95 vs 67.

Though I'm not sure if this is going to help, I really really need to rant at something right now. I am sorry I worried anyone with my last post, though in truth, when re-reading, it's kind of scary to me. I've been trying to abstain from this blog simply because I know it triggers me in some way. Not in a "omg-I''m-blogging-better-go-restrict-nao!" way but in a "jesus-christ-this-is-pathetic" kind of way... and then the thought process starts and KAPOW. Here I am.

Anyways, love you guys long time (anyone who still reads this).

I'm graduating in 4 days from high school with, for the first time in my life, a group of friends that actually know me a little bit, with whom I've exchanged secrets and shared scandals. I have this flippin' gorgeous dress that I feel wonderful in and a real after-grad plan. I'm accepted into university. Everything is falling into place, and yet I feel... underwhelmed? Honestly, I don't really feel much despite the fact that I'm almost done public education and that I'm moving thousands of miles away come September. It's not the lack of excitement/sadness that's truely bugging me, I guess it's just the fact that the numbness is STILL here.

Back in March when I made the resolution to "get better" (from what or why, don't ask me), my biggest goal was not to stop hating myself or to stop obsessing over my body, but to just FEEL and try to be in the moment. So far, I've stopped obsessing... well that's not even true. I haven't really changed, it's all still there, I just deal a little better and ignore it a little more. Truly, it helps. I weigh myself and measure often, but there are not ensuing panic attacks or gym trips and, vis versa, no huge binges. But... it's so frustrating because I feel like I've made this huge effort to turn myself around emotionally and yet nothing really has changed.

Moreover, the whole "not being depressed" goal has seriously affected my marks/reputation - hilariously enough. It's hard to explain, but I think that I've come to the conclusion that ever since I was little school and grades were my way of getting attention, then in Jr High they were my way of coping with bullies (ha! I'm smarter than thou), then in High School I could either study or exercise or cut ( I love this progression ). Now, I have no reason to do homework because I'm no longer seeking my family/my teacher's /the intelligent elites' attentions - cause I have decent friends!

I can not find any motivation to do anything. My grades are PLUNGING (like 60s) and I couldn't give a rats ass. AS per usual, there is no gray area with me. I have no idea what to do because I certainly don't want 90-95-90-92-67-72 as my grades for my last year of high school. Despite that... Part of me (and this is where I go back to the whole "i'm so worthless" thought cycle) thinks I'm just plain being lazy. Part of me thinks it's justified...ish. But by saying it's justified, it means I was actually... I don't know. I'm having a hard time - even with the blog-posts and the scars to prove it - believing I was depressed/ill.

And what the hell can I do about it now? Very little. By not being depressed, I have academically screwed my grade 12 year over. Ugh. UGH!

I'm exhausted of myself. My family is killing me (my dad doesn't have my grad day off, soooo typical) and I just can't even LOOK at university stuff. Maybe I'm just scared and all of this is a ploy to justify fear. I don't know. I need to go talk to the school counselor or something. Maybe that would help.

LOL as if I would go. <3

Cutting makes everything feel... better.
I can control something. Anything. Everything.

Today:
- I found out I failed my mast test.
- Got 3 rejection letters.
- I was kicked off a team.
- I was forgotten about.
- I was humiliated.
- I was invisible.

No one understands. No one can. I'm too fucked up. I need to get away. I need to die.

Therapy, Grad & Boozing to Numb

In that order, no less. Sorry I've not posted, 'nuff said. We all know how this works.

The question of therapy. Dot brought it up on my last post (btw, everyone who reads this please go to sanslesetoiles.blogspot.com and offer her some support. She's a wonderful person and she's going through a super hard time right now so give her some much deserved love). And, I guess, like everything else, I'm torn.

At times like now, when I look back at the most menial things and see utter failure and worthlessness, I think -"Jesus, this is dumb. You need help." I can go back and read suicidal posts, I can cringe at an eating-disorder or an "emo" joke and look at my scars and SEE someone who needs a little push from a professional. When I think back, or even reflect on daily life, I see someone who can't handle what is happening and who takes every negative event or constructive criticism to a whole new level. I see someone who takes solace in alcohol and in attention.

But that's where we reach the line. My rationale side, the side that is active and primarily in control when I am pleasant mood, is saying - "You're not sick. You're doing this for attention." And how true it could be. How many times have I fantasized about getting caught cutting or about getting cancer so the chemo would thin me out? How often I have!

