Puddin’ N Pie

Okay so this one has to be a short one because when you have a mental illness there are good days, not-so-good days, and downright terrible days. And this is a not-so-good day.

I’m doing one of my compulsive perfectionism things where I attach my soul to a project to learn and master something and this time it was hakus. For those of you who don’t know, that is the lei garland that goes around your head instead of your neck. I decided to make a Christmas one, a Hawaiian one, and possibly 2 others as Christmas gifts. Only problem is I did not count on my being a perfectionist.

I worked on it for hours, planning, purchasing materials all the way down in Honolulu (its cheaper to order on Amazon just so you know) and today I “finished” one.

Only… I think it kind of sucks. But it’s okay I’m a perfectionist. I’ll tear it apart again tomorrow and do it exactly the same 😉hakuYeah I know I look tired. The drugs they gave me for my centipede bite kept me up all night. Think like waking up every 20 minutes from nightmares. And then getting a migraine. And then basically being doped up for the day.

ANYWAYS I was depressed today. I was so depressed that I did not make it to the gym OR the shower this morning. And believe me, I regret it. I absolutely absolutely absolutely always always always shower. But I physically could not.

You know what I also regret? Looking at the scale in the doctor’s office. Why why why did I do that do I want to end up back in treatment?! Did we not get the full experience last time considering I ended up in the hospital several times??

Here is part of what is going on. I feel like I’m fading into the woodwork. I feel disconnected from people in my life- even though I’m intellectually certain that people would care if I starved myself into the hospital or died, my broken heart ain’t buyin’ it. And it’s just tearing me apart from the inside out.

There was more drama with those stupid stupid Samoans I used to love so much and right now I’m questioning if they ever had any redemptive qualities. Them and the Tongans. Because I’m disappearing, I’m in pain, and I’m right here, but where are they? Well the Samoans are gossiping behind my back. The Tongans are gossiping behind my back. Noone is SHOWING UP. And I guess that makes sense because I am pretty good at hiding things but at the same time I feel like I’m trying to get someone’s attention and asking “Will you please just give me one extra reason to try today?”

And no, normally, I’m not that pathetic. But lately? Absolutely.

Anyways long story short my anorexia has been through the roof especially over the weekend. I had a piece of pie that I got because my birthday was last week and I was saving it because I didn’t get cake for my birthday so I figured hey I should have a pie, right? Wrong. A voice in the back of my head started whispering to me and reminding me that the pie was in the fridge. The little voice was concerned I would lose control of myself and devour it. The little voice began to panic and say that if I had that in my fridge it would lead to weight gain. It was full of calories and sugar and it was bad, bad bad, and I must get rid of it before the plumpyman (boogeyman) came for me.

And guess what. Unnecessary, unscheduled, unsupervised exercise is creeping back into my life too and it’s really hard to resist because it’s my focus brain off time. And I had been dancing for hours so I was like “Hey I am going to the gym tomorrow. I just worked out. I should just eat this.”

And it sat there for half an hour.

And back and forth I’m like “Hey I should just eat this” and then there’s this strong resistance like “NO.” And then the compulsion to throw it away or give it away just get rid of it get rid of it get rid of it- and things just went back and forth. And then it got worse. I tried to reach out to myself and ask “Hey, what is really going on?” Because in treatment one of the first lessons they teach you is


That’s right. Anorexia is a manifestation of something else deeply wrong. The only problem is, none of the doctors seem to really know what it is. For brevity purposes because my hand is still swollen from that little thug that bit me last week- I’m going to move on.

So I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong so I start Nancy Drew-ing to try to sleuth this answer out. I’m coming up with mostly self-inflicted pressure. Pressure to be perfect on the solo. Perfect body. Perfect GPA. Pressure to keep absolutely on top every single day of every single task that needs to be done. And a lack of connection. A very, very serious lack of connection. But the one that was the most striking to me is that I don’t have to be perfect.

I mean, why did I even decide to try for perfect anyways? Look where it got me! Hospitals, illness, broken relationships.

One of my ex-friend’s boos came after me the other day and you are never going to know who she is or all of what she said because I have class (when it suits me) and told me “take my boyfriend’s name out of your mouth” as well as other pleasantries including “PS, this is me being nice”

Sweetie, I’m The Queen. You can’t scare me.

This is all the rumors about my medical stuff that has been going around and making college hell for me as far as trying to make friends goes. And my ex-guyfriends have now poisoned their girlfriends against me and if you know any  teenage girls, you can imagine how that girl spoke to me.

Like an f-ing 14 year old brat.

I closed my eyes after I got that text message (because she is so classy she hasn’t even met me face to face yet and yet thinks she can be all up in my business) and smiled serenely and thought “they deserve each other”

But it got me thinking about why the anorexia is going crazy. I realized that with what I sent back- and you can imagine my response was excellent. I quoted Buddha. That even though to someone like her who knows NOTHING “the fool thinks he is wise, the wise knows he is yet a fool” my life looks really wonderful- on the inside my life is full of holes and brokenness.. And the worst part for me was thinking oh she is going to share that text message all around to all her little friends and give them something to talk about and yay good for them, and she’s going to get hugs and cuddles and support for standing up to the Evil Queen.

