Brother

My brother’s post. I can’t stop thinking about it. What even is his life? How is he ok with putting pathetic shit about himself on blast??

And I didn't realize until I was voice memo-ing War earlier, but wtf he's been like a really shitty brother the past few years... And not a good uncle at all. Just completely distant. 

I remember the conversation he and I had where I basically told him I wouldn't be back - that I really was not going to talk to them again. It was about a year and a half into the silence. He was trying to plead with me to let them back in without actually pleading with me. He kept asking questions, and when I would respond, I would get hysterical. My voice would start out calm, and then it would tighten and heighten and surge, and I would be yelling quickly in a panicked tone. I would realize and stop talking. He would ask again, and the cycle repeated. Several times. Then, he accepted it. 

And then he just became like a spy. But like a really fucking terrible one, because I knew what he was doing. I knew what he was telling them and how it was all looking from their house. I enabled it; I didn't care. 

My dad's phone call is what caused the most massive shift, now that I think about it. No one did as I asked; they never do. No one could leave the throws of codependency to surface and bond with me. I get it - she's sticky. But I think that was the final blow. I knew then I wanted to truly pull back. It was time for the percentage of how cut off they were to rise a bit; I don't think we had gotten there fully until that day. 

Poor dumb bastard... My dad doesn't know what the FUCK he's doing in life, bro. And clearly my mom doesn't either. How the FUCK was I supposed to know fucking ANYTHING coming from that??

And my poor pathetic brother can't stop buying in and drinking the koolaide, because he's made it his life-force at this point. He idealizes things about my parents that are not things I like. Crazy things. He believes their narrative so much more than mine, and I think he has to to survive. He is weak and not capable of being alone. 

I'm actually very glad he got a girlfriend, even if she is completely not the human I would have picked. In retrospect tho, I think someone like her was to be expected. I tried with Britt... That was when I realized he couldn't do it. Like really couldn't. And when he worked with me. He presented like a little baboon... He was physically and socially just so awkward... I felt embarrassed that he was my brother. 

And during that period, I saw how non-functional he really is. He just doesn’t know how to DO anything... He never looks competent or capable or confident. He looks, at every moment, like he only has a faint clue of what's going on. Like he's trying to catch up halfway through the movie. He moves like someone who is borrowing someone else's body. He never had to navigate crowded hallways and classrooms and cafeterias. He never went to a dance. He never played a sport. He just sat. They all just sat.

When he worked as a restaurant manager, they saw immediately. They weren't even going to give him a chance to invest in that bubble before they popped it. IDK who put a yes to that in the first place - I can't imagine it ever went well... I can see the kind of pathetic boss he would have been. I have worked with them. Hangs out with employees, drinks too much, everyone knows they live alone, and they always say they're working on it in some way, but you know they're really not. They go home to nothing. And probably always have. 

I really fucking hope my brother does not have kids. I genuinely hope he and this girl never reproduce, because holy shit, that child... 

Would probably turn out a me, actually… haha, that would be cool... In like 20 years, I'll be almost 60, and she'll be ready to cut off my brother and parents and can come to Christmas at my house with her cool partner that my dad hates. 

I just need 3 days of sleep. 

Choosing Almond Mom

I have been a brain-dead mess lately. I've been disassociating pretty bad for several days-like noticeably worse than usual. 

I was coming here to say idk why, but I realize what triggered it... I had a pretty significant trauma response to sex stuff this week... It's never happened before within my awareness like that. In the moment, I realized it HAS happened before within that scenario, but I just didn't realize that's what it was. I didn't like it. I feel like it's such a setback, but I think I did my part to manage and remedy things... I don't think the next time around I will have less progress, it's just shitty that that's all still in there... 

The trauma is trauma-ing hard lately. Memories, dreams, processing shit, and noticing how much of it there is. 

I'm just SO fucking anxious. 

And I don't think I was connecting all of this... 

