When All Is Said And Done

It hit me after writing yesterday's letter and reading your responses quite how much contempt I have for myself. I don't know if it's been festering beneath the surface for a while, or if this is a new feeling, but I am so full of rage towards myself right now. I feel like a parasite, a toxic pathetic excuse for a "human being". All evening yesterday and all day today, I keep replaying 'videos' in my mind of the last few years- the things I've done, the things I've said, the people I've hurt. I look back and take no pride in any accomplishments or achievements- I see failure after failure, loss after loss, screw-up after screw-up.

There is definitely something to be said for looking backwards and learning from past mistakes- there also comes a time when you need to stop dwelling on what's BEEN done, forgive yourself on some level, and move on. Punishing myself isn't getting me anywhere- if anything, it's adding fuel to the fire and adding to the list of 'reasons why I suck'. It's hard to know where to draw that line between tough love and self-compassion.

I am human. I've messed up. On a lot of levels. I've hurt a lot of people and caused a lot of harm and damage to myself and those around me. I can't go back and change things- I don't know if I'll ever let go completely of the regret for everything that's gone on over the last years. The time and money wasted, the people I have rejected, the pain I have inflicted. I don't think I will ever be completely at peace with myself knowing what I've done.

Forgiveness does not come easily to me. I store things away in the back of my mind, forgetting the events themselves and am left with feelings/urges that 'feel' like they come from out of nowhere, when the reality is they are my way of channeling the rage and self-hatred I have for myself.

How do you move beyond regret and start living for the present and the future? How do you forgive yourself for doing, what in your own eyes, is unforgiveable?

I NEED to figure this out- what I wrote yesterday still stands. Maybe my anger is not quite at myself and more at what my eating disorder has done, but I have to find a way to move past this and be more compassionate and caring towards myself. Dying of anorexia does not scare me- what scares me is the thought of living with anorexia for the next 10/20/30 years, repeating the same mistakes, stuck in the same cycles. As long as I dwell on what I can't go back and change, I'm never going to break free...

Not Waving, But Drowning

To say that I'm struggling would be an understatement. I'm flailing. Rather wildly. I don't quite know what's wrong, or how to fix it. I'm overwhelmed by the uncertainty of the coming months. There is a deep sense of loss over what I am leaving behind here in New York. There is the oh-so-seductive urge to self-destruct completely. Because that solves everything. Obviously.

I want, so desperately, for things to be different. I am learning (slowly!) that what I really want is for ME to be different. I want to be "normal", whatever that means. I want to be able to choose where I live, to have a job I am good at/that I enjoy, to be free from this obsession with food/weight/exercise. I want to go out with friends and not worry about what they are thinking about me, where we will go, what we will eat. I want to make plans with people without having to get up at 4am so that I have time to squeeze in my mandatory walking hours so that I "earn" the right to relax and have fun. I want freedom. I want to be peaceful.

All the things that I do to manage my anxiety/depression are making things worse and taking me further and further away from the things I want. The more despairing I feel about where I am going to live, work, etc, the more weight I lose, and the more weight I lose, the more things spiral out of control.

I say that I am trying to get a grip on things. That is partly true. I am trying to get a grip on the feelings that drive my behaviour. I am trying to get a grip on the urges to lash out at myself. I say I am trying, but my definition of trying is to choose the lesser of two evils- should I walk 12 miles or take a handful of sleeping pills? Should I skip lunch or should I walk in front of a car?

I justify my actions because obviously I am making the "healthier" choice. Healthier, yet not healthy.

Should I just suck it up, follow my meal plan, exercise a normal amount, do my therapy homework and hope that somewhere along the line I acquire the desire to actually take care of myself? Be...*gasps* self-sufficient? How dull. How self-indulgent. I can't do that. I don't know HOW. I can do it when I am locked up in a treatment center, but can't quite bring myself to save MYSELF from MYSELF. After so much therapy/treatment, I should have answers by now. I have yet to see/hear/read anything that makes it seem a more doable task.

How did this get so damn complicated?

People think I have yet to recover because I don't want it enough. They are wrong. I want it enough. I just don't think I am capable of it, or deserving of it. I don't know how to function like a non-eating disordered person. I don't know how to deal with the mood swings, depression and anxiety that my behaviour keeps a handle on. I don't know how to live...or if I even want to.

My Inner Child

A therapist once suggested to me that I think of my own needs as those of a child. That I get in touch with the younger version of myself- nurture her, take care of her, help her. I thought it was a nice idea in theory. But really? I hate her. I hate her whining, her neediness, her constant wanting. Wanting food, attention, love, affection. I hate that she exists, and demands the things that I don't want to give her. I hear her crying out for something and I want to turn away and ignore her. I see her tears, I watch her starve, I feel her hands reaching out to me... I don't want her to exist.

I can't feed her.
I can't listen to her.
I can't help her.
I can't be around her.

