Make it stop.

I'm having a really hard time... finding a reason to live right now.


I have nothing going for me... and I don't leave my room... if I do, I don't leave the house... and on the RARE occasion I do, it's because my family dragged me out with them and I don't have a choice.


I can really feel myself falling deeper into depression. ALL I want to do is fucking cry! But I can't even do that! I can't even fucking CRY! That's how much of a failure I am. 


And I still hate everything about myself. Everything about the way I look. Everything about my body. I still have zero friends. I have no one in my life. No one here for me. I'm fucking lonely. I know for a FACT that no one is EVER, EVER going to want me.


And some of the suicidal thoughts are coming back... slowly... but getting stronger when I allow myself to let them in. And it's like... I know when it gets really bad, I don't think about anyone or anything. But I know I would never want to hurt anyone in the way that killing myself would hurt them. It's just too much for me to be alive right now. Always. I can't do this. Life is too overwhelming. I just want this all to go away.

Ughhh!!!

Tech rehearsal tonight. Pictures are being taken at tech. My costume is hideous and doesn't even really fit me.


They just took our measurements... yet they made my costume too small... or I gained weight. Fuck, I thought I was loosing... tiny bits at a time but loosing none-the-less.


I am a lot more open about my eating disorder with people now, I think it may partially be because I am trying to prove to people that I was once skinny and can do it again. I dunno... I'm fucked up in the head.


So the night I took 3 ex-lax... yeah let's talk about that. M came over... whatever, he's a total pain in the ass. He's way into me and I really could care less. I'm not attracted to him. Plus he's annoying. Whatever.


So anyway, I took an ex-lax before he got here. I didn't really care I was wearing sweats, I'm not gettin' dressed up for him. Fuck that shit. Anyway, this kid knows about my eating disorder and yet he still thinks it's okay to tell me (well okay he asked me and being the dumbass I am I told him he could tell me) that my stomach could be flatter, I have a big ass, and I have big cheeks. Wow. Thanks asshole. Even though I said you could tell me, you know I have a fucking eating disorder. And I don't give a flying rat's ass if you think hips and an ass look good. NO. FUCK YOU! I DON'T WANT AN ASS! I would be totally content with the body of a 12-year-old boy. Yeah... no joke. 

So since then... I'm even more self-conscious of my stomach because it's apparently huge, and I have a big fuckin' ass which I swear got even bigger since he said that. Oh and yes... I know I have cheeks. I have since I was a little kid. Everyone used to pinch them. I was one of those cheek pinch kids. I hate that. It hurts. And it's rude. I hate my cheeks. Put the big cheeks together with my stupid eyelids and that's what gives me that fuckin' Asian look. 


I have nothing against that, but every time someone calls me Asian it just is a reminder of me being fat. And what's worse? I'm still fucking eating. What the hell? I hate myself. I feel so fucking huge since he said that... like even more than usual. I thought I was loosing at least a little bit, but now I don't know if I have. I hate this. I want to loose. I need to loose. 


Oh... so yeah, after he said that he went to the bathroom and I popped the other 2 ex-lax. And he continued the entire night to tell me I have a big ass! I told him I didn't like that I don't care if you and apparently everyone you know is into that, I'm not, stop fucking bringing it the fuck up!!!


I want to die right now.


Oh... and did I mention after being put in such a bad fucking mood I text the boy again to say I missed him. No response, obviously.


I should shut the fuck up now... not like anyone cares anyway.


I hate myself.
I want to go home NOW.


Time for sit-ups. I'm out.

Or so I like to think...

I ate way too much today. Why the fuck did I eat?? And I ate some candy too. Like, really? That embarrasses me to even admit. 

Candy. 

It's such a dirty word to me.

But I'm not going to give up. I've always been a fighter (even though I feel like giving up sometimes). But hey, 21 years and still going right? I never thought I'd make it here. I didn't think I'd make it to 18. Hell... I wasn't even sure I'd get to 15. But I did... and I'm still here, still going.

