I guess I need to start somewhere on this list of songs. The first 3 are fairly similar and were the first three that popped in my head. Apparently my mind is wrapped up in the battle of wanting, needing to cut myself and my conscience trying to stop it.
Plumb-Cut
I wish I could find her actual music video, it's so powerful. My scars define me, they define my every move-what I wear, who I go out with... Many have faded, there are new ones too. Some will never leave. I feel, if I show any of my scars that people just stare. They can't look me in the eye, look at who I really am as a person, they can't get past the scars... People have this preconceived idea of the attention-seeking nature of self injury. I don't want to be judged, please. I don't want attention, and, if I did, I wouldn't wear long-sleeves and pants when it's 95 degrees out to cover the scars. On another note, this song talks about tears of pain, not of sadness. I am not sad, I don't cry because I'm sad. I hurt, in ways I don't even understand, in ways I can't put words or even thoughts to... I cry because I'm in pain.
Between the Trees-The Way She Feels
This song is just that-The Way She Feels. Cutting relieves all those tensions, pains, and frustrations from the day. My blade is like a friend, but it's empty... There is nothing in that blade but all the crimson tears my skin can shed. "Left alone to deal with all the pain-drenched sorrow relief." That's what cutting gives me. The pain (emotional, not physical) release is unexplainable. The anxiety is gone, it's over. The tears come, they almost always come. Just sitting there watching the bleeding, my face soaked with tears... I don't understand how it calms, but it is like this white sheet of peace being draped over me. Once the tears stop, the pain is gone. It never lasts though...
Riah-Across Her Skin
First and foremost, my father never never never sexually abused me. I was, however, abused as a second grade child. What did that makes me, 7? I don't remember a lot of it and, in many ways, don't feel it affected me much after the immediate time. My favorite T disagrees... It's a child's coping mechanism to block out what occured and the confusion surrounding it. I really don't recall many details. I can't take the pain, I know the wounds on my heart and soul will never heal and I cut. Again, this song is incredibly powerful, the raw reality is painful for even me to listen to. I want to cry for the little girl who wrote this song and poured every emotion she had into it.
Cuts are physical wounds, you can see them, you know how they got there and that they will heal. You can see them heal, it makes sense. Physical pain makes sense, I can understand it, and, unfortunately, I embrace it. Physical pain shatters through emotional numbness and distracts you from nerves/anxiety. I remember, even as a young gymnast, beating my feet on the floor until they hurt so bad I could no longer feel the pounding every time my foot hit to quell my anxiety at meets. I would have lumps and massive bruises from this. I remember doing this as young as 7 or 8 but it may have been even earlier. I've finally surprised myself, I never realized I had been causing myself pain to relieve anxiety for that long. I figured it started in 6th grade-the first time I cut. Oddly enough, it was within 2 weeks of the first time I purged. Funny, in a way, how a 14 day period began a life-spiral that I wouldn't find my way out of. That time has lead to 13 years of eating disorders and self-injury.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Songs that put words to how I feel. When I feel more up to it, you'll know why these are all on here. In the meantime, listen, you can probably figure it out.
Plumb-Cut
Riah-Across Her Skin
Between the Trees-The Way she Feels
Plumb-Damaged
Dashboard Confessional-The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most
Garbage-Bleed Like Me
Superchic-Hero
Death Cab for Cutie-Beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge
Breaking Benjamin-Here We Are
Tore Amos-Me and a Gun
The Molly's-One Day I went out Walking
Alice Cooper-Only Women Bleed
Death Cab for Cutie-Transatlanticism
Clint Black-Like the Rain
Superchic-Courage
Greenday-Wake Me up, When September Ends
Tori Amos-Silent All These Years
Superchic-Beauty from Pain
Linkin Park-Numb
Papa Roach-Last Resort
Evanescence-Breathe No More
Plumb-Manic
Superchic-Stand in the rain
Korn-Alone I Break
E. Yip Harburg-Over the Rainbow
Simon and Garfunkel-Sounds of Silence
Bright Eyes-Lua
Nine Inch Nails-Hurt
Plumb-Cut
Riah-Across Her Skin
Between the Trees-The Way she Feels
Plumb-Damaged
Dashboard Confessional-The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most
Garbage-Bleed Like Me
Superchic-Hero
Death Cab for Cutie-Beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge
Breaking Benjamin-Here We Are
Tore Amos-Me and a Gun
The Molly's-One Day I went out Walking
Alice Cooper-Only Women Bleed
Death Cab for Cutie-Transatlanticism
Clint Black-Like the Rain
Superchic-Courage
Greenday-Wake Me up, When September Ends
Tori Amos-Silent All These Years
Superchic-Beauty from Pain
Linkin Park-Numb
Papa Roach-Last Resort
Evanescence-Breathe No More
Plumb-Manic
Superchic-Stand in the rain
Korn-Alone I Break
E. Yip Harburg-Over the Rainbow
Simon and Garfunkel-Sounds of Silence
Bright Eyes-Lua
Nine Inch Nails-Hurt
Everything in this life is a lesson...
