And I know, you won't feel this way forever

Not even a month ago, I was started on a new antidepressant. Before I was trapped in depression. Trapped.

But now things are looking up. I'm having horrible side effects, but maybe my nice shrink with a southern accent can find a similar one or maybe he can find something to counteract them.

There is just one week left of classes. One week!! It's at this lovely state in the semester where things are just not going all that well..

But it doesn't mean things are going poorly. I'm at my breaking point stress wise, but things are looking up. It doesn't mean things are perfect, but it means they are looking up. Things won't always be this way. 

Some days are still terrible. Some days I feel like relasping into self injury. I know, I know, it sounds silly and maybe it is. I recently passed the ten year mark from the first time I cut. I still remember that day, still remember it so clearly. And for so long, I thought I was so clever. That I was masking my pain. That I was dealing with my pain. That I had my own little secret way of dealing with the world, hidden under my shirt sleeves. But I was young, I was naive. I didn't know, couldn't know, wouldn't know that by masking the pain, when it came to surface, it only got worse. And so, when once one cut would suffice, now it would take two. Then three. Then four. Until my arms looked horrible. Until I had to move to my legs. And as much as I would welcome the nirvana, the bittersweet Ecstasy of cutting again... it's not worth it. At times I think the break from the pain would be worth it, then I'd deserve it coming back so much.

But the thing is? I don't deserve pain. For years, and I admit, some days I still do, it feels like  it was all my fault. Maybe if I had been a better behaved child. Maybe if I had been cuter. Maybe if I would have run away. Maybe if I would have done drugs. Maybe if I would have drank. Maybe if I would have told someone what my father was doing instead of hiding it, even denying it for years. Maybe if I would have fought back. I had so many chances in high school to say what my dad was doing. There was the time I fell apart in youth group, and one of the sponsors asked if everything was okay at home. There were the countless doctor appointments that asked if I was safe at home. There were the teachers that reached out to me.

The thing was, I was young and I was scared. Would people have believed me? Would things have gotten worse had I told? I don't know. But the thing is, it's not my fault. It wasn't my fault. It was never my fault.

And even if, for some reason, it was my fault, it doesn't make any of it okay. It doesn't make my childhood okay, even if I did mess up at times. It doesn't make what my dad did right, not remotely. And even if my actions DID cause him to act that way, it wasn't right. Not in any way shape or form.

That said, I started this blog taking one track, and it took another. Things are looking up. I'm finding hope again. Moreso, I'm enjoying things again. I'm not playing games just as an escape, but I'm enjoying them. It's the little things. I'm starting to sleep again, even! Sleep is good. Usually.

And now I'm going to play Final Fantasy 8 and talk on MSN for a bit before going to bed early, so tomorrow I can talk on MSN, clean, and do homework. So I can do what I love on Sunday and play music in church then come home and study and clean. I'm going to close this entry with lyrics to one of my favourite songs. ^_^

Spoken - Promise.
(Verse 1)
Yet another day seems like its wasted
You don't feel youre any closer to the prize
A dead end job where there's no future
Praying that tomorrow things wont be this way

Things will get better this I promise you
And I know that you won't feel this way forever
Things will get better this I promise you
And I know loneliness wont last forever

(Verse 2)
Yet another day, another tired morning
You're catching up to your intentions
Your'e thinking life has to be easier than this
Maybe tomorrow things wont be this way

Things will get better this I promise you
and I know it won't feel this way forever
Things will get better this I promise you
and I know we can find a way to make it better
things will get better this I promise you 

Things will get better this I promise you
And I know it won't feel this way forever
Things will get better this I promise you
And I know loneliness won't last forever
Things will get better this I promise you
And I know things will get better this I promise you
And I know things will get better this I promise you
And I know loneliness won't last forever


Starving for Control

There's many things in life I cannot control. When I was 17, a lot of things that were out of my control happened. My private Christian school closed down, mere weeks before the start of the new school year. My health wasn't all that great. I had poor coping skills then, so I lapsed back into cutting and my eating disorder. It started at an even younger age, but it started getting bad then. I wasn't happy, although I tried my hardest to act like I was. It was terrible.

You'd never guess I was hiding fresh cuts and living with depression..

