I want to mess up the okayness

I want to destroy it. I want to self harm just to destroy it. Self harm rather than painkillers as it’s less destructive. It’s fun to be okay. I’m just tired of it. And so on edge and not sure what or why or how to handle any of it.

I feel like all I am doing is pushing off the inevitable.

Eliza

I don’t know what I want

Image result for I don't know what I want

This quote is really true. It kinda defines what I’m thinking at the moment.

I don’t know what I want. I can’t make anything ‘better’ as, I don’t know what’s going on or what I want….

Eliza

Scars. What’s your excuse?

What do you answer when people ask you what your scars are from?

I came across this list here, I was laughing through it.

  • Don’t worry about it. Because of me, they now have a warning label!
  • Well, let me just tell you this: You should NEVER EVER, under ANY circumstances, go out with a guy/girl that you met on the internet.
  • “It’s a long story.” They usually leave me alone, but this one guy said, “I’ve got time.” Then I said, “I fell. [long pause] Ok, so it’s obviously not THAT long.”
  • I took my lizards for a walk and they held on for dear life.

Continue reading “Scars. What’s your excuse?”

Alone

Have I ever said that I feel alone?

Just thinking.

I’m doing okay. Really. There’s just no real stability there. At all. And I want there to be.

It can’t last. And that’s actually okay.

There isn’t anyone who, if I mess up, would be there to help me pick up the pieces.

Did I ever say that I feel alone? It’s not that I feel alone. It’s kinda the reality. Not just kind of. It is. I know it’s a good thing that I actually want it (people) but, doesn’t make a difference.

Eliza

Letter to AH 29th April ’18

Dear AH

I’m going to try and put this down although I’ve no clue how to. As I’ve mentioned, I’m frustrated with you. It’s not that I think you’ve done anything wrong, I actually don’t, yet I’m frustrated. And not really sure how to explain it. I feel like you don’t hear anything I ever say. I know you’ve actually answered that before. With what I think is evident is not even latent. Doesn’t really help to know that. For it goes back to the fact that I feel like I’m talking a different language to most the universe.

Continue reading “Letter to AH 29th April ’18”

Waiting for replies

One of the reasons I try not to be on social media too much – I mean emails/wordpress primarily, for that’s what I use most.

Waiting for replies.

I sit here
I wonder
Am I heard
Am I understood
I look
For ‘likes’
For comments
For thoughts
Sometimes
I get them
Usually not
Yet
I wait
Usually in vain
For replies
Waiting
For replies
Knowing
That I’m alone
Letting
Social media
Define me
When in reality
I define how isolated I am
Whether virtual people
Hear or don’t hear
I don’t need to be
Alone

Thinking about using

I’m constantly thinking about using painkillers. Less so about self harming, although that to. Often about throwing up, but that doesn’t feel like a need. Using and SH do. I know it’s not, but doesn’t change how it registers. I’m tired of thinking about it so much. I’m tired of constantly distracting. I’m tired of ignoring. I’m tired of acknowledging and moving on. Actually, I don’t acknowledge how much I want it enough.

Continue reading “Thinking about using”

Painkillers – TW

Trigger warning. I won’t be editing my words at all.

I’ve learned to swallow. I learned to swallow in order to take the lymecycline. To be honest, I’d begun to learn to swallow in order to take painkillers, but it wasn’t the same. I wanted to swallow in order to take painkillers as I didn’t want to use the soluble stuff I’ve collected. If I use the soluble stuff I have – can I use it without following through on my plan? My plan to use 50 a day for 2 weeks with no plan for after that. No plan other than to have an extra 300, this 300 could be paracetamol, didn’t have to be cocodamol, for the last night. The 50 a day wouldn’t kill me. The 40 a day never did. 50 a day wouldn’t. Could I take soluble stuff without following through. I’d never know. I never went back to it for it was too great a risk. I used codeine. Swallowed those tiny tablets. Only a few. I broke cocodamol down into tiny pieces. So never took more than 8 in a go of those, and only took it a few times. Maybe 5?

