Feels Good To Say I Toldja So

As most of you are inevitably bitching about the weather today, please remember to:

  • Recycle. Even glass-there are drop off sites. 
  • Quit using plastic bottles. You’ll save money and time by just fucking buying a reuseable one. 
  • In the market for a car? Hybrid/electric/high mpg is the way to go. 
  • Quit having a stupid number of children. 
  • Go at least partially meatless. Cows’ butts destroy the atmosphere. (Methane is a bitch.)
  • Unplug it. You don’t need every single electronic plugged in every single hour of every single day. It’ll help your wallet, and the decreased electricity necessary to power your home over time is an earth-respected result. 
  • Replace your light bulbs with the fancy, better, green kinds. (Don’t worry – down below I’ve included source material with specifics I can’t remember)
  • Change the filters in your home. The blockage/lowered efficiency prevents an increase in atmosphere-hating gases. 

Here’s an article about 50 other things you can do to help. We did this to the planet, or at least sped up the process. 

~Friendly Reminders about climate change being real~

Happy Friday. 

Link as promised

…. What?

I don’t even know. Just like, coasting. 

Here are some drafts from my phone and voice recorder. Just for kicks. 

“if i wanted to be sober, i wouldn’t have gotten drunk!”

sometimes i think the only reason people even go out instead of staying in is just to be able to say they went. 


watching lotro streams at work cuz i got the withdrawals


“oh, yeah i’m here and it’s – why is that cat on fire?”

there was a cat on fire. but he was just running along just fine.

i want a fire cat.

i think it’s been at least a week since i last purged. Suck it, bulimia. 

Here’s a drunk poem:

punishment for eating

for existing

in general

now i’ve switched to crosses

? to disappear? 

punish the fat



rejection of self


Ok next:

For some reason Iike to talk about how I hate organized religion when I’m drunk. 

dear self: stop talking about theology while impaired. 

My nightmares can be pretty brutal: i had a dream i was a famous lead vocals/guitarist in a cool metal band with matt and off’d myself onstage during a cover of SWEET CHILD O’ MINE. 

I’m late for work *aaaannnnddddd post*

Super emotional: if you judge my grammar/syntax/punctuation rn i will personally cut you

sadness is a hell of a drug. look at my about me page. my diagnoses. i think i’ve racked up a few more since then. i’m just a melting pot of misery and i don’t know how to help myself. i swear i do try. i take my medicine as prescribed and and try in therapy and everything.


I stand by my theory that divorce in early child development splits them in half unless the perfect pieces are in play. Don’t marry/have kids on a whim. Break the cycle.  

Ffi metion this later. i’m not drunk. i’m not high. i’m 100% sober. i almost died tonight. as in: i almost tried to make it so that i died tonight. i didn’t want to go without leaving my words -.- i’m sof ucking selfish. all this mistakes and errors are because i’m too emtional to give a flying fuck. i hate most everyone right now. i m writing this not sure if i’ll publish or where i’ll pusblih if i do. i’m writing becaue hopefully people find similar shit in it and reazlie (at least at one point) that they werent alone.

ALSO I’M SO MAD AT ALMOST EVERYBODY for just being sooooooo duuuuuuummmmmmbbbbbbbb. Mental illness is real. if you “don’t believe it” then you’re just a privileged pussy piece of fucking garbage. and i envy you for it. wanna trade?



people who don’t want to hear trauma insult the sufferers. i hear trauma and i find empathy. i accept that it happened to people. maybe there’s a hidden “thats worse than what i go through and i feel bad” factor. i’ll never back down from truths or stories for my own comfort. especially when a friend is opening up. fuck that. fuck everything. and fuck you.


irst of all: Elevate Living? The Company? Fix your duplexes’ fucking AC units. They’re not enough It’s 81 degrees in here and it’s 11:45 pm. So fuck yourselves and your cheap asses in not getting a bigger AC unit. Fork over the money. You can afford it. I looked up your higher up’s home information and you’re all a bunch of cheap ass phonies.