You'd never know, never guess, never dream that I was suffering from depression. It wasn't my personality - I was the bright, bubbly girl who laughed a lot, seemed loved and well-adjusted, and seemed to have many friends. But at the same time, I was crippled with depression. I was starving for control, as a way to control my out of control life, out of control emotions, as a way to try and steer the roller coaster we call life. It seemed like a good idea, at the time, to control my weight. To control my eating. To control everything I could within my power, even if it wasn't beneficial, even if it wasn't happy. For by sabotaging myself like that, at least wen everything fell apart it was my fault and somehow, it's easier to swallow the pill of everything sucking if I can blame myself versus being perfectly innocent.

I find myself still in the state these days. To the point where my eating is to the point where I don't even want to get weighed. It feels like this:

So literally, I start starving for control. Even though it would make more sense to control my eating sensibly,
 it's not that simple. Body image is a huge problem for me, not eating serves as a form of self injury when I'm in a state where I can't relapse into cutting, and it's just one feeble way I could control. I could control my video games. I could control my Sims. I could control my pokemon.

I have a headache. Why are you dragging me into this?

I feel like I'm trapped. That this has become an addiction, and what I was controlling now controls me. What I struggle to hard to keep control of just sends me further into despair, anger, rage, pain, angst. I just feel so helpless at how badly out of control things have gotten, and I just want to reign in control again...


Though it won't be today, some day I'll hope again

It's kind of funny of how what once I controlled now controls me  What I once used as a way to control what was spinning so rapidly out of control now controls me. It doesn't matter anymore how little I weigh, all that matters is that the pounds drop off. It doesn't matter that just eating lunch or supper or a snack should be easy, it's a fucking battle. I can't tell you how many times I open the fridge, the freezer, the cabinet, and start crying from the thought of having to eat.

Eating is a natural thing, it's something we all have to do. And yet... I can't. It's not as simple as just eating something, it's not as simple as just getting better. I don't know how to do. I don't know how to eat normal. I don't know how to find the balance. I can't find the reasons to hope, to hold on, to hang in there, to eat.

It's at the point where it's not really about weight in some ways - it's a game I can play with myself, it's a form of self injury, it's a method of control. It doesn't help that I have to avoid certain foods for health reasons, it makes eating that much harder. What if I screw up and get glutened? What if I make myself sick? Why do I eat anyway? Why do I keep fighting?

I hate this eating disorder. I feel like it's eating me alive, inside and out. And that I cannot hope, dream, wish, or keep fighting as long as I have it... and I hate it.


I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real

How can you tell I'm hurting if you can't see any pain?
To wear it on my body shows what words cannot explain

This time three years ago was one of my darkest periods ever. I was deep in depression. For the first time, I had a concrete suicide plan. I was determined to carry it out, but a small voice inside me was pleading with myself to hang in there. I sent the following email to my therapist. And then proceeded to not answer my phone, not check my voicemail, you get the picture.

April 13, 2009. 5:44 pm.

"Why am I emailing and not waiting to say anything until tomorrow? The fear of chickening out. The fear of not saying what needs to be said and that would not be very productive. At all. I don't want to not say anything and then wind up kicking myself in the butt because that would just be a really bad idea. With the state of mind I'm in and the way I am thinking lately... it is just not good. Not good at all.

Just last Tuesday I was the "happiest" I've been in weeks. I use the word "happy" lightly as I wasn't really happy, per se, but more toward content. Things certainly weren't the worst but were by no means the best. And then Wednesday comes and I sink back to rock bottom. Thursday comes when I look through the rest of stuff, and I once again go below rock bottom. I'm not doing well at all, and it scares me.

I'm keeping away from people the best I can. Thursday afternoon my anger got the better of me and I was launching stuffed animals across the room. Thankfully, none hit anything and broke, but the fact that my anger got to that state was just a bit scary. I'm secluding myself from people the best that I can. I'm locking myself in my room, not really talking to people, and being very avoidant. I came out of my shell some on Easter (as I was at my sunday school coordinators. Staying in my room by myself all day would have been a Very Bad Idea) but come Sunday night I was back to where I was just the day before.