I'm not one for doing things the easy way... and hey, recovery... is not easy.

Hate to break it to you kids, but recovery is hard work.

That doesn't mean not to try... it just makes it that much more worth it in the end. To know that you stood up for yourself, to yourself... that you fought for yourself, your life. 

I feel disgusting right now... really disgusting. I hate this feeling more than anything. 

This is not meant to be offensive... I just saw it and honestly feel this way sometimes. 

My stomach... 
                       is huge... 
                                     I want... 
                                                   to throw up...


Fuck.

This thing with J really pissed me off... I don't think I went into detail with you guys about it but we still  haven't spoken. It's been like 2 weeks or so now. I get pissed cause she told me "whether you want help or not, or whether you think your recovery has an impact on me or not, it effects me more than you think". Like, really??

First off, I had been doing so well! But she takes positive things that I say and somehow makes them out to be negatives. So I just don't get it... I dunno, I had more thoughts on this before but whatever. And really... she knows I'm convinced everyone leaves me. That's what people do. Thanks for proving me right. Oh... and another thing... I already felt like I'm the reason she's going through all this shit... that she got a lot of her 'bad habits' from me... thanks for letting me know I was right about that one too.

Okay... so since my formatting is all fucked up and is kind of pissing me off... I'm gonna get going. Peace.

She's got issues **trigger warning**

Third post of the day. My apologies... I'm obviously a bit bipolar. I mean... not really, I just have extreme highs and lows. Do with that what you want. I am also going to apologize ahead of time for not having inspiration in this post... maybe I'll get a little in the end for you guys, but I'm not just feelin it.

So I ate way way way too much today. I actually wanted to puke while eating at one point. I feel uber gross. I might hang out over the toilet for a while tonight and see what happens. I'm gonna pop a few ex-lax also... and I'll pick up more diet pills this week since I'm out of both green tea and hydroxycut, and I haven't had hoodia in a long time =/ 

**sigh**

I'm going to really restrict this week. I have to. I know I'll have no problems over the weekend because I will be dancing all day every day, literally. As for work... I'm gonna have to bring something. If I can avoid actually eating it... I will. 


I hate this. Why did I have to eat so much?
Because it's not under my control, that's why.


If it were up to me... I wouldn't eat at all. 


Or, hey, here's an idea... maybe I'd eat healthy. Normal. What a fuckin concept.


My tummy. It feels so huge. It feels so.... **gag**

I hate this feeling. I hate how no one who knows me understands this feeling. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad they've never experienced it... but they all think I'm crazy. I am crazy. Fuck.


I'm that crazy bitch. I'm that pyscho girl that's gonna end up in a mental institution one day. I 'm one of the most self destructive people ever! Why does it have to be so difficult for me to fucking like myself. 






I need sharper razors. I need to go to the art store. I need blades. Sharp, searing blades.










Plan for tomorrow. Get up. Write morning pages. Light workout in the apartment. Shower. Makeup and hair. Loud music. Lots of loud music. Go to work. Since I start at 11:30, pull off the big breakfast again? Or make a phone call at 1pm? I have to make a call between 1 and 4. When she goes for lunch, I'll dial the phone. I can't eat lunch. It's one of the scariest meals for me. Leave work... go straight to dance (hopefully). If I can get back to campus by 7pm, dance. Possibly hit up the gym after? I need to clean, and will need to shower... again. I hate feeling smelly. Go to sleep right away.


I feel as though I'm getting a cold. It's been like this a while. Pretty sure it's just allergies. I'll be spending the next three days with 2 cats. Awesome. I have no idea what to wear tomorrow. Maybe a sweatshirt?


I am grotesque. I am such a joke. 


Even the boy (I hope by now you all realize who I mean by 'the boy') told me that when I'm with him I'm not aloud to cut. I mean... technically I'm not with him right now. Not physically, not as far as a relationship. We barely even speak. So, yeah. My internship has kept me away from my wrists. I guess that's a step forward.

