#i know thats irrational and i know that shes a grown woman who knows how to budget much better than i do bc im only 17 but im still anxious

[fabulouslygaybean]

im such an anxious person and i wish i wasn't

[tayliviaspeace]

Day 3 of Analysing Taylor in Quarantine

Day 3: the last great american dynasty [tlgad]

1 sentence summary: tlgad is a song that can be understood as a song about how our lives are all intertwined with people we have never met.

"Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train, it was sunny Her saltbox house on the coast took her mind off St. Louis Bill was the heir to the Standard Oil name and money And the town said, "How did a middle-class divorcée do it?" The wedding was charming, if a little gauche There's only so far new money goes They picked out a home and called it "Holiday House" Their parties were tasteful, if a little loud The doctor had told him to settle down It must have been her fault his heart gave out"

This is a real story about Rebekah Harkness. Something bad must have happened in St Louis, or something that needs to be forgotten. I read a bit about Rebekah before analysing this song. Bill is her second husband, and since this happened in the 1940s, people were very sexist. No one understood how a woman who had been married and divorced, got married a second time and to someone extremely rich. People with old money, or who have grown up with money, always look down on those who recently became wealthy. People with new money spend it in a more extravagant manner and less subtly, which makes those who have grown up with it look down on them, since people with old money may spend it in a more 'classy' manner. Holiday House is Taylor's current Rhode Island Residence. It is a hugeeeeeeee mansion, said to have 8 kitchens and 21 bedrooms. The Harknesses knew how to throw great parties, like Taylor, but because they were mostly around people with old money, there was criticism of it. Bill might have had a heart condition, and prior to his death, he had had a heart attack the year before too. People needed someone to blame for his death, and even though she was in no way responsible for the death of her husband, people blamed Rebekah, as she was different to everyone else and a woman. The song is already showing sexism and highlighting the message that sexism is stupid, irrational and needs to stop.

"And they said "There goes the last great American dynasty Who knows, if she never showed up, what could've been There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen She had a marvelous time ruining everything""

The people blamed Rebekah and basically hate her for her husband dying. She was someone new in their community, and without a man, which made the town people hate her more. They had a certain way of life that they were used to, and she came and 'ruined' things. But she was being herself, and she was doing things that she wanted. She wasn't living her life to fulfil society's expectations of her. That is a similarity between Taylor and Rebekah. They both to an extent did what society wanted them to do and were who society wanted them to be, but after sometime they figured that they weren't really those people and tried to be themselves, which is something new since, in Taylor's case, the press is very critical of her, and for Rebekah, her neighbours were very judgemental. 'mad' also alludes to track 12, 'mad woman' which seems like a continuation of this song.

"Rebekah gave up on the Rhode Island set forever Flew in all her Bitch Pack friends from the city Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names And blew through the money on the boys and the ballet And losing on card game bets with Dalí"

Rebekah stopped trying to get her neighbours to like her, and figured that the people who actually liked her were the only people whose opinions mattered. The 'Bitch Pack' could be a reference to Taylor's 'Squad' as both are groups of close friends, who are immensely trustworthy and the best type of people. 'pool with champagne' is a hint to 'this is why we can't have nice things' on 'Reputation', where the line is, 'everyone swimming in a champagne sea'. She [Rebekah] didn't care about her reputation anymore with the townspeople. The 'big names' are the shareholders from Standard Oil and the rest of the town is probably very frustrated that she knows them and is still on good terms with them, despite her husband's death. This shows that the Standard Oil people are open minded and don't care about the wealth as long as you're a nice person. Taylor is also hinting at things the media says about her, when she says, 'blew through the money on the boys', as the media has frequently slut shamed her for doing something any normal 20 something year old would do. Rebekah loved the arts and ballet, and started the 'Harkness Ballet', she was also friends with Salvador Dalí, a famous artist.

"And they said "There goes the last great American dynasty Who knows, if she never showed up, what could've been There goes the most shameless woman this town has ever seen She had a marvelous time ruining everything""

The change from mad to shameless shows that whatever you do people will criticise you for it. Rebekah wanted to be herself, enjoy her life with people she knows she likes. Rebekah really couldn't care less about her reputation with the townspeople, because they didn't make any effort to know her, at least that's what it seems. Rebekah is happy being herself, and she wants to be herself and while she's being herself, she doesn't care about who's saying what about her.

"They say she was seen on occasion Pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea And in a feud with her neighbor She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green Fifty years is a long time Holiday House sat quietly on that beach Free of women with madness, their men and bad habits And then it was bought by me"

The people chased her away. The sea brings calmness in people and all Rebekah wanted was a peaceful life. The people were pretending that she hadn't lost her husband when they were making the rumours about her. The sea, alone, at midnight, was one place she felt at peace. People called her mad for wanting to remember the happy times she had with her husband, when they would throw parties which is why she kept doing it, and she kept getting more annoyed with them, until she snapped, reasonably, and did something truly mad. Obviously, after dying her neighbour's dog, she must have fled and gone back to St Louis. The listeners don't really know how this song connects to Taylor, since she's known for her songs being personal, until this line. It was a really climatic moment for me personally. Once you hear this line, you can see the ways in which the song relates to her also.

