I've spent a lot of time lately writing about the past, mostly to avoid talking about the present so maybe I could hide the things that have been eating away at me lately. I figured I owe it to you that read this (if anyone still does) to let you know how I am right now at ten twenty at night on May eighth 2013. Here goes...
I've been pouring so much of my energy into being ok, I make jokes and I smile while the whole time I feel like I'm slipping away. The substitute doctor the other day said I seemed to be doing okay because I was talking and not falling apart or screaming about the horrible pain that never goes away. I wanted to scream at her at the top of my lungs that I am far from fine, that the pain is so bad most of the time now that I feel like I just want to disappear or find a way to be numb so I don't have to hurt anymore and just maybe I could get some sleep. I live every single day at an eight and when you deal with it everyday you don't go screaming like a damn banshee at the doc's office or anything like that. I want to look strong, like this thing that is eating me from the inside out isn't breaking me when it is.
I spend so much time putting on this front afraid of what people might think if I say what is going on, or admitting that I am terrified. I feel my body screaming at me that it can't handle much more, it is running on almost nothing and I don't know how to fix it. It isn't like it was years ago when I craved that empty feeling, when I didn't care if I never saw the next morning. I don't want to die, I am a believer but I'm not going to lie and say that I'm not terrified of what comes next. Even worse I'm so scared of leaving my baby without his momma to be there for him as he grows. I pray every night for sleep, sleep without the nightmares, the fear, or the pain that often has me waking up in tears. Everyone tells me how strong I am and I can promise you I am not, I am scared and some days I feel hopeless.
I try so hard to keep smiling, to focus on the blessings in my life, that beautiful little boy in the next room. It seems like every time we think things are going to be great this disease rears it's ugly head and we are faced with more bad news and more problems. I feel so useless most of the time, I can't walk very far without the help of a wheelchair or walker. I'm twenty seven years old, I'm still suppose to be young, in the beginning of my life and I feel like I'm at the end of it. I blame myself for all of this, I treated this body, this gift that God gave me like it was nothing...I starved it, pushed it past the limits on exercise equipment, cut deep slashes into the pure flesh the Lord gave me, and when I thought I couldn't get out I tried to kill the body that was fighting so hard to keep me breathing.
I watched my mother slip away, years of drinking took their toll and for some reason she didn't have it in her to stop. On November 5, 2007 the body she had done so much damage to waived that white flag to surrender. She fought for a month in intensive care, but there were no livers being offered and because I was so trapped in my eating disorder I wasn't even allowed to be tested for donation.12 days before my 22 birthday she died and we celebrated our first Christmas without her seventeen days after she died. She died alone in that hospital in the early hours of the morning with no one there holding her hand and helping her go...why wasn't I there. Now, I find myself following in her footsteps, one day I will slip away and the world will move on. I wanted to mean something, I've wanted nothing more than to help people which is one of the reasons I started this blog so maybe one person could see that they don't have to live with an eating disorder, they don't have to cut themselves, and they don't have to believe dying is the only way out.
I am worn down despite the smile or joke I manage to pull out. Everyone around me wants to know "why" nothing is getting better and I have no answers. I pray every night for answers, for more strength to take on another day of the pain and exhaustion, the unbearable nausea, vomiting, and dumping. I pray for a normal day that I don't have to take so many rests just to keep on my feet. I'm suppose to be chasing my son at the park, looking forward to summer trips to the zoo and the pool. Everyday I get my hopes up about going somewhere and then I am too weak to get out of the house. I spend every ounce of life I have in me pouring it into my son because he is a piece of me that will carry on when I am no longer here anymore. Every night I ask God for more time, I feel like it is a selfish request because people's lives are being ripped away from them everyday, what right do I have to think that I somehow deserve more time, and I know in my heart that there will never be enough time for everything I want to see and teach my son...there is never enough time for any of us when you think about it. Our time here is merely a blink in the scheme of things which is why would should fight so hard to make it matter, to forgive and not let petty things keeps us bogged down.
I have never been good at sharing my feelings, mainly I've never felt safe enough to share my weaknesses. These doctors mistake the mask I put on for reality. In reality, I am a terrified, screaming twenty seven year old girl who wants to live. I don't want to live like this though, I don't want to be so weak and in so much pain all the time that I can't enjoy life. I would rather have three years on this Earth with my family feeling strong and not doubled over in pain than ten years the way I'm living now. I never understood when people would talk about wanting a quality of life, I couldn't understand them just giving up, foregoing more surgeries or treatments to have a few good months or years without pain. I always thought you just keep fighting and you take whatever painful thing they throw at you, but now I understand first hand why people make the choice to have a better quality of life. I have a deep desire to live, but I want to live not just exist on the sidelines watching everyone else live life.
I feel lost right now and those old demons are screaming as loud as they can in my head telling me how easy it is to go back and give them those numbers they want. I know all too well how to make the scale tank faster than it is, but the fact is I swore I wouldn't do that again, I would never give those voices a foothold on me again because I know in my heart if I let it back I would be dead faster than I ever imagine and it isn't worth it to suffice some ignorant resident doc's idea of what my number should be...who care if my labs are in the tank and I can't walk or shower without Josh right there. Everyone thinks this mask is real, but it isn't. I have always survived that way, I have always been the strong one...I was raped and lived with it for almost two weeks before I fell apart to a friend, I stood and read the eulogy at my mother's funeral, I held my five year old sister at the grave site, I yelled at the Pastor who told her not to tough the flowers, and I went through her stuff all without letting anyone see the pain. I was raised that we don't wear our pain out for everyone to see, so I bear it and because I do it that way it must not be that bad, I must be fine.
They bring up trying therapy again and helping me to learn how to be sick because they think I will magically open up and I won't. I write...that is my coping skill and I also sing and love music and playing with my son. I have been in and out of therapy for years and never accomplished a damn thing because I can't trust anyone like that. I recovered from my anorexia, bulimia, self harm and suicidal ideations without therapy...I did it with people I cared about and I focused on God. If anything I would rather talk to someone from the Church because my biggest issue with being sick is my fear. I want so badly for people to see the real me and stop making assumptions...I hid the fact that I was starving and cutting myself for almost two years before anyone found out nor did anyone know what was happening in my house every night. I came to school and I smiled, and I practiced my craft. I am coping with all of this without reverting to older behaviors. Am I ok...not really, but I know I'm not okay and I know when I need to stop and breathe. I am scared and I feel so alone all the time because I feel like no one understands, which I don't know why I would because we all have our own bodies and we can't understand how another one feels.
I'm sure this entry has been spastic and not the usual Butterfly Den that you usually find and I promise I won't do this often. Things have just been overwhelming lately and I had to post something in the present.
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