Although my legs will never again be the same. Not that I ever cared for anyone to see them in the first place. If I need to, for this week... after work. If I feel like eating... in addition to the cigarettes I can chain smoke walking back from dance. I'll just make a drink. Nothing huge... but I never eat when alcohol is involved. So I'll get a few calories in here and there. It's whatever. Just one drink after work. I'll limit myself and keep it under control. I don't wanna be forever known as that wasted girl in class. I feel like that's why I'm not quite as close with the other dance majors as I used to be. 


People say they care... and then they leave. They can't deal with me.


I don't blame them. I can't deal with me either... I just spend every day of my life talking myself out of suicide. Sometimes I see the good in life. I see the little girls that look up to me, the people who are depending on me, the commitments I've already made...

I've never been one to take the easy way out. But I'm learning that there's a first for everything.
I'm sorry.

As if I'm not crazy enough...

So I had a kind of mini performance tonight. We had dress rehearsal at 5 and then opened at 8. I wear tights under all of my costumes... a) we have to wear a tan leotard under all our costumes and when that shit goes up your ass it's kind of hard to ignore b) no one sees my legs. ever. I don't even look at my legs.


Let's think about this. My legs are huge, flabby, and disgusting. They just don't look good. Not everyone has nice legs. No one wants to see that shit. Then just the fact that if my legs were to be exposed, I would physically feel uncomfortable and it would affect my dancing. It's hard enough dealing with the fact my arm flab is all over the fuckin place, it's just too much. And what else? Oh! How about the fact that there are scars covering my legs! Hip to knee. Old slashes going every which way... long white lines, short white lines... there for all to see.

I haven't had one of these tights situations since before the leg so that's just a whole other level that's been tacked on to everything. So anyway, after dress rehearsal we all talked a little and the dance instructor who was in charge of everything for this show calls me over. And she basically just wanted to tell me that it looks awkward that I'm the only one with tights on and I flat out told her I feel uncomfortable without them, I won't go on stage without them, whatever. And she was fine with it she just wanted it to be known she talked to me about the tights if the director said anything but she left the choice up to me so of course I wore them... but I started to cry, like really cry. 


And she's so sweet and she just got like really worried like... she did not expect that reaction at all from me, she didn't think tights could make me so emotional, yada yada. She was like I'm so sorry, I didn't know this was going to make you feel this way. And she wanted to know why I am so "attached" I guess, to my tights. So I told her, I don't look good without them, I feel uncomfortable. I was like, ask anyone in the costume shop I'm always the one causing problems and I always find a way to wear tights anyway. 


So she like tried to talk to me and tell me no one would be looking at my legs they would be looking at my dancing and the that I'm beautiful blah blah blah. She like couldn't even find the words though because she knows me, but not really well... and she was like I don't know why this is such a thing for you or whatever I just hope it's not... and she couldn't find the words. She was like actually kind of scared about the fact that I got so worked up over something so trivial and that I got so upset about it.


I
am
insane.


It's like seriously ridiculous how crazy I am. I hate it. I hate being crazy. I hate everything about this. I hate my life. Ughh... this needs to stop.

And so it begins....

Back at school. Headache all day. Already feel as though I've eaten too much. Spent quite a few hours at the gym too. 


I feel lonely, unloved, used, cheated, lied to, fat, ugly, gross, disgusting, worthless, ignored, forgotten, unrecognizable, unhappy, depressed, unwanted, stupid, pathetic, useless, overwhelmed.... I could keep going for days....


That's all.

Here it is...

Well... here it goes.


My whole life I've been told that I'm pretty. And my whole life I never believed anyone... I don't know why, I just didn't see it. And we're talking like preschool/kindergarten age here. I used to scratch my inner thighs, where I wished there was no fat... so that they would be a straight line when I sat down and not go out to the sides or whatever. So I guess thats's really when the whole self harm thing started.


