counterproductive.

This is an incredibly honest ramble with the potential to make you feel greatly uncomfortable, which you are under absolutely no obligation to read. I feel like I consistently take advantage of you because you click on a picture and then WHAM, BAM, THANK YOU MA'AM there's some sort of super deep and emo description. I'm really not looking for sympathy or pity or anything like that.

 

I'm posting this for me, no doubt, but I also know the incredible feeling of reading someone else's words, or seeing their photo, and realizing that the feelings they just expressed were exactly the same as yours.

It's an incredibly weird feeling, something that is beyond my abilities to express in words, but one of those truly emotional instances of clarity and hope.

And I can only hope that someone reads this and says,

"I am not alone."

or better yet, someone will see this and maybe for the first time say,

"Now I understand. A little."

Or maybe you will say nothing. That's more than perfectly acceptable.

But I'm not asking for pity. I'm not not not.

I hope you understand. I'm so sorry.

I disabled comments because I don't want you to say anything. I just want you to think. Maybe. For 3 seconds.

 

 

It's kind of been a weird as fuck week.

One of those weeks where I can feel the weight creeping back on, my jeans a little bit tighter, and where it used to just be this fog at the back of my mind, it's coming to the forefront again. Coming right there up front where you can't really ignore it anymore. Negative city central, and everytime I see myself it's just flaws.

 

Calories, fat, you fail, you're fat, calories, I shouldn't be eating this, hey fat failure, calories, food, food, fat, fat, fat.

I keep making these mini-goals again. "I just won't eat for the next 2 days and it won't be that bad."

But then I end up failing and eating 14 bagel bites, an entire bag of popcorn, cake, 3 glasses of chocolate milk, pickles, spinach dip and about 16 cookies. In a sitting.

And I am far too exhausted to even purge because I know it's going to be a waste of time because I know I'm just going to do that same damn thing sooner or later.

 

I feel like such a loser. I feel like a let down to my mother. I feel like she has done so much for me and I do nothing but cause problems in her life.

I feel like I'm all caught up in my head and that I am one of those girls that I hate. Those super self-centered girls who all they care about is themselves.

I feel like I am sabotaging myself.

I feel like I have no right to feel this way.

I feel like almost everything I've ever done in my entire life has been for someone else. And I feel selfish for doing anything differently.

I feel like I am unoriginal and incapable of having an original thought. I feel like words fail me far too often to ever be able to say anything useful.

I feel like the importance of father-daughter relatioships is highly undervalued nowadays, simply because it kind of has to be because of all the single parent families. So to be "proper" we all have to say that it's okay, and it doesn't really matter.

But it does.

I feel like a selfish person for telling you about this.

I feel dread because sooner or later, all these expectations that everybody in my life has of me are going to come crashing down.

 

I saw a therapist for a while. She was stupid.

She said to do yoga and then everything would be better.

She said that after the second session I didn't need to see her anymore.

So I said, "Okay." Walked out. Never went back.

Didn't tell my mom until a month and a half later, told her that after seeing her for almost 2 months (rather than 2 sessions) I felt I was "cured."

 

Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. eff yeah.

 

I don't know if it ever goes away. Even when you're recovered. I think it might always still be there, at the very back, in a little box, sealed away. But still there. Still very much present.

 

Anyways, this stupid therapist lady told me, "What happens if you don't meet these expecations of always being the perfect student/daughter/employee ... whatever? Does the world end? No. So stop worrying."

 

Which kind of makes sense.

But if all you've ever had and ever been is perfect,

and the one that meets and exceeds expecations

then when you suddenly fail,

where does that leave you?

 

Maybe physically, nobody will die. Maybe the world won't come to a crashing end. Certainly, it won't be the apocalypse.

But if that's how you've been defined, for you entire life, it leaves you without YOU.

 

Does this make any sense?

I wish that I could squeeze out a little tiny droplet of my thinking, and just for 30 seconds you would understand everything.

 

Anorexia is trendy. Bulimia is gross.

Apparently that's the new thing among teen girls.

 

 

I guess that means I'm gross.

 

People still bristle when you say you the word therapist.

People think it means you're crazy.

 

I guess that means I'm crazy.

(gross and crazy, just what every girl wants to be called.)

 

I need to redefine myself.

I feel trapped within my relationships and therefore unable to do this.

I feel like I am stuck where I am,

but where I am is killing me.

 

I feel like I need to find independence in something. And do something. By myself. For myself.

(I just figured out why I started 365.)

 

I feel like a rambling loser.

I just typed this out instead of bringing up what I just ate.

I am so sorry.

So sorry.

So so so so so sorry.

 

WTF you didn't ask for that.

WTF am I doing.

I will probaby delete this in the morning.

But now I am going to try and go sleep.

Although I probably won't because I will be too worried about being a burden to you.

 

 

so umm ...

woot. flowers are pretty.

Done