#or no. i am not. view my uncomfortable oversharing and pain

[adustoflove]

My parents did NOT like me 💀

[alazyparallelworld]

sending an ask to engage with what you were saying was a random impulse but im happy to see you respond and give it thought, definitely wouldnt mind sending more since this is an interesting topic :3 glad you dont mind... it can be weird being a detached observer of somebody elses life specifically if they are uncomfortable with the idea of it. i think the reason i jump to using the word "oversharing" is that talking a lot generally has a negative connotation for me because i have negative experiences with talking a lot and being ignored. i guess one of my main insecurities? so maybe i dont have the same type of accidental charisma because im too obviously desperate/curating myself too much, idk. marketing myself as a persona isnt necessarily a good goal to have so maybe sharing myself in more private spaces is for the best (not like i dont compulsively share to anyone who will listen anyway)

also being the way that i am i dont appreciate the observers/audience i DO have enough because im constantly looking for evidence of it. kind of a never enough situation. i definitely think i just have to let it go & if it happens it happens. actually, i do have a decent chance of gaining a following over my art, and when i got more interactions i swear it was when i drew more, so i guess that is part of whats happening with you. art drawing people into somebodys persona or something? i wonder if part of it is just like, when scrolling the dash peoples attention is caught more by images so it makes somebody more likely to get invested. but i think your art has a lot of personality and its what personally made me interested in following your blog so i guess the art is just like, one piece of the whole of a "persona"

diving into the pure psychological sense… going to put the entirety under a read more.

leans back, in the "contemplating therapist" pose and aura. This is a distinct position for anyone familiar.

forgive - me - in the event of bad perspective. entirely: i am not a medical professional, and if these woes are Distorting your life into an unhappiness (ability to function, socialize, that ilk) on a regular basis, either from the 'expected' of bi-weekly to the 'constant' of daily - internet guidance should be an appetizer, at best…!! while a peer's view is quite different from a, "Went to college for half-decade for this particularity" employee, they are both helpful -

but I don't mean. "Go to a therapist," because: i minimized my daily-distortion of BPD (fond Bitch Personality Disorder) thru worksheets, pamphlets, scientific texts. this conversation between us is 'improper' text, ""Uneducated"" but it is not without merit. I just don't want the existence of only two options - "[symptom of mental disorder] reddit" or "therapist that specializes in [mental disorder]" in an analogy. There are a plethora of ways to better yourself - "so maybe sharing myself in more private spaces is for the best" cannot be the single possibility. i believe in you - broaden yourself, and do not hastily imprison yourself to Any distraught for the easy answer, "better in the long run"

what you desire is evident. That is a crucial first step, and your life is measured in the thousands of footprints. Time is here for you - there is no real clock, rather, you know where your satisfaction is in space. Be proud of self-awareness, of identifying desire, these are inch forwards.

now, your path forks - "can i transfigure that want, into something 'healthier," "is there a healthier route to that want," and how exciting is that…! how to min-max pain and pleasure, that is the basis of all species. and if the decision solidifies further into, "i have to go home, i have to let this all go," that is the first option. there is no shame in release.

that is my thought on. "insecurity," and i hope - even if very inaccurate, maybe Inappropriate, your reaction of 'that's wrong!' strengthens what you know to be true.

[head on desk] That's a heaviness…! not on you. This could've been a very simple answer. I'm strange and chattery, for I don't talk IRL and only online. At least, in length…

ART…! art is eye-catching. It is intrinsic. Of course, my artwork pulls people in (but I captured attention b4 I started, as I only began in winter 2020, blah) for any colorful stimuli it kickstarts the brain. Nervous symptom responses.

(i don't think it provokes the sympathetic nervous system SPECIFICALLY, but i'm not abt to rabbit-hole myself into certainty. sensory is prolly also incorrect, just in a 'less wrong' kind. i'm singling out nervous specifically, as the 'colorful'ness of art prolly agitates the body first into, 'is this a toxic plant' survivalism and NOT the visual aesthetics of being 'pleasing to the brain,' i think that's a secondry concern, aaaand i'm rambling abt special interest SORRY)

word-of-mouth, 'reblogs,' or searches is how people notice the un-art. Fanfic writers. Clever meta. Observations. Diary-ing. to 'appeal,' you have to either - as mentioned previously - change yourself, or redirect your goal - but for less extensive… Journaling via pen-and-paper, or a notes app, is easy in THEORY but difficult in PRACTICE. these don't fulfill the, 'exchange,' because journals and notes are private. However. These are good practices. Writing onto yourself sharpens the ability to communicate, your dialect - there's a difference of 'early' ramblings here to current ones. (admittedly, a, 'there's been developments in psychosis,' is a portion rather than True improvement, but it's not a singularity)

review sites i.e letterboxd and backloggd serve similarity, but are dedicated to movies/video games respectively. And, they center around either criticism, or humor - which isn't what you want… you want your natural self to be attractive. I do think you could find enjoyment outside, and it can be good fun or a learning exercise finding out that You Hate Writing Meta.

