Random Fury

Last night when the women at Soul Collage were talking about Generose I became progressively angrier and angrier... I was so mad that I almost got up and walked out.  They kept talking about how nice it is, and I thought, THAT'S BULLSHIT. Most of the nurses treat patients like crap, they don't take care of our personal belongings that we have to surrender upon arrival, and the kids who go in come out worse than they were to begin with.  I've discussed this with many Generose veterans.  We all agree that it's a terrible place and worsens our problems, but we suppress our depression / anger / target behaviors because we will do anything to stay out of there.  Generose really isn't a place to get help or get well; it's just a place to put mentally ill kids away until their parents find a way to deal with them. 

The Soul Collage women changed the subject right when I was thinking I couldn't stand listening to it anymore.  I was SO glad when they stopped talking about it.  I haven't been so mad just from listening to someone talk about a trigger from my past in a long time.  I was FURIOUS.  I wanted to say something, give my two cents, but one of the women is a nurse there.  I didn't want to hurt her feelings or be rude.  She actually seems very nice, but she works with children, not adolescents.  I only remember two kind nurses on the adolescent ward, and there were many, many nurses. 

Shower Prayers

Hello, hello everyone!  I'm back!  I am now writing from my new city.  That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I have moved out of my hometown and my personal hell and am now living in a city 30 minutes from where I grew up.  I will be living in my gramma's attic for the next couple years while I study for my associate's degree in liberal arts.  I graduated on June 3rd, moved on the 6th, and I'm loving it. 

Last weekend I went to the United Church of Christ annual meeting. It was a great experience!  A lot of people from my church told me, It's all long meetings... you're going to get so bored...it's just church politics... On the contrary - I learned a lot and made some great friends.  I will, however, admit that my ass did get quite sore sitting through those lengthy meetings.  I got to learn more about the UCC, participate in a flash mob, and attend some great workshops.  I helped out with communion during sunday worship. 

During worship, a video of youth interviews was shown.  The footage was taken at our last weekend camp and each of the youth had been asked to talk about their faith journey and what the church meant to them.  My interview was at the end of the video.  I talked for the longest.  It was kind of embarassing to watch... I spoke about my eating disorder, my dying catholic faith, and how the United Church of Christ fostered new spiritual growth after my struggles with mental illness, and coming out.  After the service, several people approached me to thank for openly sharing the story of my faith journey.  I got a lot of hugs... and we all know, I love hugs.  It was a cool experience.  :)

I had a hard time eating at the conference.  Since I moved out of my parents' house, I've been struggling more with my eating disorder.  I have yet to get used to my new environment and routine.  I ate only one meal over the entire weekend at the UCC conference.  I talked to my youth pastor about it, and that helped.  She is my rock.  While we were in taize at the conference, I started to cry because the prayers we were singing touched me so deeply.  They were prayers for help, prayers for comfort, and that is just what I need.  I felt so connected to God and so in need of God's love in that moment... I had hoped that no one would see me cry, and I managed to be dry-eyed by the time taize was over and the lights came back on (we'd been meditating in candle light).  I had been seen though, and I was faced with a crowd of people wondering if I was okay and trying to console me.  I was mortified and furious with myself.

I booked it out of there... some of the youth were going for a walk, and I went with them.  I was in a foul, self-hating mood.  I didn't really want to go for a walk, but I also didn't want to turn down the opportunity to hang out with my church friends.  I walked with them for a while and then headed back to my dorm.  I went to my room, got ready for bed, and turned off the lights... I had a taize candle & candle holder in my room that a pastor had given me after my emotional episode.  I didn't want the damn candle, it was too much of a reminder of the humiliating incident during taize.  I took the candle out of my bag and I was going to get rid of it, but I discovered a chip in the glass candle holder.  There was a sliver of broken glass in the bottof of the candle holder.  I took it out and made a half-hearted attempt at self harm, but it didn't really work.  I wasn't trying hard enough; I didn't really want to cut.  I threw the broken piece of glass across the room as hard as I could and listened to it bounce off the opposite wall in the dark. 