"Who knows, if I never showed up, what could've been There goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen I had a marvelous time ruining everything"

The media makes a bunch of rumours about Taylor and people may not have wanted her as a neighbour because of this, but she didn't care what people thought of her. She was living her best life and thats something that people [the media] shouldn't give her hell for. She also highlights sexism with the use of 'woman' as both Rebekah and Taylor's actions would have been praised had they both been male.

"I had a marvelous time ruining everything A marvelous time ruining everything A marvelous time I had a marvelous time"

The repetition shows that Taylor really didn't care what other people thought of her, and what mattered to her was how she thought of herself. It's almost like a chant she is repeating for herself, 'I am happy I am being me'. Ending on 'I had a marvelous time', shows that she was and is truly happy.

Overall review: I love this song, the message and everything behind it. Honestly, the last thing I expected a song to be written about was a house, but when I was analysing this, I realised it's so much more than a story of a house. I also think it's cool to write a story for an inanimate object because it's something that you can make feel like the most haunted [pun intended] or enchanted [also intended] thing ever, and you can create a fantasy world in a real world. I love the song writing of this song, the lyrics, the parallels. Honestly Taylor smashed the assignment yet again.

[missing-my-griffin]

One way I see it going is Clarke is taken away or MIA when she’s looking into something mysterious about the new society or sacrificing herself and then that’s when Bellamy snaps. Maybe she’ll come back damaged physically or mentally or both. At first, like you said, he chooses E/cho but it becomes apparent to E/cho when he’s in love when he keeps freaking out over the current state or her being gone. Maybe he’ll take charge of Madi while Clarke is MIA like a father would and that adds to it.

I could totally see that! Although I must say I’m also a sucker for nothing dramatic even having to happen for Echo to notice. I think she might notice pretty soon but bc Bellamy is devoted to her she decides to overlook it. And then she snaps when he snaps. Naturally Id LOVE to finally get a season without a major Bellarke separation, but I kinda dont see it in S6. Also I loved Clarkes entire arc in 2a, fighting by herself in MW. It was so eerie, and it was just a delight to watch Eliza. 

But yes. Bellamy being confronted with potentially losing Clarke has always made him go coo coo in the past. Always made him go above and beyond. 2 times in S6 alone, when, mind you, he’d thought she was dead for 6 years and had no idea who the woman in front of him would even be. He got to the ground, Madi grabbed him, they made up a plan in the rover on the way, 300 lives oh fuckk it its Clarke, Ill just use the damn cup lol

I mean.. thats peak rational, grown up Bellamy for you:D Then we have the “Id rather DIE than hurt my sister!” which quickly became “OMG like no way youre hurting Clarke no absolutely no.”

And then we have him sacrificing Madi, which was basically like “I am using this child which Im actually rly against and Clarke wont forgive me (Which Madi even said to drive home the message to the audience) but tbh my love for Clarke is so selfless it really isnt about her loving me back or anything so yeah imma save everybodys life, including and most importantly Clarkes, even if she hates me for it.” Which tends to be overseen. Madi asked Bellamy how to save Clarke. He said, this is how we save her. I actually think he believed it and was still trying to do just that.

And now take all this: all this raw, irrational, over the top epic romance stuff, throw in a girlfriend and heartbreak and all the people who know, and a new creepy utopia… Im screeching. Its gonna be wonderful.

I think also, they might go about it subtly. They kind of have to, to build the tension anyways (sexual and emotional). So when/if Clarke goes MIA, Bellamy might appear all strong and collected, but every so often, hell slip up. His jaw will be too clenched, hell snap at someone too harshly, hell lose his patience in an unrelated discussion. Just be SUPER on edge but also hella controlled about it. id love to see that. Him losing his mind while trying to keep it together, to keep his promise to Echo, to lead Spacekru, deal with Wonkru and fathering Madi and what the hell’s he gonna do with his sister? Bellamys stories always work best with other people and Clarkes work best with a tiny group and one on one dynamics, so this might be an interesting route to take.

Thinking about it, Clarke doesnt even have to disappear for that story to work/happen. She could just be distancing herself in general bc of Becho, which will drive B insane, and then just be off on a day trip. And his worry is just out of proportion. maybe Raven will call him out. Ahh so many options! Can you believe we only have to wait 3 more months??

