February 28, 2016 § Leave a comment
You know how they say any addict (of any sort), before they enter into a relationship should first try a year having a plant? If the plant survives, they get a pet for a year. If he/she survives, then you can try a relationship with a person. OOPS.
Although I’ve had my bamboo for years and years, through my food issues, substance issues, sex issues, etc. etc. SO. It’s okay. I’ll rehabilitate it. Ironic, no? Harr harr.
February 28, 2016 § 1 Comment
I don’t know how this post is going to go. It’s going to just be me, stream of consciousness I guess because I’ve been scattered all over, chips of my brain and my body, all over the city, I haven’t been planning or completing my to-dos. I’ve ignored a lot, just completely unhinged myself from practicality in my life. This has been the past couple of months.
My apartment and my roommate have been killing me. I can’t deal with it and I’m moving this week, although there are some issues with that because I didn’t give thirty days notice and I am actually going to see the tenant and landlord board if I can’t see any other way. I am going to talk to my parents to see what they think when they get back on the 1st from Cuba (even thought it’s at midnight or some bullshit), but at least when they get in at the airport, I will have left them an urgent message to call me. Shit will hopefully work out.
Because of that, I’ve been living elsewhere for the most part. I joke that I’m a paratrooper but I’ve mostly just been at one person’s house, as a live-in fuck buddy maybe, even though it’s not necessarily like that. Been drunk to the nth degree way too much. Interesting because he reads this and is fine with it. Well, not fine, which I know makes me outside of the realm of possibility as any kind of serious partner (which is the same as with anyone at all anyway), but I have started trying to be better. The difference here however, is I’m not really worried so much about feeling shitty and fucking up and talking about it, listening about similar things, etc. etc. in the same way I have been many a time in the past.
This week has been Eating Disorders Awareness Week. I’m disgusting right now. I honestly don’t want to be seen in public most of the time because I’m so fat right now. I guess some of it’s been attributed to having surgery (oh yeah, breast reduction HA) and being just comatose on pain killers then having to be fairly immobile for a bit. Then I was crushed again because my job decided to not include me on the schedule any longer because of it, despite telling me that I’d definitely be coming back. I had been looking for other jobs anyway, even advised by the kitchen manager, who loved me and was the only one present during the shifts with me to see that I’m actually a good worker and intelligent, however, also informing me of all of the problems there. Least of which involved the owner, who is the most disgusting, sexist person I’ve ever worked for, which I inevitably discovered first hand as my time there progressed. That’s coming from someone with years of experience in the hospitality industry, which is plagued with sexual harassment and certain other types of abuse. I visited there today actually and heard he called a new female employee a ‘truck’ and didn’t want a truck working there, referring to her body shape.
I kind of wanted to cry. I’ve been crying a lot about, well stupid bullshit, but also some serious things, especially because of this week. I’ve been applying for jobs and any somewhat nice events or places I’ve had to go to I’ve been wearing basically the same dress because it’s baggy, but okay, and I don’t know, is the only one I’m comfortable with if I have to be out of sweats. And that makes me such an idiot and disgusting, although I guess that is an expression of how I feel about myself and look without clothes right now as well.
I should probably try to be uplifting a bit, or talk about how everyone’s beautiful on the inside, your body doesn’t make you, you don’t have to be conventionally attractive, etc. But I can’t. I honestly feel hideous. I am trying to forget but it’s in my brain all the time. I fight it every day. I want to be someone else. Actually, no. Just a better me. A better version of myself.
I’ve regained my hope a bit in my life because of something very surreal and amazing that just came up out of the blue. I’m very excited about it despite having a few setbacks in my mood for a few reasons. I’ll write about it in detail after I’ve gotten my feet a bit wetter than I have with this whole project I’ve been chosen for. For now though, I’m going to talk about it in the vaguest of terms. The most relevant part of it is that it’s brought back a lot of yes, feelings of hope, that I want to be a person, I want to live. I don’t want to just live like a zombie, in a haze, not really letting myself feel and think, instead of just being drunk or drugged because I feel useless and a failure as a human. Unfortunately…the flip side of that becomes….if I’m going to be a relevant person and achieve things (especially in the context of the projects that I’m entering into where I’ll potentially become somewhat of a public figure) I want to be…need to be skinny and attractive. I’ll potentially be scrutinized and analyzed, most specifically regarding my appearance. I’ve still been drinking the last little while, even though it’s changed a lot in my head of how I want to do it and wanting to abstain actually, but I haven’t been eating hardly at all. And I want to keep cutting back. On food mainly, but licquor as well. Need to. I will. I know I’m not supposed to…I don’t want to start purging again…although I kind of do.
