acheburnlong

[acheburnlong]

tw // ed

havent been on tumblr for a hot moment. today was hard so i wrote some things down. i am recovering and writing makes me make sense of everything im going through. if youre alone or in need of a friend, dont be afraid to dm F(20)

With pain there is a release, popping a pimple, itching a bite cutting into your tension. I haven’t cut myself in a couple years, its something I revert back too on occasions of stress and discomfort. I like the release after the pain. Ironically it almost always clams me down. Makes my thoughts into coherent sentences that I say to my therapist. Even when I’m doing okay, i'm not really. I haven’t had a very mentally stable life and what i think is mental stability is just mania and being addicted to exercise. I havent always had an unhealthy relationship with food. When I was growing up i was a normal size for a child but when i started going to school i got chubby. I was bullied for my weight most of my life and when i got older i was told my friends and family i would be so much more attractive  if i lost weight. This was all the water my garden needed for my disorder to grow. I must have been 9 or 10. I have always been hyper aware of bodies, mine and others. Being POC as well as having body image issues you notice everything. How your hair is darker, thicker. A shrub coating your arms and legs. Being blonde and having leg hair ever hurt nobody but being dark haired meant you were called “a man” by your peers. 

You were the first girl in your class to get razor burns and the last one who got a boyfriend. You started trying to lose weight before you knew what balanced diet was. Ended up eating in secret, where you’d tear yourself lim from lim later. You started self harming at 13 and wondered by it felt so familiar. You're teachers told you, you were looking for attention, when you were looking for someone to talk too. You never spoke about anything ever again. Swallowing every word on an empty stomach. You went to highschool for a fresh start but your mind followed you there. They had a gym which you would go to three times a day when things got really bad. You forgot that a healthy habit doesnt come with a side of obsession. And you cried and cried until you forgave yourself and kissed your aching body. The only love you had was for the foods you couldnt eat and the shit you snorted up your nose. You liked yourself better when you were high and unable to stomach anything but water and coffee, you liked yourself better when food was the last thing on your mind and being thin was your first thought in the mornings. When things were bad you were good, you wrote everyday, went to the gym morning noon and night, ate like french model, but you were a husk of the women you were supposed to be. Now you just eat because you were told not too, because its comforting, because it reminds you of your childhood, because you need it to survive, because you dont know how to stop, how to let go, how to get back to normal. You have only ever known to extremes and now everything is crashing and burning and dying. And you still are the fat girl from primary school, throwing away everything to be thin, to be thin, to be thin.