I am definitely not joining Samoan chapter again next semester. Pardonne my French but those bitches ain’t worth it.

I realized that something is missing! Something vital. Something deep inside of me that normal, healthy, well-adjusted people have, is broken! I’m like a broken record trying to follow through a motion when there’s a screw loose! I literally cannot function like a healthy person! And here I am writing out “perfect dance solo” “perfect grades” “December Winter Formal Perfect Dress” “Perfect Christmas gifts” “Perfect hair and makeup”

Like dayyummm that actually hurts! Because before I got hit with this mental illness shebang I used to actually be able to do that! I had this manageable, organized, tidy life. I had friends I cared about. I had a dog I loved. I had my fair share of bullying but I had a dog to come home to. I had something.

People keep telling me that what I am missing is in the LDS church but I have to be honest… Few places or people have ever hurt me so badly as church has. I’m so fragile right now and the way things are taught tear through everything I’ve tried to build for myself. Body shaming. Sex shaming. Attendance shaming.

But here is what is driving me into this PMS level crazy is that I am pushing myself so hard to act like a “normal” “healthy” person.

I broke down crying this afternoon because I realized that nothing I can physically do, will ever ever compensate for the damage that’s been done. Getting my grades up won’t fix my depression. Doing perfectly on all the dances won’t get rid of my post-rape traumatic stress disorder or my body dysmorphia. In fact, most of the things I’m involved in right now are feeding that monster.

I also cried because I realized that I don’t actually have very many good friends. I feel exactly like the popular girl in any one of those teenage chick flicks I watch. She seems like she’s perfect. Everybody “loves” her but at the end of the day she’s one of the most broken people in the room.

When you have a mental illness and people can’t see that you’re sick, they treat you like you’re normal. Like “why can’t you do this?” It’s like sitting there in a straightjacket and someone telling you to write an essay. It’s not that you couldn’t if your hands were free, but you are not free. You are DISABLED.

I am an independent, free spirit. For me to feel broken and vulnerable is the worst hell I could ever imagine.



Oh and in case you’re wondering how I handled that girl… My response was really thoughtful with just the right amount of ice. I basically reminded her that I’ve never spoken to her in person and that her boyfriend can handle his own problems just fine. And then I said that it takes more than one person to cause drama and she should be ashamed of herself for never even meeting me in person before passing judgment on my character. And I also said that she could share this message with whoever she wants to but at the end of the day the gossip does hurt me, but that her seeking it out and intending to hurt me would do more damage to her than to me. And I left off with saying that I’ve dealt with girls like you my whole life and girl, you can’t scare me. There’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done.

I also wished her and her boyfriend happiness and said I was happy that they are happy together even though things aren’t great with how the friendship ended. And I reminded her that her boyfriend is a good man and he loves her very much and she should trust him to handle this. And then I wished her a wonderful, guilt-free afternoon.

My response was total ice. But there is one part of it that made me so sad is when I wrote that I’ve dealt with girls like you my whole life and girl, you can’t scare me. There’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done.

It’s true. I was bullied from kindergarten up into college. I’ve dealt with rumors, backtalk, gossip, outright physical abuse, emotional abuse, name-calling, being left out and other girls talking about parties and formals and not inviting me along and in church, 2 years where I was hardly even spoken to by the other girls in my class. My. Entire. Life.

It didn’t look like it in high school. I was surrounded by friends and whatnot. But do you really think that just because I had so many friends, all of them were true friends? Appearances can be deceiving.

But what I really meant was that I lost my best best friends in the whole wide world on the same night. KT. And my lil puppydog Angel who never had a mean bone in her body who I loved with all my heart. It broke my soul when I had to say goodbye to Angel.

My last night with her was probably the worst night of my life and believe me, there is stiff competition for the title of “worst day of my life”. My guyfriend reminds me of that everytime I have a terrible day he always says “Hey, but you’ve totally had worse.”

He’s a great friend.

These gossipwhores can wreak whatever havoc they want with my life. They can spread their poison. They can even gang up on me and come threaten to beat me up, send me nasty messages through facebook or whatever it is that mean girls do.

But I’m not afraid of them because none of that is ever gonna hurt as bad as where I’ve already been. She doesn’t have the power to take me down. I don’t love her like I love my dog or my family so you know, whatever she or these other people do, they can’t break me the same way. It’s when you truly love someone, that they have the power to break you as bad as I got broken.

Evil Queens are not born, they’re made.

PS if you’re wondering how the saga of the pie ended. I tore all the filling out with my bare hands and ate the crust and threw the rest away. I’m glad I even managed to eat the crust. #being positive

PPS One time my doctor told me it’s a really good thing I have a sense of humor or I would probably have just died of a broken heart at the age of 20. I laughed at her. But she’s right. There’s a certain amount of drama queen you need to get through this stuff and laugh it off. Thankfully, I am a drama queen. If you don’t believe me you can ask my mom. She bought a sign for my bedroom door that said “Warning: Drama Queen Just Ahead”… My sense of humor is partially genetic.

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