I know I’m interrupting myself. I’ve been thinking through this for nearly 2 weeks. Since I learned to swallow. Didn’t see a point in putting down what I’m thinking here. Still not sure if there’s a point. But now I’m writing to write. And writing is always a point. If AH is correct that a part of me is focused and on task – present – when I write, and I think he is right. He put into words with that what I could never fully explain to people. How I could write things I wasn’t aware I thought/knew. How I could tune into the part of me that believes in me. The part that believes in anything, the part that is distant. Writing isn’t always safe, but it’s certainly safer. And has always been a tool. That I’ve always been grateful for. Not sure why I’m rambling about this ;) but rambling is funner than trying to stay focused, especially as then I actually am more focused in some ways.

So yeah, painkillers. I’ve learned to swallow. I told M what I thought about painkillers. Yeah, I know I haven’t yet written it. Her first reaction – before I told her what I was thinking, had just told her that I’d learned to swallow – was one of fear. AH did the same. Makes me so annoyed. Not sure why as I understand them. And I can’t say it’s something I’ve never thought about. Not being able to swallow has kept me safe. I always used soluble painkillers since I couldn’t swallow. It meant drinking gross, nauseating stuff that I could barely stomach. There wasn’t much of a choice. It also meant a distance. There is so little distance between anything in my life. Between thinking and doing. I’m impulsive by nature. You know the kid who in school will be on the other side of the classroom and then get asked what she’s doing there, and will say, oh. The kid who constantly calls out. The kid whose stuff is all so far fetched, because of all the ideas and thoughts in between but who wouldn’t think to say any of that stuff because it’s just so ‘obvious’. Actually I used to give R my train of thought. She found it entertaining. When I said something random. To hear the 10 steps that took me a microsecond in between her comment and my seemingly unconnected reply. So yeah, I’m impulsive by nature. Besides for being impulsive, I’m often not in tune with what’s going on in my world. Okay, okay, I’m rarely in tune with what goes on in my world. So when I went to do my hair in my sisters room (use her curler) and took her curler out of the plug, and was walking out her room, and was like ‘oh’. And put it back and just didn’t do my hair. But that’s what I mean by no time. Had it been hot in my room I would have been burning myself by the time I realized what I was doing, and even if I would have stopped I’d have sent myself spiraling way more than necessary. So to go back to swallowing, or my inability to swallow. I was always actually grateful for it. Never learned to. And was happy that I didn’t. As it gave space before using painkillers. It meant I had time to think first. More time. It was often when the stuff was already dissolved that I decided not to use it and waste it and throw it away. It always was such a waste to throw it away. Although M laughed at me. When I told her that I had a sheet of codeine with one tablet on it, I either was gonna throw it away or keep the sheet. Keeping a sheet for just one was a waste. Throwing it away was a waste. So used it. It didn’t do anything. Codeine actually never gave me what I wanted. It was only if it was a mixture with paracetamol. I asked her what a ‘normal’ person would have done. She said she knows what they wouldn’t have done – swallowed it instinctively. So that’s why I was grateful that I couldn’t swallow. Coz’ of the distance it always afforded me. The pause it gave me. It was like that with a lot of the stuff I’ve used. Things like giving someone an email address I used to rp, that would take me time to access – break into. It’s possible to break into it. Just that I’d attempt to. And after a while I’d realize what I was doing and be grateful not to do it. Grateful for the pause. Instead of being engaged with something by the time I regret it. So I understand their reaction. It’s because of what I’ve said. That I’ve always been grateful that I didn’t know how to swallow. And why. Yet it annoyed me anyways. I’m not sure what does. I’m freezing when I think about it so not gonna do so now, can’t be bothered for freaking out. I can’t handle people worrying about me.

So I learned to swallow. For good reasons. It’s actually good because I’m taking Vitamin B12 now with capsules. Capsules I can swallow. Not sure how to handle tablets. Only have cocodamol tablets. And only around 90. So to get back to the original purpose of this post, what I was thinking about.