Everything in this life is a lesson, or else it is beautiful.
Aren't we supposed to learn from lessons? There has not been a lesson in this life that I haven't needed repeated.
Just tonight, I get a call from AY. I answered... I feel defeated; I just gave in to him again. Do I want, so desperately, the reason he abused me that I will destroy any little shards of life I have regained just to know? The sad truth is, I will. If he promised to tell me the reason, I'd let him end my life. I just need to know. What possesses an individual to rape another, to put a pillow over her face so his roommate cannot hear or perhaps, so he didn't have to see my face. What possesses an individual to hit another across the face for showing up 5 minutes late for our "sex date"? What was it about me that told him I would never tell? How did I come off so weak that he knew I would comply? What sets a girl up for an abusive relationship? What kind of a girl tolerates the abusive behavior?
I came back from GB one evening determined to understand why I had been raped, not once, but over and over (I have a number, there is just no point to posting it). I needed to understand why he would hit me until I was silent, until I performed any sexual act he desired. I needed to know that it wasn't my fault. But, it was and is. I know this. That evening I picked AY up from his apartment after dark, he told me to drive to the lake side of Lot 60. I parked and we walked down lakeshore to a place where there was some sand along the water, a ways off the path. At that moment, I wondered whether he planned to rape or kill me, I was ready for either, but I hoped he would end it, end the pain and the memories forever. As I said above, if he gives me the answer, it can be over and I'd be ok with it. He spent the next 3 hours telling me that I brought it on myself, that by continuing the relationship I showed him it was ok. He denied ever hitting me and told me I was a liar. He also denied forcing me to have sex or perform sexual acts. He said that someone must have put these ideas in my head. I sat there in silence, unable to say a word. Some truly heinous things were said that night, when I felt he was done, I stood up and he followed me back to my car. I dropped him off at his apartment and am not sure what happened after. There was another time I searched for answers. It was just over a year ago when I met him at his apartment and ended up falling asleep (spending the night). Again, I wanted the answer as to why. What happened that night I don't wish to even mention, but the answer was never given. I left the following morning hurt, betrayed, and with a renewed sense of self-hatred I hadn't felt in years. I have put my very life on the line for this answer. I don't understand my need to know, but, at the same time, I do. I need to know in order to change who I am so I can prevent another man from doing the same. I need to know what I did so wrong that made me deserve what he did. I need to know what I could have done to stop him. I need to know what role I played in allowing the abuse to continue. I just need to know.
This is the same man who I fear living in the same city as, the man who calls me leaving messages that only say my address and apt. #. This man who terrorizes my dreams and my days is the same one I want to fall on my knees begging for answers in front of. This is the man who I still answer when he sends me messages... The very same man who destroyed the fragile yet rewarding life that I once had. The man who destroyed my everything is the man who I can't let go of.
What have I done to deserve this prison?
Aren't we supposed to learn from lessons? There has not been a lesson in this life that I haven't needed repeated.
Just tonight, I get a call from AY. I answered... I feel defeated; I just gave in to him again. Do I want, so desperately, the reason he abused me that I will destroy any little shards of life I have regained just to know? The sad truth is, I will. If he promised to tell me the reason, I'd let him end my life. I just need to know. What possesses an individual to rape another, to put a pillow over her face so his roommate cannot hear or perhaps, so he didn't have to see my face. What possesses an individual to hit another across the face for showing up 5 minutes late for our "sex date"? What was it about me that told him I would never tell? How did I come off so weak that he knew I would comply? What sets a girl up for an abusive relationship? What kind of a girl tolerates the abusive behavior?
I came back from GB one evening determined to understand why I had been raped, not once, but over and over (I have a number, there is just no point to posting it). I needed to understand why he would hit me until I was silent, until I performed any sexual act he desired. I needed to know that it wasn't my fault. But, it was and is. I know this. That evening I picked AY up from his apartment after dark, he told me to drive to the lake side of Lot 60. I parked and we walked down lakeshore to a place where there was some sand along the water, a ways off the path. At that moment, I wondered whether he planned to rape or kill me, I was ready for either, but I hoped he would end it, end the pain and the memories forever. As I said above, if he gives me the answer, it can be over and I'd be ok with it. He spent the next 3 hours telling me that I brought it on myself, that by continuing the relationship I showed him it was ok. He denied ever hitting me and told me I was a liar. He also denied forcing me to have sex or perform sexual acts. He said that someone must have put these ideas in my head. I sat there in silence, unable to say a word. Some truly heinous things were said that night, when I felt he was done, I stood up and he followed me back to my car. I dropped him off at his apartment and am not sure what happened after. There was another time I searched for answers. It was just over a year ago when I met him at his apartment and ended up falling asleep (spending the night). Again, I wanted the answer as to why. What happened that night I don't wish to even mention, but the answer was never given. I left the following morning hurt, betrayed, and with a renewed sense of self-hatred I hadn't felt in years. I have put my very life on the line for this answer. I don't understand my need to know, but, at the same time, I do. I need to know in order to change who I am so I can prevent another man from doing the same. I need to know what I did so wrong that made me deserve what he did. I need to know what I could have done to stop him. I need to know what role I played in allowing the abuse to continue. I just need to know.