[boringearthsign-remade]

also im in a ranty mood so imma jus continue anyways it really irks me when men just dismiss womens emotions as if they're being irrational and crazy and it rly pisses me off lol i was at the store the other day w my sister and she asked the cashier how he was doing and he said “oh im fine hopefully my wife isnt still mad at me” n he was like laughing and so nonchalant about it like...... so youre completely fine with your wife being upset causes shes just some overemotional crazy ass bitch who doesnt know what shes feeling so instead of sitting down n talking it out like two grown ass adults should youre just gonna treat her like a goddamn child who doesn't have the mental capacity to intellectualize her feelings and just hope she forgets about it and honestly that shit really starts in the households with fathers teaching their sons how to “deal” with woman as if they're the most complicated beings on the planet and treating their teenage daughters like hormonal airheads who have nothing important to say and i feel like even woman start to believe that themselves like they rly grow up thinking that whatever they have to say isnt worth speaking up about because since theyre a woman its automatically invalid like...thats rly so WACK lol n i was watching a daytime talk show n these grown ass woman was rly on here talking about how important it is to have female friends who will listen to your problems because oh god forbid we bother our husbands with our little petty female nonsense...LIKE!?? straight ppl are rly BUGGING and if you cant COMMUNICATE with your partner is it rly even a relationship at that point??? anyways but thats another post for another day main point is crazy how men see woman as over emotional and irrational when we arent the ones killing men because they dont wanna have sex with us but uh ok lol

[let-boys-be]

Yeah lets start out my return wit a comic where I wont be explaining my point in the comic! Great start! (not)

A lot of people have asked me, in polite and in rude ways, what I mean by dysphoria not being a requirement for being trans, and here you fucking go!

Get a water bottle and sit down to read, thank you very much.

Gender dysphoria, body dysphoria, any sort of dysphoria, is not a nice thing to have. To me it comes like panic attacks, my mouth goes dry and my heart races as I can do nothing but shake, cry, and thing irrational. To those of you who knows me, usually i think very rational and logical when im not joking around, so not being able to think clearly is terrifying. 

I would not wish any sort of feelings upon anyone, and you might not mean it in a “I wish all trans people have it to prove it” kind of way, but that’s honestly how I view it. 

Being transgender is to me about being comfortable and becoming comfortable in my own skin. 

I experience body dysphoria because I’m “chubby”, and I’ve always envied healthy weight people, and because of that I’ve gotten dysphoria attacks where I could do nothing but hate my belly and legs. But that’s not related to being trans? Thats related to being overweight.

I experience some sort of mind dysphoria because I’m autistic. I got some stuff I can’t understand, and sometimes I’m unable to tell if someone is joking, and its very upsetting. I can’t function in the normal school system because I don’t have patience AT ALL for things I don’t care about. Sometimes all these somewhat uncommon traits comes crashing back to me and i cant stop crying about it, even telling the people i care about that I’d rather be dead because I can’t be normal - a horrible burden to tell people who loves me because they can do nothing to help me.

I experience gender dyshporia as well, but honestly it have been a while since I’ve had one, because I’m patient. The danish system of treating trans people is very very poor but I know I’ll somewhat soon begin on hormone therapy and eventually the entire system will change, letting trans people get their proper treatment in less than two years. (they promise max. 4-6 months). 

But if I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t get gender dysphoria, does it mean I’m not trans? No. I’m still trans.

If a young woman feels comfortable because she knows treatment is coming her way eventually, and she doesn’t experience dysphoria? Still trans.

If a young boy is comfortable in his body even though he got breasts and a vagina with no plans of changing that? Still trans. 

Refusing to refer to trans people without dysphoria as their preferred gender, is like trying to set up a fucking bomb. “I wont use your preferred pronoun, maybe that will make you dysphoric so you can suffer like the rest of us.”

If a grown as woman wants to keep her beard, and everything she got, she’s more than fucking welcome. Even if she just wants to change pronoun.

This might be a stupid rant but idfc.

Who are you to judge what’s trans or not?  Let people identify as people want to, they don’t have to prove they’re trans, they just have to do whatever makes them comfortable, with their own body, mind, soul, karma, existence, anything really idc.

If you disagree with me, and you think trans people do have to experience something or desire some specific changes to their body, make your own post, write down your arguments, and let people who agree like and reblog. I really don’t want to see this post become a place of fighting, so please respect me and my opinion and wishes.  If you got a direct opinion on my post, feel free to message me or send me an ask off anon. Any anon angry opinions of my post wont be taken serious, so even if you have to make a tumblr account to get taken seriously, do it.

C’ya all around, ye?

[emilylasalle-blog]

My Story.

I guess I should start off by explaining who I am, where I come from, and the whirlwind story that is my Eating Disorder. I should also preface by saying that I have always had a negative relationship with food-- whether it be allergies, anxiety, or my Anorexia. My Eating Disorder has been present my whole life, masking itself and becoming like a chameleon-- taking the face of many different things, Eating disordesr can take the shape of any form. One doesn’t have to have Anorexia to have any “claim” to ED. Know that ED’s range from all different shapes and sizes just like body types, and yours is just as valid as the one next to you. 