[dotwrites]

Meetings, Ch 1- Phantom Pains

This was supposed to be a one-shot but it has at least three chapters instead.

Read on AO3

Summary:  After waking up from the simulation, the survivors decided that having a meeting every night between everyone who was awake would be a good idea. Peko, the first of the killers to awaken, isn't fond of this new tradition.

Note: This story contains talk of despair and Peko has some very unhealthy speaking and at times reverts back to despair. She’s only been awake about a month, so she’s still struggling a lot. Read with caution.

Every evening before dinner, those who are awake gather together to talk. This new tradition amongst the recovering remnants of despair has been going on for nine months, ever since the survivors of the simulation woke up. It’s to help them talk out their feelings and to build trust between everyone. At least, that’s what they told Peko when she expressed that she did not find it necessary to her recovery. The survivors were insistent that it truly helped, and even Mahiru, Nekomaru, and the one they knew as Togami agreed.

Peko hated it.

The meeting the evening prior had been even more uncomfortable than the rest. It started about the same, talking about physical therapy and how well Peko, as the newest to join them, was doing. Eventually it turned to the typical oversharing of emotions that made Peko feel as though she was invading on their privacy. The conversations were meant to help her feel more connected to the others, but she just felt more isolated.

The forced therapy session grew a little darker as Togami asked if any of the others felt the pains from their deaths. They spoke of sharp phantom pains that woke them up at night, feeling as though they had been stabbed again.

“Yeah, I get that too. I get massive headaches, right…” Mahiru began, reaching for the spot where Peko’s bat had landed. She glanced at Peko then, a look in her eyes that Peko had grown familiar with. Almost all the others looked at her the same way, as though they were afraid something they said would upset her. As if they thought she would do it again.

Of course, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t put Fuyuhiko through that again, when he had expressed such disappointment in her actions the first time.

“My pain’s mostly from when I got blown up,” Nekomaru laughed. As the first to join the survivors, he had nearly eight months to adjust to their new reality. His bright, loud personality was exactly as Peko remembered it, though she had missed the majority of his recovery so far.

“I see…” Sonia nodded, brows furrowed. Peko found it hard to believe that the princess could completely understand. It wasn’t that she held any bad feelings for Sonia, she simply found it hard to believe that the woman could truly understand the phantom pains when she seemed to have none to speak of.

“What about you two?” Hajime asked, glancing between Fuyuhiko and Peko.

“Yeah. I mean...it’s hard for me to tell what’s real pain and what isn’t, with my whole…” he gestured to the scar that replaced one of his eyes, “missing eye deal, but there’s some pain that I know is from what happened.”

They all turned expectantly to Peko then, waiting for her to admit to her own phantom pains. She didn’t want to talk about them, feeling as though the searing pain that kept her awake at night was a punishment she deserved for what she had done, but they kept looking at her. When she looked at Fuyuhiko and he gave her a small nod of encouragement, she finally spoke.

“Yes. I have phantom pains from my execution,” she explained simply.

“Would you like to talk about it more?” Mahiru suggested.

“It’s supposed to help if you do. Something about sharing the pain or something,” Akane added.

“No, I can handle it,” Peko insisted.

“Are you sure, Peko? You don’t have to go through this alone,” Sonia leaned forward, reaching for Peko’s hands. Peko hoped she wouldn’t be too offended when the swordswoman pulled them out of her reach.

“Yes, I am sure.”

“You should listen to Miss Sonia. If anybody will understand, it’s all of us. Even Mahiru, and you k- ow! ” Souda started, but was interrupted by a sharp whack to the back of his head.

“Shut the fuck up!” Fuyuhiko snapped, “She said she doesn’t want to talk about it. She doesn’t owe us shit and none of us have the right to make her talk, got it?”

The group was silent for a moment after his outburst.

“You’re right,” Hajime nodded, “It’s only natural that it’ll take time to open up. Sorry, Peko.”

“Yes, I am very sorry as well!” Sonia added sheepishly, “It was rude of me to push something like this.”

