accomplishments and rambles

This post is ridiculously long.
I keep meaning to make a post telling you guys how amazing I've been doing over the past couple of months. However, in the last three weeks or so, I've slowly been slipping. I feel like I'd be lying if I said I'm doing great. I do want to list what all I've accomplished before I type out my more negative thoughts.

Accomplishments this year-

1. I'll be cut free for 18 months on December 23rd. I no longer have urges to cut at all.
2. I've been off my medication since the end of April and haven't needed to go back on.
3. I haven't been hospitalized since April. (that means I've only been hospitalized once this year o.0)
4. I got a tattoo that is meaningful to me and has kept me grounded too many times to count.
5. I've reached the point where it's not just that I don't want to die, but that I actually want to live.
6. I'm enrolled to go back to school in January.
7. I got my license over the summer. I am finally driving on my own.
8. I am now able to go to a store by myself and check out by myself.
9. I got rid of all my pills for overdosing and I gave my last blade to my therapist.
10. I actually experienced happiness.
11. I've been working on only needing acceptance and love from myself.
12. I'm still purge free. I don't want to figure the exact time for that. It makes me too angry.

I have accomplished a lot this year, especially in the last couple of months. This is just some of the things that I've done. There are many more little things. I am proud of the progress I have made. My family is proud of me. My therapist is proud of me. To think that for most of life, people (including myself) thought I would never get better. I'm glad I was able to prove everybody wrong. I'm glad that I was wrong.

Here comes the less positive stuff. While I've been doing so well for the past couple of months, I'm noticing that I am slowly slipping. Noticing my change in mood is really scary. I do not want to fall back down to where I was. I do not want to slip even a little. Thankfully I haven't had any urges to cut or kill myself, but I do still have urges to self-destruct. It's hard not giving into the urges to punish myself. There are times when I don't succeed and I end up in pain for weeks. I'm trying my hardest not to give in to these destructive desires. I know that it won't make me feel any better to destroy myself. I will only be pulled down further. But until I deal with my hatred of myself (yes, that is back with a vengeance), I will not be able to rid myself of these urges.

I'm struggling with my eating disorder. There are days when I can eat and be totally fine. There are other days when it's a struggle just to drink water or a zero calorie drink of some form. My weight is fluctuating, but it is mainly declining. As much as it excites me to be losing weight, I know I need to stop. I wasn't any happier when I was at my lowest weight. Getting there again would be stupid on my part. I haven't been weighing myself often. For awhile, I wasn't weighing at all. As I've started declining, I've given into the urge to weigh and measure. I'm trying very hard to resist doing that because seeing the numbers is never a good thing, gain or lose. I have moments where I want nothing more than to purge. It is so hard to keep food in sometimes. It has been years since I have purged and these urges can hit me so hard that I curl up in a ball and cry. I sometimes have to keep myself out of the bathroom to reduce temptation. No matter how fat I think I am, purging won't make anything any better. Most days I barely eat enough to maintain. I shouldn't be worried about my weight. I'm trying not to do any hard exercise. That only results in me crying on the floor. It's a good and bad thing that I injured my leg. It prevents me from running, which is something I often want to do.

Going Christmas shopping is hard. Trying to find new clothes (which I desperately need) is such a challenge. I don't want to buy anything because I'm not sure if I'll weigh the same in a few weeks (whether that be more or less). It makes things difficult especially when I need bras that actually fit. But what good is bra shopping when you keep growing and shrinking with weight gain/loss? It's ridiculous that I don't know what clothes actually fit me anymore. I'm so constantly fluctuating in weight, there is no middle ground. It's either too tight or too loose.

I am more than aware that giving into my eating disorder will not make anything any easier, but as you all know, it's also not that easy to fight. Most of my behaviors are not even intentional. Lack of food in the house and lack of food I can actually eat at restaurants makes it easy to restrict. I'm somewhat trying to keep myself from slipping too far.

Enough ED talk.

I've noticed I've been more depressed. I don't have as much interest in things. I'm isolating even more than usual. I usually don't talk to my family, but now I'm starting to isolate from my friends too. It's very hard to re-develop friendships when I won't talk to people. Sometimes it's just too hard. Sometimes I can't say anything, but I feel reassured that the person is right there if I need them. I'm very irritable. Every little thing just seems to set me off. There are times when I just have to lock myself in the bathroom and self-soothe for however long it takes.

I think that losing my great grandma was the start of my downward spiral. That was a very hard thing to experience. Watching her slowly deteriorate like that was horrible. It is why I never want to get old. I don't want to die like that.

