Part of my brain tells me that I want to suffer, to punish myself, but what good would any of that do? It doesn’t serve a purpose. The urge to do it again just comes back even stronger. Sure, I’m jealous of girls that are smaller, thinner than me, but why? They are them and I am me. I am unique to any of them and my life is completely different. Weight, dress size, bmi is just a little, demeaning number that holds shit all purpose in life. It doesn’t give me love, acceptance, purpose or control. NO I do that, my personality does that, my smile, my humour. I bring all of that, not the numbers on the scale or my backstabbing bmi. People like me because they like who I am, not what I am. They don’t like me because I’m ill or suffering with an eating disorder, they probably pity me, which feels degrading. People like me because I make them laugh, I am confident, bubbly and ever so determined.Why do I place such a big purpose, meaning onto something that is simply destroying who I am? I place my mental health on a pedestal and worship it, but why? It doesn’t keep me safe, it doesn’t make me feel comfortable, it doesn’t support me or makes me feel good about myself. It doesn’t give me control, but yet I continue to believe that it gives me all of those things. Its all a knife and fork job and I’m sick of living in my head that continues to give it another chance to prove that it will actually help me. IT NEVER WILL!
For anyone that suffers with any form of mental health, it is so unbelievably hard to be in control of your own mind, to separate what are the good and bad thoughts, to trust what you think. Every single day, I am in constant battle with the good and the evil within in my head. The bickering never stops, the war is never over because no one ever wins. Its continually fighting in no mans land. But when you get to the good side, its even harder to sustain it, to believe because you have been fed lies about yourself for years. You can’t trust yourself because you’ve buried everything about you. So I’m left with the same thought every night. I don’t want to live this another day. Its sad, but its the truth.
But at the end of the day when that statement comes, I never carry it through, maybe because I’m scared? Or maybe because that hope inside me continues to glow. Every night, it glows and never lets me down. That’s courage that sends me to sleep, even if I don’t realise it, it is and it wakes me up the next day to begin again. I don’t pity myself or anyone else that suffers, I understand the pain and hell that you are constantly going through, but I don’t feel sorry for anyone because we are all still here. We use the freedom of choice that we have, even though we think we don’t and let that courage shine through every single day that we suffer. You did that, not your family or your partner or your therapist, they are not giving it to you, its already within you! And that makes me proud of myself and every other lovely human out there.
I write this for myself, because that’s what I do, that’s how I cope and work things out in my beautiful, blossoming brain.