I say “phonies” as a general term. You know who else is a phonie? Most CEOs. You all suck. Sure I’ll ride my private jet places unnecessarily while the grunts of my company can’t fully support their family and need to get a second job.

Capitalism is broken. At least as long as powerful old, white men run the country. Since that’s unlikely to change (since both white and old people are in themselves terrible), i stand with the system being broken and just turn it over to open minded people so we can figure it out without your stupid “well back in my day i bought a house with my first paycheck” mentalities. Pulling yourself up by your bootstraps isn’t a thing anymore.


I TRY. I WORK HARD. It does nothing. i’ve had 2 jobs longer than i’ve had just one. i averaged 73 hours a weeek all of years 2013 to 2016. now i’m breaking my own cycle but the damage is done. oh, and i’ve gone to school/college full time most of hte time since old white fuckers tell me that’s how i make it work. it hasn’t het. fucking liars.

Lesson one: nothing is anything and the entire world lies to you. Your country? Doesn’t give a fuck. Nobody gives a fuck. In the end we’re just animals lookin’ out for numero uno and to the last man standing: No one gives a fuck. And nothing will ever change unless people who know it’s a problem take charge. But that’s illegal or whatever. So “fuck off” to all the old white people.

Some tweets I made and then later deleted”

Grrrrrrrrr as a general response.

Sometimes I wish Matt didn’t care so I didn’t have to exist i just feel so fucking guilty
“yeah we’re here for you as your parents until its inconvenient for us then we’ll shut it down maybe you need therapy” yeah ya think

i’m broken as a person and i know that. maybe i should write a book. right now crying on stairs just feels right.

just gotta figure out how to slowly fade away. maybe tweeting isn’t the best option. UNLESS *lightbulb* my feelings are a BURDEN then people will leave

I just want to destroy myself until everyone leaves then i can die in peace. note to self: no new friendships

the worst part? not even drunk. not high. not on pills. nothing. just really tired of existence. like, as a whole. and also: being alive personally.

why do you all suck so bad? you’re all so dumb.

america is a big fat fucking joke and so is the consutrction of your celebrity homes

like. i can’t even die before i write enough down. god forbid someone miss my super important thoughts -.- -.- -.- -.- -.-

like i try to be nice when i’m here. i don’t want to drag anyone down. i just cannot deal with what and who i am. i don’t know what to do.

i’m not intentionally selfish. how else does one exrpress that they want to die? like, i do! im just not doing it yet.

peopel say it gets better or whatever. fucking. when? when?!?!?!!? almost 20 years i’ve threatened suicide. i still get like this. i’m so sad.

i enjoy bits of life. little snippets. not worth it.

wen i’m left on my own? can’t deal. not with my own thoughts. about ~everything~. can’t deal. i’m so horrible. its not even 100% existential. it’s just I AM A MISTAKE. I WAS A MISTAKE. JUST ASK MY PARENTS.

i shouldn’t exist. this whole thing was a mistake. theres something truly wrong with me. my friends mostly just like me out of pity, or because i like to drink/smoke/party. my husband? conveience? i have no idea. i can be funnt sometimes. i’m not even a good wife. i’m just like: there. I do nothing. i provide nothing. i am nothing.

my family? duh. they don’t want me. i don’t fit in on either side. too fat. too “leftish” too “serious” too wahteve.r i’m always too “whatever” and never enough. never ever ever ever ever ever am i enough. maybe i’m just enough to scrape by. i’m nobodys anyting. never anything. i am nothing.

“i don’t want you doing that mom stuff” he siad.

“he just doesn’t understand” she said

earliest memory” coming home as a baby/toddler in idaho and being put down for a nap. i lay on my left side looking at white cubby/shelves full of toys. i see a bug/beetle/roach? crawl along the floor. I cry out unintentillgible. Could i not talk yet? NO! They yell from the next room. mom? dad? light brown shaggish/long carpet with dark brown speckles. dark couch. if i were go exit my room (from like a foot tall) i would have seen more rooms to my right, and the living room in front of me and to my left. there was a patio door that showed as all white due to the sunlight outside. if i went into the living room i’d turn more left into the kitchen. more dark tile/linoleum. you’d have to walk past all the counters to get to the table. another door? was this in idaho? i couldn’t have been more than 2 years old. i do remember a dog. it was taller than me and was often mean. i hated dog drool and their stupid smell from early one.