Freshman year in high school is when I really started cutting... I did it on my hips. I also gained a lot of weight that year. I would run downstairs and sneak something to eat every time I was home alone. Sophomore year I transferred high schools and my eating went back to somewhat normal, I mean, I always had days I would skip meals even earlier on. By the middle/end of that year I started cutting down. It got to the point where I was having coffee for breakfast, a bottle of water for lunch, an apple after school, and dinner only on some days. By junior year I had transferred back to my old high school. I know Tuesday's my dinner was weight control oatmeal, Wednesdays was Special K cereal, and Thursdays was a lo-carb monster energy drink. Even before this I would go out with "friends" on weekends and I would say we were getting dinner, that money usually went to tanning.


When I was 17 year old (Senior in high school, it was still October, Columbus Day to be exact) is when I was diagnosed. Now, I had been sent to doctors before that and they had told me to gain weight but I kept loosing and at this point was 96 pounds (I took weight lifting and I think the only reason I really dropped below 100 was because of loosing muscle weight over the summer). I was happy with my body and didn't think I could even loose anymore. I never thought I would be that low. I'm only 5'2" so it really isn't all that bad. 


I should probably mention that the cutting stopped when I started to loose weight. And during junior year people would say things to the school nurse about me being anorexic and people where always concerned and asking my parents if I was okay. I still didn't eat breakfast, but I did start eating more at school. I went from a 100 calorie slim fast bar, to a reduced fat peanut butter sandwich and an apple. Still, having an entire bottle of water. I was still loosing, I stopped worried so so much about what I was eating. If I worked out a lot that day and hadn't eaten, I might make no-pudge brownies for the family that night... I really felt amazing. I was eating healthy... but... I dunno. 


I lost my period beginning of my junior year... well beginning/middle. My belief is that I only got it so early in life (age 12) because I was always a little on the heavier side and that if I haden't been I would've been one of those girls who gets it later on. Plus, I was very physically active. Not having my period wasn't a concern to me. I know my body. And my body just wasn't ready for it. But that was once of the main reasons for my parents concern. 


So back to Columbus Day, 2008. D-Day. I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa and put into the treatment program at the hospital. It was once every other Thursday. I met with a doctor, a nutritionist, and a "therapist". I really only saw the therapist once because she was leaving and I dunno it was a whole mess because why put my with her knowing she was leaving? Anyway, she made me draw a tree, a house, and a person. Each in black and white and in color. I can't draw. I'm famous for my stick figures, stick dogs, stick pigs, ect. But with the colors I felt weird making a blue or orange stick figure, so I put a colored dress on her... you know, the triangle dress but still a stick figure. Man, did I get shit for that. I just can't draw you stupid twat! Get over it!


The nutritionist, was an asshole. I hated her, still do. She was no help, didn't tell me what to expect, didn't tell me I would gain extra weight and then loose some and get back to my set point, didn't tell me my stomach might feel bloated in the process. All she told me was to eat more. And if I wasn't gaining weight, they were doing to take dance away from me. 


Let's get something straight. Dancing did not cause ANY of this. As you can see I had issues long before I began dancing. Dance is the ONLY reason I am alive right now. It's the ONLY thing that ever kept me from killing myself, and still is. 


So I felt trapped. I thought I was okay with gaining some weight, because I figured it would be mostly muscle, I figured that would kind of happen on it's own once I got back into weight lifting. Of course, I had health first semester, so that didn't happen. Anyway, I was miserable. I felt disgusting, I really started losing all my friends, I was always in fights with my mom. I would show up to dance every other Thursday in tears... full on tears. And no one said anything, they just let me dance it out, which is all I really needed. They knew shit was going on but they weren't going to ask. 


My 18th birthday was on a Thursday... one of the weeks I had to go to the hospital. My mom felt really bad and so she said I didn't have to go on my birthday. Thank God. And I never went back. Being 18, it was my decision. 


In February I got sick and was out of school/dance for a few days or a week. I don't remember. But when I was better, I realized I couldn't get into my jeans. They had been getting tight in the previous months, but where still wearable. I was so depressed. I wore sweats and hoodies and everything baggy. I felt huge and gross. I cried all the time. It was really bad. Looking back, I wasn't big. But I felt it. My stomach felt huge and I couldn't stand it.