This is the same man who I fear living in the same city as, the man who calls me leaving messages that only say my address and apt. #. This man who terrorizes my dreams and my days is the same one I want to fall on my knees begging for answers in front of. This is the man who I still answer when he sends me messages... The very same man who destroyed the fragile yet rewarding life that I once had. The man who destroyed my everything is the man who I can't let go of.
What have I done to deserve this prison?
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Black is not a feeling
One day in therapy (a long time ago now) I was asked how I was feeling. I said black. We spent the next 45 minutes discussing how 'black' is not a feeling, it is a description of a feeling. I still dwell on and loathe that conversation. Fat and ugly and ginormous are not feelings either... but that's another day. I feel black, or very close to it-the darkest shade of gray you can imagine. Indifferent about life, or so it seems. I feel every moment is just dragging me down further. I once wrote (and the letter has been lost) that depression is like sliding down a muddy slope, once you start it's nearly impossible to stop-you have to kick your feet in with everything you have, hoping against hope that there is a hidden foothold somewhere in there to slow you enough to catch your balance again. I feel like I've rolled over, I don't even care if I get a foot into the hill or not, in fact, it seems like I'm trying to avoid it... Being happy is too hard, it's easier to quit. Probably means I wasn't happy in the first place.
Back to feeling black. What does it mean? I feel hopeless, worthless, betrayed, apprehensive, unwanted, afraid, fat, and pure and unadulterated guilt. I suppose I either have to delve into these and explain or this is another pointless exercise.
Worthless. I have been used and abused then kicked to the curb on more than one occasion. Who on earth wants someone with even half the emotional baggage I possess? I sold myself in college, I hated myself so much I probably would have done it for free-I came close enough. I was hit, kicked and forced sexually by my 'boyfriend,' (AY) I was forced to sleep with AY's male friends. I did drugs-hard drugs, I drank, I cut and burned myself.
Betrayed. AY took the trust I had in the goodness of all people and destroyed it. AY did things to me that aren't done in prison without the slightest remorse. Never once did he ask me if I was ok, and to this day he has neither apologized nor admitted he was wrong. The man-JN who 'rescued' me from AY (as he so often reminded me-he was my rescuer) wasn't much better. I was emotionally gone and obviously vulnerable... It started ok, he seemed to care and doted on me. Held me through the worst of the nightmares... Then he slept with me because he deserved it and I owed him for getting me away from AY. This went on for over a year before he went to jail for abusing a teenage girl. maybe that goes in the worthless category-sleeping with a child molester after I knew he was guilty.
Unwanted. I can't even get the time of day from most people much less some forced invitation for a 'date.' No one has so much as pretended to be interested in me in ~4 years. Reread 'worthless.' I'm unwanted because I deserve to be unwanted.
Apprehensive. I am constantly on edge, have irrational fears, and am often borderline neurotic. Most people don't see this side of me, it goes on in my head. I guess I'm good at putting on an act... I live in the same city as both AY and JN, AY knows I'm here and knows my address-I don't know how. I fear he will break into my apartment and be waiting for me, or come in the night when I'm asleep. Rightly or wrongly, I fear he will follow through on threats against me and my family still. It will be 5 years in May and I still worry he is unstable enough and angry enough to come after me. I worry about work-whether I'll continue to have a job and whether or not I can put up with the politics and teenage drama there. I worry about hurting the people I love. I worry whether or not those same people love me back... I worry about AY and JN and whether they're hurting other women. I worry about a very dear friend nearly every minute. I worry about how what I say and do every minute might affect someone or offend them...
Afraid. see above. I'm scared of so many things. I startle and flinch, I have flashbacks, panic attacks, and prefer to avoid the world. I avoid pain, I hate it...
Fat/Ugly. Without knowing me, you won't understand. I have a warped perception of myself. I see fat and I can feel it. It's there. My perception isn't warped, by the way, someone told me that. He'd probably tell me i was pretty if I hadn't showered in a month and was wearing some dirty sheet... No wonder I don't believe him when he says my perception is wrong. If I was pretty, someone would pay real attention to me, not just because they have to.
Pure and unadulterated guilt. I have wasted my life, I have hurt the ones I love and, worse yet, the ones who actually loved me back. This one is the hard one, I feel so much guilt for the things I do and don't do every day but the big things overwhelm me. I owe a lot of apologies that I have refused to give and I need to forgive numerous people still in my life. That needs to be another day.
I'm sure there is so much more leading to this horribly dark place I feel I am in. But, this is wearing me out... Don't have the energy to continue tonight.
Back to feeling black. What does it mean? I feel hopeless, worthless, betrayed, apprehensive, unwanted, afraid, fat, and pure and unadulterated guilt. I suppose I either have to delve into these and explain or this is another pointless exercise.