I think another thing that is contributing is the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School on the 14th. I read an article written by the mother of someone with a mentally ill son. In her article, she said "I am Adam Lanza's mother". Reading that article made me realize just what exactly I put my mother through. I feel so much guilt for just how terrible I was. Reading that article also made me realize that I could have been Adam Lanza. My life could have been so much different had my mom not forced people to hospitalize me and keep me in treatment. While I may have resented her at the time, I am so glad she did what she did because thankfully, I didn't end up like Adam. I am glad that I have changed, but things could have been so much different. It scares me knowing just how different things could have been. Would I have shot up my school? I don't know. I do know that I have been truly homicidal, not just "oh I'm going to kill you" in a fit of rage, but full-blown plotting just how I would murder people homicidal. I don't admit that often because thankfully most of my rage turned towards myself as I grew older. I know it does no good to think of the past and think about what-ifs, but things could have been much different. I'm having a very hard time accepting just how different things could have been. I have so much guilt for all the things I put my family through. It makes sense why my self-hatred is so very strong right now.

Right now, I just need to find a way to keep myself from slipping further. I do not want to go back to the mess that I was. I need to focus on moving forward and not going back.

Sorry this was so incredibly long. doubt anyone actually read it, but that's ok.

Titles are lame

That super awesome moment when an accidental lapse turns into an intentional relapse. Oops. lol no. It's not an oops anymore. It's me being a dumbass because well I am just being dumb.
My accidental lapse happened because I was dealing with my grandma being in the hospital and having to watch my great grandma who was close to dying. The stress of all that made it very hard to eat. When I did eat, I felt like I was going to throw up which does not help when also having purging urges. Then when I realized I was losing weight, I was like "yeah, let's keep it up" because that is clearly the smart thing to do.
I knew I hadn't fully conquered my eating disorder (lol yeah ok) but I was not aware that it was still as controlling as it is. It's been rearing its head a lot more lately. It started before Thanksgiving. I think that was when my great grandma really started to decline. That's also around the time I found out about my uncle being an idiot. I thought I had it under control. Clearly not as I'm now purposely not eating which is dumber than dumb because almost passing out while driving is a great idea. No. My sister was in the car with me. That would have been fun to explain.
I need to force myself to eat but I really just don't want to. The longer you go without eating, the easier it gets  not to and the harder it gets to actually eat.
This is when I need to focus on why I need to eat. I need the fuel for my body. I need energy to watch my nephew because passing out while carrying him up the stairs would be fun to explain as well. I need to be alert when driving. I can't really think of why else I need to eat. Food, who needs it? (There is a ton of sarcasm in this post)
I need to get my shit together because I can't really afford for things to fall apart. I don't even know why I'm posting this. I don't think anyone even reads this anymore and it's been months since I last posted. I just don't feel like my recovery tumblr is the right place for it and my main tumblr is no longer disorder related. So I post it here where it is likely to never be read but oh who cares? Not like any of you can tell me anything I don't already know.
Also I forgot to mention this earlier, my great grandma passed away on Saturday. Her death is making it even harder to eat. no that's just an excuse but hey won't it be awesome when i go into therapy for the first time in 3 weeks and my therapist goes "wow, you look great" because obviously she will say that.
Hey brain. It's time to stop being disordered. I'm done with that.
I was going to say something else, but this isn't the best post for it so another post shall be made later.

I did it :)

(I do apologize for the length)
Even though I had some doubts about getting my tattoo, I got it done. I was really nervous (ok, ok, I was scared out of my mind) but I got it done. It is so ironic how the very quote I was getting tattooed, helped get me through getting the tattoo.
It took longer to get the design of the tattoo figured out than to actually get the tattoo. The longer it took to get the design right, the more anxious I got. I was full on crying before I even got in the chair. I must say that even though I've wanted this particular tattoo (I wanted some lame stuff when I was younger) for several months, I had never actually pictured myself in the tattoo parlor sitting in that chair getting it done. It was really scary. My aunt (the one who took me) was supportive and was able to help me get what I wanted across to the guy doing my tattoo. I felt so bad because I made him redo his drawing like four times and I thought he was mad at me. My aunt did freak me out a little when she kept telling me that it was okay that I was making him redraw the design since this would be on me permanently. Looking back (and even then) it was funny how I was so worried about it being permanent. I had this tattoo planned for months. The scars that I was going to be covering had been made in an impulsive moment. It was just silly.
Getting the tattoo hurt like a bitch. Not even going to lie. That was also funny to me because I kept telling myself "oh you used to hurt yourself. you used to cut. this shouldn't hurt." but thinking about it now I have to realize that while I did cut in my past, I haven't cut in over a year. The pain isn't familiar anymore. I was very glad I took Lumpy with me. I squeezed him so tight and drenched him in tears and even some snot. I refused to look in the direction of my arm while getting it done. I was afraid I would freak out if I saw my arm before it was done or if I saw the tattoo gun. Half of the time my eyes were closed so it didn't really matter. When the guy was done and I saw my arm, I was so glad I got it done. All the doubts I had (even while actually getting the tattoo) went away. I knew I had made the right decision in getting it.
Having to wait the 6 hours to take off the bandage was kind of torturous because I just really wanted to see it. The quick glimpse at the shop wasn't enough. When I went to actually remove the bandage, I freaked out. I got all scared and was doubtful. I refused to turn my arm over to look at my tattoo for a little bit. I was glad when I finally turned my arm over. It looked great. I did freak out at first though because there was a bulge over one of my deeper scars and I thought something was wrong. The swelling has gone down so it was fine, but I just wasn't sure and I was/am super paranoid about something going wrong.
I have gotten so much positive feedback about this tattoo. It was probably the best thing I've ever done. Here is the magical picture you all have been waiting for:

