEG to eat and I fucking choose to THROW UP MY FOOD.

I just want to starve. I want to smoke, I want nothing inside me, I want my POWER.

eating and knowing you can't wait to turn on the shower to muffle the noise, stick your fingers deeper inside your throat, throw up as much as you can and pray not to die choking on your undigested food.  Clean up the toilet, the lid, the sides, the floor, pinesol, glassex, clorox, airfreshener, get the disgusting stench out.  Wash your fingers over and over and over, shower to make sure you don't stick and brush, brush, brush your teeth, your tongue, floss, mint gum and the need for a cigarette, the only part missing.

It's easier to starve, but I'm so hungry sometimes.  I'm tired of cheese and seeds...nothing else works...how will my therapist understand that "write a list of things you can do so you don't go throw up" doesn't work?

I want...
to be THIN
to be IN CONTROL
to be WHAT I WANT TO READ ON THE SCALE
to be
S A N E.

Anorexia is the handcuff that doesn't allow me to move forward.
Being, looking, acting, seeing T H I N isn't going to fix the dreams, the hate, the nightmares, the self loathing.
please stop, please stop, please stop. 
help me please.

I just want to be thin, I want to see my ribs, that's my control...help me please

I have loved...

In countless lifetimes, in many ways, in soul and spirit and skin.
I have searched for honesty without omission, without asking for anything in return.
I have loved you deeply, in soul and spirit and skin.
I have needed to be loved, despite knowing it's impossibility.
I have felt the soul ripped from my being,
Shards of sharp, searing glass deep inside my existence.
I have felt your presence, your comfort and your strength.
I have sought to find an all encompassing love knowing that my wounds will forever carry that deep, unhealing scar.
Emptiness fills me with hate. And yet I love so many. And can feel nothing but numbness in return. I have loved you more than I wanted, I have been scared by the force of this love and I ache to feel its comfort.

I DO NOT NEED...YOU

I hate to need.
I don't want to need anyone.
The moment "I need you" crosses my lips, I want to self-destruct.  I want to go into turbo "FUCKIT"mode.

I want to go back to things that I've done in my past to make me numb.
I don't want to feel NEED.
I don't want to tell anyone that I need them, their strength, their help, their body, THEM.
It makes me feel weak and useless and like a complete and absolute whimpering useless IDIOT.
I HATE NEEDING SOMEONE, SOMETHING, ANYONE.

All I need is to find my strength. ME.

I am...not in need

Strength that kills

How can a strong intelligent powerful women be so weak?. 
How is there no stopping this madness? How does it make sense to panic at the feeling of food inside me?What compels me to seek its release? 
How disgusting and disturbing a habit. This desperate uncontrolable need to throw it up. To release the fear inside me. Throwing up doesn't make me thinner or pretty or better. 
It's exhausting, it's scary, it's disgusting... and it feels so go. The release of all the emmotions attached to the food I just ate.
Panic sets in about 15-20 minutes after I eat anything except sunflower seeds or cheese.
I must get rid of it.
It must get out of me. It makes me ill and I go into a spiral of self Loathing and fear. What sense does it make? My strength is my worst enemy and my biggest fear.
A few weeks ago my man, my master, my rock, my comfort and strength held my hand through a panic attack. 


He makes the best pasta I've ever had. I don't like pasta. His is epic. I'm so tired of cheese and sunflower seeds.
I want to eat. Food disgusts me. I wish I would put food in my mouth, chew it, swallow it and not go crazy.
I occupied my mind, I was "ok", I felt calm, I did some things with the boys, I lay on the sofa and turned on the tv...and then I went to the bathroom and threw up every single thing I possibly could. I MADE myself get rid of everything in my stomach. 
I have to stick my fingers deeper into my throat to throw up. It gets caught in my throat and I'm afraid to die by choking on my own vomit. It is madness. It is scary. I am ashamed of it. 
It is so much easier not to eat. That way I won't vomit. I am scared, scared of losing the one healthy male relationship I have ever had in my life.  I have never had anyone stand next to me. I've always said "I don't need anyone". And there he is. He has my back. But for how long? How long before someone loves you too much, too little, not enough to stand by you, to hold your hand during your insanity?
I love brushing my teeth with strong minty toothpaste after I throw up, I have to scrub my fingers to get the stench off my hands. I kneel on the bathroom floor with Clorox wipes and I scrub the toilet, the floor, the walls. Just to make sure there is no evidence. I want a cigarette after and I am left weak and sick but so relieved.
The ritual is always the same: stick my fingers deep down my throat, vomit as much as I can, wash the stench off my hands with soap over and over. It's takes a while to get the stench off. Brush your teeth with the strongest mint toothpaste,  clean the toilet, the floors, the walls to avoid any evidence. Take two pieces of mint gum and change your clothes just in case & always the need for a cigarette.
I am...disgusted at myself for being insane.
I am...disgusted at myself for being insane.

