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Wednesday, March 16, 2011

I dare you to move....

Things have changed. A lot.

I've gained a little under 30 pounds. From 116 to 142.2 this morning. It's...rough, but I'm not going to say I'm ashamed of it.
I'm not.
I'm proud, actually. I'm proud of my body and who I am. Why? Because this is my damn body. And I am through wrecking it for other people. Because I am so sick of trying to get everyone else to love me, and losing myself to thoughts of what I should be, that I've forgotten to be who I am. I'm sick of trying to depend on others for validation and verification, when the truth of the matter is? Nobody can make you feel any other way about yourself than you already do. It's all your responsibility. And if you put that onto others, you'll do nothing but hurt them and yourselves in the long run.

The person I was with, I no longer am. Let's just leave it at that.

The other day at work, I was talking to a regular. I've never talked to him before. He told me that he noticed my engagement ring was gone. I said yeah, and talked a bit about what happened. He then told me he had been coming by when I was usually on, because he always wanted to get up the nerve to talk to me, but the ring always made him keep his distance out of respect. Apparently, he's been doing this about a month or two now. I've recognized him, and said hi before, but yeah. It was still cute and made me feel better.

Beyond that, not sure what else to say right now.

I'm tired of being restrained.

Tired of feeling like I'm in a cage.

I'm essentially homeless at the moment. I'm crashing around with a few friends, which I freaking love. I had forgotten how great my friends were. Things will even out soon. It's just a matter of pulling on your big girl panties and getting to work. But it's still scary to be forced to rely so heavily on the kindness of others....

I'm not sure what else to say right now.
I think that's all.
things are just different, I suppose.
Very, very different.

Monday, March 14, 2011 I'm back.

But not as an ED blog. Not fully anyway.

I need my home back. My safe place. And this was it. The other blog felt like a fraud and I just couldn't write in it. This has been my place. My spot. So...sup?

I'm going to try and continue in recovery. This is going to be my place to post vlogs and just...random shit, and try to sort through the monsters in my head.

So...heed it.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

New Blog

nawthing to see heyar

Saturday, October 2, 2010

~The Final Post~

There are moments where our lives as we know it change. Unequivocally, irrevocably, undeniably shift. Our realities alter, our priorities come into a glaring focus. Moments that change us.

They occur every day.

Mine occurred Tuesday, at 7:15pm, laying in a hospital bed in the ER with the taste of nitro and aspirin in my mouth, the heart monitor pounding out a rapid 145, my blood pressure at a sky high 196/92. I tried to speak, but couldn't form the words. Tried to think, but could not string together a full thought. As the hours ticked by, my pulse barely dropped. I became too weak to keep clutching a chest that was tight, the muscles strained. My head began to droop. My arm fell. My eyes fluttered.

That was the moment my reality shifted.

My first true hospital admit. Rushed upstairs to a bed, at the age of 23, placed in the cardio unit. Wide eyes from nurses, 'She's the youngest we've seen!', 'She has an eating disorder. We get them sometimes', 'She's too young for a heart attack'. Three days of nothing but morphine, carefully selected foods, and major tests. The final night, being informed by my doctor of the damage done.

We have to forward your results to a cardiologist and gastrointerologist. I don't see any reason to keep you. You're out of major danger now, but we need you to follow up soon. There's some anomalies on your EKG and it looks like you might have developed a problem where your body can't derive the nutrients it needs from what you do eat.... Your potassium is the lowest I've ever seen. That in itself could be serious....

Realizing all the foods my damaged stomach may never be able to tolerate again....

Overall, I had 5 visitors in two days. Seven phone calls. Texts from nine people.
And a hug from a nurse.
I realized how much I'm loved.

They found out work.

Some of them already knew.

But when you have a heart attack near the end of your shift in front of other servers, customers, a talkative MOD, and another cook who's also one of your good friends, you have no choice but to own up to it.

The words came out in a panic,
"D, I think it's killing me. Oh god..."