I can swallow. Will I ever use the soluble stuff again? Why should I use the soluble, gross, nauseating stuff when I can swallow? Why would I ever dissolve the stuff? The answer is only because I have so much. So was thinking that maybe I should throw it away. Was thinking quite seriously about it. I think I’ve nixed the idea. But I was still thinking about it. That I don’t need it. It’s that, I don’t need it. Throwing it all away will be giving up my plan. Will be taking away a safety net. However much the safety net has to do with messing up completely. It probably wouldn’t kill me the plan I had in place. But it’s still a plan I had. That throwing it all away would take away. A support that was there. So it was just a thought. Not something I think I’m going to act on. I mean that I don’t think I’ll throw it all away just yet. There was a lot I was thinking about. About the fact that I don’t really need the plan there. I re-read a post I wrote (you can read it here), and, the think I noted most about it was that it was memories. That it brought up a whole lot of memories. Neither positive nor negative. Just factual. It felt distant. It feels distant sometimes. The anger at people who were afraid of suicidality. Although now that I’m distant enough, I probably thought about it way more than I acknowledged at the time. It’s not like I don’t think of suicide. But I don’t think of suicide. I don’t actually see it as a viable option. Which I used to. I don’t really see it as an option. The key word here is that I don’t really see it as an option. There is the part that does. But that’s not as real. So throwing this stuff away would be doing away with the plan. Saying I want to live life. In some ways I feel ready to do that. in some ways I don’t. I don’t think acting on the some ways that do is the right thing to do at the moment, however much it’s so real, and really it makes me feel free the thought of it, because the some ways that don’t, that’ll just enter complete freak out mode, and I’m not sure where that will lead to, and I don’t have any real support in real life, so I don’t think it’d be the safest. But I like the fact that I actually do feel ready to throw it away. Even if the parts that don’t feel like it has to and it safest not to. I like that I’ve thought about it.

So that’s my thoughts on painkillers at the moment. I’ve learned to swallow. Do I need the soluble stuff I have? Do I need the plan in place? I don’t have enough for the plan, you know. With the 100 non-soluble I have, and with the paracetamol capsules I have, I probably actually do have enough, but, I also learned that nothing would ever be enough. I don’t need the plan in the same way. Yet, I don’t know that all of me is ready to throw it away. It’s just something was thinking of. And that I spent half an hour rambling about. Well, I rambled about nothing too :)

Actually gotta run. Get ready to go out and help set up somewhere that I don’t know if I’m needed and nervous for as will be at the door and hate being centre of attention. Face the fear and do it anyways has always been a motto. And the person who asked me to help is not someone I’d ever say no to. I’m grateful that he asked. Grateful that I can help.

So long,

Eliza

12 step call I listened to

I’m frustrated. Because I was listening to this call. And it was frustrating me. Some of it I really relate to. Some of it I agree with. Some of it, I don’t at all. And the people who wrote the ‘book’ believe in it so thoroughly. I hate how people follow like blind sheep.

Something I was telling someone about any 12 step program (if I’d join any, I could join SAA, NA, OA, EDA – is there such a thing as eating disorders unspecified anonymous, or just MLIAMA – my life is a mess anon? SA – there is a suicidal anonymous, SHA/SIA – there is no real self harm 12 step program out there, not sure what else. Oh CoDA of course.) was that she should take what she wants and leave what she wants.

There is plenty I would take. There is also some fundamental principles that I would leave. Somehow what I would leave is more important to me. What would I take? Well, there is a hell of a lot I can relate to from what any addict shares. Especially those who are aware. The reliance on whatever it is. The way whatever you’re using has instead of you controlling it and being what you need, become bigger than you, taking over your life. The escape/control/black and white thinking/perfectionism. I love some of the principles I’ve learned around recovery, around 12 step programmes. I love the point of doing it just for today. I love the point of surrendering, not fighting. I love the idea of living your life on life’s terms.