another early memory: grandma grittons house (i call her gramma. everyeone else is grandma kader or grandma barry but this is gramma to me. no shame. i’m admitting it) i’m hiding under the table. they tell me he can’t see you if you can’t see him. he doesn’t see you. he goes away.

another early memory: must be in bellevue now. i remember the side-to-side bench swing painted like a bus. i was a toddler and you would take me there. purple slide? blue slide? the bus swing was where we swung and you both talked. mom and darrin, i think. i don’t remember dennys as your first date w/ me. i remember when the bus-painted wing was out of order and being really sad. i think it was snowing? or maybe just had snow on the ground.

I remeber coming home over your shoulder. you turned your back to the living room to lock the door and turned the lights on then so you could see. over your shoulder, for a quick second, i saw a bug scurry away. (my whole life has been fucking ruled by bugs. i fucking hate bugs. nobody fucking undersands.) this is a differnt dark living room with a kitchen that’s not fully a kitchen. maybe theres a door, but theres no dining area like i rekmemberd from before.

this is where i had a play ktichen. from darrin? from a garage sale? STILL bellevue? mom was on the phone and i used her open can of diet coke to make a “cake” in my play kitchen. then i used what was leftover to wash the dishes from the fake cake. you only got a little bad.

now the mmemoreis are getting fuzzy.

moving into spring acres apartments…. i remember the castle-like bridge over the weird grassy almost creek area. i remember dad picking me up on tuesday nad buying me a toy almost every time. i remmeber gilder elementrary school and the aide teaching me to chase my shadow. i remember getting a nosebleed from ACCIDNETALLY headbuttin ga kid in th eback. darrin picked me up and got mad at me.

i remember getting ready for school in the cold. it was cold in that aparmtnet. there was a fruit fly in my frosted flakes. mom made a protein joke. i came out in just tights and a shirt asking for help in zipping the back. darrin yelled at me. when mom and darrin fought i’d go in to comofrt my omom. she was inconsolable. i rmemeber the three of us having potato sack races when you got rid of the old couch to make way for the new one. i remember the extra bedroom being used for moms plants. i remember the girl downstairs who didn’t have any toys who was weird. i remember jessi and james and all their toys and how sutipdly religious they were – to a fault. i hated iced tea and they made me drink it because ‘god provided it for’ me.

i remmeebr helping uncle devin move out of an aparmtne with a red headed lady who convinced me to eat grass.

i remember mom cutting her feet on glass outside the apratment and taking her own stitches out. i remember jesse and james had yellow intertubes and all i had were orca floaties. i wore my orca floaties to fun plex. mom and i went in the wave pool and she wore a t shirt before they made it a rule that we couldn’t have t shirts anymore in the pools.

i loved the lazy river even though i’dget cuts on my feet from draggin them across the bottom. i just love physical pain.


i remember t ball. i remmber being horrible at it and left out. that’s why i made a “my little princess” cirlc eout of the dirt so i can hid in it. then we quit getting to practice t ball at home. i remmebr the weird igloo thing our neighbor made out a giant snow pile. i remmebr asking kids to chain me up. i chained them kup. i remmeber jessi getting broken glass on her legs from splashing in apuddle.

i remember the apartment complex office having those weird strawberry candies.

i remember darrin telling me not to chew with my mouth open but looking at grandma kader funny cuz hey. she was doing it? why wasn’t he correcting her?

i remember dad was picking me up on tuesdays this whole time. mad mom bought me “perfectly normal.” mad darrin disciplined me cuz mom jsut wanted me to like her. one time mom and darrin werent home when he dropped me off. rememebr, from an early age grandma and grandpa barry wanting nothing to do with me.

i remember their building a house off a lake. i fought to wear my blue dress. i refused to wear pants. in preschool boys talked about how dresses were funny cuz boys don’t wear them. then i refuesed to wear dress and only wore pants. just no fuckin gcourdoreroys.