The MOD (manager on duty) rushed over as soon as Dave got her. My hands were shaking, my words already short, my vision blurry. Not a panic attack. I k now those. This was different. My heart was squeezed in a vise. Boy was on shift, and S, the manager, called him over. She ordered him to take me to the hospital. I wouldn't have made it had he not driven me. Wouldn't have gone, and probably would have died, had they not forced me.

A moment of truth was faced when those doors opened and I was rushed inside. When the ER doctor sat me down by myself and told me, "You need to stay here. You have no idea what you've done to yourself."

I had never felt so much fear.

Returning to work, all eyes are on me. Some are of judgment, but the rest aren't. I take my potassium, and all at once, I get the questions.

What was that?
Was that a diet pill?
If that was an energy pill I swear to god I'm going to kill you.

Multiple people, hard stares. I show them the bottle, they immediately relax.

Don't worry me like that.

Another one hugs me tight.
You need to stop hurting yourself. I'm going to make sure you behave here. No more scaring me anymore, you hear me?

I should feel offended--I've been told that before. Instead, I feel in awe. How many years have I hated myself?
How long now have I tried to self destruct, convinced there was nothing worthy in me worth loving, only to now have so many people, so many veritable strangers, loving me when I cannot? Caring for me when I've been so obliviously spiraling into death? So blindly overwhelmed by self loathing, casting everyone aside in feeble attempts at self punishment?

What if I stopped?
What if I let myself be loved, for once?
What if I didn't turn away from those open arms and extended hands?
what if I took them?
What if I said yes?
What if I stopped dreaming of flight,
and what if I decided to just fly?

I guess this is my goodbye.

We've suffered long enough.
I'm tired of being the moth.
I'm tired of hating myself.
I'm tired of wilting at every turn.

This disease has taken my life away from me. It's taken my health. it's taken my soul. Laying in that hospital bed in the ER, the only thought I could string together before the nitro kicked in was, "Fuck you, Ana." It was a feeling of betrayal.
She offered me perfection.
And all I got was a fat death.

From the abuse of anti depressants in Jr High, to the meth addiction in high school...crash diets in college, to the point where I finally starved. I've given up my childhood, my friendships, my health, my life, my writing...I've given up my morals, my integrity, my everything.
I've lost me to this disease.
And I'm ready to lose the disease to me.

I've decided to get better.
I don't want to be the Prettiest Wreck you've ever seen.
I don't want to be a wreck at all.
Sure, there's romance to the writing of it all, but there's nothing pretty to a car wreck. It doesn't matter how thin you are if you're dead--you're still a rotting corpse, and you'll be a skeleton only after the maggots are done with you.
Death is terrifying.
It's horrifying.

I'm not ready for it yet.

I'm done with wishing for when I'm thin, and I'll do it when I'm skinny. I'll never be thin enough for me. I accept that now. I can't see me, and that's fine.

I don't want to be a Pretty Wreck.
I want to be a Butterfly.
I want to be the best god damned success that's ever spread her wings.

I want to write again.
To go outside.
To have friends.
To go to dinner without panicking.
To be able to eat healthy.
To be able to eat without binging.
To live again.
To breathe.
To never have to stroke the back of my own throat after I have a meal again.

I never want to count another calorie.
I never want to strive for the body of a thirteen year old girl.

I never want to suffer like this again.

This will be a struggle.
But I've lost eighty pounds the bad way.

It's time to enjoy it the right way.
It's time to finally fucking be free.

They say this disease is a disease of adolescent girls, but they're wrong.
It affects girls of all ages.
But it still affects girls.

There is something inherently childish about the female (and male) that possesses the disorder. Something that strives to hide, to be protected, to be hidden. To somehow be powerful but frail. To burn away everything about ourselves like a martyr, victims of a blaze that we do nothing but stoke.

And I am sick of being a girl.

I'm ready to be a woman now.
I'm ready to grow up.

There is safety to the disease, of the emotional variety.
But with that safety comes too high of a price. At some point, the cocoon becomes too small for the butterfly, and they must leave, or they will die.

