Draft Post from the 4th

The 4th of July is supposed to be a joyful occasion with people shooting off fireworks and having family barbecues just to remember those who have fallen for our country and those who ultimately gave us this freedom. The freedom to do just those things. But there are some of us that do not like the holiday.

Now before I get backlash, hear me out. Listen.

I am not by any means unappreciative of the freedoms I have been given or the freedoms others have lost for this country. I am proud to be an american and honestly I would not have it any other way. But for the last 11 years I have had to deal with holidays and birthdays in a different way. I’ve had to learn how to live with them. Sometimes there are no words for the things that happen in someone’s life, but there are actions. These actions can either be those of the person, or someone else.

In my case I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to right the wrongs of other people. I can’t fix everything and even though I’ve spent the last 2 years trying to overcome these things and focusing more on myself than I ever have, I still can’t handle days like today. I still think of the little girl hiding in the closet while everyone set off fireworks because I couldn’t bare to look at the faces of the people I loved while I hurt so badly. Or the teenager who sat on her bed and cried for hours because I knew what was about to come. I guess not so much what, but who.

You have to understand that while I’m still living, breathing, it hurts and overtime it may dull but it never goes away. This has taken over my life for so long, and I’ve let it control everything, I don’t have freedom. Not from myself anyways. I’ve been defined by labels my entire life, but this was one label I didn’t want anyone to put on me. I didn’t, and still don’t want to be the victim in someone else’s sick fucking game.

Victim. That word does not pertain to me. It never has. I’ve spent so many years telling myself that I played such a big role in the things that happened, that I believe it, even now.

I don’t deserve to get better.

xoxo
-H.

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Am I (we) selfish?

  
Selfish is defined as:

(of a person, action, or motive) lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one’s own personal profit or pleasure.

One thing that has been said me time and time again is that I am selfish. I am too focused on myself and too focused on my problems. Okay, I will admit that yes, over the years I have become so wrapped up in my own bullshit that I tend to push people out of my life to sustain my secrets and hide myself from those who tried to get to know me.

However I have spent my entire life surrounding myself with other people’s problems and holding other people up. That was always my job, other people always come to me to take care of their issues. I spent the majority of my life trying to cover up what was going on and I spent so much time saying the ‘right’ things and putting the fake smiles in where they went so no one knew that I was hurting.

Many years later I still find myself hiding behind the ‘smiles’ and trying to make sure that everyone else’s problems come first so I seem to be fine, that my life is heading in the way that I want it to. The fact is that I am not all together. I’m not okay. I don’t even know how to function right now. I keep trying to push forward and I keep thinking that maybe, just maybe I will be able to lead a normal life.

Now before you (if anyone is even reading this) flip out and bring up the argument what is the definition of normal?! I use the word itself loosely. There is no such thing as normal. But I do know that there are people out there who live lives that are able to go out and eat and not to have the quit exits so they can use the bathroom to purge. I envy those who have the ability to handle their anger or sadness in a healthy way. I could go on and on while attempting to make sense out of it all; however I have to let it go.

I know that selfishness is all apart of living my disordered life. But no one noticed that part of my life. Now that I am working on it and trying to make myself a better person, I’m selfish. How the hell is that selfish? They feel I have no time for them and I’m being to wrapped up in the 4-5 appointments I have each week and then attempting to do as I am following instructions from the team I have. It seems backwards, I’m finally focusing on me and I need to stop because I don’t have the time to drop shit for them? That’s backwards and messed up.

In all honesty I don’t even know if this even makes sense.

So by rights, no I’m not selfish, you’re not selfish, we’re not selfish. We have every right to want to get better and live a life worth living. But it is going to take time, and and hell of a lot of hard work and if that means I’m selfish for once in my 25 years for trying to get better then so be it.

I refuse to apologize for it.

Xoxo

-Harley

Because of you my day is that much harder

Pick yourself up

Today is my dad’s birthday. A day that is supposed to be filled with joy and spending time with him and then of course there is food. Oh food. But my family is not like your normal family. My mother cannot cook for anything less then a damn football team and my dad can eat just about that much. Then we have company. Oh the company. Two guys from Dubai, one farmer, my aunt, me, and of course my parents. It is a tradition in my house that the birthday person gets to pick their dinner. Enchiladas tonight. Fuck.

Okay deal with that when it comes.