I'm having a hard time adjusting to the new city and whatnot, but it's not all bad.  I have hard times still, and I'm really lonely.  I'm having fun though... I'm able to spend more time with friends because I'm close to them.  I can ride my bike all over town and I have access to the library, my church, GLYS, and various theaters.  My faith means everything to me right now.  I'm praying a lot for help with my mental illness and giving thanks for my new life. 

This morning while I was in the shower, I felt very relaxed.  I was very aware of how the water felt running over my skin, and the steam caressing my face. I lifted my hands a little, palms open, and said a prayer for help, for healing, and a prayer of thanks for my move and my good friends.  A warm, relaxing shower is a great place for morning prayer and meditation.  It's a bit like baptism, I suppose.  It's purifying. 

I'm going out to see Dark Shadows this afternoon with a friend, and this evening I'm going to an LGBT youth group meeting and then to a presentation at my church... some missionaries who have just returned from a year in Zimbabwe are going to talk to the congregation about their missionary work and experiences. 

I just rubbed my eye and probably totally fucked up my eyeliner... great. 

Dear readers, I have a favor to ask.  A friend of mine has recently come out but he is unsure about his sexuality.  Pray for him, send him vibes, keep him in your thoughts - whatever it is you do.  He's a great friend and I wish nothing but the very best for him. 

Create a beautiful day, guys...
xxx

The Only Title I Can Come Up With Is: "Today Sucked."

I am the kind of girl who always tries her hardest to put on a happy face, and takes off this mask only when she is sincerely unable to smile.  For people who know me, you may think that this isn't entirely true - or on the contrary you may think that I really am happy all the time.  It depends on how well you know me and how much  of my personal struggles I am willing to share with you.  Either way, I feel that most people don't have a clear perception of who I am and what I feel. 

Tonight is one of those times when I physically cannot smile.  Too often I say, "I'm okay, it's okay. Don't worry about it!" and don't let anyone know that I'm actually hurt, or angry, or sad, or confused.  I tend to let people walk all over me.  Sometimes this is a good thing, but sometimes its too much.  I need to write about this.  I need to get it off my chest and hopefully feel better as a result.  I don't intend to hurt anyone's feelings, place blame, or make anyone feel bad.  If I do, I am very sorry and I really don't mean to do so.

Ever since my first spring play, I have looked forward to being recognized as a senior in my final spring play.  The director gives each senior a card and flowers.This year was my turn for that, but I missed the boat... I went back and forth debating whether I wanted to be in the play.  I didn't try out, but got a part.  I only wanted a small part, but felt that I wasn't living up to my potential and that I would disappoint someone if I didn't take on a larger role.  So I switched from a one-liner to a more substantial supporting role of a character named Clougheïe.  I wasn't enjoying myself at practices at all.  I was depressed, self-concious, and felt like an outsider with the rest of the cast.  My depression got the best of me and I quit the play. 

Weeks later I felt bad that I wasn't a part of it anymore and went to one of the final rehearsals, hoping to put my time and talents into a backstage job.  I was assigned to helping out with makeup.  The first night of the job, several girls in the cast made it very clear to me that I was not wanted there.  They didn't think it was fair for me to quit and then come back and expect to be able to participate.  I don't blame them...

 I made sure one of the guys who was helpless with makeup got ready, and then moved on to lights.  The other kid on lights treated me like I was an idiot and when no one else was around he told me he felt good about his job with lights and curtain, but he was really worried that I was going to screw up the whole show.  That didn't make me feel very good.  I am just as capable of running sound and lights as he is. 

At the end of the show, the I went up onstage at the end of the curtain call with the other guy on lights & curtain.  There were three seniors on the stage.  Two of them were recognized, given their hug, card, and flowers.  I was not. 

I do not, in any way blame the director for forgetting about me.  It's my own damn fault because I quit.  I should have toughed my way through it even though it was hard.  I am really disappointed in myself for giving up my role.  It was a stupid move.  Yes, I remember exactly what my sadness and discomfort felt like when I was in the play, and it was awful.  I've felt like that in other plays as well, but I stuck with it in the past.  I'm furious with myself for not doing so in this case. 