by that time we were in the townhouse on leavenworht. nichelodeon alarm clock. skyler and kain 😦 fucking skyler and cain. simpler times. mom had spider vein surgery and couldn’t show me how to do the splits. mom got mad when i woke her to help me with crafts in the middle of the day. darrin got mad when i woke him up to help me discipline my baby doll for not using the potty. learning you hid a fire ladder under the bed. having a loft bed and not knowing how to spell science. catching you taking my tooth for ftooth fairy money and not saying anyntihg even though i remember it.

darrin buy ing me the stufed cats boots at crossroads mall. he went to look at a sale of collectors cards. the computer summer class with stickers to rpove that we behaved. learning how to draw arthur the aardvark. mom being a nerse and dern picking me kup.

listening to the rain cuz the townshouse window was openin.


winters there. sjovenling show with mom. she wanted to prove she was the best at shoevling snow. we know you’re an athlete. climibig on the neighbors roof and gettin gin trouble. collecting bugs. braeking my tea set the first time i learned what something scary on tv was.

watching mom scrape away extra paint on athe back door so we could use it. watching zoom and submitting my own recipes cz mom slept all day due to depression so i didn’t know what else to do. my typewriter with satnas magical message. the townhome orignally smelled like cat pee. my first obsession with everest using a jump rope on the stairs. my nightmare with the girl a few town homes away who also lvoed the hunchback movie.

going to phenox for the weedding and those spoiled girls not sharing anythign with me. salt water pols with my esmerelda doll. crushes on boys who didn’t care about me. my peers never cared about me.

joann: the girl whose dad killed a mouse with his bare hands.

tom and wendy? and the other ashlye? tha tbabysitter in that neighborhood. the black girl who got playdough on your front steps. mom smoking cigs and putting them out in diet coke cans i would drink out of in accidnet. going to the dollar tree and picking cheap shit i was only sometimes allowed to buy.

dad buying me a fish tank for my room. the next time we were sposed to buy fish. he didn’t show up. we waited. i looked out the window for hours. i found out later you were getting married that day.

dad once fixed mom’s garbage disposal.

i used to interpretive dance to my faovirte shows >< the basement was scary. mom liked to teach me things. mom was sad. mom told me sex was messy, so i assume dyou had to do it on top of newspapers. ]

fast forward a bit (passed my not being accepted by my peers, being a know it all and a nerd and unwelcome in school not even my teachers liked me, feeling like a loner loser forever. my mom understood me and was the only one, but that was hit or miss. they tried to care but i was bad about showing what was really wrong with me. mom and darrin fought from early on. mom and darlrin asking “how i would feel about them having a valentines day anniversary”) field club elemntary school. stupid kindergarten. i’m smarter than these guys. but when it was my turn i didn’t know the answer. weird floors that went down in stemps. but only parts. the scarly tornado warinng. hard rain everywhere.

mom getting frstrated teaching me to ride a bike. loosing the neklasce dad and cyndi gave me

Losing the necklace Darrin gave me

the first trip to see dad in vrigina. i’ve always seen him at ggbarry’s house. woh picked me up from the airport? a surpirse aunt. a surprise cousin. go meet them…. dad shows up later. “this is my wife now ”


“shes in a wheelchari”

i see that/ duh. it’s ap icutre. “ok”

7 weeks the first time without mom or darrin. i know my dad. ish. dad is once a week. i call darrin dad when he’s mad to remember he’s loved and valued. caretaker from day one. you know how many people are messaging me about feelings right now? 3. i care about people.

so much. there’s so much. i remmeber mom and cydni being so fundamentally different. what was ok wasn’t ok. what was usual wasn’t. when i thoiught was cool was “weird why would you do that” culture shock. total identity crisis. at six years old.

six years old

molested in second grade

sexually harrassed on the bus (also in second grade)

Then momnworked nights and I cooked for myself almost every night 

going to project harmony cuz my dad thought my uncle did it

uncle lived with us

didn’t do it

boys at shcool did it

red head named chris made me think he was my boyfriend

turns out wasn’t

sex problems to this day. i can’t feel good sexually. i’m guilty. its shameful. tis always shameful. i pretend. but i suffer. sex is a secret that should be shut down. ti’s not ok. don’t feel good. dont’ you know how many feel bad? who are you to feel good.