I know that I'm once again lower then I've been before. Lower than Windsor, lower than Harding. This time I don't know if I can pull myself out. This time I don't know if there's a light at the end of the tunnel. This time I don't know if I'll make it through. I'm past just merely having thoughts about suicide, it's to the starting-to-make plans stage. It's to the it's-starting-to-take-over-my-dreams stage. It's to the its-taking-over-me stage. It's to the point where I'm not seeing any way out, and it scares me. It's to the point where I do not trust myself at all anymore, where I'm almost scared of myself and that I'll act impulsively. It's to the point where I'm trying to figure out a way to get to the store in order to get something I can cut with. It's to the point where I'm just shutting down, and it's not a good thing.

I'm seriously considering skipping chapel tomorrow because I just don't want to be around people. It never fails that someone comes up behind me without warning and lays a hand on my shoulder, which winds up scaring the crap out of me. Everyone I know will be asking how Easter was and if I went home. I don't want the looks of pity when I say I didn't go home. I don't want the looks of sympathy when I say I stayed here this weekend. I just don't want it. I don't. I don't. I don't. Things are just not going well and I'm not using healthy coping mechanisms at all. I just... everything is taking far too much effort. Eating. Homework. Socializing. Everything is too much right now and I'm very overwhelmed. I can't lift myself out of this funk right now, and I don't even know if I want to. Everytime things start to look up and start to look better, I wind up lower than I have before. Why keep fighting if this is what I'm fighting for?

Bah. I'm going to hit send on this before I wind up backing out and not saying what really needs to be said. I'm going to throw myself into tidying my room now so that I'm distracting myself and not mauling on things. Good idea, maybe, maybe not. I just need to do something so I'm not just dwelling in thoughts that I really don't like..."

The next day I was admitted to the Crisis Home. And I truly believe that email saved my live. I truly believe had I not listened to that voice inside me that was pleading for help, that said "DON'T DO IT" saved me, the inner voice that told me to keep fighting. What worried Joe so much was the fact that was sent mid afternoon, the fact that there was no sarcasm. Student life was waiting for me when I showed up to my appointment and I was told I was not permitted to return to my dorm that night. That they were worried about me. 

These days, even though it's still dark, I am glad I listened to that still, small voice that begged myself to get help, that begged myself to hang in there. Life is worth living, and it is worth hanging in there for. Suicide is a very final solution to what is often a very temporary problem and rocks countless worlds and numerous lives. 

And so, with that, I close this. I'll write more later this week, such as how I got one of the quotes on my Facebook wall, how I did there, and various other things. =) 


I found a reason for me to change who I used to be

Or: 100 reasons to live, part 3. See part 1 and part 2

20. Neil Patrick Harris. He's cute, my first true celeb crush, he can sing, he and his partner may be the most ADORABLE gay couple ever. Look, NPH doing a scene from RENT, my favourite musical!!!
the bunny, the bunny, whoah I love the bunny, i don't love my mom or my dad just the bunny..

22. Texting. I like texting. Texting is fun. Dead people can't text. 

23. Jimmy Johns.   Yummy sammichs. GF options. Win!

24. "Math, science, history, unraveling the mystery, that all started with a big BANG!" Come on, I'd miss Sheldon. Well, I can't miss anything if I'm dead because I'm not able to miss things. But, you know, I could never joke about sitting in Sheldon's spot. Or making fun of his Trek-ness. And Sheldon is a fun person to joke about. 

25. There's still a lot of video game consoles I need to own. I can't die before completing my mission of having a ton of old skool and new skool consoles, plus another Commodore. 
Iz floppy. And fun to play with. And just flop around. And get awesome looks for owning.

26. I have to defeat the odds and prove I can overcome all this junk. What a story I'll have!

27. Shiny things. I like shiny things. Not just shiny pokemon, but other shiny things! 

28. Sunsets. Sunsets are beautiful, and it's such a calm, peaceful time of evening.

29. The ocean. I've only seen the Atlantic. Gotta see the others! 
This is from one of my trips to Miami
30. Making random happy faces in random places. It's fun and who knows? Maybe some sad person will see the happy face and then smile, right?


this is your life, are you who you want to be?

I'm kind of freaked out at the moment. Okay, let's rephrase that. I'm very freaked out. I very much want to go in the ministry. I want to teach, to reach, to help. But I don't think that Director of Christian Outreach is right. I'm not made to witness to people! I can't do these face to face convos, calling people to faith! I can't help a pregnant woman, because I don't fully believe that abortion is wrong. I can't help a gay person, because I don't know that it's wrong to be gay and I've become more accepting of it over the years.