I ruined this evening for myself, and I am not looking forward to going back tomorrow.

If I could explain, I would.

I don't have words today. I don't have words for this. I could try, I guess.
It's
hopeless  
     immense
          overwhelming
               all-consuming
                    dark
                         cold
                              lonely
                                   hollow
                                        bitter
                                            unbearable
                                                 helpless
                                                         sadness.   

 

I NEED BRITNEY BACK, DAMMIT!

Sapphire - Therapist = very bad

*Flips the bird*

Although this is probably not the case, it begins to feel a bit more personal when she says she doesn't have time for one-on-one, and yet there is T.  Just her and T. Havin' a little one-on-one time. Yesterday she said she would come get me in half an hour so we could talk, but she never showed up, and then made out like I should have known all along she wouldn't come.  Well actually, miss, I usually expect people to show up when they say they will unless they tell me ahead of time that they are unable to come. 

I'm sitting around crying all day because I'm facing more anxiety, depression, anger, and hopelessness than I can deal with alone, but se tells me she has no time for me.  Why not? She clearly has time for the others.  That's what makes it feel like she's avoiding me or personally attacking me, because she's with other people in her office all the time but she dissmisses me.

So I'll just continue to sit here and continue to cry.  Their plans for college are more important than my plans for . . . I shouldn't finish that sentence in case someone sticks me in the loony bit again.  Use your imagination.

I am completely irrational.  I'm a stupid fucking loser.

If you don't want to listen to me bitching about how much my life sucks then don't look at my blog and go print some coloring pages or something. I don't have anything nice to say.

I can't do a single goddamn thing right. My hands are shaking so my hand writing is terrible.  My sweater is linty and I'm too fat for these pants.  I need to buy a lot of new pants in size fat.  I didn't put on any makeup this morning so I look like hell. 

Today is solo / ensemble contest for band and choir.  I just want to look nice, but that is clearly impossible for me.  I don't have anything nice to wear except for these black dress pants and the same fucking sweater that I wear to every band event.  Everyone else will look better than me.  I don't even want to go to contest!  I have put in three years of solos and duets, isn't that enough?  I'm only going because our band director is making me.  I have to be part of a clarinet choir and play a stupid Pavanne that no one in the ensemble likes.   

The school counselor is supposed to meet me in the library.  She was supposed to meet me here 10 minutes ago.  I don't like being stuck in my own head.  It's a shitty place to be. 

This week is the last time I will see my current therapist.  She's quitting her job.  It's bullshit & it's not fair.  I really, really like her.  I don't want to see anybody else.  I'm sorry that I'm such a selfish brat but I wish she weren't quitting her job.  I need someone I like and trust, and I've never had that before.  This therapist is the first good therapist I've ever had. 

Today is not a good day.  I will not be eating anything today.  I'm a disappointment.

The sea is a good place to think of the future.

 

I grabbed hold of her wrist and my hand closed from tip to tip
I said “you’ve taken the diet too far, you have got to let it slip”
But she’s not eating again, she’s not eating again, she’s not eating again, she’s not eating again.
I ask her to speak French and then I need her to translate, I get the feeling she makes the meaning more significant.
She was always far too pretty for me to believe in a single word she said, believe a word she said.
At fourteen her mother died in a routine operation, from allergic reaction to a general anesthetic. She spent the rest of her teens experimenting with prescriptions, in a futile attempt to know more than the doctors.
She said one day to leave her, sand up to her shoulders waiting for the tide
to drag her to the ocean, to another sea’s shore.
This thing hurts like hell,
but what did you expect?

And all you can hear is the sound of your own heart
And all you can feel is your lungs flood and the blood course
But oh I can see five hundred years dead set ahead of me
Five hundred behind,
A thousand years in perfect symmetry

Best known left wrist right finger, through all the Southern States, on every video games machine they call her triple A.
There were racists on the radio trying to give up smoking, the chat show host, he joked “you have to wait for the government program”.
You talk about your politics, and I wonder if you could be one of them, but you could never kiss a Tory boy without wanting to cut off your tongue again.
A good place to look to the future is when you are sat at the sea, with the salt up to your ankles and a view of the end of the pier, you may look down at your model’s feet and wish that you’d just float away, and the weather here is overcast and the sea is the same shade of grey, so the landscape before you looks just like the edge of the world, but to the left side and the right side, either way is a crazy golf course.
The sea is a good place to think of the future.

