These are such white girl problems. I have no right to feel this way; people on the other side of the earth are starving to death, and here I am, whining about feeling sad. What do I have to feel sad about with food on my plate and education within my reach?
I apologize for my lack of eloquence in this post. I feel that I normally sound far more put-together.
I was feeling so stressed and anxious today. I'm sorry I did it, but I self-harmed, and I feel like my experiences with that aren't even real because I've always been too afraid to cut. I snap a rubber band on my wrist, I scratch myself with a paper clip, and I drip hot wax on myself. Anything painful without blood.
I don't know what to do with myself. I can't study anymore, and, if I'm not a good student, I have nothing. The most important thing about me is my intelligence. I am supposed to have a genius level IQ. Why is this happening to me?
See how pretentious I am? I had to tell you how smart I was, because I feel like if I didn't, nothing I say would be valid. I am an ass.
I'm sorry. Sorry that I even started this blog. It was probably just me wanting to show off to you, because I am a pretentious ass.
I'm sorry. Just so sorry.
Emeline
I had a really hard time actually hurting myself for a really long time; I, too, would pour hot wax on my legs and arms as the only way I could evoke pointed and immediate physical pain when I was hurting inside. I get it.
ReplyDeleteIt's really difficult to understand when you have things in front of you, stretching out for your future. It's hard to think of what might be when you really don't know where you want to go with all of it. I could never see myself living past the age of 25. I had no idea what life would be like in my 20's, let alone beyond.
I'll tell you what is worse than not knowing what lies before you. The only more frightening than the unknown that could be, is what *could have been*.
What scares me now at the young age of 30, having survived poverty, ephedra addiction, bulimia, severe anorexia: the fact that I spent more time caring about disappearing than I did actually caring about my life.
I could have had a PhD in the time I spent caring about my body image. The time I spent on hating my vessel, I could have gone to college and gotten a graduate degree. I still don't have a bachelors, but I'm going to.
I don't have a trust fund to fall back on, and my mother died of a severe heart attack two years ago. I have no connection to my "sense" of home now that my mother is dead. Its hard to understand this now, Emeline.
I am *not* trying to talk you out of creating a thinspo website, your sense of layout is quite lovely, color choices are very pleasant. I'm not going to tell you not to self-harm, people do it with alcohol and toxic relationships when they are adults.
I just want you to know what is on the other side of this, how you can quite possibly spend what could be the best years of your life always sick, always sore, having people surely paying attention but for the wrong reasons.
The best things your parents can ever say are "I love you" and "I'm proud of you." It's your life, Emeline, and you can do what you like with it, but if I could be your age again and do 16-21 differently, I would care about school and getting into a top college with tons of scholarships.
Some of the girls I used to admire in high school that had beautiful lithe bodies have become mothers and have the hips to go with it. I have no children and I'm still 5'8" 138# same as I was when I was 16, at the start of my ED. Funny how time has a way of equalizing things.
I just want to give you some perspective. It's not something you can really ask any female family members about or you will tip your hand and spoil the whole thing for yourself. Every decision you make has to come from within.
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." -Eleanor Roosevelt
Good luck, Emeline. <3