Okay, now that I have got that out of the way, I guess I should start at the beginning. For me, that started the day I was born. My mother has an anxiety disorder, and my whole mother’s side of the family is coursing with paranoia, fear, and obsession-- these characteristics have formed me to become the person I am today, flaws and all. So, yeah. I was born. I was also the first child, and definitely the guinea pig, which meant I was the one catching all of the helicopter-parenting. At age three, my mother put me into my first ballet class. Single-handily the best and WORST thing to ever happen to me. Best, because it gave my love of performance and helped me to become the actress that I am today... Bad, because it was the beginning of the end for my Eating Disorder and self-loathing. Ballet is a beautiful and breath-taking art form, however... the ballet world (at least growing up), was insistent on maintaining an abnormally skinny figure. They wanted twigs and if you were anything less, you would get phrases (and I quote) shouted at you such as: “Emily, I don’t want to see that bagel you ate for lunch today...” “Suck in DAMMIT.” “Have you put on weight? I see it in your face.” “You need to be able to fit into this costume.” Yup. Real things shouted at me, while a long stick was smacked onto my stomach and thighs. Absolutely brutal and cruel to be saying things like this to such a young child in the formative years of her life. So, I spent 15 years of my life constantly comparing my body to other girls, never feeling good enough, and constantly looking in the mirror-- I mean heck they were on all sides while I was exposed in a tiny leotard and tights. 

So. Now that we know where my anxiety and OCD stems from, and why I had such negative thoughts drilled into my mind at such a young age, I’ll introduce the FIRST MASK my eating disorder took. SIDEBAR: let me be frank, I had a happy childhood, don’t get me wrong. My family loved me and fed me well, and they told me no when I craved fast food constantly. However, I didn’t have the enforcement for healthy eating that I needed. It was encouraged, but not enforced. So, my picky habits came into fruition. On top of that, I over the course of my short 10 years of life, had developed several food allergies-- deathly allergies-- to the point of having a significant number of shots a year. Food was scary. I was scared-- scared of everything in my later years of elementary school. My mom had drilled a significant number of scary thoughts in my head about food and my allergies. Don’t trust anyone, don’t eat without labels, check everything twice. It was my default state- anxiety. This is the first mask. I was scared to eat anything, even foods that I had eaten my whole life. I would ask my parents over and over again about whether or not I would have gone into anaphylactic shock already as I ate at meal-time. And I HATED meal time. I would create these psycho theories in my head about how my food could have cross contaminated in absolutely ridiculous ways. This mask was scary-- this mask could quite literally KILL me with one bite of egg, peanuts, tree nuts, coconuts, or sesame seeds. 

Which brings me to middle school, where my anxiety was peaked at an all-time high. Not only was I petrified of food due to my food allergies, but I grew (due to events in my childhood) to have an IRRATIONAL fear of vomiting. And I mean, I would go days without eating for fear that the food would somehow cause me to throw up. I would eat dinner at 2pm to make sure I was “fully digested” before going to bed. I would call my mom crying, asking to be picked up because my anxiety had spiked so high and kids were pretending to throw up and be sick around me to watch me cry, It was a sick and traumatic three years (6th-8th.) I was so utterly and insanely scared of food. I had these insane scenarios built up in my head about food being able to “come alive” inside of me and chew me from the inside out. I had theories that all food was not FDA approved, and I would ACTUALLY call the companies to double check if it had been. So, I started to see Dr. G, my therapist of 12+ years, and a special doctor to help me gain weight (as I was like 70 pounds at MOST.) DR. G focused in childhood and familial therapy, and she saved my life. I was so hyper-fearful of everything. I couldn't eat without the huge fear of the risk of death, sickness, or worst of all... vomiting. So, that's tier number three. The second masked form my ED took on. Illness. 

Which brings me to my last tier. I have grown up hating putting food into my body, for various reasons. But it wasn't until end of senior year the seed I had always had planted in my mind (ED) really began to sneak his way into my life. The first two years of high school were marvelous, I was gaining my womanhood (that's period), meeting new friends, finding my sexual awakening (thank you to the drunk guy at my first high school party for so effortlessly slipping your tongue down my throat that fateful sophomore year night), and loving my life. I ate what I wanted , danced in ballet, and didn’t give  FUCK about what other people thought about my body (which is a lie because I always wanted to be skinny and I always compared myself to others). But, as rejection from boys came, jokes about unflattering pictures of me roamed about, and the yearning to look like other people began pressing in, ED began to stick his claws into my psyche. Junior and Senior year were... well, fucking awful. I was extremely depressed, ridden with anxiety, sadness as teenagers I knew in my class died, constantly stressed, and never feeling good enough. I began committing self harm to myself. Was it for attention? Was It a cry for help? I’ll never know. But, I’d cut myself with razor blades. Never super deep, but enough to hurt and bleed. I was able to CONTROL the pain. Control. CONTROL. That is a red flag to remember here, my anxiety and OCD all stems from loving to be in control of my surroundings. I hate feeling at loss. I NEED power. And ED was my sick and twisted form of that. So, I cut myself. And I made the brilliant and amazing mistake of telling my cousin who I adore, and she then proceeded to tell my parents. So, they bust into my room at approximately 11pm on a school night, crying and yelling, demanding that I go back to therapy. THATS RIGHT, BACK. TO DR. G I WENT. And she did help, a lot. Round two, and she still didn’t want to put me on medication, she said it wasn’t good for such young kids and that she wanted me to use my own power and tools within myself to conquer my anxiety and depression. And ya know what, I did. For a while. 