I absolutely love this tattoo. I am so glad I got it.
My birthday was yesterday and that went well. I got mostly money which I have planned for putting towards a keyboard (a piano) and the Once Upon A Time season one DVD set. My sister also bought me a small canvas and acrylic paints! I'm very excited about that. Now to figure out what to paint. I had IHOP for dinner and then for dessert, I had hamburger cupcakes! They were good but I almost got sick towards the end of mine. Probably too much anxiety or just too much frosting. There was a lot.

I have been in a really good mood and state of mind since my tattoo. I don't know if it was the tattoo that caused it or just finally a sense of peace within myself, but I am glad I feel this way. I hope the rest of my life stays this good. I know I'll still have my ups and downs, but I really hope I can remember where I am now.
Usually birthdays aren't good days for me, but yesterday really was a good day. I didn't do much but I enjoyed it. I think it's so much easier to enjoy something when there aren't all the expectations on it. I have two goals set for this year: acceptance and self-love. There are other things I would like out of this year but I'm not going to make them goals. If they happen, great and if not, then it'll just give me a chance to practice acceptance. Is this where my life begins? I hope so.

last day as a teenager

And just like that it hit me.
I am scared.
so fucking scared.
I am supposed to be getting my first tattoo today.
I'm starting to have second thoughts.
Insecurities.
Doubts.
I want(ed) this tattoo so badly.
I wish I hadn't let my mother's words stay rattling around in my brain.
Look what it has done.
Is it really about me not accepting the ink on my own skin?
or
Is this about my parents not accepting it?
Why do I crave their acceptance so badly?
I am not ready for what is happening.
Time needs to slow down or just stop altogether.
I am not ready to turn 20 tomorrow.
I am not ready for a birthday.
I am not ready for a "new year" and the expectations that come with it.
The expectations are purely my own.
They are damn near impossible to live up to.
I must say that I accomplished one goal in my 19th year.
I remained cut free through all of it.
I was only hospitalized twice which is a drastic improvement from the countless times of my previous teenage years.
19 was a good age.
Well kind of.
So much has happened in the past year and it's really amazing that I made it through as well as I did.
I was almost admitted to a long term facility.
That memory still hurts to bring up.
I doubt Halloween will ever be the same.
I finally accepted that I am gay.
I have not given in to cutting, even though the urges have been strong.
I have not given in to purging either.
I think it was harder in that aspect at times.
I have learned that no doesn't mean no for me certain people.
This year I just think I had a lot of growth.
You know what I want from this next year?
I want acceptance and self-love.
I am getting my tattoo today and those shall be the words I shall live by.

"You are where you need to be. Just take a deep breath."

Celebrate

One year cut free today. Never thought I'd make it here. I spent the whole day moving into my new apartment but it's ok. I have my own room again =D I am beyond happy about that. Hopefully bed soon. I'm beyond tired.

the time has come to self-destruct.

