STOP IT

I have tried to write a blog post… 6 times in the past hour. And none of them have gotten anywhere yet. YUp. I am so good at this job. Which I am not paid to do, there is that.

I’m in pain. That’s pretty normal for the past two years. But tonight I think I’m gonna do that thing where you strive for balance.

OK so on the negative side I’m going to be homeless in two weeks if my college doesn’t find me housing. I flunked a midterm yesterday and I’m a perfectionist trying to keep a merit scholarship. I miss my guyfriends so bad. I’m lonely. I can’t sleep. My back got hurt at the gym but I’m too touchphobic to tell somebody “Will you just please push your fist into my back right there until you hear my muscle go AAAHH!!” It’s been blowing hard winds for 2 weeks straight and it’s cold and it dried out my contacts so I can hardly see. I keep having flashbacks and my nightmares from hell are staying pretty consistent this week. The guy I liked is probably getting engaged to someone else because they are #mormonyoungdumb poster children. And I use the world “children” for a reason. See, a lot of people can’t differentiate between revelation and hormones. You can TOTALLY fall in love with someone you aren’t supposed to be with and by the time you realize you were listening to your blood pressure and not the Lord, shoot. #raincheckoneternityplease. ANYWAYS

I’m feeling really angry and stuck at this school because I feel choked by the smallness of the community and the church culture. I have a weighin coming up and I am so so so stressed about it. I’m feeling fat. The voices in my head are not behaving. I am constantly hearing that I am a fat worthless whore and a bitch and that I can’t dance and that I suck at school- I drop my pencil and bam “you are such a worthless bitch why did you drop that.” It’s not backing off!

NO give. NO breaks. This is not a drill. So I’m trying to do, well, life, and my anorexia is running a backlog. She is like that bitch on the drill team that never stops throwing shade and consequently she is the one you really want to shove in a dumpster behind the school every meet.

That’s part of why I’m having such a hard time writing this post is because it is really, really strong in my head, and I keep feeling sick from the flashbacks. The voices are saying “who even cares about you? Can’t you just be like a normal person? Why can’t you just make this stop? You’re so weak. You’re worthless. Noone cares about you.” So then my head is like “can I really do this? It’s too much.”‘

STOP IT.

DO NOT EVER ASK YOURSELF THAT QUESTION.

Because as soon as you doubt, you will lose your edge. That is called psyching yourself out. You need to stop that thought and you need to say “Just do it.” Yes Nike, I stole your motto. Because that is exactly, exactly, exactly what you need to do.

When anorexia calls me a fat bitch I need to shove that spoon in my mouth. It doesn’t matter if I want to puke. It doesn’t matter if I hate literally ever spoonful of food that goes down. It doesn’t matter if I see 400lbs of fat that I don’t have in those warped mirrors of body dysmorphia. It doesn’t matter if I wake up 3,4,5,6, 12 times every night from hellish nightmares. I cannot control the fact that I have obstacles, but I do have choices.

I don’t have the choice to not have depression or ptsd or anorexia. But I do have the choice to look that sukkah in the eye, shove that food in my mouth and say

“Your move, bitch.”

So tonight I’m signing off to try to get some sleep and tomorrow, we’re doing this again. I’m getting back in the ring.

I guess I should be grateful that my addiction is self-harm, because that means when I get punched in the face, I’ll get back up and go straight back for more like it’s freakin’ Girl Scout Cookies.

My head: So, your majesty, think you can do it?

Me: Hell no. But watch me do it anyways. Bring popcorn.

better run

 

 

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