The others joined in with their own apologies and Peko nodded in response to them, looking at the floor rather than making eye contact with any of them. Thankfully, the attention was taken off of her soon after that, Akane changing the topic to the food they had in the simulation and how what they were able to gather together now was nowhere near as good.

Soon after, the meeting ended and they were all free to get their food. Peko walked with Fuyuhiko, as she usually did. She had only just recently become steady on her own two feet, and Fuyuhiko was still in the habit of staying beside her, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Though she knew she was supposed to view herself as a person, she felt warm when she thought of Fuyuhiko as a young master caring so much for his tool. It made her work harder at her physical therapy, wanting to make him proud.

The pair got their servings of dinner, a simple vegetable and rice dish that Mahiru had thrown together, and sat together away from the rest of the group. They always did, and Peko was thankful that Fuyuhiko seemed to understand her need to be away from the group after the meetings. They ate in silence at first, which was perfectly acceptable to Peko. She was happy to spend the time looking around at their surroundings, noticing the differences between partially rundown dining hall in reality and the one in the simulation.

“Peko,” Fuyuhiko interrupted, voice soft enough that Akane and Nekomaru wouldn’t hear them from a few tables over.

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to talk about shit in the meetings if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but you know you can talk to me, right?”

“...I understand,” she answered, feeling a sense of personal failure.

She thought she was doing a good thing, by not disturbing him by talking about how she felt, but maybe she was wrong. He wanted so many new things from her; for her to work on being physically capable again, and for her to view herself as a person. He wanted her to recover from the trauma too, and though she was working on all of these things, it always stung when she realized she wasn’t doing well enough. He seemed to realize that he’d said something wrong despite the fact that her response was so brief.

“I don’t mean, like, you have to tell me everything, okay? I get it...I didn’t want to tell anybody shit when I woke up, either. I sure as hell didn’t want to talk to the whole ass group about all my drama. I just want you to know that if you want to talk to me, then I’m here,” he clarified, “Or you can talk to Hajime, if you want. He’s good at listening. It doesn’t have to be me, just...if you decide you want to talk to somebody, you tell them, okay? And if they don’t listen, tell me, and I’ll fucking punch them.”

Peko found herself smiling just a little as Fuyuhiko spoke. He was always threatening to punch people for Peko and his sister, when they were growing up. The familiarity comforted her, in a way, and she nodded.

“Okay. I will try to talk to somebody,” Peko agreed, though she hoped he understood that it wouldn’t be easy for her.

“Thank you,” he seemed relieved at her promise as the pair went back to their meal.

[theunkillablebitchseries]

5. I don’t know if I’d call it vulnerability

Lately I’ve been getting the question, “How are you so vulnerable?” And vulnerable I guess is what they think of my transparency when it comes to what I’ve experienced. My mental health/therapy journey, my cancer/treatment story, my survivorship stuff, and every other bump along the winding way. 

I hadn’t really thought about it much. What got me to this point of being “vulnerable.” The easy answer is my diagnosis prompted this need to share/overshare.  

But when I actually think about it, when I want an answer that feels honest, I think back to some random 3am night during the early days of my treatment. Probably March or April. I remember being in a lot of pain, my stomach was a riot of nausea and aching hunger. I hadn’t eaten in days because everything I ate would come back up either way, but I was working on eating a mandarin. 

I was sitting on floor next to my bed, the light from my closet glowing, the citrus burning my sensitive mouth and kind of having an out of body moment. I remember thinking, “this really can’t be happening to me.” Honestly, I had a lot of moments like that during treatment- moments of shock and disbelief that I really was a cancer patient. Strangely enough it rarely happened when I was actually hooked up to the drugs twice a week. It’d mainly happen when I’d be doing normal things, like going to the store or just sitting at home. Living in that dichotomy of doing “normal” while being a cancer patient was disorienting now that I think about it. 

Back to that night, I remember after a particularly vicious bout of pain (I really don’t know how to describe the pain other than it felt like my bones were being crushed, my skin was overheating and I was just very dizzy) that night, I tried getting my breathing under control, just trying to breathe in and out and unclench my tense body. I didn’t have many moments when I thought I was going to die, but when I did it usually was prompted by pain I could not see my way out of. 

This was one of those nights. So this really sharp all over body pain happens right, and when I’m able to catch my breath the first coherent thought I have is, “Fuck if I die, do my parents even know me???” While it was a very unsettling question it did distract me from the pain so I continued down that lovely train of thought and my gut answer at the time was, “No Jenni, if you die at the ripe age of 20 your parents would not know you.” And then it became this rabbit hole type thinking where I thought, would my sister be able to say she knew me well? Would my best friends? Do the people I love know, without a doubt that I love them as deeply as I do? And at the time I was sure the answer would be no. And that scared the fuck out of me. 