Worthless. I have been used and abused then kicked to the curb on more than one occasion. Who on earth wants someone with even half the emotional baggage I possess? I sold myself in college, I hated myself so much I probably would have done it for free-I came close enough. I was hit, kicked and forced sexually by my 'boyfriend,' (AY) I was forced to sleep with AY's male friends. I did drugs-hard drugs, I drank, I cut and burned myself.
Betrayed. AY took the trust I had in the goodness of all people and destroyed it. AY did things to me that aren't done in prison without the slightest remorse. Never once did he ask me if I was ok, and to this day he has neither apologized nor admitted he was wrong. The man-JN who 'rescued' me from AY (as he so often reminded me-he was my rescuer) wasn't much better. I was emotionally gone and obviously vulnerable... It started ok, he seemed to care and doted on me. Held me through the worst of the nightmares... Then he slept with me because he deserved it and I owed him for getting me away from AY. This went on for over a year before he went to jail for abusing a teenage girl. maybe that goes in the worthless category-sleeping with a child molester after I knew he was guilty.
Unwanted. I can't even get the time of day from most people much less some forced invitation for a 'date.' No one has so much as pretended to be interested in me in ~4 years. Reread 'worthless.' I'm unwanted because I deserve to be unwanted.
Apprehensive. I am constantly on edge, have irrational fears, and am often borderline neurotic. Most people don't see this side of me, it goes on in my head. I guess I'm good at putting on an act... I live in the same city as both AY and JN, AY knows I'm here and knows my address-I don't know how. I fear he will break into my apartment and be waiting for me, or come in the night when I'm asleep. Rightly or wrongly, I fear he will follow through on threats against me and my family still. It will be 5 years in May and I still worry he is unstable enough and angry enough to come after me. I worry about work-whether I'll continue to have a job and whether or not I can put up with the politics and teenage drama there. I worry about hurting the people I love. I worry whether or not those same people love me back... I worry about AY and JN and whether they're hurting other women. I worry about a very dear friend nearly every minute. I worry about how what I say and do every minute might affect someone or offend them...
Afraid. see above. I'm scared of so many things. I startle and flinch, I have flashbacks, panic attacks, and prefer to avoid the world. I avoid pain, I hate it...
Fat/Ugly. Without knowing me, you won't understand. I have a warped perception of myself. I see fat and I can feel it. It's there. My perception isn't warped, by the way, someone told me that. He'd probably tell me i was pretty if I hadn't showered in a month and was wearing some dirty sheet... No wonder I don't believe him when he says my perception is wrong. If I was pretty, someone would pay real attention to me, not just because they have to.
Pure and unadulterated guilt. I have wasted my life, I have hurt the ones I love and, worse yet, the ones who actually loved me back. This one is the hard one, I feel so much guilt for the things I do and don't do every day but the big things overwhelm me. I owe a lot of apologies that I have refused to give and I need to forgive numerous people still in my life. That needs to be another day.
I'm sure there is so much more leading to this horribly dark place I feel I am in. But, this is wearing me out... Don't have the energy to continue tonight.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The baby that wasn't
It's come up over and over lately, at least in my own head. Things I hear, see, read, and even smell trigger memories in me. Probably the most dangerous trigger for me is touch. Touch has been used to hurt me more than I can even recall. I know why it's so raw in my mind, 6 years ago I chose to terminate a pregnancy that was the result of rape by a man who would assault me for the longest 21 months of my life. I look back on that choice with nothing but distain and self-hatred. How could I so simply decide to take that action? How could I lay there, emotionless during it all and "it all" was a very long and painful process, pain I still feel psychological twinges of today. I did what I felt I had to do at the time. Had I kept the pregnancy, no one would have believed I was raped and hit, belittled and humiliated, controlled and forced to submit... No one would believe he threatened my sister's life if I left, and no one would believe he was the cause of many injuries-not gymnastics... Unfortunately, no one knows about the baby that isn't, and no one believes the reality of those 21 months. That baby was destroyed for nothing other than my own selfish wants, my shallow fears, and my inability to communicate with anybody. 8 months later I would miscarry. He took my birth-control from me, told me I didn't trust him-he never used condoms. I couldn't get more, my prescriptions ran out. I took antidepressants, he said I was weak and a whiner. I cut, he said I was attention-seeking. I purged, he told me "good, at least you won't be so fat" and "God, how much do you eat, no wonder you look like a turkey." I cut myself every time he raped me and every time he laid a hand on me. If I could scar my body he wouldn't want to touch me-who wants an ugly girl? I still cut, no one should want me, I'm used, abused, and cast away to the curb like the trash that I have always been. I cut the other day, when I was drunk. I'm sad I did that. One is fairly deep. I have not cut so impulsively in a long time, rarely without thoroughly considering what I was doing. I have made myself uglier than I was the day before.