Like, seriously? Look at me now. I'm not cutting or fasting (though I think about it) and everyone has low-self esteem. Sure the slightly too-easy decent into the suicidal/hateful mindset is concerning, but I have no reason for it. I've created my own demon, so why in hell's name should I disgrace my family and cause them to spend unneeded money on selfish me?

Then, there are the general concerns about what people/teachers would think. If they would think I'd been faking (I have), or being a drama queen (I have). Essentially, getting therapy means someone figuring out my ugly self and I can't... I don't want that.

I know I'm making excuses for not doing it, even though in my heart of hearts, I know I should even just to deal with family issues much less my own depression. I don't know how to go about it. I don't know if I could keep the secret. What I do know is my perfect image is concrete in public, it is undeniable. Once that mask begins to flake... I could lose everything. I'm terrified to even attempt.

Anyways.
End that thought. I want therapy I guess, I don't think I need it or deserve it, and I'm terrified of it.

I'm feeling really crappy right now because, once again, I've been forgotten. All my close friends have my grad arrangements assuming I was hanging with another group for grad. Alone, again. Surprise, surfreakinprise. It's all handed in and done, so I can't do shit all about it. they're all "we're so sorry, we thought..." yeah, well. What can I do? I'm so dumb, this is my own damn fault.

On top of that, I'm feeling in general fragile right now. I've reached for the blade a few times, never put it to skin... yet. The 30hr famine is coming up and I don't know if I want to risk fasting... even if it's for a good cause. Last time I stretched it into a 78hr famine... by changing the dates over and over. I can't be sucked into that again.

Anyways, I'm drinking on Saturday. With older people. And, honestly, I just want to numb it. Just for a night. With people I can trust to not rape me or some shit like that. Might say or do something stupid, but I don't care.

Weight is somehow still at 140-143. Logic is absent from my body and mind.

[edit: didn't get drunk at all. in fact, I fucking was insulted... alone all night. I should have fasted when I had the chance. binged today. cut today too. it's all starting again. and no one will ever know.]

Failure

I don't know what to do. I didn't cut that night, by the way, and foreignobject - if you can leave your email for me, I will keep in touch, I would love that. I went on vacation to Florida with the family and it was so completely stressful.

I know, right? On vacation and stressed out of my mind. I got so sick, nearly blacked out from heat exhaustion one day. I just... I can't live with my family. We're so full of shit, every single one of us. My brother, the eldest, is an ass but he's hurting too. My dad is so fucking ridiculous and so disrespectful and abusive... but he doesn't think he's doing anything wrong and he is so convinced that he is right. He's so on his high horse, he doesn't care if he hits my brothers in public, he doesn't care that his children are terrified of him. He demands respect, but respects no one.

My mom has such low self esteem, she can't even contain it from me, despite the fact that she knows how much I'm struggling right now. It hurts to watch her, to take her shopping and leave empty handed everytime. It takes so much energy to not burst out, screaming "You're not the only one who thinks she's fat... Mom, we're the same fucking size stop cursing how fat you are, how do you think it makes me feel?" It's exhausting and I can't be around her, because I fear for my own sanity. And... I feel terrible for it, but I'm almost done. My respect for her dwindles every time she walks out of the room when my Dad goes off on a rampage. Why should I have to be the one fighting against HER husband to protect HER children? Why do I have to be the protector.

I tanned and lost 10ilbs while away, and I felt it. I felt so damn good. Sexy, almost. Like I finally could tackle the world, these last few months of school do it with vigor and intelligence. These last two days that I have been home, literally within seconds I go from sexy-model posing in the mirror to contemplating the razor or crying. I've spent two days holed up in my room, cycling through the roller coaster. And now, on the eve of going back to school, i have accomplished nothing.

My projects are not done. Assignments are not complete. I am more stressed out than before school went on break; I am more jealous and hateful and terrified of... everyone and everything I can't get.I can't justify anything to myself right now. I want to call my friend, I want to text her saying: "Tell me that I'm worth something, that's all I need to see, just type it back, please." But I know she is sleeping and I can't bother her.

I feel like a complete and totally failure on multiple accounts. My project fucking fails compared to others and I don't even want to hand it in. I don't want to go to class because I haven't reviewed and I'll look like an imbecile. I feel trapped. I don't even want to cut, I just want to sleep. I just want to die.

But, I can't do that either.

Utterly useless.

I'm not going to make it through the year. Right now, I don't want to.

I don't know what to do anymore other than fake it in hopes that it'll eventually become truth. Smile a happier, tanned smile than before. No, there is no hope. Not tonight.

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]