I ate the clams and pasta he made. 20 minutes later I went into a tailspin of anxiety and panic. I needed his strength. He sat in the bathroom with me while I panicked and desperatly begged to throw up. How insane. How shameful that someone saw me in this state. A state of true insanity. I was so ashamed. And he patiently, lovingly and sweetly dragged me through it. I felt like I was hallucinating, as if I was outside of my body begging him to let me throw up. 
When I finally came out through the other side; the only way to describe what I felt, he didn't judge, criticize or complain. He held me. He patiently and lovingly soothed my madness.

Today, I cooked meat and pasta and spinach for my boys. I ate spinich. I chewed it very slowly, I made sure it was dissolved before I swallowed it. 
15 minutes later panic set in. I called him, he wasn't answering, I went for a walk and called my daughter. I told her I was walking because I needed to follow the suggestions my therapist had given me. 
I finally spoke with my partner. "you panicked because you ate spinach?" I heard in his voice the ridiculousness of that sentence. I'm so afraid of losing him to this madness. I can control everything. Controlling what I eat makes me feel strong, but it isn't. It's my one weaknesses it's uncontrollable. 

It was such an incredible release. And it was shameful. It was disgusting. And the emptiness in my stomach felt so relieving.

But, am I ashamed of making myself throwing up or of my weakness at not having been able to control the desperate need to vomit?  And I'm using the words to honestly describe  a nasty disgusting weakness I have. I MAKE myself V O M I T.

It is so much easier not to eat. That way I won't vomit. I am scared, scared of losing the one healthy male relationship I have ever had in my life.  I have never had anyone stand next to me. 
I've always said "I don't need anyone". And there he is. He has my back. But for how long? How long before someone loves you too much, too little, not enough to stand by you, to hold your hand during your insanity?

I love brushing my teeth with strong minty toothpaste after I throw up, I have to scrub my fingers to get the stench off my hand. I kneel on the bathroom floor with Clorox wipes and I scrub the toilet, the floor the walls. Just to make sure there is no evidence. I want a cigarette after and I am left weak and sick but so relieved.
the ritual is always the same: stick my fingers deep down my throat, vomit as much as I can, wash the stench off my fingers with soap over and over. It takes while to get the stench off. Brush teeth with the strongest mint toothpaste, clean the toilet, the floors, the walls to avoid any evidence. Take two pieces of mint gum and change clothes just in case & always the need for a cigarette.

I am... ashamed and disgusted at my insanity.

As I go on, nothing has really changed.

I am…Gay, Bi, Straight, Polyamorous, Eating DISordered, Obsessive, Insane, Seeking Inner Peace, Beautiful, Confused, Sad, Lonely, In love, Alone, Just Another One Who Loves Someone Who has Loved and Been Loved a
Million Times Over, Nothing Special, Always In Control, Just Like Everyone Else,  Not Anyone's Love, Not In Recovery, In Love With my DISorder, Wanting Nothing, Expecting Nothing, Seeking Nothing, Demanding Nothing, Still Absolutely Nothing...

I AM...

How do I put into words the feeling of your skin? I had neatly flowing words swaying in the touch of your breath. I had sweet poetry caressing the pages of my mind. Images of feather tips lightly teasing the skin. And I cannot find the words I need. I cannot explain the calmness of your body next to mine. How do I put onto paper the comfort of you To doze off to the gentle rhythm of knowing there is peace ...for now How do I explain You? Peace, calm, gentle; a soul to soothe the gaping wounds ravaging my brain. This works...for now  

Independence Day

My "best friend"has died.  The man/boy/person/being I have loved for 30 years is dead to me.  How odd.  To have lost someone you were so incredibly close to.  Someone who's soul melted into yours.

I have often compared him to my DISorder; insane, painful, filling me with strength, tearing me apart, not being able to let go and having him in my life for as long as I have been "me".

And I was finally able to let go.  Because the person I loved for almost 30 years doesn't exist anymore. Because he let go of me when it no longer suited what he wanted.  He let go of his promise of "never losing me again".  (Losing? Loosing?  I always get those wrong)

And, as I've compared him to my ED, I'm working on letting that go too.  Fearsome, fearsome...

I've met a man. A wonderful, intelligent, sensible, caring, grounded man. (Did I mention he's rather handsome?)
A MAN who isn't wrapping me in a blanket of confusion and worry and his own fears.

A man who hasn't run away from my ED. 
What a weird, mind-boggling concept..scary.