I ended up spending the day with my sister. Whom I was fighting with before I even picked her up. We went to a restaurant and she asked about something I didn’t want to discuss. She got all sorts of pissed off at me and yelled at me in the middle of restaurant and said “Jesus why don’t you just tell me what I can talk about?!” My response? Being the classy mature 25 year old I am, ” You just LOVE to fuck things up don’t you?! When someone says they don’t want to discuss a particular topic, fucking respect that!”

My day was not spent with my dad, it was spent with my judgmental sister who thinks she is above all others. My mother says she is my only sibling and I need to make a point to get along. Well, our relationship went out the window when I was 10 and she had me pinned to the floor beating the hell out of me. (Literally) Oh and the time she took chunks of my skin out of my arm or face. This was a normal sibling fight, this was legit fighting. I didn’t fight back I took it. But I’m the one who got into trouble for it.

I got to hear all about how I need to get a real job and stop living at home with my parents. How I need to get off my meds and stop seeing my counselor (seeing how that is the only one she knows I see). How I take a bite of food and she says are you hungry or are you eating it just because it’s there?

And now dinner is coming closer and I don’t want to eat because I may get looks from the people I’m eating with. Do they think the same thing?

Please beloved sister of mine tell me how inadequate I am. How I am lazy and such a piece of shit. Tell me I need to lose weight, tell me I need to work out. Please, give me more of a reason to continue on my Eating Disorder path. Then at least in my head it’s justified. You do not know jack shit. And if you did, you would still be a bitch and say you didn’t believe me.

BECAUSE OF YOU I WANT TO FUCK UP A ‘DECENT’ WEEK OF EATING! Because of you, I’m ready to be done. Because of you, I want to say fuck recovery. I know I can’t let you get to me the way that you do, but damn, the only reason I even deal with you is because you have gave me 3 reasons to be on this damn earth, and frankly they are the only reasons I’m still here, 2 nephews and a niece.

Because of you I have to go eat birthday dinner with dad and wonder if everyone is looking at me for eating. I have to have a conversation with myself that it’s okay to eat, it’s okay to put the food in my body and allow it to sit. And because of you it’s gonna take a lot to not throw up today. I take full responsibility for my actions but damn it, you really need to look in the mirror and get the fuck over yourself.

SO while you’re home in bed (9:00 pm. right now) I’ll go be the normal daughter for a little while and be social. Then I will crawl in my hole and hope to whatever god there is that I do not wake up in the morning.

-Harley

Interal Fighting

                     
I keep having this internal fight. It’s not only about my eating but everything. This fight is never ending. I’m supposed to be telling myself all these kind things and try to believe them.

Is that even possible?

I never understood how people can look at themselves and love themselves. I am totally and utterly jealous of those who can because that is a huge feat. How do I tell myself that I didn’t deserve the things that have happened in my life? Then my thoughts don’t stop at I didn’t deserve this it goes on to be I must have pissed someone off, I must have not been good enough. Then will I ever be good enough if I never have been.

I bought food and sat with it in my car and couldn’t eat it. It’s insane to think that I never used to be like this. I never thought I needed to be punished for everything in my life. That my body needed to beat down. Someone asked me recently, aren’t you hungry? Don’t you get hungry? Of course I do, but there is something in that control, inside of that emptiness that makes me feel whole.

This internal fight is about right and wrong. Trying to argue whether or not my body is right or wrong, whether my head is right or wrong. Logically looking at things I know that it isn’t about right and wrong, it’s about being healthy. It’s about figuring out how to have this balance in my life. But I’m not going to lie, letting go is scaring the shit out of me.

I want to quit, I want to say fuck it all and I nearly did. I had it planned out to just give up, call my psych, my counselors, PT, OT, Doctor and cancel all appointments. Just be done. Letting my disorders win and letting my past win. And hoping it would kill me sooner rather than later. Things are never as they seem and I think people forget that.

While I don’t want this to be all negative and pity party ish the amount of positivity I have in my mind right now for myself is zero. Okay, lets try taking a look on the positive, or at least not so negative side:

• I managed not to binge or purge for 3 days

• I have eaten at least one solid meal for 3 days

• I haven’t self-harmed for 2 weeks this does not include b/p

• When my ED therapist called I did not tell her I quit. I told her I wanted to and the thought was very powerful, but the fact is that I didn’t. This has to count for something.

The fact is that I have to admit that I have two amazing counselors behind me who do support me and have shown me that they truly do care about me. Until I get there I have team behind me, and maybe that’s what I need to focus on.

