Normally, I would swear, but this comment although it hopelessly misses the point really sounds like my mom would have said it and even though the bitch pisses me off at the best of times, you don't swear at your mom. So instead, Anonymous, I'm going to try and explain this to you.
Firstly, we are all. acutely. aware. of the fact that what happens in our lives, the things that we write on these blogs, is not healthy. We are not healthy people. The presence of absence of this blog is not to lose weight or cheer each other on, its a place where the deepest darkest secrets of my life don't ruin my relationships. Did you ever walk around wanting to scream something at the top of your lungs, but you never thought anyone cared enough to listen. This is it. I can also say these things and not have my family and friends put me on social suicide watch. What happens here is understood as it happens and not attempted to be understood by people who see EDs as a cry for attention or.. losing weight. I know that it may seem counter-intuitive by this, all of this, has very little to do with weight. When I was hospitalised last year after suicide attempt numero deux, my mother was enlightened - through eavesdropping on a conversation that I had with the psychiatrist in the hospital - that I have in their opinion, an ED. I didn't chose to tell her, she took that information. Who could blame her though right? The point is that even though that was almost a year ago, every time that I speak to her she asks me if I've eaten. And the result of that is that I avoid talking to her. Because I don't want to lie. I can't tell her that I feel like an enormous whale that waddled out of the ocean because I've gained 10lbs. Because then she says: oh but you're so skinny, and you're beautiful, and you've got so much going for you, etc etc. Does that help? No. It makes me feel even worse, because I am not that person. What I look like to her and the things that I have accomplished in my life mean very little to mean. I still feel like a fraud every time I talk to anyone. And that is why I have this blog. I couldn't tell anyone how devastated I was and still am about my ex, because they think I'm going to try kill myself again. The point is that people don't understand. They just don't get it. And instead of feeling like you are standing in the middle of Times Square screaming your lungs out, but no one is hearing you. I chose to write it here. Being skin and bones is not about the look. Its about being perfect and light as air. And to a certain extent it about punishing myself for the way I feel. It isn't healthy, but it helps me. But yes, Anonymous, I do also hope that one day I will feel comfortable in my own skin, because for 25 and a half years so far, it has never happened, but I am ever optimistic. I hope that makes it easier for you to understand. Because telling an ED person that having flesh doesn't make you fat is like telling an obese person that they are skinny. As far as the mentality goes, its a lie.
ANYWAY, so enough of that. Today has been an EXCELLENT day. I have had two cups of tea and two plums. And I'm going to sleep. Feeling fucking good dudes, not gonna lie. I'm having a bit of grief at the moment with a friend who talks about herself constantly. I mean, i have nothing to say because all I do with my life is sleep, work and watch series. I am too terrified of the world at the moment to even begin to want to leave the house. But it is what it is. And its like if she says something like, I have so much work to do. I'll be like oh ya me too, 12000 words to write by Wednesday, rough. She will immediately change the subject back. I know my life isn't much, but the complete disregard for me... its hard to take. Very hard. I am alone in this world truly... all I have is my blackberry and my cat. Sad right?
Peace & Love