I've hit a wall the past few days where all I feel the moment I open my eyes is stress, and it never stops, so I try to just disassociate until it's over. I don't listen to music on my commute - I just let my mind wander and try to convince myself no one in their cars is watching me... I feel numb. I feel nauseated. I feel exhausted and drained, and when I get home, as soon as I can tuck my mind somewhere else, I do. I only let it surface to manage the dire emergencies like daily feeding of other humans and income and submitting insurance shit late... If I think of a worry I can put off, I put it off, a little to my own detriment...? I sit in my office hoping no one shows up and that I can sit around in comfy clothes on my phone scrolling or watching shitty reality tv. My body is physically very reactive to the point of jumpy/paranoid hearing things. I have chewed off all my gels and then nails; they feel so thin they hurt... 

My stomach is in shambles because of my eating habits the past several days. I am pretty sure I gave myself IBS in this life, and WOW, it's not worth it lately to binge and not purge. Today I don't know wtf to do besides drink a kombucha and wait it out... It's almost become purge it, or know that tomorrow you're going to be constipated, and then we will get diarrhea when we treat that, and then even back out... but it'll take a couple days... My body is truly rebelling in my older adult years about the behaviors I have displayed... I need to stop binging because of the constipation alone... And who even knows what kind of havoc I've wrecked with purging... 

BUT, I can't be a human this week.

I felt myself approaching binge/purge territory, dipped my toes, and backed up. I had a good stretch, and then I got a cookie, and that started a downhill 2 days of bullshit. I think in the past I would have gone more than 2 days doing poorly, but this time I saw that approaching and somehow stopped it...

Here is what happened, actually... Friday or Saturday, trauma response. Sunday night, (anticipated "fix things" night, but instead avoided things altogether...) purge. Monday, cookie and binges. Tuesday, binges and purges and more binges (attempted to fix things; put off until next month). 

Now, Wednesday is today... Normally a 2.5 day cycle of this would trigger a much longer one where I just completely lost all the progress I made... But this morning I feel in a better headspace food-wise. 

Not a healthy head-space by any means, as idk how to do that... But who showed up is the version of me that says, "Hey, let's not binge and purge; let's eat juuuust a little instead, ok? You don't have to starve, but just stay well under your cals maybe...? Like, let's stick to Ana-approved foods and drink a lot of water, ok?" 

Like the version of me that subconsciously knows the calories of every food on the planet at this point in my life and won't calculate EVERY calorie, but like 500 is the eternal goal, obviously, so I WILL be paying attention to what goes in my mouth... And like we can't deviate from the strictly approved menu, or it'll be binge and purge time, and we're trying to avoid that part soooo... 

IDK is this what "recovery," looks like? wtf does ED recovery even look like?? I fucking wish someone could explain it to me... 

Anyway, my more moderate, but still restrictive and disordered, version is who I was able to channel somehow... Even yesterday when I was shopping, I decided to buy food to force myself into the restrictive head-space and away from this shit I've been doing. I ordered minimal binge foods that Ima throw away when I get home and made sure I had options ranging in calories from 10-300. I ordered a healthy-ass dinner and made sure I had my survival foods. 

Normally that doesn't work, though. I think it really was just choosing that headspace. I can't keep saying, "fuck it," about what I eat. I fucking really need to be on the other side of this disorder, since it's clear this shit isn't going anywhere. 

It really is all about control. That's the shitty part of eating disorders that no one ever tells you, is that once you take the control of your body, you keep it forever. Instead of listening to it, you speak for it, and it stops speaking. It stops doing food right... it starts digesting wrong, signalling wrong, rebelling... Now I have full control, but no help... and no idea what to do. How do I make it look like I want? How do I make it act like I want? You think I'd know by now... 

I canceled my therapy session, because I don't feel like it's helping. I feel like she asks questions about what's going on on the daily, that's a lot to explain, I process, and then I leave. But that feels like work I can do on my own and don't need help with. I need help with food. Food and I can't seem to get along for 25 years... I always emphasize this, and no one ever acknowledges it or focuses there. 

I genuinely tried this time. And I don't think I want recovery. I think this version of me that showed up is basically an almond mom, and I think that's probably what I would like to be. I'm not trying to be thinspo; I'm just trying to get a body I don't hate, and lately as I lose weight I DO hate my body less, sooooo... 

I actually think a lot of therapy things are absolute fucking garbage bullshit. And I would never say that publicly. I DO believe in it, but I think what it DOES is bullshit... It's just a bandaid for the unlucky people. "Hey, it's ok that you don't fit in and you're never going to get the things that you (and everyone, really...) want out of life - Let's blame everything on your parents..." 