And all you can hear is the sound of your own heart
And all you can feel is your lungs flood and the blood course
But oh I can see five hundred years dead set ahead of me
Five hundred behind,
A thousand years in perfect symmetry
A thousand years no getting rid of me
A thousand years in perfect symmetry.

-Los Campesinos

Will someone please come rescue me?

I'm so tired... It's so dark and I can't find

 the way out.  I'm seriously going to fall asleep in a minute here.  It won't be the first time I've cried myself to sleep, or the first time I've slept in school, but it will be the first time I've cried myself to sleep in school.

That's almost humorous... maybe there's hope for me yet.

Probably not.
 

I honest-to-God want to eat, but something's got a hodl of my mind and is making it very difficult.  My whole body aches from not being fed.
 

That's pathetic though -- I'm not even good at being anorexic.  I think I'm something special because Ive cut my intake down to one meal and one snack everyday.  The girls who are really sick are much better at this than I am.

I'm so fucking miserable. 

and i miss jessa. but don't tell.  i'm supposed to be strong.

Nothing I do works.

I'm getting absolutely nothing done in my classes.  I'm just there because I have to be.  I'm spending my time looking at magazines, drawing and reading.  It's unfortunate because I'm reading about girls with anorexia.  The magazines I'm looking at make me cry - they're dance magazines and I want to be a ballet dancer so bad, but that's just another lost dream.  I'm trying to draw passionate images of dancers, but I can't draw right today.  I'm too upset to function, really.  I really shouldn't even be in school, probably, but I will not wimp out again.  I stayed home from school for a couple days last month because I was having a melt down, but this time I will tough it out.  I need to at least try to work.  When I'm in college, I won't be allowed to take mental health days.  When I'm in college I'm going to have to actually work, and work really hard.  I have goals.  If I can't reach them, then what's the point of living? 

If someone else had to feel the way I do right now for just a minute or two, they would probably hit the floor.  I've built up a lot of mental muscle and scar tissue, I reckon, so I can at least fake my way through the day.  I would love for someone to know what exactly is happening inside me right now, and say wow, that's awful... Just to have someone understand would make me feel a tiny bit better. 
I am SO PISSED OFF that none of my drawings are turning out well.  Drawing is a great release for me when I'm this upset, but only if I draw well. The only trouble is that I never draw well when I'm upset.  This causes me to get progressively angrier and more frustrated as well as the original underlying depression and insecurities. 

I need someone to yell at.  I'm going to turn into a bitch if I don't get help soon. 

Today is a terrible day.

I'm supposed to be taking notes right now, but I just don't feel like it.  I don't care about much of anything at present.  I would give anything to be in the sanctuary at Peace church right now.  I'm tired and sad and run-down.

I miss my girlfriend.  Oh sorry, I mean ex-girlfriend.

I feel empty, void.  There's a blackness in my chest that won't go away. My insatiable need for affection is eating away at me.  Having such a tremendous need makes me feel pathetic and very irritated with myself.  I'm so frustrated with this neediness, wanting, and sickness. 

I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself! I don't want to, but that's how I feel right now.  I have lots of good reasons for this, too, so it's hard to convince myself that it's alright, I'm alright.  I am behind in three of my six classes, and owe make-up work in two more classes.  I'm trying to ask my supports for help, but I'm talkng in circles.  It's damn near impossible for anyone to help me in the state I'm in. 

I'm really hungry.  I've been indulging in "target behaviors," whatever the hell that means...  I've been reading memoirs about anoretics, and all I've eaten today is 4 oz of fat-free yogurt.  I only ate that to appease someone who's concerned about me.  I feel really bad for making people worry about me.  I'm such a stupid, worthless piece of sh*t. 