That summer, I had my first trip to the gynecologist. They wanted me to get my period back. I knew my body wasn't ready for it. I knew I had gained plenty of weight for my period to come back and it would just take time. But no. I had to get it before I went away to college. I was given medroxyprogesterone. I read the side effects, not only do you get your period in 7 days (no joke, you get it 7 days on the dot) but weight gain is also a side affect. I threw the mother of all bitch fits. Crying, screaming, refused to go home, drove around for hours, went to the dance studio... it was bad.


So my senior year into my first year of college I guess I kind of got to a "set weight". I don't know what it was. Probably 107-110ish. I hated it. I wore cargo pants instead of jeans all the time. I haden't been close shopping (and still haven't). 


Now I'm in college. Okay. My first semester was hell. I basically didn't have a roommate, I had to dance at a studio 10 minutes off campus, I didn't make any friends let alone meet anyone, I was 4 hours from home, I was lonely. I think that's when the over-eating because of onliness really started. I mean, I know it did. I sucked at taking care of myself. Like really sucked. I think my weight stayed in around the same range though. Possibly a little more, I dunno. It fluctuated but not a huge deal. I know when they were making me gain in treatment senior year I would occasionally snack when I was upset. Anyway, that went to a whole new level. But I transferred after the first term. 


I loved my new school. Got to be a dance major. Started dating my first boyfriend (didn't last long). I was loving life. I was meeting people, a lot of people I hung out with were through my boyfriend... and then I had a few friends of my own. I really started restricting more when I got here, and exercising at least once a day, every morning. This is also when I started really having all of those insomnia issues. I still felt pretty gross. I was around 107ish.


By that spring I got so tired of feeling fat. I started with the diet pills. I didn't eat for about a week and was having slenderize fuze, maybe some fruit, and a bunch of diet pills. This all on top of the gym and dancing. I got down to 103. I knew what I was doing was bad for me. I knew it was wrong. But I felt so much better, so much happier.


My mom found some of my diet pills. She made me get rid of them and whatever... I was told if I ever drop too much weight I can't go back to school. It was fine. I got back to school... felt like I was gaining weight, didn't like the amount I was eating. I got more pills. I was probably back to 107-110... maybe even a few pounds higher. 


Well... that summer, my mom went through my trash can and tapped together a ripped up receipt. For diet pills. She brought me to Renfrew. They wanted me in their IOP program. I wanted nothing to do with it. And being 19, it was my decision. I should probably also mention that I weighed about 120 this summer. I found out at a trip to the gynecologist where she was proud of me for gaining weight. I was not. I almost punched her in the face. I believe my exact words to her when she asked me why I wasn't happy about all of this were "You just called me fat and I'm bleeding from my vagina! Of course I'm not happy!" I also had a cold that day. I was a wreak when I found out I was 120. I hadn't been that high in years. Everyone was telling me I looked great, I looked "healthy". I hate that. It's just a nice way to say fat.


So anyway, I turned down Renfrew... but my mom wanted something to be done and I ended up in therapy. It was that solution based therapy. Basically I am allowed to be 100 pounds, but any lower and I will get sent back to therapy or pulled out of school. I said I wanted my range to be 100-103. I would settle for 104 when , and only when on my period. Anyway, she said 100-103 was odd... so she made it 100-105. I was aloud to loose weight because she knew that was the only way I would be happy with my life. My mom came in and also agreed to this. 


Wow. I'm like, about to cry right now. So anyway. sophomore year my best friend was gone, he moved to another country. I lost touch with everyone else because we were no longer in a dorm together. I had roommate issues, was really sick all the time, my period began getting worse and worse every time I got it to the point that I would be throwing up because of it. I gained weight. A lot. Too much. It's nearing the end of my junior year. I still haven't lost it. I feel disgusting. I hate myself more than ever. The cutting started up again in college... moving to the wrists, by the way. It just gets worse every day.