Then I went to COLLEGE!!!! And oh boy, leaving a summer of romance from my high school boyfriend and entering college-- a whole new world of beer, sex, and theatre- I was a new woman. I quit ballet back in high school to focus on my musical theatre career, and I was in HEAVEN. I was cast in all the shows I wanted, I was in LOVE with a new boy at college, and I was making so many new friends. I ate whatever the HELL I wanted, because I was 18, on my own, and FREE! This meant pizza and fries at 2am, this meant buttered bagels for breakfast, microwaved mac and cheese for lunch, McDonalds after acting class, it didn’t stop. But, ED wasn’t gone... he was waiting patiently behind a nearby street corner, lurking, waiting, plotting. He had a plan, and was preparing the perfect attack. I was always his target. So, freshman fifteen happened. Maybe even 20, I don’t know. All I know is that I was at my college “dream-boats” house weighing myself, when I began to panic. ED was slinking back. The number had grown a lot since I weighed myself two semesters ago. I felt, “fat.” It was the first time I admitted to myself that that’s what I thought I was. And it was a nightmare. I was able to brush it off and push the thoughts away, I had a fun summer coming up, friends to see, etc. I managed to focus on the positives, that is... until the end of year banquet. 

When I think about what propelled me into the next three years, which also happen to be the most unhealthy and sick years of my life, I think about this very moment. The end of year banquet. I like I said, was happy and healthy (I HAVE NEVER BEEN OVERWEIGHT. EVER.). I had my senior year prom dress picked out to wear to my first year of college, end-of-year banquet! Sure, my heart was broken from my college dream-boats dumping, my lack of summer theatre jobs, etc.... rejection was written all over me, but I DIDN’T CARE. Not until the dress. I put it on, a size 2-4 dress, that I had fit into snuggly the year before, wouldn’t zip. I panicked, thinking there MUST be something wrong with the zipper... only to have my mom tell me it didn’t fit. This. This exact moment. ED took a HUGE bite out of my soul and dug his fingernails in. He was mine. I remember screaming, crying, tearing my dress up into shreds, and screaming to my mother at the top of my lungs: “I AM SO FAT. I AM AN UGLY COW. I WILL LOSE ALL THIS WEIGHT IN ANY WAY POSSIBLE, I WILL STARVE MYSELF. I WILL NEVER EAT AGAIN. I WANT TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL, I’M SO SKINNY. I’M DONE,”..... my mother was horrified. But, if there’s one thing I’ve always been, its determined. Which brings me to Tier 3. The final mask of ED. 

That summer I worked out like nobody’s business. Sweating outside in the blazing Georgia heat as I ran miles upon miles. I cut myself off from fast-food, I blocked all the asshole boys who dumped me, and I became a health fanatic. And then a friend of mine (who blames themselves, even though they shouldn’t), made the biggest mistake anyone has ever done... they introduced me to MyFitnessPal. The worst thing to ever get into my hands, and to happen to me. I slowly became obsessed with dieting. I began counting calories, comparing myself to her, treating our weight loss as a race (MIND YOU I WAS NOT FAT OR OVERWEIGHT AT ALL. I WAS 130-135 MAX AND 5.7-5.8!!!!!). She went along with it, and then slowly started to realize, that maybe I was taking it a little too seriously and a little far... she then backed out, started to become “worried” about me. Concerned that I wasn’t eating enough and dropping weight rapidly. Friends noticed, my parents noticed, but they all assumed I was just working out and eating healthier. No biggie. I dated a guy briefly at this time, and all I can remember him saying was, “you’re getting kinda skinny... build some muscle, eat protein!” Man if I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that one... So, I continued to diet. I lost weight, but wasn’t deemed “unhealthy.” Just, “skinny.” They nicknamed me Chicken Legs, and... I liked it. I liked being told I was small. It fed ED, and kept him occupied. That is until three hours later when he shamed me for drinking a glass of skim milk, stuff I had been drinking for literally my whole life. So, I did what I always did. I listened to ED, and I cut out milk, cheese, butter (haven't had real butter in four years), potatos, etc. Any food that sparked “joy” I wouldn't eat. I counted my crackers, I measured my cereal, I went to bed hungry. As long as I didn't pass that 1,000 calorie goal. 

The summer after sophomore year was the worst summer of my life. My hatred of rejection mixed with my fear of loss-of control, caused me to do things to my body that  I am not proud of to this day. I was always comparing myself to other girls, checking to see if I was the skinniest girl in the room, and if I wasn’t, I let ED decide what my punishment was. I formed sick habits. I bought a scale, I bought extra small clothing as a form of forcibly maintain a bmi to match my clothing, I ate 0 calorie foods for meals, it got bad. I would weigh myself every day, so many times. Before and after using the rest-room, and I’d buy laxatives to make me shit so that I could see if my weight had gone down. The number that was “too low” continued to be pushed farther. It was scary, and the whole time my heart and soul were fighting ED so hard. It was a full on world war in my brain, fear and anger for letting myself get so unhealthy, and shame and disgust for letting myself get so fat. I wrote notes to myself on mirrors, telling me not to be weak-- to go hungry, you fat cow-- that skinny is the only way I’ll be successful. I’d push food around on my plate at group outings, I’d stuff it in my napkin, If I was starving, I would chew up food and spit it out. Just to get the sensation. I’d measure my arms and wrists with my hands, just to double check that everything fit inside my abnormally small hands. I’d wake up crying, go to bed crying, call my parents crying, because dammit--  I was so hungry, I was so sad, and I was so alone. Except for ED of course, he never left my side. He’s watching me as I write this. 