girl on the playground “why is your hair like that”

fighintg on whos the smartest with andrew. fighting to see who can turn in their homework first wiht andrew. starting to become class clown esque behavior. i know i can be funny. this will work.

the fucking van to school not enough kids to be a bus. just a van. kissing. stealing. i stole in virginia . kids steal: idk. i stole because i didn’t know what i could ask for. cyndi wasn’t mom. all my time was with her and my surprise cousin.

i’ had never lived with another kid. i had never lived with another couple. i had never lived where it was temperate all the time. i had never lived with dogs. id idn’t know how to handle any of it.

and i















don’t yell at him for barking (you do?)

share! (she doesn’t?)

don’t roll in the sand(my mom would’ve found this hilarious)

dont’ cross your eyes at me (you can see that?)

first slap on the hand. first grounding i stole stuff. learned to steal real young. still good at it. i just don’t in publc because of legal trouble. i can steal almost anyting. lololololololololol hide your pills hide your razors

awkward fucking kid. stupid fucking fat ugly kid. never belonged. always too slow to answer a question. always crushing on boys and getting made fun of for it. ms wegner liked us. she was the only one. no one liked us. remember that? remember how no one liked you? i do. you need to remember too. never think you have friends. no one gets it. no one who says “friend” understands the connection. it’s only me and you. go eat a chocolate.

where was i

bting my tongue cuz i liked the taste of blood

being quiet. so quiet. so internal. deep thoughts. “mom i’m sad and i don’t know why”

mom took me to therapy at a very young age. i don’t rememebr why or when exactly. i remember some of the office building.

i was in therapy on 9/11. i was watching psongebob and mom runs in on the telephone and changes the channel muttering “terrorism” under her breath like 10 times then the first question the therapist asks that morning is”what do you tink of the attacks” i said “epople die all the time. is this really news” iwas 10.

on the bus to skinner, as the only white girl in my class. i was made fun of so hardcore that once i told my mom a busmate had a gun so i didn’t have to go on the bus. they didn’t have a gun. i fessed up before she called the school. they were so mean.

i was so awkward and stupi. it’s no wonder they were mena. this is when you met andy and nick rogers on the bus. and stephanie too. andy was quiet. nick was fun but also mad fun of. stepahnie was friends with the mean ones. no one liked you. they mocked your viola. they mocked your school projects.

you waited out in the cold sining tlc songs to yourslef ucz you didn’t know what else to do.

fourth grade made a friend you accidnetally got ain trouble by being an overachiever.

desmond came over every morning and made your stepdad mad

dishwasher on wheels

house hounting with mom adn dad.

ghost stories at dads

cyndi and dad had so much family

riased with 2 religions and an agnostic mom. who can be stuipd enough to fall for a “regliion” in that setting. thanks for teaching me nothing matters. i’m better off theologically. people who believe in god blindly are dumb. matt can at least explain his feelings about it. it’s not just “cuz my parents do it” with him. thank fucking biscuits. i’m so glad matt’s not a brainwashed dummy like half of america.


elan. shawnta. stephanie. desmond. trevor. eddie on the bus. rollerblading all the time. kyle and ourtnye  in the circle. kyles brother snapping my bra and me getting in trouble for kicking him cuz he was “only 3”

dad taking me out of skinner cz i acted too black

by then i knew i was fat

why was i so fat.

mom cooked hmaburger helper. we always had food. poor people food, from what i remember. but i learned when we went out how to act. i knew what it meant to be serve da good meal.

eating with dad had more expenstive food. the mostly-protein dinners of main america. fucking america and their stupid fucking meats. like, we get it. you only care about your own species. selfish fucks.

did i mention fighting every day? mom taking me out at spring acres in the middle of the night to follow a skunk and her babies? finding skyler sad meowing on the ground after falling from our balcony? learning in fontenelle? camping all the time?

nature is better. humans are stupid. we’re so selfish.

the powers that be in the human world are a cancer to the earth and all life

Every parent fought. Fought with every parent. Put my fucking daughter on the goddamn phone. Pacing. They argued cuz of me. Counselors said it wasn’t cuz of me. It was. If I said something about the other and they fought? Duh. I technically started it. I know the arguments. But I could have kept my stupid fucking rat snout closed. 