I digressed. There are so many emotions I have regarding the abortion I had when I was only 18, emotions I can't put words to and certainly can't tell others. I'm not sure I can even express them in my own thoughts. They're there, the hate I feel toward myself is so raw and so real, I want to scream-bury my face in a pillow and scream until I can't anymore. Maybe then the tears can come. There are so many unshed tears from the time I was with AY. I have never cried about the abortion or my first miscarriage-which I undoubtedly caused by means of bulimia. The physical and sexual abuse were minor compared to what I went through emotionally. I can handle physical pain, a lot of it, I could numb out the sexual aspects, but I couldn't ignore the fear. Looking at it now, I have a lot of intimacy issues that stem, undoubtedly, from the abuse AY did to me. The flashbacks are terrifying-they bring me to a place I barely remember in the conscious, but, when my mind takes control I remember every single second, every touch and every word.
Those 21 months destroyed the little shreds of life I had left. The 5 years that have followed have burned the remnants to irreparable ashes. The pain he caused was like causing paper to just glow with fire, how it continues to slowly smolder until nothing is left even after the fire is taken away. That is what has happened to my life-he started the fire of fear and worthlessness that has continued to burn away any tiny pieces of me that might have still been there.
How is it that I hate myself more than the man (face it, he's not a man or even a person, one wouldn't do the things he did) who beat and raped me, who threatened my family to keep me with him? Maybe because I was weak enough to believe him... Because I let him control every aspect of my life and manipulate me like some little chess piece (he played on some national level) to get what he wanted-dominating sex...
This is as disorganized as my mind-I hate trying to decipher my thoughts some days, now you get a chance to try... good luck-at least there was some editing here before it got to you.
What is rock-bottom?
I may not be a drug addict, but this skims the surface of what I have been thinking about
I digressed. There are so many emotions I have regarding the abortion I had when I was only 18, emotions I can't put words to and certainly can't tell others. I'm not sure I can even express them in my own thoughts. They're there, the hate I feel toward myself is so raw and so real, I want to scream-bury my face in a pillow and scream until I can't anymore. Maybe then the tears can come. There are so many unshed tears from the time I was with AY. I have never cried about the abortion or my first miscarriage-which I undoubtedly caused by means of bulimia. The physical and sexual abuse were minor compared to what I went through emotionally. I can handle physical pain, a lot of it, I could numb out the sexual aspects, but I couldn't ignore the fear. Looking at it now, I have a lot of intimacy issues that stem, undoubtedly, from the abuse AY did to me. The flashbacks are terrifying-they bring me to a place I barely remember in the conscious, but, when my mind takes control I remember every single second, every touch and every word.
Those 21 months destroyed the little shreds of life I had left. The 5 years that have followed have burned the remnants to irreparable ashes. The pain he caused was like causing paper to just glow with fire, how it continues to slowly smolder until nothing is left even after the fire is taken away. That is what has happened to my life-he started the fire of fear and worthlessness that has continued to burn away any tiny pieces of me that might have still been there.
How is it that I hate myself more than the man (face it, he's not a man or even a person, one wouldn't do the things he did) who beat and raped me, who threatened my family to keep me with him? Maybe because I was weak enough to believe him... Because I let him control every aspect of my life and manipulate me like some little chess piece (he played on some national level) to get what he wanted-dominating sex...
This is as disorganized as my mind-I hate trying to decipher my thoughts some days, now you get a chance to try... good luck-at least there was some editing here before it got to you.
What is rock-bottom?
I may not be a drug addict, but this skims the surface of what I have been thinking about
It's a Journey-I'm not on it
I find myself not hanging on this journey of life. All I feel is myself slipping back into blackness, a zone of not caring about anything. Certainly don't care about myself or what I do. I wish I could disappear from this world. The best part is when I said to four separate people today, "I was hoping I was dead, but then I heard my alarm go off" and all they said was "really???" and "that's funny." Maybe I'm too good at pretending to be content (happy is too strong of a word).
My mind is stuck in a cycle of self-deprecating thoughts, most don't seem excessive, I mean, there is truth behind them, and all sorts of cynical thoughts about others. Sitting in a restaurant, all I can feel are peoples' eyes on me-judging what i eat and how I eat it. It makes me feel fatter and uglier than I am. I walk down the street and see people staring at my chubby sides and big thighs, it makes me want to wear huge clothes. at least then they can't see the truth... the list goes on.
I'm just exhausted. When you're so tired you can't keep your eyes open yet someone inside of you is forcing you to purge anyways, you know you have ceded all control. I know I have none right now, however, I can chose whether or not to eat, I guess I do still have control.
Wherever the journey is going, I'm not going with it, I'm staying exactly where I am. Obviously I fell off whatever was taking me along.
My mind is stuck in a cycle of self-deprecating thoughts, most don't seem excessive, I mean, there is truth behind them, and all sorts of cynical thoughts about others. Sitting in a restaurant, all I can feel are peoples' eyes on me-judging what i eat and how I eat it. It makes me feel fatter and uglier than I am. I walk down the street and see people staring at my chubby sides and big thighs, it makes me want to wear huge clothes. at least then they can't see the truth... the list goes on.