Like, no one needs therapy... You're just paying someone to be your fake friend, and they have no more answers than you, or they wouldn't be a therapist...? Like, everyone does their best in this life, and if your best is a therapist, you didn't do very well. It's like a barely passable career... I'm sure it's better than where you came from, and you're bottom-upping in life and not moving sideways or sinking from where you started, but you're not where I would like to exist. You're not rich, you're not thin, and I'm sure you're not actually happy; no one is... Like why should I listen to you - I can see what your life is, and I don't want it. I can see by your body you're disordered with food too, and that's why NO ONE HELPS.

Fuck, bro...

I just remembered that yesterday I talked to Elle, and it triggered me purging. She started talking to me about bulimia really randomly (like we have never spoken on it before...?), and I felt like a deer in headlights. I left the room immediately, and went and purged. IDK why the urge was so fucking strong to do it, like I HAD to... Like, "If she doesn't purge, then I have to, and then that makes me better than her." And I had eaten weird not-intended-to-be-purged foods all morning, so it was not a nice purge, by any means. 

And I actually think my office-mate overheard me... I also had 3 white monsters in the fridge at work, so I'm sure that looks sus, but I don't think anyone really uses that fridge... I also don't care. Like clearly I desperately do care, but I'm choosing not to pay attention to my office-mates. I've decided we have so little contact that I don't need to care what they think of me. But, that's not going according to plan if I'm honest. 

I really thought I would have this under control by now, but I don't. 

I really didn't think it WAS an issue until recent years... And I thought I would just be able to put it down when I was done. EDs don't let you put them down. They become a part of you. You do the things as first just to try them out, and then you catch the bug. The weighing, calories, losing... The first high is the best, and then you spend your life chasing that feeling. But you can't really ever get there again. 

But, I would like to get close, at least.

I think my job is too mentally taxing. I don't think it's possible to do it well, and I need more money. I hate that on the outside, it looks prestigious, because in reality, I'm broke as shit. And the amount of money I owe others currently is staggering. 

That is all. 

Post about a comment

I just saw someone commented on my February post, and want to thank them. I read the comment today after blogging, and with my current frame of mind, just started sobbing? Thank you so much, anonymous person. 

I’m actually slightly mortified at the thought of anyone reading this whole blog… like holy SHIT, some of it is so painfully awkward… 

My own blog has always made me wonder about other people… a lot. Like if everyone lives their life one way internally and a completely different way externally... Does everyone in life hide how truly messed up and sad they are? Or am I just especially messed up and sad?

The sad reality is that if you met me out and about in the world, I think you’d generally view me as a nice, well-rounded person. I look ok, smell ok… you would probably never think this bat shit is inside my head. And is it all of us? Or just me? Just some of us? 

This is literally the only place in the entire world where I actually say everything. The *only* place. I have put things here I have never told a therapist, a friend, a family member, or a lover. There are things here that make me feel so much shame… this is the only place I’ve ever let anyone see my shame, under the veil of anonymity on the internet. 

And over the years, the attention to me has dwindled, and that has been fine with me. Validation was probably the original purpose of my blog - being hella eating disordered on the dark web discussing Ana lightly like she was friendly, stating numbers plainly and out for the clout. I was chipper, but whiney. 

Then I started to discover the power of just writing (rambling) about my shit. I can see in my own entries that I became more intimate with what I wrote. I started telling the bigger picture more often. Some posts weren’t even about how disordered my eating was - they were just about how messed up I was or what was happening in my life… it made me feel better and helped me organize my thoughts and process things, even if it didn’t attract any attention. I get about ten views per entry currently, and it’s baffling to me that I get that… I’m always like who tf… I’m sure this place will disappear at some point and just become me typing to a void. And that is honestly ok with me. If this is consumed by another and they find it palatable, relatable, or entertaining, then I am thrilled. Because I think that became the second goal of my blog and not my first at some point. At some point, the purpose of this became me just coming here to unload me. I’m too fucking much to handle… 

And all my Ana and Mia girlies (I say “girlies,” because we are who primarily owned these spaces in the past) faded away over time… their comments and views and follows strayed away from blogger. Communities formed on twitter and tumblr, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t as whole or raw - just shortened little bits of ED life focused on the clout, and the audience was so young in comparison. The culture shifted. 