While I think I was open to some degree about my life before this little cancer situation happened, I think I was very open about my thoughts and opinions on things. Not so much my feelings. I had always held my emotions pretty close to my chest. One because I’m really shy contrary to popular belief, and two I think many of us can agree that being discerning with who we share ourselves with is very necessary in many situations. I learned that from an early age and never really let it go. My reticence has served as a very necessary survival mechanism for me throughout my life. But I’ve said before on my other blog and this one too I think, that cancer really just cracked me open in the best most uncomfortable way. 

So I’m sitting on my bedroom floor, mostly in the dark, in some of the worst pain in my life and my panic went from, “this pain is going to kill me” to “I don’t want to be this impossible and unknowable person.” I used to have this fucked up idea about love, that is comes in short supply- or not to get weird or anything but it’s almost like I had this capitalistic view on my love “supply.” I thought, for some reason I’m not too sure, that the less demonstrative I was with my affection and love, the more meaningful it was when I would give it and show it. I operated under this idea that I shouldn’t be demonstrative because it would cheapen the emotion, when in reality there is no such thing as a limit to love and caring and empathy. At least, not for me. 

I just started thinking to myself, that I have always been a pretty straightforward person, but never really direct with my emotions. People think I’m very comfortable with being vulnerable but I’m not- it’s an effort to be transparent and it’s uncomfortable still for me to be so open but I want to be knowable (if that’s a word), I don’t want to be this mystery, I don’t want my loved ones to not know where they stand with me, even though emotional intimacy is something I still struggle with, even though being straightforward with my emotions feels like such a risk. And not just with emotions but just with everything- being transparent about my life struggles is still difficult for me. 

But I want to be an open book. I don’t want to be cool or closed off or distant or give the impression everything is always fine and I’m living in the silver lining always. I want to be honest. Because what’s the risk in letting someone know I care about them? What’s the risk in saying, “I am confused and excited and figuring things out.” What’s the risk in saying, “I want to spend more time with you,” or “you are so important to me.” 

So this endeavor to want to be this “knowable” person started with a really excruciating night and a mandarin and a tangential thought about dying. 

And it’s lead me here. 

Conversations with my parents. I tell my mom I love her even though we both get awkward about it. I call my sister my best friend. I tell my best friends I’m proud of them. I call one of them the love of my life because she is amazing. I’ve declared myself the third wheel to two of my favorite couples ever because I love spending time with them. I double, triple, quadruple text sometimes because I miss my friends. I tell people I want to spend time with them. I tell people I want to get to know them better. I say, “I love you,” before hanging up the phone or saying goodbye. I write a TMI blog that gives way too much insight to my convoluted head, where I write for myself but then share with whoever. I have emotional days and spill to twitter or instagram or Facebook to whoever will listen that I’m so grateful to be alive and in this complicated and frightening body because fuck it- I could die today. In the next 2 minutes. Or I could not. I don’t know. I’m not big on regrets, but being an island of a person would be a huge regret of mine. A regret I care not to have. 

I have found so much freedom in being wildly straightforward. I have found so much freedom in having no chill. I have none. And I love it. Because I get to author my life, I get to let the people in and around my life know what my story is, and what their place in it is without any grey area. 

I know some people may call this brave, at this point I try not to think too hard on my choice of sharing/not sharing, so is it really bravery if I try not to put too much thought behind it? I’m not sure. I don’t know if this is vulnerability or a product of survivorship or both, but I know I just want to be honest. Mess, no chill, cringe and all. 

- Your Favorite Unkillable Bitch

[sunstriderling]

I'm just curious but are you Kin with hanzo? You have so many cool ideas and what seem like personal connections to him, and I was curious

Oh. Hello.

No. I don’t know how to put this gently so that nobody gets their fingers stuck between the door here, but I don’t subscribe to the fictionkin thing. You do you, it just isn’t something that I believe.

However, I have an entirely pathological thing going on with this character. Look - Hanzo is what I describe as a comfort character. That means a bunch of different things, all of which more or less relate back to things that are not okay with me. Everything underneath this line should be said at a therapy session, not online, but alas - I can’t access therapy, so.

… do mobile readmores even work? Guess we’re about to find out.

