Side Effects

My head hurts and I am feeling spacey as usual. It is probably because I havent taken my medicine today. I wonder if these thoughts are just side effects or the medicine covers them up with chemicals. Thats how I tend to feel about everything lately is it a side effect, a false feeling or a true feeling? I dont fucking know i'm confusing my own goddamn self. Listening to a playlist called "songs that make me cry" probably isnt helping. This blog has somewhat turned into my diary, so I'm sure no one reads these. I'm not sure if that is comforting or concerning.

I feel more alone and frustrated than I ever have. Emotional neglect is the most painful wound I have ever experienced. More than any broken bone,twisted ankle, or cut. To be the problem child for simply being. Everything you do adding to the list of reasons why you are diffucult child, why it makes it hard to be around you. When I think about all the shit I have gone through it is no shock how fucked up I am or how much I hate myself. I was conditioned to, trained to look in the mirror and only see the cellulite,the non-blue eyes and frizzy hair. I hate my mother for every bad thought she put into my head for the past 17 years. It has become appearant to me that people see me and think that nothing is wrong in my life. I remember talking to a consular about my mom and he said that there were other kids with "real problems" like physically abusive parents or who cut patterns into their arms with razors. I had encoutered neglect again and again in my life, by friends but mostly family. It makes me want to numb myself as stupid as that sounds, there has been times when drugs and alcohol seem like a good solution to this side effect of a life. When I let people into my troubles they are shocked, I mean look like I dont have any problems.But like most things I was conditioned to not let others in to my problems, that if you look and speak well they will think all is well the rest is your problem. I feel my anger for my mother building up more and more, almost tangible. Each selfish action she does makes me want to explode with frustration and never talk to her again.

I am one of those people to fish for compliments and affection. It pushes many people away and I dont blame them. When you are denied such simple affection at home you search for it through other ways such as fishing for compliments or flirting the two I am most guilty of. It scares me how much I crave it like a drug. To be approved, but when they say it I never believe them, thats the funny part. You could tattoo my name to your forehead, or be married to me for 30 years and everyday I will still question whether its true or not.

The area where most of my self hatred stems from is my body. I constantly scope around others around me, calculate in my head how much taller they are than me or shorter, how much more or less they weigh, how clear their skin is,etc. Its mentally exhausting to go out in public at times. I see pictures of girls with protruding bones underneath a thin sheet of flesh, sunken eyes and I envy them. I envy the courage and self control to not eat and limit your intake, or stick your finger down your throat after every calorie. I wish I could do the same but I am weak and too cowardly. I know this is unhealthy. I am fat, to me I am plus size more than plus size. My stomach protrudes instead of bones, I am utterly disgusting.

It is 3am, so I am going to go try to sleep.

Noelle

The War Against Myself

     Writing this is someone difficult and its 4am but I feel like I need to purge these thoughts. I am reluctant to say I have a disorder because to be honest I don't think I do...yet, but if this continues I know I will lose myself to this side of me. I feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff and one little gust of wind will send me into the depths below. 

     I can't remember the exact moment I decided I was ugly and fat. The thing I can remember is the moments that contributed to this fucked up mentality. Beginning with my mother constantly calling herself,the women on tv, and most of all my sister "fat" "heifers" and "disgusting".Then came the long time "best friend" who used me as her personal dart board, knowing where to throw the darts that hit just the right pressure points, as well as using me as a an example of what not to look like during her Eating Disorder. Constantly making sure to eat less than me, weight less than me, and remind me of this fact if not consciously than physically with her 5ft 11in frame and bones protruding through her skin. The boy who I would've died for, and almost did in years to come, that chose her over me on multiple accounts, and the many boys who fell suit after. I remember I time I used to be able to swat away these thoughts like little gnats, but now they aren't gnats, they are swarms of bee's stinging and living scars. There are days when eating becomes a chore something that has to be done to survive.

     When I look into the mirror I see my protruding stomach,my large thighs, stretch marks,ripples of cellulite even thinking about it makes me shudder. I claim to not have a disorder because I dont act on the thoughts. I dont purge through exercise,laxatives or throwing up, I dont count calories or weigh myself daily and dont think I've lost a lot of weight. Part of me is mad at myself for that, screaming "You coward, why cant you do these things. You are a goddamn coward that will die alone and fat." I enjoy food, I love to cook and go out to eat but I dont enjoy guilt. I don't enjoy the disgust with myself as I ponder what I just ate and how much I need to work out. I have tried working out but fear it will become an obsession, like it did for my "best friend". I look at pictures of girls with bones poking out of  their bodies and sick sallow faces and a voice says "This could be you if you don't stop this crazy thinking right this moment." but another voice says "This could be you! You could be model skinny! See every collar bone, no more jiggling thighs!". The fighting between these voices exhaust me to the point of becoming physically exhausting making it easier to just sleep away the guilt.

     I hope one day I can look at my body and see the beauty in it, the curves and find them beautiful instead of grotesque. I hope to be able to look into my eyes and generally feel like I am beautiful, that I should walk with pride. I dont see that happening anytime soon. I will just keep being trapped in the tornado of my thoughts, slowly becoming more and more obsessed, until it either consumes me or I finally win the battle against myself.