But how can I be a director of Christian outreach when bringing people into the church freaks me out? I don't want to bring new people in - I want to help the ones who are here. I go into a cold sweat, panic, puke, cry, clam up, and my mind goes blank when I have to do this stuff - even though I know it all logically. I can do it over a messenger. But if i have to do it in person? It's a living hell. I'm not made to do this! I want to teach! I want to read about Mark (my favourite gospel) and make it relatable! I want to play with children! I want to do young adult ministry! (I can't deal with teenagers :P) I don't want to pull new people into the church! I'm fine with helping the broken, Lord knows i want to help those who have been broken be it by the church or by life or both. But I'm not the one to pull them into a relationship with Christ.

I've been struggling with this for awhile. It doesn't help that my eating disorder is out of control, it doesn't help that my pain and depression and ADD are not medicated. (I go to pick up my Remeron  tomorrow). It doesn't help that I'm struggling to pass math. It doesn't help that I'm trying to find an apartment, move off campus, line up doctor's appointments. And at times it feels like I'm doing it all single-handedly. It doesn't help that I feel so stressed out.

It's like I'm playing Pokemon, and I'm up against a trainer who has the attack that's super effective against me. We're down to a grass pokemon and a fire pokemon, and I have no other pokemon left other than my poor Leafeon and they're kicking ass with Rapidash. I can't flee from a trainer battle, and so attack after attack is hurled at me until I faint, until I black out.


Ahem. Anyway, I'm struggling with this. This is my life, is it who I want to be? I try to make the changes to make things better but it's hard. And there are some things I cannot change. I guess it's like the serenity prayer:

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to accept the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference."

It just seems like such a struggle some days. Every attack is super effective, and wears me down more and more. I just don't know what to do anymore and how to keep pulling through. 


Instead I'll be forever seventeen

So don't give up
You haven't lived yet
You're only seventeen
And God did not forget
You're just a baby

Seventeen feels SO long ago, but in reality it was only a few years ago. I turned 17 in 2004, in 2012 I turn 25. It feels like a lifetime ago. It  was a beautiful day that day, but I wore long sleeves to hide my cuts. My arms were all sliced up, and it's painful to remember that. I was only a child but yet I was so weighted with the world.

I wonder if I knew at age 17 that age 24 I would be disabled, still battling that damn self injury and eating disorder,  still in college, not on decent terms with either parent, would I have actually committed suicide? What reason did I have for hangingon then?

And what's  weird is some reasons I still wonder why I get out of bed in the morning, just to struggle through another day.

It's scary.


but she's never known pain like this

It's 3:43 am and I'm still awake due to the amount of pain I'm in. I figure that makes it as good a time as any to do a quick update on medical stuff.

I have facet joint blocks scheduled for 4/16. They wanted to do it this past Monday, but I woke up with a migraine and a fever and even missed my first class due to it. If it is not successful, the doctor will be going back in to augment the fusion.

That has me terrified. I knew from before they even scheduled the surgery this was a plausibility. NF patients are famous (there are journals and stuff about us!) for having issues with this type of surgery, but they couldn't not do the fusion. They couldn't put it off any longer. It had to be done. But somehow it's just a difficult, bitter pill to swallow knowing that my worst fears may come true and they may have to go back in.

It doesn't help that I'm still trying to figure out where I'm living this summer and fall, or how the hell I'm going to pay for it. Money doesn't grow on trees. It doesn't help that they're still trying to get the migraines and the fibro under control. It doesn't help that they're still trying to figure out the tremors, that I'm still trying to recover from an eating disorder.

It's so difficult anymore. I'm completely overwhelmed. I snapped and started crying in class on Monday (incredibly out of character - I don't even let my closest friends see my cry often) and I had a sobfest when I was released from acupuncture on Tuesday as it's not worthwhile enough to put me through it.

This health stuff is even taking a toll on my faith again. If God can heal me, why hasn't He? If God could do something, why won't He? What better purpose could possibly come out of this? What better answer could come from this? Why am I still crushed by this? Why can't I catch a break? Why am I feeling like this? Who did I piss off to live in this kind of pain?

It's 4:20. Must brush teeth and attempt sleep.
Attempt is the word.