And on top of it, this year, my best friend has been losing weight. She looks amazing. I feel like she's smaller than me now and it kills me. She's becoming more confident, I can tell. And here I am... popping pills, overexercising, and still eating because I'm lonely. I just don't know how to make it stop. I don't trust therapists because I was traumatized after treatment the first time and the second time (and third I went myself twice sophomore year at school) proved to be of no help. Therapy the summer before my sophomore year she changed my diagnosis to EDNOS. She also thinks I may have seasonal affect disorder. I try not to let anyone know how depressed I am. None of these people know about the cutting. My parents saw a cut on my arm this past summer and asked me. My mom wants me to get help still. But I just can't bring myself to do it. I want to crawl into a cave for three months with no food and just get back to a weight I'm happy at. Any weight I'm happy at. I haven't seen a scale in almost two years. I feel like I just get fatter every day. It's all I can ever think about. I'm so over this. All of it.


Ugh. Okay... well that's my story, more or less. This is starting to get really hard to talk about/think about any more so I'm gonna wrap it up. 

I know I'm not perfect, but I keep trying.

Okay... so I think it's about time I ease up on the ex-lax. Or just go back to regular instead of extra strength... or don't take them literally at the same time as diuretics. I've been doing a lot of writing lately... I'll have to get some of it on here. Some is good (as in hopeful) some is not... 


My hair is really fading... I have so much sharpie in it right now and it's still got blonde spots cause it's difficult to color the back of your own head with a marker. It might be about time for a touch up. It has been a few weeks. I really do love this color though. I wanna keep it forever and ever.... Ha... or at least until my hair is long and I can do straight up purple.


So I kept watching the video for "Gunnin'" last night. I think the reason it was so intense for me is that I can see myself as that girl, I do the things she did, I cry when I see the numbers on the scale... I remember a few summers ago when I hit 120... it was the worst feeling ever for me. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't stop crying. And then I always have these thoughts that no one would ever want me... especially because of how crazy I am. And I know that there are no guys out there like in the video. The part when he pulls her shirt down and wraps his arms around her without saying anything really gets to me every time. And when he's outside the bathroom door. It really is a sad video though. 


I've also been listening to "Perfect" by Hedley a lot. Really, I've been listening to Hedley for the last two days. They are an amazing band. 


There's some shit goin' on with J right now. And yeah...we'll see. I need her to talk to me about something and she's just avoiding it which means it actually is a big deal to her which can't be good cause it affects me too. It's difficult to explain.


I have a headache right now... I need to leave for auditions soon. I have like hours of auditions followed by three hours of rehearsal. I should be done by 10pm. I really just don't want to move at all today though. I went to bed at 6:30 last night. Yeah, that happened. I wanna go to bed now. I mean, I just showered and did my hair and makeup... but my heads killing me, I'm exhausted, and it didn't make me feel any better. 


I feel so fucking bloated and fat. I just can't get rid of my stomach. And my arms are so gross. They need to go so I can wear something cute to my blacklight party. And the hips need to go to... obviously. And my legs are huge, always have been. Even when I was under 100 pounds my legs were always too big. 


I really wish auditions weren't mandatory. I'm not going to be in any of the pieces that are auditioning today anyway. And my left arm hurts. I've actually had a brace on my wrist for the last week. Well....I haven't worn it in two days even though it still hurts cause it bothers me and I can't read my 'breathe' tattoo with it on.


Fucking headache.


I should go.

Yup... I sunk that low...

I hate being sick... especially when it means I can't work out and that I'm stuck in my apartment all fucking day. I hate it. I feel fat and gross and dirty and ugly and stupid and worthless. I hate my life right now. I want to throw up... but I'm not that kind of sick. I have a sore throat. I hate it. I hate feeling this way. I want it to stop. I want to go to the gym. I need to dance. It's really warm in here. Maybe I can sweat the sick out. I keep taking sudafed and vitamin C. I hate being sick so much! My skin feels oily. My arms feel jiggly. My legs feel huge. I'm so over this crap!


