Today is my sister's birthday. She is 19. Nineteen years old. Shit the bed, age upsets me. I know, i know-here i go again with the 'FML, my life is so crap, someone kill me now' business but seriously, it depresses me. I hate how ten years feels like a drop in the ocean but then it feels like the longest time in the next second. I hate how much things change; how much people change. Its the times. I am in love with the memory of the past but, in reality, I didn't have a stonkingly fantastic childhood. I mean, people had it worse but i am pretty sure it was really a bit shit and miserable quite a bit of the time. But that is the problem with the way we remember things. There is a certain nostalgia in our memories. It is almost like we are protecting ourself from something, by cushioning the extent of our negative feelings and blowing our positives out of proportion.
For example, i remember playing some wicked good games with my sister and i honestly remember them fondly, as long as i don't think too hard. Gosh we used to play some games for hours- games like 'shop' and 'post office' and all the shit that you always play as a young girl. Well, i don't know if young girls these days (hahahahaha i am so old in my head. Honestly, i feel like a thirty-something!) play those games but back then, we all did. God i sound like my Nanan. Our games are quite sad if you were to psychoanalyse them. I like to think about these things. Always good for you to make yourself feel a little bit more mental, eh?! Yeah. Ours used to be playing Mummy and Daddys but we would be running away because our Mummy had taken an overdose and we were running from social services. I don't remember where Daddy was in our dreams but i know we used to use our dolls as our little brother/sister. We would run away and fantasise about how glamourous it would be to sleep rough and stuff. A psychologist would have a field day observing one of our dreams.
I look back and, most of all, i feel like a waste. I feel that i have wasted so many breaths that could have been given to someone else. Poor mental health has consumed me for as long as i can remember. I honestly remember having therapy at the age of...ooh, i think it was 10 or 11. That is a guess because it honestly blends. I just know that i had some therapy before any of the bad stuff even happened and that that is not normal. I literally remember times of my life by what therapist i was seeing.
I think back to the year 2000, for example, and it seems like yesterday. All of the panic about the Millennium Bug (I genuinely thought i was going to die. I also remember being really worried about my CyberPet). Then, i remember that i was seeing L. Fitzpatrick at the Children's Hospital. I remember her using teddy bears and us trying to dig deeper into how i was feeling by using the teddybears as a sort of messenger. I only remembered that part just now. Wow. Back then, i was just using my imagination. I thought we were just playing along with these bears when, in reality, these bears were sharing my secrets. It was like i was revealing everything in a whisper that only she could hear. I remember the relief i used to feel. I also remember the rackety lift we used to have to use. It was one of those with the criss-cross bar things that you slide across to stop you falling out. Fuck knows how they ever passed the health and safety people. I used to be terrified of the damn things. I remember they were decorating the main stairwell so we always had to take that fucking lift. I remember her recording a relaxation tape for me. It was about a secret garden and how it was my safe place. I was meant to put it on to try to relax me when i was really troubled and stuff. She had a lovely voice. I bet that that tape has been thrown away now. I wish i still had it because it would be amazing to listen to.
I don't really know what the point was of this blog or whether there even was a point. All i know is that i came to bed and i lay here, trying to get to sleep but all i could think about was my weight on the mattress. My body touching the sheets and how it has grown. Literally, in the past week, i have gained so much. I have binged on everything in sight and i don't know how to make it stop. It's scaring the crap out of me because i am not used to bingeing on things that aren't 'safe' these days and every single thing i have eaten has not been 'safe' at all.
I feel scared to be seen.
Scared of myself and of my size. I am scared of other people seeing it seeing as how people have an unhealthy obsession with the bodies of those with eating disorders. I am scared because in my head, i am less of a person but then, if i externalise this and try to rationalise, i can't imagine ever saying these things to anybody else.
I wouldn't sit at that table and tell those teddies any of these things because i know that it is not how i think about other people but if those teddies wanted to know how i felt about myself, id say 'i hate myself and i don't understand how anybody around me can love me.'. I'd say, 'I know i am loved and i love so many people but i can't stand to be in this skin and to be seen by anybody anymore. I can't stand to even look at myself and the thought of somebody else seeing what i see makes me feel physically sick'.
God i am proper fucking my life to the max tonight.
The thing is though, i am not even 'depressed' at the minute. Honestly, my Depression is under control. I am taking my meds and i am being good. I am as okay as i can be in that area. I mean, i haven't felt stable in a long time. In fact, i don't think i can remember feeling stable in the past couple of years but this, right here, is the most stable i have felt in ages. It is just this damn eating thing that is bringing me down. It's different though. I don't feel all 'fukmalyf. i want to die. there is nothing to live for'. It is more of a 'fukmalyf. i can't keep going on like this but i can't see a way out.'
I wish i knew when it was going to stop so i knew how much longer i have to do this.
Eurgh. I wish it was not ultimately in my control because, contrary to popular belief, I DO NOT WANT TO BE IN CONTROL. I hate being in control. Fucking control gets on my tits. YOU be in control. You make my decisions. You make me better. You make this stop. You make it go away. Forever and ever.
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