i have fought valiantly. that's the lie i tell myself anyway. but i don't even believe my own lie. i can't hide from the truth. that's all i've been doing: hiding. i push things away. if i deny what's right in front of me, that'll make it go away. denial has gotten me nowhere. stuffing things down only makes the moments when i feel the pain that much more intense. but even when i feel the "pain", what am i even feeling?
hatred?
disgust?
shame?
guilt?
i realize that those feelings describe many things in my life that i push down. i'm not even sure what thing i'm describing right now. how can i know? i don't want to know. just push push push. don't let the feelings surface. don't face your demons. run. hide. even though, it has gotten me nowhere so far, i refuse to stand and face the things that haunt me most.
god i have so many emotions bubbling to the surface right now. tears are threatening to spill over but i keep holding them back. tears won't solve anything. they never have.
i'm so angry. i can't tell if it's actual anger or if i'm just covering the real emotion. either way, anger and hatred are so very strong in my core right now. finding the words to say is hard, but something in me keeps telling me to write. WRITE WHAT?!
i don't understand what writing about it will do. it won't change the past. it won't change people's opinions and thoughts. no. i will still be stuck with it. and the tears begin to fall. anger's slipping into sadness, hurt. why won't it just stop? why won't my brain just forget? please please please just make the memories go away. make the feelings go away. make everything go away. i don't feel suicidal but part of me wishes i did. maybe if i was dead it would go away.
you can't think if you are dead.
you can't feel if you are dead.
i feel so trapped. i have no release. no instant gratification. i would kill to physically self-destruct but i can't. almost a year cut free. wow. stupid record. i hate records. just like i've been purge free for over 4 years. am i proud of myself? NO! i am not proud. i am disgusted. disappointed. i hate my body. i hate myself. i want to destroy the thing i hate so badly but i can't. i fucking can't. almost a year of no cutting and i still haven't found anything *positive* to make me feel better. i can't get it out. it just won't come out.
i barely have motivation to write anymore.
talking goes in circles.
other coping skills just distract. it doesn't solve the problem.
i realize cutting never solved my problem either but at least i felt better. if only for that moment.
some relief is better than none.
why am i so fucked up?
i don't even know what the fuck i am writing. this is not where i intended on going with this entry but my mind kind of took over. now i'm even more upset than when i began and i have no intent on finishing this entry with my original purpose. i am done with this entry. i can't handle it right now.

"Home Is Where the Heart Is"

They say "home is where the heart is"
Few know home is also hell
Then again no one would know
What no one ever tells
I live with a family so toxic
Our love does only harm
Most would be taken aback by the fights
But for us, there's no alarm
Fighting is normalcy
It's the calm times that are worst
In the eye of the storm
Is when the damage most likely hurts
If we never fought each other
Nothing would make us close
Other families bond through hugs
We bond grabbing at each other's throats
Our words come out as knives
That we plunge into each other's backs
Physical blows occur as well
But only behind a door that's cracked
As long as you can't see it
The blow was never dealt
But that doesn't mean no damage was done
Trust me the pain was felt
The bruises fade over time
But the cuts we deal scar
Some may not be physical
But they stay forever on the heart
Our love for one another
Is twisted to say the least
But home is where the heart is
And at home lives family.

this post is to merely say i am alive.

(love) sick?

laying in bed at 2 am feeling like you are going to throw up is so much fun.
*sarcasm*
i don't know why i feel nauseous.
perhaps it's because i've been reading love stories.
stories of girls falling in love with each other and being happy.
maybe the sickly sweet love that i'll never have is making feel so ill.
torturing myself with romance.
seeing pictures.
reading stories.
even my ipod is against me.
(i don't know why more than half of my ipod consists of love songs when i've never been in love.)
it's sad really.
wanting love.
but not having it.
people tell me they love me,
but it's not the kind of love i want.
i want someone to hold me in their arms while i sleep.
someone to hold my hand in public.
someone to kiss me and hug me and make me feel special.
here come the tears i've been holding back.
why do i always break down at night.
it's always over this.
homosexuality.
love.
being alone.
it doesn't make sense.
i hate myself so much for being gay,
yet the one thing i want is to be loved by a girl.
a girl i can call mine.
a girl who wants me back.
i am so fucking alone.
love from a family member can only do so much.
it doesn't fill this aching hole in my heart that can only be filled by some special girl who loves me.
i don't mean the friendly love that is between best friends.
i mean the love that two people share when they've found "the one".
i'm not saying i want to marry the first girl i date.
i just want to feel like someone wants me.
like someone needs me.

I just want somebody to love me.