Firstly, I feel that Hanzo, for one reason or another, is safe. “Safety” is a big fucking deal for me. It doesn’t mean the obvious - I’m perfectly aware that I just called a born and raised yakuza assassin who gutted his own brother “safe”, but that’s actually. Irrelevant. He’s an older male whom I for some reason just happen to trust. That’s what matters.

Think of what meaning the term “big brother” has, not in relation to Hanzo or any actual brotherhood but as a concept. A big brother is someone male, someone older but not by that much, someone more experienced, someone who’ll protect you and stand up for you, someone you can trust, someone who’ll always be there, someone safe.

That’s what Hanzo, as a character, is for me. These aren’t necessarily traits of the character himself, but something I feel the character does for me, which brings me to point two.

I process things through this character, particularly things that are painful or scary. Hanzo is the buffer between me and these things. This only works because Hanzo either directly faces the same issues as I do, or it’s very likely that he does, or could; plausibility and believability are keys to this shit working out for me. It has to be authentic. The way it functions is that essentially, Hanzo is the person standing between me and something that wants to hurt me. It’ll have to go through him before it gets to me, and…

I know that he can deal with it. He’s stronger than I am. He’s more equipped to deal with it than I am. He’s been through more than I have. And if he can do it, despite all the odds, then I can do it, too. If he can survive it, then it’s survivable and I stand a fair chance as well.

I press Hanzo’s gender in the beginning for a reason - he’s not the first character (or person) that I form this attachment to, and they’re all specifically male to replace the male role model in my life that I, as a man, never had. I’m hella patching up those daddy issues here, not even gonna lie. If you don’t know what it’s like to grow up not having something that crucial present in your life, it might be funny, but the truth is that it really isn’t. I have so many fucking problems with other men that I literally cannot associate with them in the real world. It’s great, 0/10 would not recommend to my worst enemy. Finding a safe male that I can trust - and know that they won’t break that trust or turn against me - is. You know. Fucking life-changing, is what it is.

I look up to Hanzo, and I respect and love him. I don’t know why my shredded brain chose him over some other character, but it is what it is. As a result - I’m a writer, it’s my main therapy tool, so obviously these two go together a lot. Hanzo is my favourite character so obviously thid means I’m going to be writing about him a lot, and as a writer, my goal is to keep him as in-character and faithful to whatever original portrayal we have as possible. This together with the previous means that I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out who he is and why he does what he does or says what he says, which, naturally, gives me too much shit to talk about whenever someone makes the mistake of asking.

I try not to add much of what isn’t there already, because it’s explicitly who Hanzo is that made him this important to me. Of course, with this amount of projecting going on versus the non-amount of canon to base on, I’m going to blur some lines here and there, but I try to stay objective, and I’d like to claim that for the main part, I manage it pretty well.

The downside is that I often take things regarding Hanzo quite…. personally, especially in terms of the character I’ve written, and easily become very uncomfortable when forced to view content of him that is either Unsafe(trademark) or goes against my image/interpretation of him. I just try not to see it, and when I do, not to mind it or at least not to dwell on it, but, you know.

Anyway, how’s that for oversharing.

ETA: It's probably also worth mentioning that I don't imagine any personal relationship between myself and Hanzo or any other character. He does the shit I see him doing either by existing in his story as he is, or when I deliberately insert him into a different one where I can control my own exposure to the subject matters both via writing them according to my own comfort limits and by facing them through him.

Hanzo's like a freaking patronus charm, not my imaginary friend. Just clearing that up.

[i-amusemyself]

All the stationary.

Ahhhh ty!!! I can’t tell if you wanna know that much bc you gaf or not though.....

Paranoia aside imma overshare either way!! *finger guns*

gel pen: when are you most comfortable?

I mean, I have anxiety so that just doesn’t happen much lmao! My first thought though was when I visit my favourite place, a little corner of a field with amazing views where I’m always on my own. I love it there.

ballpoint pen: tell me about the day you’ve just had

The day I’ve had was hell, so I’d rather relive yesterday.

Yesterday I woke up and binge watched supernatural; actually remembered to eat for once then was actually motivated enough to do revision. I got into hysterics over a tumblr post so quickly decided it was a day I should be avoiding hella emotional stuff....10 minutes later I was watching the last ever episode of prison break and sobbing uncontrollably at every word. In the afternoon I went out but not before losing my phone which was exactly where I left it. By that point though I was so late I had to speed walk at least 2 miles to the next village, where of course my friend arrived flanked by two pretty decent looking guys. I honestly looked like a tomato with water retention issues at that point so I’m sure that was a fabulous first impression. Then we got over to our revision session at the library early so went to the pub instead which was a dream; didn’t get any alcohol though because you can’t revise biology while hammered. Believe me. Then I stayed up late enough to get my ass whooped last night but it was so worth it because even though it turned into some sort of snapchat contest, I was laughing my ass off the whole time it was amazing. 