My best friend and I saw each other and she has a purging history as well, albeit not as extreme as mine has been, but we both openly discuss it. We’re both abstinent from it, I actually haven’t in maybe four months which is insane, and before that, it was still somewhat rare. I’ve been outside of the clinical diagnosis of bulimia for at least a year, anorexia even longer now. But….
Our discussion consisted of blow jobs. We both agreed that we pride ourselves, or did anyway, with how good we were at them. We’d talked about this entire subject before, and I wanted to bring it up because suddenly I find myself inept. I actually attribute it to not being an active bulimic anymore. It makes a lot of sense. And it brings up the entire association with sex and body image as well. How I think I’ve felt for too long that I’m not good for anything except for sex or being used or whatever that way. It’s interesting and brings up so many other things I can say about a relationship between sex and eating disorders/body image but I’ll maybe save that….I’ve gotten myself a bit more upset than I liked with this post, I guess for good reason. Sometimes you just have to go into the pain, but I think I’ll end this post shortly anyway. I really will try to write about the sex/body thing in more depth, my thoughts on it, about assault again too what with the fucking Jian Ghomeshi trial (which I meant to write a post about earlier but just….ugh). Please try to be stronger than I am right now everyone, everyone who is struggling with all of this. I wish the best of luck to you all, and I’m sorry if I triggered, I didn’t mean to, but I have to be honest.
February 12, 2016 § Leave a comment
I’m around the bends. I’m unfortunately coming into a clear head, which I love and hate. It happens but then reminds me of why I fucking hate it so much. I hate my thoughts. Why is my head such a mess, why do I think too much. I want it to go away, leave me alone. Like a separate persona from my actual self. I feel disconnected all the time.
I walk in the freezing cold so I can feel it enter my bones, the pain eats away at the hatred in my brain, for as much time as I can make it last. Whenever I walk I wish I could put my thoughts directly into hard copy. I come up with ideas when I’m alone, when I’m forced to think, but trying hard not to, while I’m out in the goddamn public where I’m too socially anxious to allow myself to cry, self-destruct in my favourite ways. I redirect it into ideas for creative projects, writing and ideas for painting projects. Whoddathunk it?
I’m so disgusted with myself right now. I want to go back to the other side of my coin. I remember the month in England, most of London. I wrote a piece for a class about walking around alone, feeling my footsteps, so much space I take, I can feel my steps on the ground, I should be a rail, a feather. Before it ate away at my bones and my brain. The beginnings. I want it so bad.
I’m broken, fragments of myself chipping off every time I step into the wind, pieces of a person that used to be, torn off every time I try to forget, try to survive where I don’t belong.
Why can’t I just be someone without feelings?
Why can’t I just accept them at the very least?
I want to know someone loves me. There is one person that I truly believe does, what the difference is I’m not sure, but I can actually count on my brother for that. I know that I’m probably wrong, but it doesn’t change the feeling of being isolated in that way. I bear the brunt of the blame for isolating myself in the first place, I’m aware. I’ve cut a lot of people out, sabotaged relationships, kept myself at the distance that feels safest before it starts to involve anything too deep. I only want beginnings.
I’m not sure if it’s still true, but it happened too many times so it’s torn me apart further. I (used to) make good first impressions somehow but once anyone got to know me too well, they realized. And it hurts. There’s something fundamentally wrong with me? I know I shouldn’t think like that. I know that’s part of it. That I end up coming across the way I feel. But how do I change? I can’t help feeling like I’m too far gone.