I'm just exhausted. When you're so tired you can't keep your eyes open yet someone inside of you is forcing you to purge anyways, you know you have ceded all control. I know I have none right now, however, I can chose whether or not to eat, I guess I do still have control.
Wherever the journey is going, I'm not going with it, I'm staying exactly where I am. Obviously I fell off whatever was taking me along.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Power and Control
A friend told me I needed to look at this. The only parts that aren't applicable are the Using Children section and the part about making me do illegal things... That's really hard to look at and read knowing that it was my life. In some ways I wonder if I seek this control and abuse still. There is comfort in the familiar, there is also fear.
What did I do?
I can't quit on myself, B won't let me. I drank myself past any acceptable place last night, it wasn't that i drank that much, but, I know I drank it pretty fast. I really don't remember it. I hurt myself both physically and emotionally, and, worse, I hurt the one person who gives a ** about me in this world. There are many things I do that I know are wrong and I shouldn't do, but for others to not only know about them, but to see... I don't know what is known or was seen last night, I'm disgusted with myself. I know I said things last night I wish I hadn't. B worries about me a lot already, I know this, but to add whatever I said. Though, I've always believed you never say anything drunk that you don't think about sober. They call it 'truth serum' for a reason. I still wish I knew what I said. It has been a very very long time since I've been like that. I know I cried though I don't know why. I feel so low, that I hurt someone to the point they can't or won't talk about it to me.
I remember telling B one time that talking is ameliorative. Might be the only time B had to stop and think about what a word meant. My vocabulary is much larger than I tend to use on a daily basis. Writing (talking) is restorative and therapeutic; it's ameliorative. It organizes your thoughts and feelings and gives you a concrete way to move past them. Once they are spoken or written, they are in the past, they're gone, and it's done. The mind doesn't move on like that, the mind still can't let go, but they world has. The world has long forgotten about yesterday so why do I insist on holding on so strongly to that which has already been cast away?
I found myself in a bad place during my year living in DP. I drank a lot, took sleeping meds all day long to keep myself drugged out of any level of awareness or at least caring, cut and burned myself often and would often go days without eating. Many who know me think DP was probably the lowest time for me, maybe if you include the last 5 months of college everyone would agree... I look back on that year and wonder what is so different now. On the whole, I don't drink any more, that is a good thing. I still drug myself out when not at work (oh, I have a job, that must make SP a better time for me), I cut (maybe less, but the desires are still there) and burn, purge nearly daily, and still go frequent stretches without eating. Since DP I've gotten a job... Otherwise I've wasted 2 more years that I've still been sick and have put 2 more years worth of ED damage onto myself. My throat hurts just to swallow, you can imagine what eating is like, my whole chest hurts-aches really when I breathe, and the reflux (presumably from damaging the end of my esophagus by purging so much) burns so badly I often can't sleep. When you have to purge every last drop of liquid from your stomach in order to reduce the reflux you should know there is a problem. Ok, I know, but I don't seem to care.
I made a comment last night about my fat butt. B told me I have a very warped mind. Sometimes I get weak and let ED slip through and do the talking. ED hates me right now, he knows how fat and ugly I am, and worse yet, how enormous I will look in my bridesmaid dress in May. ED is screaming at me to quit being weak and to lose weight so I can be pretty. It seems ED has been loud enough to have his words spoken by my voice lately. Again, things I never meant for others to know or to hear. Hearing the voices inside my head must be incredibly disturbing for others. Knowing what I hear all day and all night though... It's no wonder I think I'm crazy. I have some crazy guy, conveniently called ED, berating me 24 hours a day. That's the worst part of an imaginary (abusive) friend-they never sleep. When i sleep and escape ED, haunting memories of AY are there to torture me. If you think ED is the abuser, you've never met AY. Some days I don't know if being awake or being asleep is better, to pick between those two choices is distressing. It's that krieg that has driven me over the edge numerous times, that battle in my head has almost ended my life more than once.
All I want is some moments of pure tranquility. The last true moments of peace I recall were when I was sitting on a beach on Lake Superior. I hardly remember that day-it was as if I were in another world, yet I can recall so many details. I sat in complete silence for over 10 hours that day, tranced by the sound of the waves on the rocky shore. Waves sound more soothing on a rocky beach than on fine sand-hearing the rocks tumbling over each other under the water adds to the serenity. The North Shore of Lake Superior has been my secret hideaway for many years. The beauty and power of that lake never gets old. As much as I love that place, an unplanned trip would likely be some last desperate attempt to save myself. I can think of nothing else that would drag me on a 7 hour journey to the middle of nowhere. I remember my last trip, the 10 hour day on the beach... I took nothing along that i could hurt myself with. I took just 2 of all of my drugs, enough for the two days I figured I'd be there, no razors, no pens/pencils/safety pins/paper clips or anything else sharp, metal or that I had tried using before to hurt myself. I wasn't going to die there on that trip-I made sure of it. While it's not an overly active thought right now, it'd be a beautiful place to let go-black thought of the day...