What is it about seeing my own blood that's so relieving? It amazes me how something so small can cause so much damage.


I sunk to a whole new level today. I literally dissected my razors (like the ones I use for shaving) and took all the blades out because mine have gotten so dull. They don't make it easy to get them out either... it was a process, and I got a few cuts on my hands and fingers just trying to get them out. But I think I have it down to a science now. 


I'm laying down now... my pile of small blades still sitting on my desk... 


I started at my wrist, as per usual, but since I'm going for a tattoo on Saturday I know P is gonna ask me to see the first one... so I just have a scratch there. I started going further up my arm though... just below the elbow. And of course, the top of my leg is a sheer mess.


This really needs to stop.

Borderline?

Trying to put myself in a better mood and not break down right now. Nights are always so rough. Nights are lonely. I don't sleep at night. I hate it. I'm so tired. I can't sleep.


I think I may have borderline personality disorder... or at least something very close. Yet another reason not to go to therapy. I mean, I don't like talking about this stuff and I don't want to. Not in a therapy session. It's awkward. But on top of it I think I have this underlying fear of being diagnosed with even more shit. I hate diagnoses. I hate being labeled. I hate it. 


I feel huge. My ass is way to big. My thighs are atrocious. My arms are flabby. I don't have the distinct jawline I once had. Don't even get my started on my stomach. And my hips. Oh my god. I hate it all. I hate all of me. 


I need serious fucking help. I don't want help. I just want someone to hold me and make me feel okay. I want to feel safe. I felt safe with C... safe from myself... safe from this hellhole I call my life. 


This is all straight from Mayo Clinic. 

Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is an emotional disorder that causes emotional instability, leading to stress and other problems.

With borderline personality disorder your image of yourself is distorted, making you feel worthless and fundamentally flawed. Your anger, impulsivity and frequent mood swings may push others away, even though you desire loving relationships.

Borderline personality disorder affects how you feel about yourself, how you relate to others and how you behave.

When you have borderline personality disorder, you often have an insecure sense of who you are. That is, your self-image or sense of self often rapidly changes. You may view yourself as evil or bad, and sometimes may feel as if you don't exist at all. 

I also read that eating disorders, anxiety, depression, stress disorders (PTSD), mood disorders, and substance abuse can go along with BDP.

It's a lot about being emotionally unstable. I don't think that I really have it... I dunno, I just seem to have a lot of the symptoms but it's not really that bad in me that it would be diagnosed. Unless I went somewhere because they just like to diagnose and label everyone that comes through the door.

I dunno... my whole life I've just known there was something wrong with me. I was off in some way. When I was little I used to think I had some disease that no one had ever heard of before. Like I was the first to have it. I knew I was fucked up from the very start.

I really don't know where I'm going with this post... I guess I just wanted to share...

Bones

I'm starting to feel my bones a little more... collar bones, ribs, hip bones. Sometimes I tap or hit them just to make sure they're still there. I still have a shit-ton of fat covering them, but maybe I'm finally loosing some weight again? My ass is still freakishly huge... and my legs. And I hate hate hate my arms. Eww gross. 


I realized today that one of my ribs sticks out more than the rest. Not like one side, but actually one rib. It's the 7th or 8th down on my right side. My next tattoo is going on that side. I don't know if I ever told you guys what it was...? Anyway it's an under boob tattoo :) Haha. I'm getting it next week. I designed the hearts kind of, its a red and pink one overlapping and then it's going to say 'you can be loved...' 


If you go to my 'breathe' page at the  very bottom there is a picture I made of the poem I got that from. It's my absolute favorite... and the way I see it, if it's tattooed on my body I have to believe it. Right? So anyway, I've had some whole grain goldfish and raisins today. I've taken a few diet pills. I'm out of expel, I really like those ones. Trip to Rite-Aid soon? So yeah... I'm planning on grabbing a protein bar before my jazz class and then I won't have anything between then and the show. I'm only in two pieces and don't do much in either so I'm at no risk for passing out. Besides I have been minimally eating so I know I'll be okay. I do have apples... so tomorrow I will have an apple. I need to get back into eating my fruits.


