Can I?

I don’t know if I can…

I’ve been planning for my service dog for the past 6 months and now I’m panicking.

Can I do this? Is this the right choice? Am I being selfish? Will Avery be okay? Do I have what it takes? Am I worthy? Will this be a crutch? Will it be worth it? Can I do this?

These questions…constantly swirling in my mind.

I’m terrified.

This dog could either be a beautiful thing or a horrible mistake. Or is there grey area?

Could it be hard but also worth it? Can I make mistakes but not fail? Will Avery be jealous but still be okay?

Am I doing the right thing? Will I ever know? Is this one of those moments where you say you only live once and take the plunge?

Or do you back out knowing logistically it’s a huge commitment?

How do I know which is the right choice?

Am I a bad person for doing this? And am I also a bad person if I back out of doing this?

Are all of these questions my wise mind or are they coming from my insecurities and fear?

The exhaustion, it’s real, it’s here…

I just want the questions, the doubts, the fears to go away…The anticipation is killing me.

A part of me wants to back out and waste away…ohh the anorexia is so appealing right now. She is calling my name and it sounds so sweet.

Can I do this? Should I do this?

Am I changing my life for the better or am I turning down a path of no return?

I’m exhausted…

 

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Fragility

January 1, 2017 my father cut me from his health insurance.

It’s a moment I’ve been waiting for for quite some time. I have looked forward to severing this last form of connection but I’ve also dreaded it.

With it comes freedom and with it also comes pain.

The pain and fear that I may never connect with my father again pierces my heart.

I feel fragile. I feel broken. I feel the anxiety and the sadness creep up on me inconveniently throughout my days.

It’s a pain I can’t seem to articulate.

It’s a kind of pain that I just want to numb out from.

It’s an exhausting type of pain.

It drives itself deep into my being.

It makes everything ache.

And there is no band-aid or ice pack or medicine that will make it go away…

I miss him..I need a father..or a mother..either would be nice. I just need someone. Someone to tell me it’s going to be alright. Someone I can go to and feel safe to fall apart in front of for just a moment before I have to pull myself together and present strength to the world.

I need family. Something I’ve never really had…

 

 

Dear Younger Me…

My younger self is a part of me that I have always had a very hard time connecting with.

I feel like I don’t know that little girl, like she is some person in a far away land I have never met. Yet, she is how I have gotten to where I am today. She has been someone I have despised and hated for a long time. In my mind she is bad, dirty, naughty, selfish, and a liar. I think all these things of her and yet I’m not even sure what she looked like.

I often see young children in public and wonder how old they are because for some reason, my ability to discern ages of children is very skewed. I see a 2-year-old and think they are 4 or I see a 9-year-old and think they are 12. The most plausible explanation I can conjure up is that because I had to grow up so fast when I was little, I never saw myself as a young child and, therefore, can’t discern ages of other children either because to me they all look older than they are.

Any who…my current work lies in finding the key to unlock the cage in which my younger self is trapped. How do I do this? Where do I even begin?

I don’t have the answers yet but if I ever want to really heal the inner workings of who I am I must allow my little girl to have a voice, to be seen, and to be heard by others, but more importantly by me…

Utter Exhaustion

I lie propped up in bed where I’m supposed to be doing homework.

I have reached a place of utter exhaustion. Fighting for your life is exhausting. Especially when it seems the world is fighting against you.

About a little over a month ago I reached a point of giving up. I fell captive to anorexia with hopeless defeat. I plummeted in a matter of a single day. For about 3 weeks I ate little to nothing and starting purging when I felt I’d eaten “too much”. I quickly lost control. My hair started falling out and my blood pressure dropped to 84/51. I lost xx pounds in only a couple weeks. I was weak, I was freezing cold, I was dizzy, and exhausted. I could no longer think clearly. I was a mess.

In the beginning stages of my eating disorder I could go months doing what I can only maintain now for a couple weeks before my body gives out.

I guess after years of abuse, one’s body simply can’t handle what it used to.

I’m fighting to get back on track. I’m eating. I’m not purging.

And it fucking sucks.

All of the reasons I started using behaviors again are slapping me in the face and knocking the wind out of me.

As hard as I try, I feel like I’m fighting again the world.

