I will not cut.
I will not cut.
I will not cut.

I will make it through the week.
I will pass my test tomorrow.
I will exceed expectations.

I will not let anyone down.

I will not cut.

20x0 is still 0

So, now it's 20 days later since I made that resolution to give... this up. To stop feeling worthless, to stop caring about what people have said to me... I came to the conclusion that... life is too short. That I had to change - and that it couldn't get any worse.

I was right, but it didn't get me anywhere. I had a few good days, I didn't cut, nor have I restricted/fasted/binged. My weight hasn't changed. I've become so much closer with my friends, and I've skipped my first class to comfort a friend who broke up with her boyfriend. I've brought my grades up. I've been honest.

I've told someone about last year and about the 3 months of eating disorder attitude... how if it wasn't for the blog I wouldn't remember anything. I also told her about the cutting, the depression. What's better? She understands - not the ED or the cutting - but the depression and the suicidal thoughts.

I'm not to the point of removing the razors from around my house, or to the point of texting her when I'm feeling low but... it's something right?

The hate is still there, though.

I'm still looking at pictures. Still thinking about blood and pain. About a future that is so entirely meaningless, and that I am entirely worthless. I am so used to the idea of death... I have come to the conclusion that life... everything ends. Death is inevitable.

And I don't know what to do know. I feel like I have tried everything in an attempt to move on and to get rid of this feeling... this hatred... this concrete perspective.

What's the point of even trying? Under all the layers of effort and masks and scars... the ugly me is still here, it's still present. It's still me. What can I do?

I need to feel something again. Give me pain, if that's what's real.

Cross the Line

Today was really tough -- but in a completely different way then I am used to. Last night, I had my usual Sunday OCD anxiety attack and only got 4hrs of sleep... The day started off with a Math quiz that I got 70% on instead of 85% due to a stupid mistake on one question, so, tired and feeling shitty about myself in general, I plugged off to theatre where we participated in the exercise Cross the Line.

For those who don't know, Cross the Line means a few things: tears, guilt and unity. Essentially, you get a group of near-strangers (in this case my tech theatre class and a drama class) together and get them to swear to silence, nothing leaves the room, nor can you speak during the exercise. The teacher then proceeds to ask questions like: "If you like Oreos, cross the line." which evolve into "Cross the line if you've thought seriously about suicide in the last month." Each question has a meaning behind it - racial acceptance, seeing how we perpetuate hurt etc.

It was intense.

I decided quickly that, even though I wasn't going to be held to it, I felt strong enough to be truthful throughout the whole thing. I crossed when asked about suicide, abuse, knowing someone who was addicted to substance, being hit by a loved one, being teased for weight/race, self-harm... and you know what? It felt so good. Without saying a word, I told a room full of people part of my story. I had a friend in the room who just burst into tears when I crossed for suicide... and, god, it made me feel terrible. This poor girl, even just at the thought of it... I just felt so bad for even considering it.

After the questions were done, we sat in a circle and waited for people to start talking - and they did. I wanted to share so much - that I knew exactly what one of the girls who told her story about cutting when she was younger and how she's falling back into it and how, to cope, she's throwing herself into the musical, that I knew what she was going through. I wanted to tell how much it hurt to be in that circle - and how much I was happy for it because I was raised to present a perfect mask - to be emotionless. I wanted to thank everyone for proving to me it wasn't theatre that was wrong for me, it was that mean girls in Jr high said mean things.

And I could have, and almost did, but we ran out of time. I did, however, tell my story about my issue over my racial identity. How, for a long time, I couldn't identify with either side of my family - my mom's being white, anglo-saxon irish and my dad's being Caribbean/african because kids at school wouldn't accept me. I wasn't white enough for the Caucasian kids and I wasn't brown/yellow enough for the other ethnic minorities. Really, until a few reunions ago, I didn't feel like I belonged in my family, much less my school or my own skin. I cried, and I was proud for that.

And this was all BEFORE lunch time. From there, it was downhill. I was absorbed in thought, and really now is the first time I've been able to sit down and process it all day. I got overwhelmed with homework and projects, being left out of a get together and other random drama. So, I came home, had a mini-binge, and spent 3hrs on homework/organizing.

Now, my heart hurts for the girl who I found out is getting abused by her alcoholic father and for the guy who walked in on his sister trying to hang herself. For a while today I felt really guilty... and I guess I still do. These people come to school every day with a smile, they do what they do best everyday and they do it amazingly. And yet I wake up feeling fat and can't smile all day.

Part of me feels guilty, part of me feels lighter. Its not just me and it's out there now - I don't even care if people find out. I'd rather they know and get to know me and how I react and how I'm dealing with it. Part of me is really proud that - hey - shit has hit the fan at home. I'm sucking in my classes. I'm eating too much. I'm being a terrible contributor to my clubs and societies. But, I still haven't cut. I haven't full out binged. I haven't thrown myself into punishment fasting or exercise.

I'm going to be OK. And, until I am, I know now who I can talk to - and that my story is already kind of started.

So, I will keep on blogging, I promise, because I don't want to lose this method of expression because I'm not going to go from this to talking to people in real life over night. Plus, my followers rock. But, just a warning, I want to do an overhaul of this blog - I need to get away from the thin/fat. I'm perpetuating it. I call myself fat/worthless 200000x more often then anyone else does.

Of course, I still went through ED, and I still have eating/body-image issues so expect further comment and perspective from that end of the table. I hope everyone can support me in this because turning this blog around is going to be tough and, of course, I will still be here to support everyone who is struggling with depression or eating disorders. Thank you all so much <3

[art: ~ beself deviantart]