I was confused and scared and thrown for a loop when I met him.
"What the fuck? A healthy relationship with a man? Really?  Fucking hell, what is this?"

I started smoking more and my ED went completely haywire; more haywirerer than usual which is pretty fucking haywire.  I couldn't wrap my mind around "Relationship-Man-Healthy" DAMN! The fuck do I do now??

And so, little by little I'm throwing out the junk in the freight of crap I carry around with me. Sometimes, I forget who I'm with.  I forget that I can be ME.  That I can throw out one by one, pieces of clothing that I used to wear to make myself invisible; he sees through them. 
And they are ugly and I don't need to disappear. 
I don't need to force myself back into my armor and shove the world away with my 12 foot Samurai sword so that I am always in defense mode.

And now I am in therapy. 
The man who is standing next to me, holding my hand and helping me unpack my freight, has referred me to a therapist who specializes in ED, Anxiety and Depression.  PERFECT!  There must be more of us "insaner-than-the-average-bear" people on this planet if she can make a living by listening to our brains fizzling.

I was so fucking scared to go and see her.  But I strapped on my big-girl boots, stripped off my armor, sucked in my fear and there I went..."FUCK, I'M SACRED!!

About an hour after I left therapy; which had gone so well, I couldn't figure out what was going on. 
I was so angry! I was fucking angry at the world, I couldn't stand any of the people who were walking near me, They were all getting too close, they were coming up behind me, they we getting into my space, it was too loud, too many, too much, OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO GET SUCKED INTO THE VORTEX OF HUMANITY. I hate people, don't touch me, don't come near me, shut up, shut up, shut up!!!

I panicked! I walked and walked and walked until I was far enough away to gasp for air without being sucked into insanity.

What the fuck happened?

Therapy...Therapy happened.

I have to talk.  I have to let all this shit out.  I have to let go.  I have to eat.  I have to be weighed every fucking week. 
I have to throw away my one defense, my only companion, my strength, my force, the ONE thing that has made me "Strong".

And "it" doesn't want to go away. 
"It", me, my DISorder, who I am, what I so love, hate, fight to keep, what is killing me, what I can't ever turn away from, what I want so badly to keep, what pretends to give me control, the one thing I've aways known me to be, is now facing certain death.

And I am scared. 

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do."- Eleanor Roosevelt

"Truth allows you to live with integrity. Everything you do and say shows the world who you really are. Let it be the Truth."

No one is ever really "Honest".

By omitting, compartmentalizing and pretending, we go about our lives pretending we are "Honest".
Allowing only bits and pieces of "honesty" to show.

We never are really, truly "honest' with ourselves, nor with those we hold close to our hearts.
There's always that tiny bit of "truth" that's held back.

Self-preservation?

My eating DISorder is out of control for everyone around me.  Not for me.
I know what I'm doing, don't I?

I am pretending to eat and then I make myself throw up.

I am pretending to eat, but hide the fact that I haven't eaten all day.

I pretend I want to get back into therapy.

I pretend I have it taken care of.

Honest truth?
I don't want to go to therapy, I don't want to "recover", I don't want to "fix it".

I also don't want to get sick again.

I feel so in control when I'm empty.  I feel relaxed, alive, EMPTY.

I love the feeling.

I am honest with myself.
In the same way others are "honest' with just the things they want you to know, all the time omitting, compartmentalizing and  pretending that they are Honest with you, I am honest with myself.

I do not want to take care of this.  I want it to stay right here.
Honest, open, real, true.

I am...Honestly nothing more than my DISorder.

"I hate your GUTS"

I said that to someone the other day.

I don't think I've ever used that word before.

I taught my kids that "HATE" is such a horrible word to use.
"I despise (whatever) with a passion."
That's what I used to say.

And I told someone "I hate your GUTS!" Just like that.  And I felt it, and it made me feel better and I won't ask for forgiveness for saying it because I actually felt that.

"I hate your guts!"
Someone brought out those feelings in me.
I can't believe that those feelings were in there and I won't take it back.

I don't wish ill against anyone.

I don't hate my exes, I don't hate my parents, I don't hate my brother.

I don't particularly like my daughter's father, but we are getting along.  He's trying so hard to finally give his daughter some space, respect and peace.  He's finally acknowledging her as an independent adult.
I don't ever remember saying I hated him.  It wasn't worth me being evil all these years.

I feel sorry for the boys' dad.  Even after all the evil he has done, and what he did to the boys, I don't hate him.

My "family", they don't exist for me anymore.  And I may have said "I hate" but I don't think I ever actually meant "hate" as passionately as I meant "I hate your GUTS!"

I don't want to take it back.  It took out the anger and pain and disgust I had inside of me and I won't live in anger, I won't constantly remind myself of the hate but I won't take those words back.  At least not out loud.