Why not? She irritates me. She is demanding things that to me, are a luxury. Not a right. Love, attention, friendship, relationships, happiness, food- none of it is a given. For me, it needs to be earned. I wasn't born with the right to be taken care of, and I sure as hell haven't earned that right.

This child is me. Begging, pleading, screaming. And being ignored. She's worthless. Useless. Stupid. Overly demanding. Selfish. She cries that this is unfair- she is lonely, tired, hungry, scared, sad. I don't care. I hate her.

I want her to go away with her hopes and dreams and fairytale life she has fantasised about. I want her to leave me alone and accept that I will never give her what she wants. I want her to disappear without trace, as if she was never even here to begin with.

Fade away. Until nothing is left.

Holding On... Letting Go...

I'm wondering, at which point, holding on becomes more painful than letting go. My specific situation is irrelevant- this is applicable to so many things. Clinging to something, desperately wanting it to work out the way you envisioned it, unable to accept the reality that it's NOT working, and letting go (a "strategical retreat" as my dad calls it) is the only thing you have left to do.

So why is it so hard? I make it sound so easy, so simple. It's not working, cut your losses and try something different.

There has been so much time, energy and hope invested in this. There is so much meaning behind holding on/letting go. It's far from easy, far from simple. Oh-so-easy to say...so much harder to actually do.

I refuse to let go. On an intellectual level, I KNOW that this is never going to work. On an emotional level, I desperately need it to work. Or maybe I just believe that I need it to work? Maybe it was never right to begin with. Maybe I am walking down the wrong path altogether...or maybe a miracle will occur and suddenly everything will be.just.fine.

I don't know.

I'm facing lots of decisions right now. Well technically, that's not true. The decisions have been made. Some by myself (not by choice- I didn't/still don't see alternatives), and some have been dictated by others.

Where does this leave me? I feel lost. Heartbroken. Scared. Lonely.

I am so incredibly hurt by everything that's happened over the last few months in New York. I put on this facade that I am happy it didn't all end as badly as previous stays here, but really...this feels different. This isn't my doing. This isn't something I had control over. And that's what hurts the most. There has been so much rejection and pain and betrayal that I'm wondering if coming back was a mistake. I wasn't prepared for this. How could I be? I, perhaps naively, didn't see this coming.

I'm going home, once again, broken. Words fail me at times like this.

I'm hurting. I'm angry. I don't know how to deal with this. I'm scared of what lies ahead, and scared of what I've left behind. I'm scared of the can of worms that has been opened, and scared that things can never go back to how they were.

I just want someone, hell ANYONE, to tell me that it's going to be okay. Instead of the countless number of people that have said it's NOT okay. I am not okay. There's something wrong that they don't want to deal with. I need people right now. I need to hear that you know that I tried, that I pushed myself as hard as I could, and that maybe it wasn't the right thing at the right time.

Guys- I struggle with this more than I will ever tell you, more than you will ever know. I can completely understand that you don't know how to deal with it, or that it's not your problem. You're right. It's not. I'm sorry for all that I put you through, the things I ask of you, the things I need from you. I'm sorry that I'm not who you want me to be. I'm not who I want to be either. Trust me- whatever you think of me, or the negativity you throw my way...it's nothing I don't already do to myself. And I punch harder than you ever could.

Oh! I Love My Life (and all that jazz...)

I don't know what's happened the last couple of weeks, but something is different. I don't know whether it is partly physical, or purely mental, but there is something wrong. I'm not sleeping. I've stopped working. I have a hatred for myself that runs so deep I think of little more than ways to destroy myself. I don't know if it's based on facts- I have been applying for jobs, getting invited to lots of interviews, and getting rejected, time and time again. I feel useless. I feel stupid. I feel lazy for not working/trying harder/being a better person. I wake up each morning, my pillow wet from my tears through the night. I've started isolating- wanting so desperately to reach out to people, yet not willing to inflict myself on people I care about. I am a waste of space. I do nothing but suck the life out of everyone around me.

I hate myself.

I hate that I have screwed up the last 14 years of my life. I hate that I can't just be normal. I hate that all I am good at is losing weight. I hate that I can't get/keep a job. I hate that I can't just comply with treatment that may actually help. I hate that I am so self-obsessed and wrapped up in my eating disorder that I don't notice anyone/anything around me. I hate that I have become so unreliable and unpredictable. I hate that I am lying to everyone around me. I hate that I am doing all this STUFF and hate even more that I don't know how to stop, or if I even want to.

I need a job.
I need a support network.
I need some non-eating disordered friends.
I need an anxiety relieving hobby.
I need to take better care of myself.

I need lots of things. I want lots of things. It hurts to want, because they are things I'll never have- "normality". A real job, an apartment, friends, a life that isn't dictated by doctors or illness. Is there a difference between wants and needs? They feel the same to me. They are all WANTS. I don't "need" anything. Or so I like to keep telling myself.