I don't even know where to begin on the thank-yous. The comments I got on my last post brought tears to my eyes, literally. I cannot tell you guys enough how much your words lifted my spirits today. I've been really struggling with being sick - I have no appetite at all so I've been forcing myself to get the calories in. But reading through the things you guys had to say really helped me a lot and it kept me motivated not to let this eensy weensy cold get the better of me and be a way for anorexia to take hold of me again.
Also, someone posted anonymously (Sami) - I really wanted to say thank you for how heartfelt your words were. I am more than flattered to know that I have in some way given you hope for yourself and the possibility of recovery. My email is in my profile page, and if you ever need anything, feel free to email me. Truly, that goes for anyone.
Despite being sick, I managed to enjoy my breakfast.
I found full-sized (5oz!) Blueberry Bran Vitamuffins at my grocery store <3 Had to try em, you know. And yes, I am weird and I cut my muffins in half by top and bottom, not side and side. Anyways, spread each side with a tablespoon of peanut butter after nuking it in the microwave. On the side there is some cottage cheese with almonds, banana, and blueberry preserves. I was really excited because I could actually TASTE this morning! It took some good doses of Affrin, Advil Cold & Sinus and Cloraseptic spray, but I got to enjoy my muffiny-goodness in peace.
Today's been kind of a mixed bag for me. Did therapy over the phone because I didn't want to get the poor guy sick too. I've had to turn down a lot of my friends on going out in the past day or two, and I feel really badly about it. I always hate feeling like I am disappointing someone. But I do need to take care of me first, and while it has taken some time for me to learn that, I am coming around. I'm actually really proud of myself because I say two of my guy friends down and explained to them I really only wanted to be friends right now and wasn't interested in a relationship with them. That has always been hard for me to do - to know I am hurting someone's feelings. But I really couldn't take the pressure those two were putting on me, throwing around the girlfriend word a lot and I really didn't like that. Its funny you know, how many things anorexia takes away. Like your ability to feel like its okay to assert yourself and think about your own needs. I haven't felt like it was OK for me to do that in years. Its a strange sensation to be honest, but I know its good and that its a step in the right direction.
So. I know I mentioned a while back about doing a "tattoo post". I decided that since my two biggest ones have rather long stories, I would just do one at a time. So, here is my first tattoo, done at age 18 in 2006.
I actually designed this at age 16, when I was in my second (third?) IP stay. Originally, the words I had scripted above it were "Mi amore et mi inedia" - Italian for "my love is my starvation". Can tell how I sick I was then right? At the time, I felt those words totally melded with my relationships with everyone I knew, including myself. I let people suck the life out me, without ever getting anything in return, because I felt like I could give and give, and consequently I stretched myself far too thin.
Fast forward a bit. I am eighteen. I have relapsed into anorexia twice now. I am home from college after 3 weeks on campus because of how quickly and severely I relapsed. My birthday has passed, and its already Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving day,November 28th 2006, I tried to kill myself. I do not even remember exactly what transpired. I know it must have had something to do with my mom wanting me to eat something I didn't feel comfortable with. But I utterly refused. She lashed out at me. I remember her and my father, screaming at me, saying how I'd never get better, that I was worthless because of AN and that they didn't care about me anymore that I might as well just go lay in bed and wait to die. I burst into tears. I ran into my room. I scrambled through my art supplies and found my heavy-duty Exacto. I hadn't intended on slitting my wrist. At first I was just cutting (I have visible scars that line the opposing side of my rib cage and both thighs, even now years later since I stopped) And then I figured I'm already bleeding, why the hell not? Call it what you will, but at that precise moment my older brother decided to come in and check on me. He freaked, obviously. He sat with me on the floor of my room and held me in his arms as I cried and told him about how I guilty and miserable I felt after what our parents said. He talked with me, mostly listening. I don't know how or why, or where the motivation came from, but that night I went back into the kitchen, and pulled an Ensure Plus out of the fridge and drank it down. That night, I thought for sure I was never going to let anorexia steal another day of life from me.
The following day, I confided in my then-best friend S about what had happened. I asked her if she would come with me to Physical Graffiti to get my ink done, and she gladly obliged. By this point, I had taken my old design and revamped the wording to something far more appropriate for recovery.
"Vivero E Prevarro" I will live and overcome.
Getting that tattoo done, I never felt more in tune with myself or my body, and I never felt more happy or proud of what I was doing for myself. Whenever I am feeling down, I try to remember its there, and what those words mean, and the spirit they were born from. Sometimes, I do forget. But lately I have been finding myself thinking those words more and more.
Why Can I Only Love the Broken?
1 week ago