That enough of a day for you?fineliner: what’s your greatest achievement?

I used to train with the england basketball team, and I played for East Midlands. That was a pretty cool experience.highlighter: what are your best qualities?

Jfc, plural? Idk! I’m pretty motivated? And I always make an effort to tell the truth (if its good, otherwise I keep my mouth shut).

greylead: what is something you want to try for the first time?

Being attractive. Being loved. Need I go on? Oh and also giant zip-lining.felt-tip: describe your aesthetic

My bedroom looks like an ikea showroom lmfaooo so whatever that is. Weird architecture and cacti and random objects in neat little storage places.

But equally like, overgrown graveyards mixed with roses and anything black. Depends on my mood.crayon: your earliest childhood memory

Treading on a bee and having to have the sting removed from my foot lmao

scrapbook: something from your childhood that makes you smile

............um??

Okay there was this one time we found an old camera in the loft. I must’ve been 3 since my dad was still there. Anyway we all went out in the garden and it was such a normal little family thing, but it’s the only time I ever remember that happening. It’s got my parents waving and looking happy and me sticking my head out from inside a little wendy house grinning and it’s so cute. It’s the sort of thing I wish I’d had more of.

sketching pad: describe yourself from a stranger’s point of view

A lanky thing approaches. It has a stereotypical lesbian haircut, bad eyesight and appears to have given up on all things fashionable. It’s shy and awkward, so makes you feel extremely uncomfortable too. It appears to be reasonably friendly, but occasionally says things that don’t make a single bit of sense before desperately looking around the room looking for more small talk inspiration. You’re overall impression is it’s a pretty boring human being, probably totally harmless, but would be incredibly easy to replace.notebook: what’s your favourite quote?

I have a couple of little quotes I remind myself of on a daily basis, ranging from song lyrics; “darling you’ll be okay” and “the sun will rise and we will try again” to “pick your fights” and “you gotta give a bit of yourself to get something in return”. I kinda live my life by those.paper: what kind of book would you write?

I have absolutely no idea! I can’t see myself ever having the motivation to write a book.stapler: out of all the people you know, who do you think you are closest to?

My best friend @only-slightly-dangerous who literally knows me so well it’s scary! She can literally message me out of knowhere and know from 3000 miles away if I’m in pain.glue stick: what do you look for in a lasting relationship/friendship?

I can’t be dealing with people that lie or are fake or whatever. So definitely honesty. Also people just being themselves and not being afraid to be weird or whatever, because that’s when I relax a bit lmao! I guess a decent sense of humor too? And someone that doesn’t mind you asking questions or whatever. Idk. Sometimes you just click with people without being about to put it down to a specific characteristic.tape: tell me about your longest friendship

It wasn’t very long. 

I mean I had “friendships” through all of primary school but that doesn’t really feel like it counts. Secondary school? The first girl I made friends with and was really close to for 5 years is now like,,, someone I honestly can’t even stand to hear about soooruler: what line will you never cross?

I could never cheat. eraser: what do you consider to be your biggest mistake?

I’m not sure. Maybe not standing up for myself more at school and at home. There have been occasions where it would have been totally reasonable but I just shut up and let shit happen so I’ve spent a lot of time beating myself up about that stuff.

Also, and I know I shouldn’t but, I still spend a lot of time thinking about a boy at our school who killed himself and I never knew him but I still wonder if I could have done anything.scissors: ever had a bad break-up?

Nothing hella nasty but I don’t really talk to any of my ex’s at all.calculator: list fifteen things that make you happy

Lmaooo I’ll do my best!! Okay so music; concerts; friends; seeing other people laughing; making people laugh; stand up comedy; hella good art; hearing people tell stories; sitting and listening in the middle of knowhere; thunderstorms; exploring; helping people; good food; the sound of rain on the roof; cuddling and tumblr.protractor: an unpopular opinion/angle you have on an issue

Pinapple is good on pizza.sticky note: something about yourself you’d like to change

I feel like I have no personality so like,,,I wish that could be better. I wish I was pretty. Or attractive or whatever. Oh and I wish I could sing those hella high notes because I feel sorry for the neighbours atm.stamp: a date that’s special for you and why

25th March because that’s the day my life changed just enough for me to carry on.bookmark: a book that means a lot to you and why

I always just say Numbers, but honestly it was the first ever book I cried at and I feel like it helped me understand the world a little more.folder: describe your family

How long do you have? I mean, it’s quite a small family but I’m not that close to any of them. Most of them are just pretty conservative living in little nuclear families. I didn’t used to get on too well with my dad but we’ve got a lot closer. I still don’t get on with my mum very well though bc she’s abusive. welp. whiteboard: tell me your plans for tomorrow

I’m gonna die a slow, painful death by revision and then recover when I go to my dad’s and walk Borris.blackboard: tell me about a memory that has affected who you are today

All those memories are locked away in a place I can’t get to and I think it’s best to keep it that way for now.