I'm literally sitting here listening to music, dancing, and feeling my collar bone. I'm such a weirdo! I need all this belly fat shit to be gone though. I'm not really nervous about the booby tattoo even though I'm sure it'll hurt, but I don't want him to see all my fatness. Or rather, I don't like that he's going to. I don't care if he sees a boob. Honestly, having him see my wrist was SO much worse than anything else would ever be. 

Not what I'm getting, just the placement :)

I bruised my left hip last night at dress rehearsal. I landed on it out of a roll. Oops, haha that's never happened before. But I don't mind when I bruise in bony spots (or what I want to be bony) because it somehow makes me feel smaller. I'm still in a decent mood... surprisingly. I'm going to go work on my abs and do some leg weights and a few things for these grotesque arms before class. I have about 2 hours... I should be able to get enough done by then.

I just want to be happy...

I wish I could be okay. Is happiness really too much to ask for? The way I see it... I have three options in life.

1) be thin and happy

2) be a "healthy" weight/fat and miserable

3) not be at all

The first option is my favorite. The third seems the most logical at this point. If I live in #2 any longer I'm not gonna have a choice but to end it. Either way, it's like a scale. I can go one of two ways from where I am now. Problem is I've been here so long, the best option seems like it could never be reached.


I am sorry to all of my followers for my long, ranty, depressing posts... especially lately. And to those who always comment (you know who you are)... thank you. So much.

Daily Update 3

Normally my 'daily updates' are updated throughout my day, but tonight I'm just doing an after all of today kind of thing.


I ate too much today. Way way way too much. I didn't reallllly binge, but it was too much, way way way too much. I feel disgusting. I'm a fat cow. I don't know how/why I let myself do this. I hate myself, I'm such a fucking moron! I did so good at home! WHAT THE FUCK?!? If I didn't want to be a dance therapist so bad I swear I'd just leave. What's so great about college anyway? All it is is loneliness and stress for me. I'm so grossed out by myself!


And on top of that, I had a really bad dance class tonight because all I could think about was that the reason I can't dance anymore and I've gotten so much worse is because I'm fucking FAT! I can't turn for shit because of these god damn fucking hips! Why won't they just go away!?!? I have two more weeks until I'm home again, ugh, I almost seriously just want to drop out. FUCK! Why do I do this to myself?


Maybe if I chug some coke zero I can get myself to throw up, ughh, but that doesn't undo anything!!! I really want to do that. But I don't want to go in the bathroom because one of my razors is in there and I've been so so good recently. It's been probably two or more weeks since I last cut. And it was on my leg, I've been really good about staying away from my wrists. FUCK! I don't even know what I feel anymore. I just hate myself. And I'm huge. 


HUGE HUGE HUGE! 


I used to be the little one, now I'm like three times the size of anyone else. I went from the skinny little Nikki to the fat girl. I'm the fat girl. I hate being the fat girl! And now I feel bad for ranting about all of this. I'm just insane, I'm mentally and emotionally unstable, I'm fucked up. I hate this. I hate my life. I hate everything about it. You know I haven't seriously thought about suicide in years? I mean, I won't do it, I know I won't so don't worry. But it would be so easy. SO easy. 


I even got more diet pills yesterday. I now take four different ones and water pills. Every pill is one step closer to cardiac arrest... as if I wasn't at risk for that anyway. Or in the past I was... and I've always had chest pain. FUCK!!! I can't eat tomorrow. Screw being healthy. Fuck it. Once I start eating I apparently can't stop. I can't be aloud alone with food. I'm a disgusting pig! This shouldn't be so difficult, but it is! Why? What the hell did I ever do to anyone to deserve this? Other than my sheer existence that is. I want to scream; I want to cry. But I don't know how, I don't know what to do.


Oh my god. I really need to stop now. I'm sorry, this was a fail of an update. There is nothing about my day actually in here. Just.... I don't even know. Sorry.