Not to mention my mom runnin away. Oh. My mom running away. 

I fought with Darrin that morning 

Then mom fought Darrin that morning

She tended to come to my rescue whether I needed it or not 

We lived for free with an aunt cuz we couldn’t afford the house anymore

After a few hours of me time “where’s mom”

Tracking credit cards

Calling family

She’s headed toward Wyoming. Seemingly Yellowstone

Mom always told me she wants her ashes spread in Yellowstone 

We call the police

Grandparents kader and Gritton go to Wyoming with the two kids and myself 

I stay in the mental hospital where mom is as a guest with Darrin and the kids

They make it fun for My by buying me shoes and taking me to buy a new book

My mom wanted to die

Then I drive home wth mom. First look at the “hangover” type behavior that comes with something super emotional 

Kind of like the drinks looking behavior of being super em optimal

Then: later on a family trip: like, over ten years later we stay at a random hotel on our route

Mom tells me it’s the hotel she stopped at on the way to Yellowstone

Darrin said they wouldn’t fight anymore










Lies lies lies lies


So she drives to do it. Carefully packs. Gets a room. Bathes. And the police barge in 

Close call

I had some of my worst nightmare that nights in that hotel. I woke up screaming 

Why can’t I ever just fucking sleep

Maybe that’s all I’m asking for

Is to fucking sleep

Later now darting runs away. I’m used to one parent leaving in a fight and coming back a bit later. 

Never had they really planned it out

Now Darrin’s done it a few times


I’m destined not to function

Every event in my life seems lit against me

When I find something that might be worth holding on to? It feels fake. Half imagines. Disillusioned. 

Stepmom told me she understand sdeofrssuon. You understand depression only as temporary. Anxiety as temples 

My last suicide attempt? “Thought we ware pat s this”

Not how this works 

where was i

skiping lunches/dinner/breakfast in fifth grade


not even having friends in sixth grade. getting made fun of for drawing. getting made fun of for sense of humor. no boys liked me cuz i have a dumb stupid fat face.

“Lol pass the cake thunder thighs”

Jamie to my defense

Later: poked in the belly with “oink” sound. I slap him and he claims it was so hard he has to eat soft food for 5 days 

i’m dumb stupid and fat

i am nothing have always been nothing will alwys amount to nohing

mom bragged about how smart i was. had to keep that up. couldn’t let mom down. she was fragile. she didn’t tell me to protect her. she did her best. it was my job. i had the bpower to help i trie.d.

going to wisconsin.

traveling to the carolinas with just cyndi. her being so stupid in explaining stuff.

dad being impatient and quick to anger.

since then i’m a good liar and a good social chameleon. whatever makes others feel comfortable.

from then it’s middle school hell and when i learned to cut and puke and hide food more easily and high school where i learned to fight (bad boyfriend liked to start shit and after a while i fought back) and party in secret and then here we are. basically.


what a wor.d.

I Regret Everything

As most of you readers know, I’ve been struggling with a spectrum of eating disorders since an early age. I exhibited signs and symptoms of behavior from around 6, and actively began restricting knowing full-well what I was doing at age 11.

I’ve been in and out of treatment centers, inpatient, and have seen so many therapists and psychiatrists it’s a wonder I even think there’s hope for me at all. Especially on top of my many other ailments (both mental and physical).

Last September I started seeing an eating disorder therapist. In December she referred me to a psychiatrist. This has been my care team.

Today was the first time Matt came with me to a therapy appointment. I’m desperately trying to remember everything that I said.