A low key one is probably when a friend once told me nobody cared about me or what I had to say and I’ve basically been mute in most social situations since XDpinboard: what are you focusing on in your life right now?

Exams. A level exams. Just one more month and I’m freeeee!!!tablet: tell me your plans for the future

Start a fresh life at uni and get this degree. Then who knows? I’ll probably go and get another degree and I’m pretty sure I’ll end up doing medicine.stencil: who are your role models?

I don’t have very many. Kaitlyn Alexander for sure, because they really helped me understand who I am and start to accept it. Also Luke Cutforth because I love his YouTube channel but also a lot of things he’s done related to mental health have been helpful and I relate a lot.envelope: tell me a secret

I’m going to my end of year prom in a shirt and tie and I haven’t told anyone yet and I’m scared shitless. I’m still gonna do it though!!

[bindmywanderingheart2thee]

Mind dump

It's been a really long time since I've written. I don't have any particular reason why it's been so long, but most likely, its because I have been struggling pretty bad with my eating disorder. Subconsciously, I don't think I should be blogging while I'm failing, but I am beyond needing to write out my feelings. So, here goes nothing....I warn you, it won't be pretty.

Winter is the worst. It gets dark so early and it's so dang cold. I have winter running gear, but it takes so stinking long to get ready to go. I hardly have the energy or motivation at the end of my work day to do it. My weight is up, and I'm so angry inside that I could punch a wall. It's this seething, overwhelming anger that just makes me wanna scream and cry at the same time. "You're a failure, a fat loser, you're so f*#%ing ugly!", I tell myself. I look in the mirror with so much self hatred. If I'm not skinny, I'm nothing. I'm worthless and pathetic. How could I let myself gain weight? I was finally feeling remotely comfortable in my skin and I had to go and screw it up. Getting dressed every morning takes forever and I am still embarrassed in any outfit I decide to wear. I'm sure people see my weight gain, I'm certain they notice and are put off by my appearance. It takes every ounce of my being to leave the house each day feeling ok about my outfit....but I never really do, so then I spend the rest of the day worrying what people are thinking about me.

It's messed up, I know. That's probably why I don't have any friends. I'm too weird and f*#%ed up to bother with. People don't like people who have issues. They require too much energy. I'm too sensitive and overwhelming. I'm abrasive and and blunt. I'm too closed off, I'm told. People are afraid to say anything to me because they worry they will hurt my feelings, so they just keep their distance.....that helps a lot. (Yes, I am being facetious). I'm not saying that to be insensitive, this is not something people automatically know how to handle. It's tricky territory, I get that. People don't wanna say the wrong thing. I just want people to know that there's really nothing you can say to me that is worse than what I say to myself.

So, not only is my outward appearance garbage, but so is the inside, apparently. Can I just say I am so tired of trying. I'm tired of trying every day to be a better person to just fail or be forgotten. I'm better off fighting this battle on my own. That way no one has to be bothered by my issues. I have learned to rarely trust anyone. My experience is that trusting people only gets you hurt. So, thanks, but I'm good. I cause myself enough pain without welcoming extra.

I don't even wanna burden Andy with my issues, so I say nothing. It's my issue, so I need to deal with it. I feel so sorry for Andy and Storm. They deserve better. Storm deserves a mom who spends more time playing with him and less time in front of the mirror trying to fix what cannot be fixed.

I just want, no, I NEED the weather to warm up. I need the sun to stay up longer so I can run. Running keeps me on track. It keeps me from feeling guilty when I eat. It's my form of therapy to keep my bulimia in check. It's the only time of the day I feel sorta free of my struggle. I feel happy in that time period because running is something I'm actually good at. I know it's probably not the way most specialists would recommend handling my disorder, but it's what works for me. It's my way of working out my anxieties and stress from the day, and right now, since I don't have that, I'm so frustrated, I could cry! I fear I'm just gonna gain all my weight back and then some. I can't go back. I refuse to go back. I can't be any fatter than I already am!