My parents came to visit me, and the skeleton that faced back at them made them cry. And guess what, BACK TO DR. G I WENT. Everyone was worried about me, and I LOVED it. My best friends mom even had a heart to heart with me about her friend dying of a heart attack because of her Anorexia (God such a daunting word.) I didn’t want to get better, I pretended I did, so that people wouldn’t think I’m gross, but rather some kind of here. Alas, I WANTED to stay 100 pounds. I wanted to stay 99 pounds. I didn't care if it would “send me to the hospital” as my doctor said, I was happy with  watching the number go down. I wanted the number at zero, because I felt like a 0. I felt like nothing. I wanted to be whisked away. My therapist says I allowed myself to get this ED because I seeked self control, she said however, that that’s the last thing I have. ED controls me. So, I took her advice, and we finally put me on anti-depressants. I looked up group-therapy, and I made a “plan” to get better. But deep down I knew I didn’t want to. I was loving the skeleton life so much. Hungry=Strong. And I was the reigning champ. But, school came back around and if there’s one thing I fear more than no control, is failure. And that’s what I was afraid would happen if I didn’t put on some weight... I would lose the leading lady role I had been dreaming about for the past year and all of summer. I didn't, but that fear was in my brain. And quote frankly, why I think Theatre LITERALLY saved my life. 

The medicine helped, theatre helped, and I became happy again. I wasn't the weeping starving skeleton I once was... I was a happy one. My therapist explained to me why it didn’t feel real, and that it very much was. She diagnosed me and that was strange... but that’s another topic. However, I started noticing certain changes on my body. Things that other people didn’t have. Like: all my clothes were too big and falling off of me, I had brittle skin, I was ALWAYS cold (still am), I was always tired and it didn't take much to make me feel weak or out of breath, I even started losing hair. These were all consequences from my anorexia. And people noticed. In negative ways. However, I FELT better, and that's all that mattered to me. I still weighed myself, I still counted calories, I still made sure that if my parents found my scale and hid it, I’d get another one. I was sneaky. And they always say that ED’s are the most clever and manipulating people. And then I was off to summer-stock in Indiana. This was a dream for me, my first professional contract!! And just when I was feeling myself go down a dark path again. This was a miracle for me, I truly thought I wouldn't get a professional contract and was fully prepared to go back down the summer-rabbit hole as I usually do, as I have way too much time to think. But, this was not the case! I packed up my bags and flew to NYC for a trip to see family, and had so much fun I didn't count calories for three days. This was a huge deal for me, and I truly started to feel better. I got to Indiana and the biggest blast began. I made so many incredible friends, who supported me and my issues, I did some awesome theatre (and some shitty theatre lol), and I met my boyfriend at the time. I was happy, I had new people in my life who watched out for me. And I stopped counting calories! I ate more protein, I was doing well. I worked out a lot and attempted to get strong. But I felt my body deteriorating. I got dizzy very easily, I got extremely sick very easily, and I couldn’t keep up my stamina for very long. I also began birth control at this time, as I was in a new relationship and preparing to be sexually active. This changed my body in many ways, which we’ll get to later on. 

However, the summer ended. I moved home, I got back into bad habits, and the comparison and “less-than” feelings returned. However, they got snatched away really fast and here’s why: I had been on my anti-depressants for over a year, and I was way overdue for a checkup at the doctors office. I hadn’t gained any weight, and they noticed my bad habits still being there-- and I hadn't seen my therapist since before I left for Indiana. They did some tests, and I was off. Then I got a call asking me to come back in. Turns out my blood cell count was irregular-- ie: my white blood cells were abnormally low and my red blood cells were enlarged. They believed this was due to vitamin deficiency. What I hadn't told them is I had been feeling heart palpitations for some time now. They drew more blood and ran more tests on me. Alas, I received another phone call telling me that I had to come back in, as my results left them clueless. So. They referred me to an Oncologist. This, was the scariest moment of my life. I had believed it had been vitamin loss, and that it was something I had done to myself-heck I literally was happy that maybe I was so skinny my vitamin levels were lacking. But nope. My boyfriend was amazing during this time, and encouraged me to continue to eat healthy and try new things to get better. During this long waiting period I ate like a normal person. I ate healthy. I stopped counting calories. I was doing better-- but not from a place of health, from a place of fear. That’s not how you heal healthily. I was scared I had cancer. I went to the oncologist’s and was tested for Leukemia. Suddenly, I didn't like feeling this thin. I didn't enjoy being breakable. I wanted to be healthy and strong. I continued with the visits to the Cancer Center. This was three of the hardest months of my life. And the scariest. I had one half of my brain telling me I was fat and needed to not eat anything, and the other half was telling me if I didn't eat, I’d get even sicker. And that I needed to gain weight, to prove I wasn't dying of Leukemia. After all of the blood tests, and the trips to one of the scariest doctors offices I’ve ever been in... we figured out:

I didn’t have cancer. But I realized how stupid I had been for the past ten years of my life. I had been given a TASTE of how scary and haunting being sick can be, and here I was destroying my own body. y healthy body, that people WISHED for. So, I stopped listening to ED, and I moved on. However, this didn't las long. Birth control changed my body. My boobs got bigger, my face filled out, and I noticed small changes. And I began to fall back into bad habits. Limiting foods, cutting calories, I went full vegan, I dumped my boyfriend so I could stop taking birth control, I stopped my medicine (as I didn't want to be mentally healthy anymore, I wanted to be sick so that I could lose weight.). Things got bad again. All the while, still having to go to an Endocrinologist. Since they realized I didn't have cancer, they did tests to realize I had given myself thyroid diseases, blood weakness, frail bones, and heart palpitations. All because I starved myself. But what did that make me? Happy. Happy to be ‘sick” and “skinny”. And that’s MASK 3. 

And here I am today, still struggling. Better, but struggling. I try not to weigh myself anymore (some days I fail, it’s human). I still count my calories, I try to find protein substitutes, but it’s constantly an uphill battle. The calories control my life. I started this journey thinking that it would give me more control, however the exact opposite happen. 

My eating disorder is a sickness. My ED and I are in an abusive relationship with myself and ED. There’s not enough space in my head for this. So here I am today, in therapy, doing everything I can to try and make sense of why I hate my body. 

My therapist says that I have been “screwed from the get go.” I was brought up in the ballet world, with a mother who constantly self deprecates, constant comparison syndrome... Instagram is hard. Life is hard. But I will continue to fight so that I can be successful. 

[amuelle]

Surprise, surprise…YOU ARE the poison.

We are officially in 2019. All the people who were being cut off in 2019 have been cut off. You might just be the toxic person and now you have to deal with knowing you aren’t that great. As I just found out recently….

(Names were changed in the production of this post to protect the identity of participants…but she knows who she is and I’m not sorry….)

I think it’s important to maintain relationship and it’s not difficult to do. I’ve always prided myself on being a great communicator and maintaining relationships. I know I’m not the easiest person to love or get to know. It also takes a lot to get past my initial ‘hard’ exterior. Deep down inside past the sarcasm and smart mount…I’m really a sweetheart….Really. Its something I have complete security in. I know this about myself, I am a great communicator and friend. I was absolutely certain about it but I recently found out that that is not the experience that everyone has had with me. I rarely make new friends, however on occasion you meet someone who can make a valuable contribution to your life in the form of a new friend. I met this one lady – Lola, a long time ago when we were kids. We only became friends when a mutual friend reintroduced us in our 20s. We became a girl gang who hung out every weekend and grew close over a few years and it was a great time.

Part of adulating is accepting you aren’t always a ray of sunshine, you too can be a trash human being at times. Just because you don’t think something about yourself or are convinced you are a great human being that doesn’t make it true. Let me make a personal example – I know I’m loving and know how to show love. Just because I think I’m loving that doesn’t mean that everyone in my life agrees with that.  It doesn’t also mean that that’s how they experience me. My belief that I’m loving doesn’t negate the negative experiences people have had with me.

Recently….well not recently, Lola cut me off a long time ago but my slow ass only caught off after actually confronting the issue with her. We had a spat and I still admit I acted like a dick and I apologised for it when I realised where I had gone wrong. I apologised profusely. I apologised like I was Ruben Studdard and it was 2004, like Kobe did when he was caught cheating….I APOLOGISED…On more than one occasion and I thought we were solid but this was not the case. After noticing her distance herself I decided to reach out because maybe she was just living her life and still wanted to be homies. She didn’t respond to my text and I started to worry but I didn’t have the courage to address it. So it persisted to bother me and finally I reached out again and still no response but this time a bitch had some balls and asked why I was being ghosted. She finally responded saying “Because you are ill-tempered and thus incapable of communicating your hurt without being hurtful or catty to other people. This is my experience of you and I would rather not deal with that kind of energy”

(ROW OF SHOCKED EMOJIS AND SIDE EYE)

(THIIIIIIS BITCH)

I’ll admit that I was shocked and I wanted to further engage in the conversation but then it HIT me, she was right. In this specific scenario I was the poison. I had been a dick to her and she didn’t want to deal with me which was super fair. Did I agree with her a hundred percent, no not at all (let’s say vehemently disagree because I’m fucking awesome) but that didn’t matter because for her she had decided and she had cut me off.