After last night, I went to work at 5, got done what was needed, went home "sick" the rest of the morning, maybe mentally sick, not physically, and am going back shortly for an afternoon event. I'm not sure why I agreed to go back, but, it'll be good to get my mind off life. Maybe my favorite rat won't be so pissy today because yesterday, he tried to bite me three separate times... no more extra peanuts for him :(
Peace and love-I hope I can find them too...
I remember telling B one time that talking is ameliorative. Might be the only time B had to stop and think about what a word meant. My vocabulary is much larger than I tend to use on a daily basis. Writing (talking) is restorative and therapeutic; it's ameliorative. It organizes your thoughts and feelings and gives you a concrete way to move past them. Once they are spoken or written, they are in the past, they're gone, and it's done. The mind doesn't move on like that, the mind still can't let go, but they world has. The world has long forgotten about yesterday so why do I insist on holding on so strongly to that which has already been cast away?
I found myself in a bad place during my year living in DP. I drank a lot, took sleeping meds all day long to keep myself drugged out of any level of awareness or at least caring, cut and burned myself often and would often go days without eating. Many who know me think DP was probably the lowest time for me, maybe if you include the last 5 months of college everyone would agree... I look back on that year and wonder what is so different now. On the whole, I don't drink any more, that is a good thing. I still drug myself out when not at work (oh, I have a job, that must make SP a better time for me), I cut (maybe less, but the desires are still there) and burn, purge nearly daily, and still go frequent stretches without eating. Since DP I've gotten a job... Otherwise I've wasted 2 more years that I've still been sick and have put 2 more years worth of ED damage onto myself. My throat hurts just to swallow, you can imagine what eating is like, my whole chest hurts-aches really when I breathe, and the reflux (presumably from damaging the end of my esophagus by purging so much) burns so badly I often can't sleep. When you have to purge every last drop of liquid from your stomach in order to reduce the reflux you should know there is a problem. Ok, I know, but I don't seem to care.
I made a comment last night about my fat butt. B told me I have a very warped mind. Sometimes I get weak and let ED slip through and do the talking. ED hates me right now, he knows how fat and ugly I am, and worse yet, how enormous I will look in my bridesmaid dress in May. ED is screaming at me to quit being weak and to lose weight so I can be pretty. It seems ED has been loud enough to have his words spoken by my voice lately. Again, things I never meant for others to know or to hear. Hearing the voices inside my head must be incredibly disturbing for others. Knowing what I hear all day and all night though... It's no wonder I think I'm crazy. I have some crazy guy, conveniently called ED, berating me 24 hours a day. That's the worst part of an imaginary (abusive) friend-they never sleep. When i sleep and escape ED, haunting memories of AY are there to torture me. If you think ED is the abuser, you've never met AY. Some days I don't know if being awake or being asleep is better, to pick between those two choices is distressing. It's that krieg that has driven me over the edge numerous times, that battle in my head has almost ended my life more than once.
All I want is some moments of pure tranquility. The last true moments of peace I recall were when I was sitting on a beach on Lake Superior. I hardly remember that day-it was as if I were in another world, yet I can recall so many details. I sat in complete silence for over 10 hours that day, tranced by the sound of the waves on the rocky shore. Waves sound more soothing on a rocky beach than on fine sand-hearing the rocks tumbling over each other under the water adds to the serenity. The North Shore of Lake Superior has been my secret hideaway for many years. The beauty and power of that lake never gets old. As much as I love that place, an unplanned trip would likely be some last desperate attempt to save myself. I can think of nothing else that would drag me on a 7 hour journey to the middle of nowhere. I remember my last trip, the 10 hour day on the beach... I took nothing along that i could hurt myself with. I took just 2 of all of my drugs, enough for the two days I figured I'd be there, no razors, no pens/pencils/safety pins/paper clips or anything else sharp, metal or that I had tried using before to hurt myself. I wasn't going to die there on that trip-I made sure of it. While it's not an overly active thought right now, it'd be a beautiful place to let go-black thought of the day...
After last night, I went to work at 5, got done what was needed, went home "sick" the rest of the morning, maybe mentally sick, not physically, and am going back shortly for an afternoon event. I'm not sure why I agreed to go back, but, it'll be good to get my mind off life. Maybe my favorite rat won't be so pissy today because yesterday, he tried to bite me three separate times... no more extra peanuts for him :(
Peace and love-I hope I can find them too...
Sunday, March 20, 2011
dark place
So, I promised myself this blog was for my recovery and until I made the first step, this blog was just going to hang out here in cyberspace. I lied. I want to write this in a journal, but, I remember the pain contained inside those worn pages like it was yesterday. I hold those words in my hands, run my fingers over them, and even see the occasional blood-stained page-from when the pain exceeded anything I could begin to comprehend. I don't want these words forever scrawled in ink upon pages I will cry over for years to come. That is something else entirely. How do the words written on those pages bring so many pains back to the surface? I can read those journals, knowing exactly what will be on the next page, yet the knowledge of those words doesn't bring up nearly the emotion that reading them does. Anyways, I digressed... Much of the pain and betrayal of my past might be covered later, the causes will likely not.
