Cliche, but true

Yes, I knooow cliche has an accent, but my computer is being spacky, nobody correct my grammar for it!!!

So, although I generally detest cliches, I’m going to indulge in one for the purpose of putting my somewhat optimistic message across: Every cloud has a silver lining.

I let the darkness of recent times absorb me, I truly did. I let this darkness that kept weighing up on my chest creep up on me, drag me down, release tears down my face, guide my hand towards the razor blades. I cut myself. There’s my humble admission; I slashed my wrists for the first time in months.

But it didn’t help. JB and S didn’t suddenly realise that they fucked me over and come running to my house crying and begging for me to forgive them. My troubles weren’t gone because of the cuts etched into my wrist. To an extent, it woke me up, but not because the pain made me feel alive… because the pain made me feel nothing. Nothing. NOTHING.

I still feel desperately sad and hopeless. Yet, now I am starting to open my eyes to the fact that harming myself isn’t the way to solve this. Sobbing and crying and hating isn’t the way. My true friends are the ones who were on the phone to me as I was holding the pills, who told the people making me feel worthless to fuck off, who saw the cuts beneath my sleeves, and held my hand knowingly saying nothing at all.

They are the people I want in my life.

I’m not trying to say I’m better, or okay even. I’m saying that I am willing to let myself get better. My trust has been destroyed, and I still feel a kind of nauseating anxiety when I see either of the people who hurt me, but I now know that i will heal.

For now, at least; I choose life over death.

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Heavy Hearted.

Heaviness.

So the very friend I was defending, JB, that caused me to have an argument with S has thrown it all back in my face and said that, without justification, she doesn’t wish to be friends anymore.

I can’t even explain how crushed I feel.

I trusted the both of them above anybody else for around 2 years, JB longer, and for them to leave me after they promised they wouldn’t breaks my heart. I’m not bitter, or angry, or trying to turn people against them. I’m just hurt, miserable, there’s an aching in my chest that feels like somebody’s holding my heart and squeezing the life out of it.

Which in a way, metaphorically, they are.

I just feel miserable at the moment. They betrayed me. After everything I tried to do, everything I tried to help each of them with. They’ve seen me at my worst, helped me achieve my best.

I can’t even write this properly, my hands are shaking too bad.

Everything seems to be grey. They left me. They fucking LEFT ME. 

Promises mean nothing.

Everyone leaves in the end.

Light in Dark

The tears sparkle like diamonds.

The scars tell my story.

The bones reveal my mind.

The pills are such pretty colours.

The blood is like a waterfall.

The loneliness is almost bravery.

I hate this.

Self

And they broke me.

And my soul flutters at my fingertips, before being carried away.

As in a million tiny pieces, I see me, tumbling in the wind’s icy grasp.

And I watch myself, carried into the eye of the storm.

Disgusted.

Disgusted.

So, I have a friend who a few weeks ago began making themselves sick, and continued like this for a further few weeks, before stopping. She lost a lot of weight, to the point where she began to look unhealthy, and she barely eats at school, and she overexcercises.

Naturally, I worry for hours and hours about her, I try and track her eating habits and the amount of excercise she does; even my mum asks for daily updates because she’s seen how ill she looked and is worried sick as well. We have a mutual friend, and I mentioned to him that we needed to keep an eye on her eating and stuff, as I was getting worried about her.

He responded with “to be honest, it sounds like you’re worried she’s overtaking you”

I hung up.

Later he repeated “it just sounds like you’re jealous”

I felt revolted, disgusted, insulted, horrified, sick to my STOMACH that somebody, especially someone I trusted so much, could say such a horrendous thing. Honestly, the idea that I would be jealous of rather than worried about her weightloss is disgusting; it goes against everything I stand for, and I have FOUGHT against for the past 4 years.

Recovery has been fucking difficult, and I was at a point where I felt proud that I’d got this far, grateful to my friends for their support. Now, not only has he made me feel like some kind of selfish bitch, but he’s also proved that he knows nothing about me or how I think/feel. I honestly think what has been a very close friendship is over.

God, it’s really really upset me. All i want to do is slash up my wrists and push my fingers so far down my throat that I cough up blood for the next few days and stop eating and take too many pills… but my parents are proper on my case.

I can’t even just starve myself for a week or so, because I have exams. 

He has reduced everything I've fought for to nothing.

Feel like shit. Hate myself more than ever. Thanks a fucking bunch S.

Irrationality

Irrationality

One of the worst things about an eating disorder, in my opinion, is its ability to break down reality, piece by piece, until your perception of normalcy has shifted so completely, you find yourself confused with what is in your head and what isn’t. 

Anorexia changes what reality is to you. My reality became different, and what had once seemed out of the ordinary, horrific, terrible to even consider… became normal. Purging, for example, started out as something huge. I’d debate and over analyse the pros and cons of chucking up my dinner, I’d write pages in a diary about how horrible it was, how it felt. It was only the other day that I realised I’ve manged to reduce it to a very mundane set of actions which I follow each time. Put the tap on or leave the shower running to cover the noise, purge for 20 minutes, wipe mouth with toilet paper, flush, rinse mouth with water, wait 5 minutes, purge some more if i still feel full, rinse mouth, wati 5 minutes, blow nose, clean teeth, re-apply mascara, put my cold hands on my eyes to cool them down, clean teeth again, drink water. It’s a routine, it’s second nature. I don’t feel the need to mention it anymore, it has just become part of what is normal to me.

This in itself shocked me. How has such a horrendous activity become so natural? How am I now immune to the burning in my throat and the pounding in my head and the taste in my mouth?

What have I become?

Why?

I just spent about an hour throwing up absolutely everything in my stomach.

And then some more.

I just couldn't stop.

Eye make up smeared across my face, groaning in agony as I felt the back of my throat tear slightly, and felt my body convulse as i pushed my hand further and further.

I kept going, until I just dry heaved.

Then I curled into a ball, sobbing, on the bathroom floor, with acid burning in my throat and tears in my eyes.

I hate this. It's hell.