Sunday, October 3, 2010

I never wanted this. If I had known exactly what it entailed I wouldn't have wanted it. Or maybe I still would have, maybe I just hated myself enough then that I would have thought any amount of suffering, small or large, was what I needed and deserved. You can never truly know what it's like to hate your body with such passion unless you have an eating disorder. I didn't know then that it would grab me by my shoulders and pull me down so quickly and bury me deep within the earth. I didn't know that not only would it bury me but it would build mountains and make lakes above me so that it's damn near impossible to get out. I didn't know what I was getting myself into, but how could I? I read the books, did the research but you don't know the hell of an eating disorder until you develop one.

I hate myself. I honestly hate myself. I hate who I am on the inside. I hate who I am on the outside, and I hate that people notice my appearance. I hate it when people stop and glance back for a double take. I hate that they are so obvious and I hate that by now it's become obvious. I have spent the last ten years running from some former version of me. I hate the things that I've done, the people I've hurt and I hate the things that have happened to me. I wake up every morning and am both amazed and disappointed that I'm still alive. I have always been terrified of getting older. It's a terror that causes my body to tremble and my mind to blank. It's a terror that causes my mood to dip and my body/mind to turn to a device that numbs. I dealt with it before by taking a blade to my skin and becoming nothing more than a pile of bones covered in skin. How do I deal with it now? It's not like I can prevent it, getting older is inevitable and, quite honestly, a right of passage. How do I deal with the demons inside my head? How do I prevent my mind from going into such dark and deep places?

My mother wasn't there for me, I get it. I get that it makes sense for me to have issues surrounding that. This is the part where I should cry and ask her to be there for me and happily ever fucking after right? Wrong. When I was younger I made a pact with myself that I would never show any emotion to her. She tore me away from my family and my home, she tore me away from the desert. She planted me somewhere and never bothered to help me deal with such a major transition. She gave me a roof over my head, a bed to sleep and put clothes on my back. She fulfilled her parental obligations and left it at that. I had watched her pick and tear at my sister. I watched my mom yell and scream and throw things. I held my sisters hand as she wiped the blood from her face and sobbed. My sister left and I was alone with her. I became the outlet. I became her punching bag and her target, if you will. It wasn't quite as bad at first, it was more neglect than anything else. She was a single mother trying to support her children without any help, and she reminded us on a daily basis. She told us we should be happy because we were alive. She told me that she should have had an abortion and that I ruined her life and we should be more appreciative. Tip toe through the house now girls, you don't want to wake mommy. Stop that now girls, you aren't being what I want you to be. Girls, how many times do I have to tell to stop being children and stop needing things children need? Don't cry girls, can't you see how hard I've worked? I've done everything for the two of you. I put clothes on your back and gave you a roof over your head, the least you can do is smile and be studious and thank me daily for all my hard work. What's that? Oh, I'm sorry your life must be so hard being a child, quit feeling sorry for yourself.

Everything she said and did was completely irrational. When I was 14 I overslept and missed the bus, she had to take me. The next morning she came in my room at 4am and told me to get up. I told her I was tired and would wake up at 6am. She yelled at me and said she wasn't going to take me to school if I missed the bus and stormed out. She came back in with a bucket of ice water and dumped it on me. I said, "what the hell?" and she started yelling at me telling me to "GET OUT OF THE FUCKING BED YOU LITTLE BITCH!" I got up and went into the dining room. She was stomping around, slamming things and started throwing Tupperware at me. I begged her to stop and to calm down, she ignored me. She left big bruises all over my legs and a week later asked me how I got them. In high school I took honors and AP chem and stayed late one day after cross country practice to get some help with it. She was supposed to pick me up at 4:30pm. I waited until 7:45. I sat there and waited and kept reassuring the principal and school sheriff that my mom was coming. Finally they told me I couldn't be on school property anymore and had to leave. The sheriff gave me a ride home and on the way we passed my mom. I instantly knew I was going to be in trouble. When she got home she started yelling at me and telling me that she was never going to pick me up from school again because I wasn't there. I tried to explain to her that I couldn't stay there any longer and "what was I supposed to do mom, tell the sheriff 'no thanks, my mom is coming?" Those are the kind of things that happened on a regular basis. I forget to take the trash to the curb so she dumps all the trash(including food waste) in my room. She comes home and one of the dogs has puked on the carpet, she picks up the rug and tries to shove it onto my face, I try to stop her and she backhands me. I don't make my bed so she takes it away and I'm left with a pile of boards stacked up in my room. I didn't do the laundry so she takes away my clothes.

It's not fair, it's just NOT FUCKING FAIR! I feel like by posting this I am wallowing in self pity. I would give anything for all of that to just be a lie. I run from this, I run from the sexual abuse/exploitation because it's painful but also because it means there's a whole hell of a lot more on my plate(no pun intended) than I ever bargained for. I run because I worry that I will never be normal and I've spent a lot of time trying to convince myself I was. They say your past makes you who you are and while I don't doubt that I just don't know how to deal with it. I can accept my mom for who she is today because she has changed, she was forced to change. After my behaviors were revealed to the guidance counselor and my bruises revealed to my band director she was forced to change. She was forced to acknowledge that there was a problem. At first she spent all her time blaming my "mental illness" and "oh poor me" I have a daughter who is mentally ill. mentally ill my mother fucking ass you bitch! My actions do not automatically equal a mental illness, they are a reaction, an inability to cope with what life has so thoughtfully thrown my way. They held a mirror to her face and forced to look at herself.

What bothers me is that, in the end, it's not her actions or my past that's the problem. I've removed myself so far from any and all emotions that feeling anything is painful. I worry that I am destined to search endlessly for something I can never have and never had. I have tried, and failed, all my life to get what I didn't get then. I WANT A FUCKING CHILDHOOD god dammit! I want someone to love me no matter what, no matter how flawed. I want someone to hold me and take care of but am too embarrassed to ever admit that. I don't let people love me though because I fear I am unlovable

/novel like entry

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