I wish Sarah would stop staring at me.  To the students sitting around me while I'm blogging in class: Yeah, I get it. We have a ten page paper to work on, and I'm already behind schedule.  I honestly don't care, though, so leave me alone and quit looking at me like I'm a hopeless bum.  I am a hopeless bum, but it's really none of your business.

The school counselor is unavailable for the next two weeks, and I only get to go to therapy once a week.  I'm screwed. I need someone to talk to.  I need someone to help me eat.  I need a hug. 

I wonder if we have play practice tonight. I can't remember. Rachel...?

I need some serious inspiration and motivation here.  I'm going nowhere fast. 

No words.

I'm having a rough day.  I feel empty.  Something is lacking.  As usual, I have no ideas, no reasons for why I feel this way.  When I have a bad day like this and there is no reason for how I feel, it seems like some part of me that I'm unaware of is in control. 

I have no words for this.  I can't even think straight.  It takes a great deal of effort just to put together a coherent sentence. 

Lazy Thursday

Yesterday I had a very productive session with my therapist.  She's very nice, hard-working, and is just the right fit for me to work with.  I like her a lot and trust her - two things that have never occurred for me.  I've always loathed my therapists and doubted their methods.  My therapist is brilliant and I'm so lucky to have found her.  I'm sure some of you can understand the vital importance of finding a good therapist. 

She's quitting her job.

She dropped this bit of news on me like a ton of bricks at the end of our session yesterday.  She was very apologetic and promised me it had nothing to do with me.  She said that had she known when we started working together that she was going to take a break from counseling that she never would have begun working with me.  I really, really don't want her to go.  I only get two more sessions with her. 

On a lighter note, my school's wind ensemble is playing themes from modern Broadway shows for this year's Pops Concert.  One of the pieces we're playing is a compilation of songs from Phantom of the Opera.  My favorite actress, Amy Walker wrote a parody of the song "All I Ask of You."  Knowing the lyrics to the parody makes me giggle every time we rehearse this number. 

Amy is a brilliant actor, singer, and dancer, and you may know her from her 21 Accents video she put on YouTube.  This video went viral and jump started her acting career.  She is the head of the ConnectedFilm Project and the Soul Fire Project.  I was fortunate enough to interact with her during one of her Amy Walker LIVE shows and spoke to her about the pressure for the perfect body in the acting world, and discussed acting schools and art schools with her.  She had a quiz on her website several months ago, and the first person with the most correct answers would receive a personal note from Amy.  I won, and got a postcard from her!  I admire her so much and envy her talent. 

The rest of the senior class is in Florida right now, taking their senior trip to Disney World or Disney Land, whatever it is.  I chose not to go because I'm not close with anyone in my class except for my best friend Stephinee, and Disney World has never had any appeal to me.  I would rather go to Harry Potter Land, or Europe, or Australia.  My sisters both decided to forgo the senior trip for Europe instead.  If I had the money I would definitely be in Australia right now. 

Due to the severely lowered class numbers with the senior class gone, there's nothing to do in our classes.  It's fabulous!  I get to spend all day reading, getting ahead on my homework, listening to my iPod... just hanging out in general.  I'm in my civics class and we're watching Avatar. 

Well, that's all folks.  Have a nice afternoon. =)

107 page views and 47 days

Good morning readers! Happy 100 page views!!! 

I'm exhausted.  My medication turns me into a zombie.  I sleep like a rock at night, which is wonderful, but it's really difficult to wake up in the morning and get through the day.  I'm very easily distracted during my online class - an hour and a half in which I am expected to read through a ton of material, take a billion little quizzes, write papers, and pump out art work like a friggin' print factory without supervision or motivation.  I usually go on twitter...and, of course, here! I very rarely write from home.  I write every morning while I'm at school.  I'm a terrible student, I know...and I don't care. 

My hands are healing up very nicely from my panic attack scratching, but it's taking forever.  Although it may seem like a fabulous idea at the time, I always regret self harm later.  As singer Ida Maria says, "What's easy in the night is always such a bite in the morning light." So please, don't hurt yourself.  You are beautiful, you are worth the world, and you will make it through this. 