For those of you who may not be aware, eating disorders are at least 95% lying and keeping secrets, avoiding the truth, over-justification, and investment in our own secret “safe” world inside our eating disorders. Some of us are more enmeshed in our secret eating disorder worlds than others. It’s to the point, after decades, that I literally do not know what’s my personality coming out or if it’s my eating disorder talking. About almost anything? I can make any life situation about how fat I am etc. And I always could! Not just since I’ve gained all this weight. All this fucking weight. How did I gain so much weight? “RECOVERY?!” You fat fucking joke.

I’m getting off track.

Today I spilled some secrets. Just last time I admitted to a friend that I’m not ready to give up my disorder. I don’t want to recover. I want to lose weight. Now that my eating disorder has swung from undereating and purging to overeating and purging it seems so hopeless.

My therapist tries to assure me that it’s a common swing, and actually confided in me that this means I never actually recovered when I thought I did. The disordered thoughts and thought patterns along with behaviors and mindsets followed me all this time and manifested itself differently over the years. So that’s real comforting, as you can imagine.

So what secrets did I spill? Big ones. My secret dinners. That when I joke around about food or “I went to the gym last week I deserve a treat” seemingly off-the-cuff jokes are really just me being good at making things normal and ok in appearance for what I think are others’ benefit.

I’ve talked about that wanting things to be normal before, too. In another post I qualified it with “I don’t want to be a drama queen” around friends, and I want to be seen as normal. Not broken. But…. I think I knew which side is showing its prevalence recently. Stupid fucking fatass piece of garbage.

Oops lost my train of thought.

I don’t want to let go of my secrets. Because once I start undereating full time again (restriction is easy until I feel pressured (mostly by my own self) to act normal or fun about food) then I’ll desperately need these secrets back.

They’re usually the cliche “I already ate” or “I don’t feel well” or “I didn’t even go to the gym today I can’t have toast” you get the gist.

Eating disorders are fucking impossible and I feel horrible. The worst part? “You don’t have an eating disorder. You’re just weak.” Not just from my own brain, but this happens in others’ minds as well. I know it does, because I read it online when I see mentions of Binge-Eating Disorder.

I think now I’m just ranting? I feel so lost. If eating disorders are part of my personality then I’m almost okay with it staying. I like to think I’m pretty down to earth and easy to hang out with. I’m empathetic and my-own-brand-of fun. I’m hardcore but nice? I don’t know I don’t know. Just like the anger. That’s me too.

My therapist called me defensive and I said “NO I’M NOT” as a joke, but…

This has become almost incoherent.

Happy Monday.

Wake Me Up Before You Yo-Yo

This medicine has me at the worst I’ve been since I was in and out of the hospital 8 ish years ago. I have my fingers crossed that the new mood stabilizer works with it so I stop going down these depressive spirals. It’s a shame that anti-psychotics literally do nothing but make me physically miserable, because they show promise in a lot of people with persistent depression/bipolar etc.

The antidepressant I’m on is a newer drug, and when I asked my therapist about it she said she’s heard nothing but good things. I’ve been on it since December? January? And I think I’ve cut more in that time that I have in the previous 5 years of my life. It’s not good. It’s not good at all.

I’m not always aware that there are other options. It does feel like all my other coping mechanisms leave me at the last minute. It’s not like I haven’t tried “working on it” or whatever. These last however-many months have been really difficult again.

Overall I feel really normal. Almost hopeful? But I’m just so easily “triggered” now. I use that word as a descriptor only, because I don’t mean it like in the “safe space” sense, but rather certain things someone says or if I get an intruder (subconscious memory or thought process that weasels itself into your conscious, and is usually caused by having repressed a lot of stuff) then a flip switches and I’m gone for a while.

Which of course leads into the next morning/day/hour that “oops I got pathetic again” and that is not a very good feeling. I don’t like feeling whiny, or like people should be wary of my feelings. That’s not the case. I used to be able to reflect on stuff when I wanted to, but overall I was pretty stable. Now it’s this crazy 50/50 chance every day that I’ll ride the slippery slope down to depressionville on a whim.

Everything is frustrating. I’m starting a new medication (another new medication) tomorrow morning, and hopefully that’ll give me the mood boost I need to get back to the old Shley, but a slightly less depressed version. That’s my hope. It’s difficult to function when you casually hate yourself.