Somebody has to say it

1. Noisy kids and their parents.

If you are in a public space, watch and discipline your kids.  I love kids but I can't stand the obnoxious, inconsiderate ones especially in a mall, restaurant, or a grocery store.  Yea, screaming and bawling is their way of expressing themselves but have some manners, you little fucks. And parents, have some consideration and manners yourselves, before I snatch your little "big guy" or "princess" away and shove them into oncoming traffic.

2. Baggy pants.

The purpose of pants is to cover you from the waste down, not from the bottom of your ass down.  They buy pants that are 5 sizes too small, they look like blind paraplegics who tried to dress themselves, and they waddle like they've just been gang-raped.  They're a shame to the supposed "civilized" human beings.

3. Mustache.

What's the deal with mustaches lately?  Hipster or not, it's ridiculous.  First it was the high-rising 80's pants that girls brought back, now you see mustaches on everything, even the fuzzy, pink ones on car grills.  What's next? Overalls?  Platform shoes?

4.  People who say "bless you" after someone sneezes.

Who is blessing whom?  Unless you are the one and only "chosen one", you do not have the power to bless anyone or anything.  What are you blessing them for?  And why do people get offended when someone doesn't say "bless you" after they sneeze?  Do they really need an ethereal affirmation after a natural bodily function?  If you believe in that kind of stuff and have the power to bless others, bless yourself and get on with it.  

5. "I like your outfit".
First of all, it's not "their" outfit.  They didn't design it.  Second, if you say "I like your outfit", don't get offended when the person doesn't say "thank you".  Because they didn't design it.  If the person does say "thank you", both of you are stupid.  Third, if you want to say something positive about someone's outfit and expect a "thank you", say something like, "I like your taste".  Fourth, don't be so vain.

6. Talking loudly on the phone.

The person you're talking with can hear you just fine.  In fact, the person might be holding his phone away from his face because you're so damn loud.  Not only can the person on the other line hear you clearly, but so can everyone around you in a 40-foot radius.

7. Women who wear too much perfume or smell like makeup.

8. It's "caramel", not "carmel".

Is it so hard to pronounce that extra vowel?  Who started saying "carmel" anyway?  It's caramelized butternut squash, it's caramelized onions, NOT carmelized.  

5 years in recovery

In 5 years, I'll be 29: young enough to travel, old enough to know how to file my own taxes.  What will my life look like? 5 years in recovery seems like nothing compared to 10 years in my addictions.  Ideally, I would be in school studying a foreign language (maybe German), education, and cooking.  I would work in a music library, as a piano teacher, or in an animal shelter, and on the weekends, I would either stay home with my husband (?) and kids (?) in our pajamas, or take all of us to the zoo or a theme park.  I would have already traveled to Greece, Germany, and Ireland, and I would be an amazing cook.  During spring/winter/summer breaks, my kids and I would not be in school, so we would spend a lot of time in the kitchen baking things like peanut butter cookies and blueberry muffins that my husband would enjoy after a long day at work.  I would be able to have just one drink and be satisfied, and I would know how to swim and ride a bike. I would be able to read scary stories to my kids in the dark with just a flashlight.  I would teach my kids to be open-minded and know right from wrong.  I would be able to sit with happiness, sadness, and anger without isolating or acting out.  I would be accepting of my body, and be fully present during sex.  I would have quit smoking cigarettes and I would be recycling responsibly, not littering, and flossing every day.  I would take yoga classes and go on runs/walks every morning with my dog, not to maintain or lose weight but to be physically healthy.  I would appropriately let go of grudges and forgive myself for mistakes.  I would not have much material possessions, but my heart will be full of joy and contentment. Now that I think about it, I won't be able to do much after I have kids..unless I get a nanny.

News flash

It's all real.  I sometimes forget how real this is.  I was in so much pain for the last decade.  I deprived myself and abused myself so much, so violently.  I isolated and separated myself from my own potential.  I put guards up and used my sharp edges to keep people out.  I've not allowed myself to make deep, real connections with people and only roamed the earth making casual acquaintances.  And for that, I'm friendless and detached.  I forget how much damage I've done to myself and it feels unreal.  I'm surprised I didn't have a heart attack from all the purging and from my body having to constantly be in over drive to compensate for my starving.  I'm grateful for having started treatment before it was "too late".  Treatment just seems like repetitive, monotonous social skills-learning, but taking a step back, I realize, "I have an eating disorder.  I got myself here.  I can't have a "normal" life without going through intense psychological repair, and I will probably be  forever enslaved to food."  I've put myself through a 10-year suicide and it's come down to treatment, or death.
FYI: Eating disorders are the most fatal forms of mental illnesses, and it's a shame that its research is the least funded among all others'.