I’ve seen that meme all over the socials about how if I’m the poison in your life don’t feel bad about cutting me off, we are grown and self care is important and blah blah blah….ABSOLUTE SHIYYYYTE! That shit hurts. It hurts, you will feel blindsided especially if you thought the issue was resolved. You may or may not get mad and you might want to act in the exact way that you got cut off in the first place. And that is EXACTLY what I did…..I totally did. I let my lil ill-tempered ass get to work. She clearly hadn’t thought it was of any value to notify me she didn’t want to be friends anymore and I wasn’t about to beg another woman like she gives me rounds. If I hadn’t apologised sincerely more than once I would get it but alas we were here now and a bitch got pride. After she gave me the answer I needed I also ghosted her. Then proceeded to delete her off ALL social media, whatsapp groups, deleted the reminder for her little birthday… I was all DELETE, no pause!

The deleting was definitely a knee jerk reaction. However I am NOT willing to swallow my pride and go back to talking to her about it because I am the POISON. It doesn’t mean I should just lay down and die. What exactly would I be trying to negotiate there???? I’ll tell you what, NOTHING!!!! Not one thing because she doesn’t want my friendship and that’s not a bad thing at all. Effectively, this person just said she wants nothing to do with me and that means everything relating to our former friendship had to change. I couldn’t be the only one in it and by keeping her number and keeping her on social media was just that. It’s a break up, break ups suck but they also teach you things. I am ill-tempered and don’t communicate well when I’m hurt.…BUT WHO DOES??? How many people can say at the height of experiencing the emotions that come with betrayal or an invasion of their privacy they will talk in a calm rational and thoughtful manner?  I can’t say that for myself. In fact the person who can communicate their hurt that way, I’d like to meet. I’d like to shake their hand, sponsor their life and follow them like people used to follow The Grateful Dead….. (And I’m serious!) As for being catty…shiiiiiit….I wrote that book, wrote the movie adaptation, executive produced the sound track and there is talk of a theater production. Yes, YES, YES she was right.

It takes a minuet for you to realise that your feelings are making you act a certain way. That certain way might make you not to be the most gracious human being. That said that text made me feel like I hadn’t grown, changed or learnt anything since. She drew a conclusion and it was a fair one because that was her experience. I don’t have to like it for it to be true. I am NOW not quick to be a dick but that doesn’t mean irrevocable damage wasn’t already done. I don’t dispute that at all and nor do I wanna change her mind. I’m only human and I made a mistakes. Just because you apologise it doesn’t mean the other person is obligated to accept your apology. Not only that, they are not obligated to try grow through something with you. They don’t owe you anything….(let that sink in, lets also repeat it for the people who read and don’t absorb immediately…..NO ONE OWES YOU A DAMN THING!)

Now rudely awoken to my toxic traits I am obligated to do better. My problem is/was that I need to use my words better at all times, especially when I’m upset. It’s not fair to lash out but it’s also impossible to gauge how you will react when your privacy is invaded or you feel betrayed. We all have knee jerk reactions and sometimes it hurts the people around us. BUT!!!!!!!! And this is a big BUTT… I mean stripper from Atlanta round and brown big. You are HUMAN!!! You will make mistakes and if you don’t grow from them then you deserve to be cut off and then cut off again coz you know better but don’t do better.

Someone can experience you in a certain phase of your life and assume that’s who you are. That’s who you were at that moment maybe when you aren’t heated you aren’t that person. That doesn’t matter. How many of us go back to the stove to get burnt some more after having been burnt? You won’t go back to get brunt again, but you still need to use the stove to cook. You just now need to be more careful. It’s crazy and irrational to think someone would see poisonous traits in you and stick around to see IF you change. There is no guarantee that once the issue has been raised and apologies exchanged that you will change. If they don’t give you the chance to show them you have changed, you aren’t their lover and even if you were they have every right to still leave you if you are not fulfilling your mandate. Don’t be selfish enough to think anyone is obligated to put up with your torture.

Torture yourself and let the rest of us LIVE!!! That said in this situation since I am the poison I have to understand that I was the weakest link. Even though I felt slated because in her other friendships she had given chances and let others change and grow to be better. In our situation maybe she reached her breaking point quicker or our friendship wasn’t that important to her such that we could try work through things. I’ve decided to KTSE( Keep The Same Energy). If you don’t want to try with me I’m not going to try convince you I am worth it. I already know I am (wow that whole paragraph sounds so defensive….oh well)

At this point It’s not about loses and gains, it’s all about peace of mind. Lola did what she had to do. By asking and her telling me she is done with me, it gave me what I needed too. I’m solid right now. I absolutely prefer this to the purgatory of a one side friendship. I know better now and my intension is to always be cognisant of the way I deliver a message even when I’m hurt. You have been cut off for a reason and that reason should be a starting point for you being a better human being.

At the time of writing this I hadn’t seen her in a LONG LONG time. When I finally did, I was with a mutual friend and I avoided her like the plague. If I saw her left, I went right, like I was playing ‘you can’t catch me’ and that was the ill-tempered petty in me…I feel fine about it because it’s good to know we are nothing to each other. I am also grateful she showed me that I need to do better and I intend to do so.