nothing can stop me from falling, it’s inevitable
i’m not falling anymore, i’m healing.
i’ve been swallowing my words around you
the outcome isn’t pretty
and while my ever increasing bone structure attracts you
it repels me daily
in the mirror
but i’ll work on me
you work on you
we can meet somewhere in the middle
where we’ll finally be happy
Filed under: Autumn | Tags: Amy, dancing, father hungry, happy, moving in, recovery
like a new pair of jeans
fits right
feels nice
like a bottle of diet ginger ale when my belly aches
fixes things
settles them
it’s the calm after this storm of a year i’ve been waiting for
feels so good that i’m in bright red hot shorts, bright blue velour track jacket, and a red and black lumber-jack hat — and i feel pretty
cleaning unpacking breathing
making sense of my fucked up world
everything’s going to be okay
and i’m sorry
always father hungry
strategies for coping with perfectionism
just another term for crazy
for my brittle bones to hold
i surrender
it’s what you gotta do
Filed under: Autumn | Tags: Amy, bulimia, eating disorder, hope, kessa, recovery, steven levenkron, the best little girl in the world
“You’ll be able to call me whenever you want, Kessa. You know why?”
“Because I don’t have to be sick to get attention?”
“Because you don’t have to be sick to get attention.”
I get this intolerable feeling in the center of chest, like I can feel it right there, my eating disorder. Sometimes I rock back and forth, back and forth, legs crossed, crying. Crying to get it out, wishing I could just reach in and make it go away. It’s horrible really and I wouldn’t wish it on a single soul. Any soul but my own, that is.
What has it been, six years now? One in attempt at recovery, and in that single year three relapses? I wonder what it’s going to take to shake this out of my system. And even as I stand, hunched over the toilet, purging again, I swear, I want to get better.
It’s a cycle. A rotation of different symptoms that never ceases to give my body rest. I’m either not eating, not eating enough, eating just enough and purging, bingeing and purging, or the worst, just bingeing.
The worst part is, I feel so alone. I know I’m not. I know other people struggle, I do, but I never can wrap my mind around that when I’m in it. When I’m in it, I’m alone. Just me and my eating disorder and I almost wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s taken so much from me and still, I cannot let it go. I’ve lost so much and still I am afraid to let it go. My eating disorder controls my every thought, my every move. Just tell me you understand, that you care, that you struggle too, and I think, I think I’ll feel a little better. Maybe so better that this time it’ll stick. That this time, when I try to recover, I’ll actually do it.
There’s got to be more to life than this.
“Hey, can I join?”
Filed under: Autumn | Tags: Amy, anger, betrayal, Bulimia Nervosa, hospitalized
We aren’t over because we have to be, we are over because I am throwing you full speed out of my life. I can no longer be stunted by you stigma, tricked by your high, or made a fool of because of your addictive ways. I will not listen to you and lie to the ones I love for your protection any longer. I loved you, you betrayed me. There are no words to express my dissatisfaction.
As I stepped out of my tin-wagon of a car, I lit a Marlboro. Before I began making my way to your front door, I took one long drag, let the tobacco settle in my lungs and cut of my breathing. It’s funny how we sometimes use cigarettes as an aid to breathe when really they do nothing but hinder the cycle. Either way, I let the smoke swell up in my lungs until my body forced it out into one big cloud surrounding my sad attempt at a hair-do. Lately, I’ve been quite the hair-don’t. I don’t mind, it’s not like I have to impress you tonight. I walk up the stone path to your house and you meet me at your front steps with a kiss as you take my cigarette. You take one drag and throw it on the ground. I hate it when you do that. It’s never even half-way done and you just waste it. Cigarettes aren’t cheap these days and the least you could do is give it back to me once more so I can taste it.
In a way you do when you pull me in for one of those long kisses before we go inside. Sometimes we don’t even make it to your bedroom. We just fall into the hard surface of your futon and have a note-worthy, passionate experience right there. I prefer your bed though, it’s softer, like your skin right after you shave. God, I love to kiss those cheeks. It must be eleven now and we’ve already made love three times, I got to your place at eight. We don’t waste anytime. “I have to go”, I say, so you walk me to my car and underneath the moonlit sky, you pull me in for one last kiss and mutter the three words I have been waiting to hear all my life, “I love you.”
Yeah, I love you back.
i’m the girl your parents warned you about
the girl they forbid you to see
i’m the poison mixed in with your vodka martini
the acid laced on your not so dank weed
sorry for being such a bad influence
call me soon, it’s been long since
i got high off your shit
and stole from your innocence
people of your breed are so plaguey
and i’ve been so damn petulant these days
Filed under: Autumn | Tags: acceptance, Amy, anorexia, bulimia, eating disorder, friendships, fucked up, hate, LIFE, loss, love, mistakes, rant
I guess I’m sad out of jealousy. Jealousy that to me, it seems like everyone has a best friend, a lover, and a high school to remember, to look back on. I have nothing. I have been to four high schools in three years and I have nothing.
I look back on everything and I have done and I just want to beat myself up for it all. I want to be standing ‘cross from another me and just hit her as hard as I can, get her down on the ground and punch her face in. It was never that pretty anyway.
It’s my senior year, my fucking senior year, and I don’t even notice. I go to work, I never sleep, and my heart is always broken. I pity myself, I blame myself. I feel as if my mistakes are going to follow me forever and that no one really gets it.
My best friend lives forever away and she’s replaced me. I HAVE NO ONE. I don’t talk to a whole bunch of kids anymore just cos I don’t care enough. I crave human bonds, but everyone lets me down and I am so sick of being stepped on. I crave love and friendship, but fear them more.
I want college, I want new. I hate my now. I hate this town. I hate these stupid, ignorant people in their fancy cars with perfect lives. But mostly, I hate myself for letting this all happen. I hate that I can’t trust, that I can’t love. I hate that I got sick years ago and became this closed off to the real world. I hate that I always run away from everything instead of trying to stick around to see if things improve.
But mostly, I hate hate hate my eating disorder. I hate how I feel that it’ll never be totally out of my life. I hate that I have these horrible days where I can’t get out of bed because I’m “too fat’. I hate that I can’t just EAT, JUST EAT, eat whatever I want, whenever I want without having to be concerned about how much my stomach will grow. I hate how it feels like nobody gets it. Like nobody understands that I am always going to be sick in some way, and that one bad day does not equal a relapse.
I need a good cry and a good friend and a stable life. I want to find that in the people I already love, but I just don’t know how to trust anyone anymore and I feel so broken because of it.
Sometimes I get so angry at my situation that I want to scream as loud as I can and run forever until I reach a place that looks tranquil enough that maybe it will actually settle my frantic mind.
But I love so much too. Maybe that’s the real problem. I love everyone and everything so much that I just expect more than they can offer. I set such high expectations that of course I am going to be let down.
I guess I’m sad cos I crave this cycle to end, but I have no set date to expect it’s finish.
I guess I’m sad cos I feel like I am the only one who feels sad like I do.