If I were a soul without a body

I've been in treatment since the beginning of the year, and I've come to the point where I have to make plans for what to do once I'm out.  My insurance has bumped me down to 4 days a week, by my request.  I feel ready for discharge and I never thought I'd be able to say that.  Being in treatment has provided a safe, valid excuse for avoiding "real world responsibilities."  "I can't pay bills because I don't have a job"..."I can't get a job because I'm in treatment"..."I'm in treatment because I'm not mentally stable".  I think I'm almost ready to join the rest of society, but only in terms of eating like a normal person.  When I'm out of treatment, I want to allow myself to live life.  I want to travel and take a break and get out of my head.  I've been trapped in my addictions, I've been trapped in my destructiveness for so long.  I want to take healthy risks, I want to just get away.  It doesn't sound very realistic.  In order to be stable and successful in today's society, I know I'll need to find a job and all that stuff, but realistically, I want a break.  I want to go camping and roast marshmallows for the first time.  I want to go to the airport and get a one-way ticket to Bali and immerse myself in their culture, go to Italy and visit vineyards, go to Greece and lay on the beaches.  I want to travel the country in a Winnebago with my boyfriend and a dog.  I want to give healthy attention to my body and I want to nourish my soul.  When I'm out of treatment, I don't want to find a job right away.  I don't want a 9-5 lifestyle.  My whole life has been structured chaos.  I want to break free from rules, obligations, and the societal chains that restrict me from being a free spirit.  I feel like I've wasted so much of my life isolating and self-destructing.  I feel like the characters in "Dogtooth": aware of nothing outside of the home, indulging and making best of what is known, completely wasting away the preciousness of exploring the outside.

Dear Body,

You have been my vessel for nearly 24 years.  I'm sorry for letting you be violated and abused for so long.  I'm sorry for neglecting you for many years and causing irreversible damage.  I feel so disconnected to you.  I always have.  Ever since I was a child, especially since "those particular incidences", I thought of you as a target of pain, something that never goes away and is an unwanted reminder of something horrible, like bedbugs or herpes. I marvel at others' bodies and others' abilities to accept and show off their bodies.  How can some people carry themselves so elegantly through this world and place themselves in social situations so gracefully.  I see you as the product of 2 people who, I would like to believe, loved each other, but I don't want to fool myself.  You are a physical, tangible representation of the ugliness of my parents' relationship.  You're nothing but a shameful object to me.  But you have protected me from diseases and cold weathers, although poorly.  Slowly but surely, I'm entertaining the idea of your physical fluidity.. your malleability.  And I'm starting to take better care of you.  I'm nourishing you with food - something I have deprived you of for nearly half my life.  I've taken away harmful substances and I'm not hurting you as much.  I feel like I'm just getting to know you, the real you, without the misinformation my malnourished brain has been giving me.  My eyes, which I consider distorted, conniving lenses, are not kind to me.  I wish I could replace them with those who tell me, "I wish you could see what I see in you."  I'm stuck with you.  Unless I do some morbid limb/boob/skin/eyeball transplant.  But that's highly unlikely.  I need to be comfortable in you, or at least be comfortable in my dissatisfaction with you.  This is as good as it's gonna get.

Sincerely,

Me

Blahhhhhhh

To follow up on the last post, I'm still freaking out and I don't know what to do with all this pent up energy.  My fears are more prevalent, I don't know if being here at my parents' is even a healthy choice for me.  I mean...it is, right?  I'm in a "safe environment", not acting out, and being around my family...sober.  My staying here is bringing up such strong feelings of guilt and shame.  I should've been a better daughter when I was younger.  I should've been a better sister.  I should've spent more time at home.  I shouldn't have hurt my family so much so badly.  I have so much guilt in me and I can't help but dwell in the past because the past is what created the present.  My present.

I feel so bad for my parents because they don't have the family they've dreamed of.  Every couple fantasizes about having a happy family that gets along, shares special traditions, and feels unconditionally accepted and loved.  My parents didn't get anything close to what they wished for.  Of course, there are a lot of dysfunctional families...why does mine have to be one of them.  I want to be able to go to my dad and brother directly, rather than having my mom be the liaison.  I want our family to be together in the same place at the same time without fighting.  I want to be able to hold a conversation with my dad for longer than 5 seconds  I want so badly to give my parents the family they've always wanted, but I don't know where to begin.  I could simply tell them, "I want to give you the family you've always wanted", but I'm too ashamed and afraid to say such a bold statement.  I want to be able to honestly express my emotions around them without feeling burdensome.  I want to see my mom and dad laugh.  

I want to tell my dad that I understand his pain and that I forgive him.  That it's OK to feel left out of the family and that things will get better as long as we try.  I want to thank him for bringing me up and for being so patient with me.  I want to tell my mom that she's the strongest woman I know and that I'm sorry for all her distress.  I want to tell her that I understand things are, and have been, excruciatingly difficult. I want her to know that I'm thankful for her relentlessness and for being the glue to our family.  I want to tell my brother...so many things. That I love him, that I am thankful for his believing in me, that I admire his strength, and that I believe in him as much as he believes in me.  