This is the part where someone I know reads this and texts me saying "YOU SHOULD TAKE YOUR OWN ADVICE!" *Sigh* I know, I know.  I"m working on it! I promise. 

A young couple is having a house built across the street.  It's strange... they tore down the old house that was on the lot.  An old woman had been living in that house for as long as I can remember, but she passed away about a month ago.  I'd shoveled the snow off her walk for years, and then one day when I came home from school, the house was gone and the front walk I'd shoveled had been taken out.  Now a huge, ugly house is being planted in the ground.  They've just finished the structure for the basement and they're putting in the floor on the first level today.  It's super irritating to have to wake up to construction noises at 6 in the morning.  Why couldn't they just buy one of the many houses on the market that people are desperately trying to sell because we all need the money?? Did they really have to build a brand new house right there?

I saw a kid get pantsed in the hallway at school this morning.  I know it's totally mean and inappropriate, but it made me smile a little bit . . . I told Stacie about it, and she thought it was awful.  "I mean, seriously, how old are they??" she asked, in reference to their immaturity. 

"Well.." I said, "I pants my 26-year-old sister sometimes..."

"Yeah, but that's funny," she replied, and we both burst out laughing.  I love her. :) I'm going to miss her so much when I graduate!!! 

I can't believe there are only 47 days (not including weekends) left of my senior year.  It's wild!  After graduation I'm going to move in with my grandma in a town 20 minutes away so I can be closer to my church and college.  I'm going to be a grown -up.... weird....

Sia - I'm In Here

Fuck You, You Fucking Fuck

Not only do I love Rooney Mara, but I fucking love this shirt, and I want one.  My day sucks.
k bye.

Sweaters.

The world is like a new sweater, and i'm the extra button that came in the baggie sewn to the sweater that everyone throws away or loses because they don't need it.

Grrr, It's a Struggle!

Well, dears, I seem to be on the edge of the cliff -- I can either walk away to safety, or fall back into my old ways.  I've been eating really well lately, and I'm really proud of myself for it! I haven't been eating "easy" foods either.  Instead of measured out granola, yogurt, and salads, I've started eating things like toast and eggs, potato chips, fruit salad (the kind with marshmallows =] not the healthy kind), chocolate cake, etc.. It's crazy! And at first I was having a lot of fun eating whatever I wanted.  But I'm starting to feel a little self-conscious about it.  Yesterday, because of the amount of food in my lunchbox, my bag of potato chips didn't fit in it, and I had to carry it separately.  It was so humiliating.  I felt like everyone was watching me and judging me for the amount of food I had.  I kept thinking, If all the food doesn't even fit in the f-ing lunch box, then it must be too much!!!  I ate it all, though.  I wanted to cry, but I made myself eat it.  I didn't even purge afterwards.  Today was harder though.  I was tempted to skip lunch, and although I did eat, I didn't eat as much as I normally do.  At play practice after work, I was eating a meal from Subway.  I sat on one side of the stage, and everyone else sat on the other side.  The separation made me feel like I was too fat to associate with any of the other actors there.  I felt like because I was the only one of them who was eating, my peers were disgusted to by me. 

I'm kind of proud of the level of self-respect and improved body image that I've gained.  But there's still that damn voice in the back of my head, you know? It's my eating disorder telling me what a pathetic mess I am, and telling me how much better I could be if I didn't eat.  I don't want to lose myself to anorexia or bulimia again, because I've learned a lot from the progress I've made towards recovery so far.  I know that I can be happy if I let myself go and allow myself be happy.  I've gotten so close I can almost touch it.  I just have to make the switch from "I have an eating disorder," and "I'm recovering from an eating disorder" to "I used to have an eating disorder."  It's not an easy change to make.  I've had my eating disorder for 11 years - since I was 5 years old.  It's like an old friend, and I struggle every day to make myself see that there is a better life waiting for me if I let myself have it. 

I've got to stay strong.  I have to, or I will die. 

For those of you reading this who also suffer from eating disorders, you need to know this too:
You have to stay strong.  You have to, or you will die.