But I'm shocked at the intensity of those feelings. How powerfully those words spat out.  I HATE.  And it felt good inside my soul to say that.

I don't live my life constantly thinking of evil things to happen to someone. I can't imagine myself purposefully living to wish someone ill.  That's just not the way I think.

But I have mentioned before that I have this sixth sense that makes me "feel" things.
I've seen "karma", "destiny" "comeuppance" at work.  I've seen it work.  I've felt it on things I have done too.

"I hate your GUTS!".

That's all I can say.  I won't ask for forgiveness for having said it. I will pay for having said it if that's what the great wide open decides should happen.  But it allowed me to let go.  To free myself of this pain and anger.  And I really, really felt it.

I am calm, I am not in the spiral of insanity of those thoughts. I have let go.

And whatever I need to pay for, bring it on.  But taking it back...only when I'm ready and only down inside my soul.

I am...free.

"The things that stand out are often the oddities."- Pierre Salinger

I woke up at my usual time, 3:35, but with an odd feeling.

I have been meditating a lot.  Trying hard to clear my mind of negative thoughts, anger, sadness, impatience; searching for a way to be strong enough to forgive, to feel myself, to stop my mind from the constant, incessant, petulant-child noises that have been pounding at it for so long.

"Seek inner peace": what I have been saying to myself these past few days. It's on my bathroom mirror, at exactly my eye level, I wrote it on my arm, I remind myself every time negative energy comes into my brain.

"Seek inner peace."
I have an odd feeling of calm.
And I say odd because I don't know if I really am calm, more relaxed, at peace, or if it's something else. Something my mind is trying to tell me.  Because I do believe in listening to those feelings, in having that "huh, I wonder what's going on, I can 'feel' something different" sound in my head.

And since I feel calm, it scares me.  I want to hold on to this strength and not let it drop into the nasty, muddy waters of the cess-pool of my depression.
I want to wrap it in gold, tie it with a bow and lock it into my soul.  I don't want to let it go.  I want to keep it safe and not let it escape me again.

How can I trust this feeling if it scares me to lose it?
How do I hold on to it, keep it safe and have it follow me, if I would rather protect it than use it for myself?

It scares me to lose it.  It scares me to have my soul reject this peace, this calm, this positive strength I feel.  It's almost as if it so much easier for me to fight and accept pain and chaos, that I don't know what to do with an odd sense of calm.

"good old catholic guilt"?  Guilt at not feeling I deserve to finally find peace, to have bits and pieces of me come together and I'm so scared of losing it, it's almost like I'd rather not have it.

But that's not true. I so want to have peace.
To be myself again.
But who am I really?  I've been living this "FUCK-IT-ALL" existence, fighting to defend myself, protecting myself against anything and everything, putting up this barrier to all I see, that now, maybe I am scared of the peace.

Maybe it is in the same way that I'm scared of fighting my ED. Because it's the only weapon I've had, the only thing that has kept me strong and I'm facing the issues straight on, I'm butting heads with it.

I want to hold on to it to because I'm scared I won't know who I am without it.
I'm far, far away from what I consider "being in recovery", but I'm on the route.  It's a crazy-ass jumble of confusion, but it's not the same battle I had before.

I can't honestly say "I'm letting it go" because it's not that easy.  But the battle, today, isn't in my head.  The battle to fight the need to starve, to protect myself, to defend everything inside me isn't pounding me in the head and rejecting what I am trying to do.

But is it really not there or am I ignoring the fight with depression, anorexia, fear, anxiety and keeping it hidden behind a thick cloak of darkness so that I don't have to really truly face it and I'm actually pretending that I am calm.

Is that the "odd" sense I'm feeling?  That really, I'm not calm, I'm not more peaceful, I'm not actually "seeking inner peace" and I'm actually just ignoring what I'm trying so hard to find.

I read a quote today: "Inner peace is impossible without patience. Wisdom requires patience. Spiritual growth implies the mastery of patience. Patience allows the unfolding of destiny to proceed at its own unhurried pace." - (Brian Weiss)

I'm so used to knowing I have no patience, maybe I've settled for hiding behind the impatience of every daunting task my brain throws at me that I've given up the mental fight to try?  
But that's sadness, depression, anxiety.  Have I blocked it all out to cope with the chatter in my brain?
Has my mind been put on hold because it's too much and I'm actually just going through the motions of pretending I am more at peace?


Scary thought because the insanity is numbing. And I don't want it back.


Please, please, please hold on to this.  I'd rather not think than have the insanity return.  I'd rather have this odd feeling accompany me, hold my hand, be my best defense, than go back to the bottom of the pit of my crazy, never-ending loop of chaotic thought.


I am...oddly peaceful.