I’m completely and utterly exhausted. And tonight, the 11 bottles of pills I’ve saved up over the years are looking like a really good option…

Catch 22

The last few months have been incredibly difficult, and while I am aware of some of what has been causing such pain, there are other aspects of my life where I just feel out of the loop. I walk into my therapist’s office twice every week and recently there has been a theme. I don’t know what is wrong and yet I’m a mess. She asks what is going on…I don’t know…she asks what I need…I don’t know…it’s really quite frustrating and makes me feel as though I need to get over myself and get my shit together. And yet, the pain and emotions are so real I don’t know how to ignore them.

I suppose this is why I haven’t been blogging much. It’s hard to write about my life when I can’t even seem to figure it out in my head.

lost

Everything is so chaotic and counterintuitive.

I’m depressed and yet I find myself resisting seeing a doctor or getting back on medication.

I want to restrict and yet I need to keep my life together.

I want to SH to end up in the ER and be taken care of but I don’t want to end up in the ER.

I want to feel connected to people and yet I turn down opportunities to do so.

I want the pain to end but I don’t want to die.

I want to get high but I don’t want to eat.

I get high anyways.

And then I eat.

My weight hasn’t been this high in a long time and I am panicking. And yet I can’t seem to lose weight because I can’t seem to not get high every day. Because if I don’t get high I don’t get a break from the pain.

It’s all a catch 22.

I’m hurting. I’m stuck. I’m alone.

And I don’t know how to fix it…

The Good ‘Ole Holidays

As I head home for the holidays I am flooded with such a dysfunctional mix of emotions. I love Christmas and I love my family and yet I’m also reminded of my past through every second of these holiday months. The societal emphasis on this season is so great that it only makes memories associated with this time more difficult to combat.

On Thanksgiving I get to remember my brain surgeries and months of hospital stays during my Junior year of high school. I’m also reminded of all the Thanksgivings spent with my family during the years my parents were still together. And yet it doesn’t end there…because these memories aren’t about remembering the joy spent with my family as a child but rather the constant fear I lived in for 17 years.

Then on Christmas I get a bit of a continuation of these family memories, except now I am remembering a time of year that was the most grand of all growing up. We always went all out: tons of presents, lots of decorations, church, music, baking, everything you can think of to describe the Christmas season.

I’ve always loved Christmas. It is my favorite holiday and it holds a special place in my heart because of our family traditions, but also because of my beliefs. Christmas is a day when I get to celebrate the birth of my Savior. My Savior whom one day will save me from the torture of this world and of the memories that have taken up permanent residence in my mind.

So as I head home, I am so utterly excited to celebrate and also horribly scared of the memories and emotions associated with the holidays.

I head home to a place that is home to my mom and sister (and therefore home to me) but also home to my father, which makes me want to vomit from anxiety. So these are my dilemmas and one’s I’ve been battling for quite a while, and yet no one would ever know…

Internal Demons

You know when you are lying in bed at night, lights out, thoughts racing, and you can feel the flood gates locked, the tears that need to be released so desperately it hurts, but somehow the gate keeper is no where to be found to unlock the gate?

You can feel it behind your eyes, in your throat, the tightness in your chest, the ache all the way down to your toes?

It hurts, it’s painful and you lie there wondering how to possibly let out what has been kept locked inside for decades. Is it possible?

You go to work each day, you do what is required to make it through but behind it all, you are dying inside. And nobody knows because you are so damn good at putting on a face of joy, laughter, and love. You go to work and try your damn best to put a smile on others’ faces, and yet you can’t even do that for yourself.

Behind all the laughter and jokes you spend hours in therapy, reliving what has happened to you, so that maybe one day it won’t haunt you and ruin your life. So maybe one day you can live an okay life (dare I say a good life).

I think what is more painful is holding it all inside while you go through the motions of life, with each person passing you by with no idea what demons you are facing inside. No one will ever know.

You really never know what someone is going through. I don’t care how rude or disrespectful someone may be, all I can think about is how much pain they must be going through.

Every day I spend hours making people coffee, smiling, asking them how they are doing, thanking them, and wishing them a good day. Hundreds of people. Hundreds. Including those I work with. And none of them will ever know what I am going through. THAT is painful.

I don’t even know if I can explain why that piece of it is so hard but it is and I know that anyone who has ever gone through a trial in life understands the pain of holding the weight of something so painful while also having to pretend it doesn’t exist in order to do what needs to be done.

The pain is immense. And sometimes I fear it will never go away.