My cocoon has started to choke me, now.
I have jumped from disease to disease my whole life.

And I am finally ready to be free.

I am finally ready to be healthy.

I am finally ready to recover.

My change has come.
My awakening hit me hard in the form of a heart attack and a stomach disorder.
As I have with my ED, this is not an attempt to convince you either way.
But I hope you all find your path to happiness. Either through pursuit of your self destruction, or by shaking off the notions of romanticism, and breaking free. This will not be easy. This will not be pretty.
But fuck it.
I want to be me. I want to know who I am again.

I am finally ready to be better.

Fuck you, Ana.
Fuck you even harder, Mia.


I am loved, and I swear, if it is the last thing I do, I am going to learn to love me, too.

I will still keep in contact with any of you, if you'd like.
And all my friends on here, I will be contacting you soon with information on how to reach me.

But this is, officially, the end of this blog.

I love you all, and thank you for coming on this journey with me.
But I am finally breaking free, and I need to leave this me behind.

I love you.
I'm going to miss you.
And I hope you'll miss me, too.

I'm scared shitless.
And I'm so afraid of falling back into this again, and even more afraid of letting my disease go. But I have to do this.

I'm not ready to die.

I'll give you guys way to get a hold of me if you request it. And probably a link to my private blog, if I ever decide to make it public.

Be strong, my girlies (and boyos).
Wish me luck.

If I ever post again, it will be about recovery, and my efforts in it.
I have to get better.
I'm just not ready to die yet.

For the last time,
No longer a PrettyWreck,
just damned Pretty.

~ The End ~

Monday, September 13, 2010

Goodbye, for now.

So, what do you say when you're falling?

There's really no appropriate words for it. Not when you're not even afraid of it any longer.

I'm not sure what you'd call this moment. A revelation? A grandiose understanding? A hesitant moment of enlightenment?

Call it what you will, but the truth will always stay the same.

I have failed you all.

A year with less than ten pounds progress. I have failed you, and I have failed myself. For this, I apologize.

I made the mistake of opening my mouth. Telling people of my disease. Flaunting it, like I wanted attention, when really, I just wanted to be held. Speaking of it, like I wanted to stop, when really, I had no idea what I needed. Speaking like I wanted to be seen as something glamorous. Something better than me. I felt despair and I told people why I was dying. I revealed the inner depths of me, and now? Now I pay for this mistake.

I pay in forms of flesh and fat.

Of shame for having let you down. For having let myself down.

I apologize, but silence, I feel, has become a necessity.

There must be a certain level of privacy to my inner thoughts from this point on. I no longer fear what I am or what I can become if I continue, only because I know the consequences of not doing so are so much worse.
I must get me back.
And I must close the doors for the time being to do so.
I feel I have forgotten the true purpose to this blog, and have started to put on a show for you. I have set myself up with expectations and I have forgotten the real reason why I first put down my fork and declared "No more". And with forgetting this, I have forgotten the way, and that has led me to failure. I become addicted so easily, and this is proof positive in how easily I became addicted to the attention that was provided.

I love you all dearly.

You will hear from me again when I have given you reason to be proud of me.
I love you all.
Do not forget me in my silence.
Do not abandon me, please.

I will return.


Saturday, September 11, 2010

How many calories is in human?

I will not start off this day purging.
I will not.

Last two days = serious fucking blows to self esteem.

Fact of the matter is, I don't want anyone to be able to call me chunky or even think that word when they see me.

I hate this.

Self esteem = nearing all time low.

I feel like a selfish bitch for being upset right now.
Even worse because I didn't explain to Boy why I was upset last night, but I didn't even understand it then. Maybe that's why girls are so confusing--they don't get it themselves. They just know it hurts and they can't figure out the words to explain why.
I'll talk to him later, I guess.
When he's not sleeping.