Why do I care so much? Is there ever going to be a time I'm happy with myself? Probably not. It's a bleak outlook, but it's honestly how I feel. I'm coming around to accepting it, but unfortunately my determination is hard to squash. It keeps creeping back in, but then I look at my aging face and think, "what's the point? It's never gonna get better. I wasted my youth being fat and now I'm fat AND wrinkled." I am constantly envious of how skinny other women are and imagine how happy they must be. Skinny means happy, right? I look at clothing sites and can feel my anger and self hatred welling up inside me when I see the models in swimsuits. I've never looked like that, And I never will. Even at my lowest weight I felt like a whale in my swimsuit. I find myself thinking people at the pool are secretly wishing I'd cover up my fatness. I'm certain they talk and laugh at me for even trying to wear one.

Wanna know a secret? I wanna be so thin that people think I'm too thin. Then I know I've arrived. I was there for a hot second, (even though I thought people were full of crap and blind because I knew I was still fat), I felt encouraged that people would use the word "thin." But it's not enough. Too thin. That's my dream. That's the finish line, but I'm too pathetic to make it. Too much of a food obsessed slob. Too weak to walk away from the food that makes me fat. Too lazy to get out for a run.

It's just a vicious cycle that never ends. I'm on a rollercoaster that never arrives back at the platform. I'm trapped forever in this life of self hatred and anger. I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but it has all gone dark now. I've lost that confidence I once had in beating this disorder. I can't do this. I can't stop feeling this way and I can't deal with the the adverse results. I seriously hate myself so much right now. I just feel like such a failure and I don't know how to hold it in anymore.

That's probably where the post is coming from. Maybe if I just admit that I know I'm fat and ugly, I'll feel better and people will be glad I finally realized it? I can't think of a single thing I like about myself these days. I know everyone struggles with self esteem. I know I'm not the only one, and it's a horrible thing to struggle with.

Oddly enough, I'm always taken back by things people say they dislike about themselves. 99.9% of the time, it was never anything that I'd ever noticed or that had even crossed my mind. It's usually not even an accurate view of themselves. So, ironically, I can see the good in others, but I cannot find the good in myself.

I will say I'm good at drawing away from people as a way to deal. It's embarrassing to have an eating disorder. No one seems to understand how much I struggle with this. (Probably because I hide it as much as possible.) People thinks it's disgusting, which it is. I'm not proud of it. It's humiliating to admit all this stuff, but I have to get it out of my head. But I worry about oversharing because I don't want to appear weak or vulnerable. People take advantage of vulnerable people. I know it all too well, so I usually just keep in shoved down inside and use the food to keep it quiet. Unfortunately, the food always comes back up, and with it, the pain. I should be strong enough to beat this! I don't deserve to display the tattoo on my wrist. I am not in recovery, I'm right back where I was. I've failed. I thought I was stronger than this. I thought I could beat it, but it's clearly beaten me. I'm down for the count and I think I'll just stay here.

I should probably go back to treatment, (ya think, hollie?), but unfortunately hairstylists don't get paid if they don't work, so that's not an option. I'm not even sure I wanna go back because I couldn't keep myself on track after the first go round, so why should I think the second would be any different? I feel bad that I was blogging about being strong after recovery, only to let everyone down. I'm sorry for that. I cringe knowing how uncomfortable the program is. It's no joke. I know they will make me eat and keep food in and I hate that. I'd also feel terrible taking time away from work and family again. I love what I do, and time away from work is not only bad for my pocketbook, but also for my career. I wanna be there for my clients to count on. When I'm behind the chair, I actually feel confident in my skill. I get to focus on making someone else feel good about themselves, and that makes me happy. My clients give me their trust and that brings me joy beyond words, and I grab up every bit of joy I can get. (I also don't wanna be the fat girl in class again. I still remember thinking the other girls must have wondered what I was doing there.)

Anyway, there it is. A glance into my current mental state. Real, raw and unscripted. I'm probably gonna regret sharing this tmrw, but it's truly how I feel. I created my blog to let people see inside the mind of someone with an eating disorder and to gain some understanding of what bulimia is. It's embarrassing, but maybe someone else out there needed to hear this, to know they're not the only one who feels this way, or to get perspective on how someone who struggles with it feels. Either way, writing is therapeutic to me, even if it requires bearing my soul for all to see. Sometimes, the internal struggle is too much for me, so out comes a new blog entry. Good or bad, I dunno. But it is what it is. Thanks for reading.