Because Ana/Mia girlies were, and still are, a cultural phenomenon… We started what 16 year olds are currently doing online. We did not start eating disorders by any means, but the old EDs created the safe places on the internet to be fucked up and not judged and find all the ways we are similarly fucked up. We invented the ED communities that exist. There is no large place for the old EDs anymore… We sprinkle amongst the kids or hole up in a forgotten corner of the internet, eternally on a diet. We are the past, and at one point, we got a lot of attention, but the world has moved on, and so have most of us. 

I often wonder to what... Did the Ana bloggers “recover?” (Still don’t think that’s a real possibility for EDs…) Stop talking about it? Die? Get fat and miserable? Sometimes I’ll think of a girl randomly that I used to talk to regularly in 2009 and hope she’s happier than she was back then. A girl I never really knew… but then did know better than the people she saw every day in her life.

And if you read all this, you now know me better than probably anyone who actually knows me, but yet, you don’t know me. Weird. 

Is anyone ever really truly seen? I think it’s all we all ever really want… and I don’t know if it ever actually happens… 

Why is this my life

I’m home shitting my brains out, crying, attempting to be a human, not going to work the last day rent is due, hating my life... I’m lucky this happened today though, really. It’s the perfect combo of eating disorder flare up, worst days of PMDD-fueled depressive episode, and the stress of money that makes me want to hide in bed (hitting hard today because of rent). Plus, there is marijuana in the house, and I have issues with stealing… 

I’m not strong enough for the life I have. Everyone thinks I am, but I’m not. 

I don’t want to do it anymore. Any of it. None of it is worth it, because I’ll never be able to achieve anything of real value in the world. Because I was not born one of the lucky people. I’ve tried the best I can. I keep trying. I don’t want to try anymore. I’ll never get there. 

Reviewing my body count and looking around at other couples lately… I never had a rich guy, a guy who looked perfect… The man I got looks and acts the most like that. He is cool… and when we met, I was really good at faking that I was also. I had just enough disposable income and ability to lie and skinny of a body to make myself seem cool. When you’re poor but thin, it’s cool... When you’re poor, and not thin, no one is envying you anymore. No one thinks you’re cool. And I’m not. I would be in some domains, but I currently do not live in a domain where I am cool. 

And it’s like, all I’ve ever fucking wanted… 

I just want to go back to the place where I genuinely belonged. Have I ever even had one? I’ve had close. I want to feel like I actually belong rather than feeling like I’m on the precipice of belonging. Like I’m faking it. Like the popular kids asked me to sit with them, and I know nothing of their world. I hate the pity I get from others in life once they realize that I don’t belong. I’m an eternal scholarship kid. I miss being out at night, in the dark, being one of those people others don’t understand and are in awe of, whether good or bad.

When I could be anyone I wanted, I was not this girl. When I felt most alive, I was not this girl. 

I am jealous of Jill for killing herself. I’m jealous that she set herself up and completed what she set out to do originally. I get it. It’s probably a better existence for her. 

I’m jealous of Taylor’s relationship. Not because I don’t have something good or haven’t had exactly what she has right now, but because when I had what she has right now, alcohol ruined it, and once that was done, those careless nights and running around the world together were over. We moved on to a life where I was not the girl I’m supposed to be. I stepped into a life I could not handle, but it was the goal all along, so how was I supposed to know it would go poorly? 

I’m tired of suffering. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I’m tired of having mental illness. Of being ADHD and bulimic and depressed. I’m tired of being fucked up and poor. 

Idk why people always try to default to, “you could have it worse.” Like, yes I know, but if someone else would like this existence, I’d probably trade… or they could just have this one - I don’t want it. Also with that logic, it could also be better?

I feel trapped. Trapped in a body too large and aging too rapidly, trapped in a lifestyle I really cannot afford and don’t fit into, trapped as a mom, trapped as a wife, trapped in the expectations at work that are truly on an existential level ridiculously lofty and unachievable by any human…

Yet, there is nothing to do except continue to work.