Xoxo

-Harley

I can’t keep this up

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I sobbed in the shower today. I literally just sat down and cried; hit the bottom of the tub with my hand and just kept thinking how truly unfair this shit has been. Yesterday if it was not for a friend of mine I would not have eaten anything. She literally sat with me (on facetime) and made me eat. The worst part about it all is that I cried about trying to eat. It should not be that hard to just pick up the damn fork and eat the salad without trying to justify the bite. Why can’t I just sit down to a meal and not worry about it?

The agreement is this:

  • Morning: Carnation Breakfast Drink
  • Lunch: Solid Food
  • Dinner: Carnation Breakfast Drink
  • Snacks: Foods that won’t cause me issues but I need to try to ride it out and drink more carnation if need be.

I was good for a few days and now today has been anything but. I haven’t eaten anything but 2 hotdogs and an atkins bar (which I am currently trying to eat while typing this and it’s making me gaggy) I feel very overwhelmed trying to make sense of all of this. I was so weak today and I came home from work and laid in my bed because it took everything I had to work. I’m either freezing or hotter than hell. I have to pull my shit together or I am going to end up dead. Death doesn’t scare me, what scares me is living miserably sick for the rest of my life.

I’m exhausted and fatigued
I can’t take much more of this.

Depression is hitting hard today and causing me to want to self-harm, the urge to cut is ungodly 😦 Sorry this was not entertaining.

xoxo

-Harley

Fear of Letting Go

                                  
Today has been a day of ups and downs. Oh who am I kidding? The last couple of days have left quite a bit to be desired. I feel like I messed everything up and I keep asking myself how am I supposed to continue on through this recovery process if I can’t make it more than a few days? I know that recovery is a process and it won’t happen overnight but this life is miserable. The existence is nothing but a mundane controlled day to day existence.

I always thought I was in control of what I was doing, but the more I think about it I’m not. And unfortunately I think I have known this for a long time. But that is a hard pill to swallow because it is letting go of the vice that has been your best friend for so long. I have hid behind my eating disorder and self-injury for so long that I don’t know how to live without it.

Or maybe I do and I just don’t know it?

My life has revolved around my behaviors for so long I’m scared to live without them. What will happen when they are gone? Because will they ever truly be gone? No. These are going to stick with me for the rest of my life, it is going to be a battle forever and my fear is I won’t be able to handle it. I fear for my sanity or at least what is left of it. I am beginning to worry that I am not worth even trying anymore. I know I have to keep trying but my body is tired.

It aches.

I just want to look at a meal and think, it’s just food.

I feel so out of sorts. I know this post isn’t full of information or even anything interesting but it is all I could muster because I am completely exhausted from today. Therapy today was hard. Even though it seems so simple to just go in and talk it takes a lot out of me and there is so much left unsaid every time. All because I don’t know how to verbalize what should be said and not knowing how to say them because maybe I’m just crazy.

I’m scared and I don’t know what to do about it. I fear I will never get better. Like my life is worth nothing. 

-Sigh-

Xoxo

-Harley

Controlling the Chaos

 You know, sitting at my ‘friends’ house, I realize that even if my life is unstable, I give myself more stability then they do. I know that when you read this the logic behind it may seem skewed but hear me out:

• I got to her place around 12:30 and she was completely tanked. I mean seriously drunk. Her husband and two friends drunk off their fucking ass as well.

• Her stepdaughter sleeping in the other room and her two boys just left to their dads.

• As I write this it is 2:07 and they are all passed out, two with beers in their hands.

Now, I think about these few details and I have managed to see in a matter of an hour and a half pure chaos. The chaos makes me anxious, makes me panicky. I needed a place to go until 3:30 so I could go and babysit for someone.

The amount of anxiety I am suffering makes me feel like I need to fix the chaos. And I realize that my problem is that there is so much chaos in my life and that I need to take control of it. And food is my way of holding on to the control. I know, I know, cliché. But with so much shit going on it is so much easier to ignore the chaos and just get rid of what makes me so anxious.

Food is just food, why can’t I see it that way? Why do I have to see it as such a terrible thing? Food is just food.
  
