Last night I thought I kissed the loneliness from out your belly button. I thought I did, but later you sat up, all bones and restless hands, and told me there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo. I never know what to say to these things. “It’s okay.” “Come back to bed.” “Please don’t go away again.” Sometimes you are gone for days at a time and it is all I can do not to call the police, file a missing person’s report, even though you are right there, still sleeping next to me in bed. But your eyes are like an empty house in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders. Except in this case I am the intruder and you are already locked up so tight that no one could possibly jimmy their way in. Last night I thought I gave you a reason not to be so sad when I held your body like a high note and we both trembled from the effort.
Some people, though, are sad against all reason, all sensibility, all love. I know better now. I know what to say to the things you admit to me in the dark, all bones and restless hands. “It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.” “Please come back to me again."
This is so sad and incredibly relavant.
Reblogging for B.
killjoyfeminist said:Your mom can leave you alone, because you are kicking so much ass. This is great! You’re awesome, and I’m so proud of you.
Thanks so much, hon. This was so kind of you to say. Hearing that someone is proud of you is one of the most nourishing things. :)
My mom wants me to be gaining, she’s just sick so she can’t avoid putting herself into whatever situation I’m in. She doesn’t mean it as a bad thing about me, but more of a criticism of her own body for its potential to gain weight. I have to divorce my recovery from my expectations that she will ever be better.
Chai latte and a muffin for snack at a local cafe. My mom says “Well I’d certainly be gaining weight if I ate like that!” The joys of an ED mom. Eff off.
"I got a fan letter from a young lady. It was a suicide note.
So I called her, and I said, "Hey, this is Jimmy Doohan. Scotty, from Star Trek." I said, "I’m doing a convention in Indianapolis. I wanna see you there."
I saw her — boy, I’m telling you, I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was definitely suicide. Somebody had to help her, somehow. And obviously she wasn’t going to the right people.
I said to her, "I’m doing a convention two weeks from now in St. Louis." And two weeks from then, in somewhere else, you know? She also came to New York - she was able to afford to got to these places. That went on for two or three years, maybe eighteen times. And all I did was talk positive things to her.
And then all of the sudden — nothing. I didn’t hear anything. I had no idea what had happened to her because I never really saved her address.
Eight years later, I get a letter saying, "I do want to thank you so much for what you did for me, because I just got my Master’s degree in electronic engineering.”
That’s…to me, the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
After two weeks of unhealthy eating, this is my mantra.
This is from theloveyourselfchallenge
Thank you lovely, so do you. <3
I’m so glad to hear that you’re in recovery. It’s really normal to struggle, especially in the day-to-day when motivations tend to waver. What I mean is that it is absolutely my intent to one day live a life without an eating disorder. I first got sick when I was 14 and was in complete remission for many years before relapsing, so I know what life is possible without all of this. I also grew up with a mother who has had an eating disorder for my entire life and that is one of my top motivations to change things for myself. Living that way forever is not what I want for my life and I have seen what it looks like in the long-run.
Things may waver day-to-day and I’m not perfect, but I know recovery is the answer. I know that recovered life may not always make me happy, but I also have enough experience with this hell to know that my eating disorder will NEVER make me happy, no matter what lies it tells me. It’s a vow to take leaps of faith when it comes to scary things in recovery.
It’s a commitment to one day live a different life and do what it takes to get there.
Not rude at all! It is a disorder where you compulsively pick at your skin either with fingers or other items and it usually causes damage to the skin and tissue. It’s related to OCD and is frequently seen in people who have anxiety disorders and BDD. I tend to get really focused in on my skin and imperfections in it. For me, it’s partly a response similar to self harm in anxiety management and partly just something that I find myself doing accidently. I can use different coping skills to deal with the first part, and I avoid situations where I am likely to accidentally pick to deal with the second part. For example, I always wear long PJ pants when I’m home alone and going to bed because seeing my legs when I’m in bed about to go to sleep can trigger the picking. Overall, it’s not something that tends to get in the way of my life or cause physical damage anymore. When I was younger, I would do it literally for hours without realizing the time had gone by and I seriously damaged my skin/caused infections.
I have been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder since I was about 11, then dermatillomania and trichotillomania about the same age. I struggle with the last two MUCH less now. I also have several “specific phobias” which apparently often come along with general anxiety disorder. For years I was diagnosed with depression, but last year my doctor decided that bipolar 2 was probably my actual diagnosis. I feel like everything is pretty related, rather than being entirely separate in causation. Like, the same things have manifested differently in terms of symptoms over time.