8 months cut free as of 2/23/12

when being gay doesn't make you gay

life is not going well right now.
what is wrong?
nothing.
i just hate myself for being gay.
my parents hate me for being gay.
don't fucking talk about anything "gay" around them
or
"stop the gay talk".
i mean really?
what happened to "we may not approve, but we accept you."?
oh that's right.
it's just another lie.
another fairy tale in my head.
i'm sorry i want to talk to you about the thing that made me realize i'm gay.
a (non-canon) couple from the show glee and the actress who portray them.
i saw the looks quinn gave rachel.
the looks she got in return.
the feelings between them have grown,
along with their "friendship".
even the way the actresses look at each other in real life proved they loved each other.
i realized how badly i wanted to have someone look at me like that.
i want to look back at them.
i want somebody to hold my hand and me actually want to hold their hand too.
(sorry, this is all out of context and if you want more, i can explain privately. not going to spam you with my otp.)
it really hurts.
it really FUCKING hurts.
who knew self-hatred could be so extreme?
and no one understands.
gay kids who are outed or who come out themselves are often bullied.
i am not bullied.
no one outside my family knows that i actually see in person.
(therapist not included)
those kids who are bullied for their sexuality often attempt suicide.
i just want to say that i am so tempted to kill myself.
not because other people hate me for being gay,
but because i hate myself for it.
if this gets messed up, sorry.
it's hard to blog while crying.
i wish i had never "realized" i was gay.
i wish i could still hold onto the hope that i was at least bisexual.
but no.
i can't.
i'm no longer in denial.
all the feelings i had been pushing away because i still had "hope"
are here full force.
i swear this is more powerful than anything i've ever felt.
i know no one really gives a fuck about me and my whining about being gay,
but i need to get it out.
bottling it up isn't helping me any.
although i can't really say this helping either.
so many fucking emotions right now.
i cannot handle them.
there's more to why i'm upset but i won't bore you with those details now.
i guess that's all i've got to whine about.
my poor pathetic life.
before i end this,
i have one last thing to say.
it is for me but you can still read it.

dear self,
i fucking hate you.

it all comes back at night

i know i haven't really blogged in forever but tonight, i just had to get this out. it hurts too much to hold it in.

months ago, i finally realized that i did not like boys. for years i had questioned it. i knew i liked girls but guys were a whole other story. last year, i met david. unappreciated texts to which i shamefully flirted back to. the worst date of my life. followed by kisses which repulsed me greatly. i thought it was just because i didn't have feelings for him. deep down, i was suppressing that i wished i was kissing a girl, that i was holding hands with a girl. no, i told myself, i just didn't like him and he was a terrible kisser.

in september, i overdosed and was in the psych hospital. there i met the nicest guy. he liked me. i was sure the feelings were mutual. i flirted. he flirted. my stomach felt bubbly around him. he made me feel special. he saw me at my worst and still he wanted to be with me. problem was, he lived in oklahoma. still, we decided to date. as the weeks outside the hospital passed, i realized my feelings weren't as strong now that i wasn't seeing him every day. i told people about him.  the feelings lessened even more. he made plans to come visit me. as much as i wanted to see him, i dreaded it. i should have known then but still i denied it. but i couldn't deny that when we inevitably kissed, i would know. the day we spent together was great. i would have enjoyed it more had i not been worrying about the fateful kiss. we kissed farewell. i felt nothing. my heart broke in that moment. i was gay. i could no longer have hope for liking boys. a boy i thought i had feelings for kissed me and nothing. the first girl i kissed, who i had no feelings for, made me feel fireworks. years of denying, hoping, praying that i wasn't gay could no longer be ignored.

i can't believe how hard i am crying right now. it's a bit ridiculous.

i told my therapist first. then some of my on-line friends and my best friend who i happened to meet in the hospital.i officially came out to my parents in a family session right before christmas. they said they already knew. secretly they had hoped it was a phase. secretly i hoped so too. there was no more hoping though. it was real, not a phase. i am gay.

it's hard to admit those words. i wish i didn't have to. i'm so ashamed. "my brain is fucked up. why does my heart have to be fucked up too?"  i said that to my therapist. it's so true. why can't my heart love who it's supposed to? why can't i be straight? i know i hated god before. this made it worse. i don't understand why he hates me so much. it says in the bible that homosexuality is a sin. i was told by a pastor to resist my homosexual urges and to seek help. how can i accept myself if i don't feel like the person who made me like this doesn't accept me either? i wish i could believe that god loves me no matter what. i wish i could believe that other people love me no matter what, but i can't. i just can't.

don't get me wrong. i have nothing against homosexuals. i am all for equal rights. love is love. i know you don't choose who you fall in love with. i just wish it was different for me. i wish i could choose. i wish i could accept me. i wish i was normal, straight. i wish i could have pride, but i can't deal with being gay.

i am fighting so many urges to destroy myself, to punish myself. it just hurts so much inside. i can't. i just can't. make it stop please. just make it stop.

still alive..

that is all. if you wish to know more, ask.