I spent a wonderful weekend with a friend, had some drinks, talked casually, had some fun, and even managed to go to church (on a non-christian holiday) for the first time in probably 6 years. In fact, I was even convinced to sing in choir... now, i must have been in a good mood. Granted, it's not a church I feel any desire to return to. Now, a mere 12 hours later, I sit here in tears, not knowing why or even where they're coming from. I feel myself sliding down into an emotional low I haven't seen in months. I had a dream the other night I hadn't had in a while; maybe that was the catalyst that pushed me back to the edge? The dream you ask? you would have to know me, really know me to understand... I can't move, I can't scream, and I can only barely pry my eyes open. It's the feeling of being drugged yet fully aware of what is happening. Maybe I was drugged enough on my sleeping meds? But, I know the events did not occur again, without a doubt, they were not repeated yesterday. In fact, I think I forgot my sleeping meds. that wasn't the cause at all... Perhaps this played a role in taking me where I am now? I don't know. I realized before work that my computer charger was left at my friend's house. This simple mistake resulted in so many tears I had to stop driving. I talked to him, he offered to drive it to me (almost 4 hours round trip), I refused, I offered to make the trip-he said ok, but I know I can't go. Emotionally, I don't think I can make it, emotionally, I'm not sure I can handle the kindness of bringing it to me. I'm not sure I'm in a place to see him-to see anybody...
I feel like a needy child. I want so badly to be held and told it's ok-to be rocked and cared for, to just not be alone. I am not a child, but I still long for that contact, security, and love.
Maybe I should have seen this fall coming. The other day I picked up my blade, for the first time in nearly 6 months and ran it across my thigh. The blood is disturbingly soothing. This weekend I ate a lot, I feel disgusting and I look it too. Maybe this also is taking me down. Tonight, the desire to both purge and to cut threatens to overcome me. It'll calm me enough to sleep, but I know better. Purging is coping that no one can see, when you cut, you offer that shame for the world to see.
I need to go sit in the shower, anything to take my mind of it's incessant obsessions. I am scared of this feeling, I don't want to lose my footing and fall again. Everyone thinks I'm ok, I'm not strong enough to pretend... I'm trying so hard to avoid unhealthy coping mechanisms is the first step in recovery-maybe I've come further than I previously thought. I doubt it, I give in almost every day, in fact, I have today already...
I spent a wonderful weekend with a friend, had some drinks, talked casually, had some fun, and even managed to go to church (on a non-christian holiday) for the first time in probably 6 years. In fact, I was even convinced to sing in choir... now, i must have been in a good mood. Granted, it's not a church I feel any desire to return to. Now, a mere 12 hours later, I sit here in tears, not knowing why or even where they're coming from. I feel myself sliding down into an emotional low I haven't seen in months. I had a dream the other night I hadn't had in a while; maybe that was the catalyst that pushed me back to the edge? The dream you ask? you would have to know me, really know me to understand... I can't move, I can't scream, and I can only barely pry my eyes open. It's the feeling of being drugged yet fully aware of what is happening. Maybe I was drugged enough on my sleeping meds? But, I know the events did not occur again, without a doubt, they were not repeated yesterday. In fact, I think I forgot my sleeping meds. that wasn't the cause at all... Perhaps this played a role in taking me where I am now? I don't know. I realized before work that my computer charger was left at my friend's house. This simple mistake resulted in so many tears I had to stop driving. I talked to him, he offered to drive it to me (almost 4 hours round trip), I refused, I offered to make the trip-he said ok, but I know I can't go. Emotionally, I don't think I can make it, emotionally, I'm not sure I can handle the kindness of bringing it to me. I'm not sure I'm in a place to see him-to see anybody...
I feel like a needy child. I want so badly to be held and told it's ok-to be rocked and cared for, to just not be alone. I am not a child, but I still long for that contact, security, and love.
Maybe I should have seen this fall coming. The other day I picked up my blade, for the first time in nearly 6 months and ran it across my thigh. The blood is disturbingly soothing. This weekend I ate a lot, I feel disgusting and I look it too. Maybe this also is taking me down. Tonight, the desire to both purge and to cut threatens to overcome me. It'll calm me enough to sleep, but I know better. Purging is coping that no one can see, when you cut, you offer that shame for the world to see.
I need to go sit in the shower, anything to take my mind of it's incessant obsessions. I am scared of this feeling, I don't want to lose my footing and fall again. Everyone thinks I'm ok, I'm not strong enough to pretend... I'm trying so hard to avoid unhealthy coping mechanisms is the first step in recovery-maybe I've come further than I previously thought. I doubt it, I give in almost every day, in fact, I have today already...
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
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