More about life, love, the pursuit of happiness, and the girl behind the blog.

Sunday, August 22, 2010


So, I was thinking about my brother yesterday.
We are so incredibly different.

He's popular, outgoing and very self confident.
When I was his age, I was bullied, quiet, and had no
self esteem at all.

He has a girlfriend. He's twelve, so obviously it's
not a real girlfriend, but they talk and hang out and
all of that stuff.

I haven't had a real boyfriend in three years.
I'm not even sure if guys like me, matter of fact.

Sometimes I'm slightly jealous of the life he leads.

He's so... normal.

I was never normal.
I was bookish, brilliant, and misunderstood.

He has kids his age for friends.
I had my teachers for friends.

I never connected to people my age.
I was a 25 year old in a 9 year old's body.

This is a prime example of nurture vs. nature.

We were nurtured the same way
(except he was never abused)
but our nature is so very different.

I'm like my father.
Brilliant, introverted, uptight, and a temper to rival all tempers.

My brother is like my mom.
Laid back, mediocre in school, and incredibly extroverted.

He finds it so easy to show love.
I, however, do not.

I guess it's that he's never had love used against him as I have.
There's still time for that, I guess, but I hope it never happens.

I hope he never becomes as cynical and jaded as I am.

Mental illness is in his blood.
Every single person in my family has mental illness.

However, unlike myself, he doesn't currently display any signs of it.
When I was twelve, I already was self harming.
I had an eating disorder.
I could have already been diagnosed with major depression.

So, I have hope for him yet.

I pray that he is so much my opposite
that he doesn't even think of traveling down
the roads that I have.

I pray that he will live a happy, normal life.
That he will actually try in school,
go to college,
have great, lifetime friends,
get married,
and have children that don't resemble me, either.

I pray that he will find a passion,
and persue it steadfastly.

I pray for normalcy for him,
and I pray that he will love God and
keep Him close at all times.

I want so badly for him to make it through
this life happy. I want it for him so desperately.

I hope he does.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

I'll try to be less manic this time.

My last post (which I deleted) was a mania induced mess.
So, let us try again, now that my mood is stable.

I keep deleting everything I'm writing.
I guess it's because it's hard for me to
say what I mean sometimes.

This is one of those times.

I'm struggling.
The will to eat,
to recover,
is not there.

I miss my skinny jeans.
They don't fit right now.
As an earlier post from me says,
I've gained some weight.
I'm out of the range the dietician set for me.
Only a few pounds,
but it's terrifying.
According to BMI charts,
which they are not accurate,
I'm still... at the lowish-mediumish side of healthy.
It's 21.3 now.
My BMI, I mean.

It amazes me sometimes,
the weight I've had to gain in recovery.
It amazes me that, at one time,
I was, as Nicole put it, "wasted."

I look back now at pictures, and I can see it.
I see how bad it was, weighing ** pounds.
I was not beautiful then.
Sickness does not befit me.

I look at pictures,
and I can see the bones.
I see the teeth, mouth, and eyes
that seem too big for my face.
I see that, even with a smile on my face,
my eyes were haunted.
I was haunted.
I am haunted still, sometimes.

I can still feel my past,
the rape, the abuse,
the harsh words that sting the soul even now.
I still feel it.
Like Marya Hornbacher said,
"Frostbite does not hurt until it starts to thaw.
First, it is numb. Then a shock of pain rips though
the body. And then, every winter after, it aches.
And every season since is winter, and I do still ache."

She's right.
I do ache.
Recovery awakened me.
It thawed my frozen soul that I lived with in my Eating Disorder.
I didn't feel the pain,
once I had my eating disorder.
And then, when I made the decision to do it (recovery)
for real this time,
all hell broke loose.
We're not talking about a slow thaw.
We're talking about ice being thrown into
the fire.
A fast, terrifying, "all emotions hit you all at once," thaw.

I just want to shut it off.
I am a completely different kind of fucked up,
now that I'm in recovery.
Before, I was psychotic, dissociated, numb.
It didnt mean anything, though.
I didn't know anything different.
I was so gone, that none of it mattered.
Now I'm neurotic, manic, depressive, and I feel
way too much.
It's overwhelming and I just want to shut my brain up.
I want quiet, but all I have are these thoughts that
won't go away.
It's like someone is screaming in my ear with a megaphone
all the time.

I grow tired of being abnormal.

The only way I know how to cure the abnormal-ness
is to feel nothing at all.
The only way I know how to do that is with my ED.

I don't know.

I should breathe.