3:20 pm: I couldn’t take the sound of the snoring and annoying ass drunk people so now I am sitting outside at a picnic table writing this on my ipad as people pass me on bikes or are running down the trails. It’s nice to be normal for a few seconds. Nice to not have to think about my problems. But yet it makes them easier to think about listening to cars pass by and watching families spend time together. Watching that one person running who is struggling to push on to the next minute or the one who can’t pedal hard enough up the hill but continues to try anyhow gives you an entirely different perspective on things. But there will always be that part of me that thinks I am not strong enough to keep running or pushing harder to get up the hill. There is always that part of me that feels like I need to give up because this world doesn’t need me.

My life will never be perfect again, fuck perfection but I want to feel like a normal person for a little while. Someone who can eat cashews and drink some diet coke without plotting against myself and saying “That’s all you need, it’s all you deserve.”

This blog is all about honesty, so that’s what I am going to be. I am 25 years old, and no Harley is not my real name, but please just use that, I don’t want any chance of someone figuring out who I am. I am 326.3 lbs and I’ve gained back 25lbs in the process of trying to recover. I punch myself, cut myself, pull my own hair out but yet I still go on day to day thinking that maybe one of these days will be different. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll wake up and realize I’m worth something.

This all comes back to chaos. If the chaos never would have happened in my life, I wouldn’t be in the position I am right now. But I also would not be the person behind this screen writing so openly in hopes that someone will benefit from my shitty life. I’ve been sick for so long that I don’t know if I know how to be healthy, how to do things the right way.

Maybe I’m not meant to recover, maybe this chaos is never going to end. Maybe I’m meant to end up living this miserable existence for the rest of my life. Or what’s left of it.

Love,

Harley

The excuses we tell ourselves

  

What excuses do we tell ourselves with our eating? We make these excuses to make ourselves feel better about how we can just skip a meal or just binge to hide our feelings and then purge to make the situation ‘right’. 

Are we just setting ourselves up for failure? Are we sitting ducks to these disorders that we unfortunetly have to deal with on a daily basis? 

The answer? No. 

We are not setting ourselves up for failure, the way I see it is if we want to make things happen we will make them happen. Are these really excuses? Or is it our way of trying to make sense of what is happening?

Nothing will be perfection, and that is something that we all have to realize at some point. While I am the worlds biggest pessimist I also know that this cannot last forever. Perfection is a standard put forth on us by society, our family and maybe even in some instances the professionals who are supposed to be helping us. 

So let me say this, FUCK PERFECTION

  • Fuck the standard that we are supposed to recover immediately
  • Fuck the standard that if we slip up, we mess it all up
  • Fuck the standard that recovery is easy 
  • Fuck those who say  “Just eat it’s not that hard”
  • Fuck society for making these standards
  • And fuck the fact that we find it so hard to live our own lives

Recovery is not easy, it cannot happen overnight and if you do well for 2 weeks and then slip up, YOU DID FANTABULOUS FOR TWO DAMN WEEKS! Some days may seem like nothing, super easy and no need to fret, but others are going to test every form of strength and will power that we have. Ultimately it is up to us as to how we handle it and where we take it. 

An excuse is defined as asking for forgiveness for something. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m asking for patience. I’m asking for someone, anyone to understand how incredibly hard it is for me to ask for help and move forward from what I have known for the last 13 years of my life. 

I’m asking for someone to have faith in me when I can’t have it in myself. So, no I’m not making excuses, and neither are you. And I have faith in you. You can and will get past this, let me be the one who has faith in you and stands by your side when no one else will. 

Love,

-Harley

Complete and utter pointless post. It just needed to happen.

                                  
I know I shouldnt have the amount of irritation that I do about things but I am standing on the edge. I feel like I am about to lose my shit. Lose my mind I guess.

Seriously I am tired of having people around, I don’t want fucking company. I don’t want to see anyone at all. I just want to be happy and not so wrapped up in my own head. My body is giving out on me because of my eating habits and I know that if I don’t do something about it I will end up dead. But is that truly such a bad thing? I want to die, I know that I shouldn’t. And I know that this irrational thinking, but how am I supposed to feel like I can move on from this part of my life? 

My life once consisted of unicorns, rainbows, and sidewalk chalk. I didn’t know heartbreak or being so exhausted that I can’t even see straight. Now all I know is struggle and pain. I know nothing more and nothing less than that. 

Don’t let the food take control, don’t let him have so much control of me. I am so fucking tired of trying. I want to be done, fuck this life.

Damn it all. Yes this really was a pointless blog post. I apologize, I’m hoping to write about not letting the food take control tomorrow. G’night my loves

-Harley