Ate too much bad and greasy food.
Had food I hadn't eaten since February 14, 2009. A calzone from a certain pizza place. Expensive as fuck. Was upset, and wound up spending all the money I had to spend on bills, and now I'm fucked. I'll find a way out of this, but if shit doesn't start improving, maybe I should just say fuck it and become a whore. God knows, it's not like I can't find any pimps for the high class out here. I mean, my sister used to work for one (let's call him J), and he's still out here and in operation.
And guess who he offered a job to?
That's right.
I turned him down.
But at the possibility of making $20,000 in a month (apparently, confirmed with my sister, was the average for a six hour a day, four days work in a month), it's a rather tempting prospect.

But I have morals, and therefor, don't believe in the manipulation of people to get money. I try to rely on brains and wit and self perseverance, doing things the right way.
Because if you do it the wrong way, you only set yourself back that much farther in life.

Doesn't mean I have to fucking like it.

.....I have no control over anything.
And now I have no time left to purge.
Ate too much this morning. I feel greasy and huge and bloated.
But I will not purge.
I will not purge.
I will not purge.
Because now I don't have the time.

Maybe I should have just given up and done it.
It always tends to make me feel better when it's over with.

And no, Boy didn't call me chunky. Sorry this entry is convoluted. It was someone else who did. When I mentioned it to Boy, Boy declared some rather interesting threats. As for myself, I know who this guy is, and plan to have some fun.

Who's up for the "Make the tweaker believe you're a cannibal!" game?????


Totally going to tell him that I, the little Jew Girl, got my SS Eagle imprinted switch blade from a skinhead I ate. And that I've never tried dark meat before....but I bet he would go great with merlot....

...I love my defense mechanisms.
"You're fat."
"Yeah, well, you look delicious. Come here and let me spit roast you!"

The answer to all of life's greatest problems can be found in simply convincing your adversary that you will devour them with fine garlic seasoning and a side dish of quinoa.
And those are my words of wisdom for the day.


Monday, September 6, 2010

A lot to update, but not a lot of time

So I have a lot to inform you guys of and not a lot of time to do it in. So right now is going to be a very basic post without much detail, and just some random bs hooplah shit that has no meaning whatsoever and I'll tell you guys the good stuff later, including how now, you're going to be able to follow Boy on here because....well...he found my blogger and has made his own. I'll give you guys a link. But consider it another player in the ultimate Emotional Exhibit that is this blog. Or whatever. It sounds cooler in the other thing I was writing, and I'll introduce you to him later. But yeah. Awesome stuff.

Anyway. Bad feeling. Instincts are telling me I'm about to have to find a new job and FAST. I don't know why. Just that feeling that the server job is about to be OVER. Which is always a fun thing to think about. I like it there, and if it made more money, I'd seriously be set. As it is, I'm gonna have to apply at like...a place that's like a normal TGIF or something. I don't know. Whatever.

Awesome song I found.

Completely reminded me of the whole "Ana as a person" thing, and just...feelings toward the ED thing. Corpse of Corpses by Hawthorne Heights. I'm throwing it on my Thinspo playlist. HOORAH.

And all of the corpses
Walk step by step
To the rhythm of their once beating hearts
Over and over they march
On and on to the same old songs
Trying to find something worth living for

No more ghost or memories that hold me back
A fresh start is all I have ever ask
I watch my body slowly turn from blue to black
And on, and on, and on
Sometimes it hurts the most to be who you are
You can change your mind, you can't change your heart
To find the end you got to know where to start
And on, and on, and on

You said she is so evil, but
She looks like heaven to me
I follow her to hell and back again
I swear I sign my name in blood
That dripped down from our veins
I swore I'd never tell

I know where to go
What sky, stars are align
Point to blame, clear your name, or just kill the time
My dreams slowly turn
They turn to black and white
They die, they die, they die

You said she is so evil, but
She looks like heaven to me
I follow her to hell and back again
I swear I sign my name in blood
That dripped down from our veins
I swore I'd never tell

And on, and on, and on

You said she is so evil, but
She looks like heaven to me
I follow her to hell and back again
I swear I sign my name in blood
The trip down from my vein
I swore I'd never tell

The end.