I feel like there is not enough time at all to make up for all the wrongs... to outnumber the bad memories of the past with pleasant memories moving forward.  This scares the fuck out of me.  I don't want my mom to die never having truly lived.  I don't want my dad to die without having gotten to know his children.  I don't want my brother to die without having gotten to know me or our dad.  I feel helpless.. Is my family ever going to change?  I don't remember the last time I had a meal with any one of them.  I don't remember the last time I laughed with any one of them.  A real, meaningful, hearty laugh.  I only remember fights and long periods of awkward silence.  I feel like I'm on a blind date or a job interview whenever I'm with my family.  Curious, anxious, nervous about saying the wrong thing, nervous about talking too much or too little, putting on a facade, taking on a "role".  I want to feel secure. I don't want to feel lonely.  I don't want to feel self-conscious and hide in my room all day to avoid conversation.  I hate that that's what our family has come down to.

I envy others and their ability to communicate so openly with their family.  Or even communicate at all.  It baffles me.  Honestly, it angers me a bit because I want what they have so desperately. It makes me so sad and angry because it feels so out of reach.  And I'm distraught that my family will never become the kind my parents had hoped for, and that I hope for.  I want to be able to cry and release my emotions.  There isn't much time left.  I want to cry but all that's going on is anxiety attacks. Once I'm done with this entry, I'll still be hiding in my room, sitting on my bed, staring off in to space.

A family of snails.

"Like an Ancient Bruise"

So my boyfriend's out of town for the week and I've decided to stay at my parents' to keep me "safe" and make it inconvenient for me to act out.  It's only my 3rd day here and I'm having anxiety attacks.

The climate here is better than it used to be.  There are more conversations going on and just an overall sense of calm.  Re-connecting with my family and being in this physically close space is increasing my awareness of the fleetingness of life.  Everything is fleeting and that frightens me.  Like me being at my parents'.  I'm going back to my apartment in a week.  I know, I know, I can visit my family whenever I want; but I won't be living here anymore.  I won't be sleeping or waking up here or eating the food here.  And I moved out so abruptly, without a word.  My parents weren't even aware of or prepared for it.  And my dogs.  Yooni's old (she's 7) and Tori won't stay energetic and playful forever.  They're going to die eventually and that scares me.  It almost makes me regret having bought them to begin with.  Similarly, I'm not always going to have my family.  That saddens me. I don't want to miss out on anything.  I feel like I've been absent in their life for so long and now's my chance to be ever present.  Binge on life.  Sounds good and well but it will undoubtedly dig myself deeper into depression and self-neglect.  I feel stuck and frightened.  I feel like I'm drowning in guilt and anxiety and there is no life raft in sight.

Maybe this is what I need.   I don't know if that'll be unhealthy though...it is motivation to try my best in recovery, but what if I get too carried away by these fears that I just become a ridiculously anxious wreck?  That's totally possible.  What if I become overly cautious and care about things TOO much?  What if I appreciate life TOO much that my biggest fear becomes death?  I have so many regrets and worries about the future.  I wish I could just accept everything the way they are but it's so damn difficult.  And the more I think about it, the more it freaks me out.

I want my family to be healthy and happy.
I want to feel secure.
I need to relax.  

But then again, maybe it's good that I'm accessing these feelings and allowing it to change my perspective on life.  I still believe that the things we do are ultimately pointless because we're all going to die; but now, I want to do things more deliberately and purposefully.  Spending time with my dogs and my family has opened my eyes to the preciousness of life and the sacredness of connection.  These fears are the same ones I had when I was a little girl - fear of my death and the death of my family.  I remember looking out the window at the night sky hoping a meteor wouldn't come crashing down and obliterating everything.  The fear that I wouldn't have enough time to get the best things out of life.  The fear that sleep will somehow eradicate all the good things - that it will be the end of everything, that nothing and no one will be left behind.

For the past several years, these emotions have catapulted me into a deep depression.  Using imminent death as a reason to be selfish and act out on all my urges. Using "having not enough time" to do whatever the fuck I wanted without thinking of the impact it might have on others, especially on my family.  Now I feel overly cautious.  What if this sends me into a whole new world of depression and anxiety?

I don't want my anxiety and guilt to be my motivations.  First, it was the guilt I felt towards my boyfriend.  All the time and money he spent on getting me in to treatment - not to mention the emotional costs.  Now I have another layer of guilt and pressure...to not have a negative impact on my family for as long as they're alive.  I don't want them to experience hardship because of me or anything else.  I've already done a lot of damage and them knowing that I'm in treatment is burdensome and shameful enough.  I want to protect them and their emotions.  That's what led me to self-neglect in the first place but...I don't know.  Is that something wrong?  Caring about their emotions?  I guess I'm taking it to a different level, of controlling situations surrounding the emotions.

The nonchalance and indifference I've had towards life have shifted to feelings of extreme remorse for all my past fuck-ups and unbearable anxiety of ensuring security for the future.  I feel like all these feelings and thoughts have been buried deep inside me for so long by tons of anger and resentment.  And spending time here has dulled my sharp, heavy edges and allowed my guards to lift.  Times like these, I wish I were religious.  A religion to soothe my anxiety and fear of the unknown, a prayer that can lift my regrets and bring me a sense of peace and oneness.  A reliable figure/force/whatever I can depend on to make things all work out for the best...for all the pieces to fall in to place.


Does anyone read this?
Hello? Is anyone there? Help!