What don’t I like? The powerlessness. I don’t agree with it. No, I’m not rationalizing. I don’t think I’m in control when it comes to using. There’s just a fine line. That I don’t cross. The line where in a 12 step SIA program, they’d say ‘never pick up a razor coz’ it could trigger you’, whereas I say, I’ve used razors to self harm, I’ve used anything I could to self harm, I could live my life staying away from triggers – not possible – I could just live life, being aware, being honest, and trying to stay safe. Meaning that at times using a razor to shave will be a surefire way to get me fighting cutting. At times it’ll be just shaving. Even if it will get me fighting. Do I have to stay away from using it? No. It’s a choice. Or painkillers. I used painkillers last week, was it this week? a couple of times for pain. I didn’t use more. Did I want to use more than I did prior? Yeah. Though I don’t know if it was a connection. Could it have been? Yeah. I didn’t use more. Is it worth the thought spiral? Yeah, it was. I was in pain and didn’t have to stay in pain.

I don’t agree with the powerlessness. I don’t agree with some other stuff that I can’t think of at the moment. Yet there is all I do agree with. I know some people say you can’t take some and leave some. I disagree. Take what works, leave the rest. That’s my opinion. The call frustrated me, listening to a reading on something I so fundamentally disagree with. I can be in control. Not in a way of fighting. Control may be choosing to know that there is an infinite power that created me, that is more than me, that I can let run my life when I can’t run my life. Control may be listening to what I know, or as the big book phrased it ‘my best thinking got me here’. My best thinking led me to mess my life up enough that suicide was a viable option. My best thinking had me using at the expense of my work. Regardless what it was I was using at the time, I wasn’t present for my students. Sometimes it was stuff I’d read/watched. Sometimes the wondering whether the person I was rp’ing had replied. Sometimes it was using painkillers just before work, clouding my head over. Sometimes it was self harming and having to deal with the result instead of being at work.

My best thinking can bring me from here. My best thinking can help me find a way to live my life and love living life. I’m not powerless. I don’t believe in ‘the light’. I believe in a god that created the universe. I don’t know what I think about this god/infinite power as it’s not something I’ve worked through. I’m too angry at this god for creating me. I believe that we’re here through limit. I believe that there is goodness in the world. I am choosing to believe in myself.

I don’t think I really manage to put what I’m thinking down. But I’m grateful that I could put some of it down. Could put some of it into words. I’m grateful per se. Grateful for the changes, minor ones that aren’t so small, that I see. Grateful that for the most part suicide isn’t one of the options I see as viable. Grateful for journaling, for how much it helps me. Grateful for my friends, even as they annoy me. M’s (friend) and AH’s (therapist) reaction to something I said was the same. Which annoyed me. For their fear is relevant and their fear comes from what I’ve told them, I just wanted to express other stuff entirely and it was positive stuff, and yet they saw the negativity too. I’m grateful that I reached out to someone and told her I want to be in touch with her. I’m grateful that I give to people. I’m grateful that my rabbi asked me for help with something small, that he was okay with asking me. I’m grateful to be in an okay place. I’m grateful that however much it may scare me, however much I don’t deserve to be okay, however much I rather what I know, I’m not wrecking the okayness. I’m grateful that I know, that whatever I do, I will be okay, if I mess my life up, I can always get back up, so long as there is life, there is hope. I’m grateful. And grateful to be grateful.

Ramble over for now.

Eliza

Alone

Not sure why I’m in tears. Well, I’m not anymore. Only half. Crying ain’t something I do.

Feeling alone. Was writing this elsewhere. Don’t know if it will help to try and put it down, or if it’ll harm. Well, if it doesn’t help I’ll always just stop writing. Done that often enough. I like typing for I don’t look. I’ve my eyes closed. Lying on my bed. Not sure what to say. I think the title says it all. Alone.

There isn’t anyone I can talk to. I can call S. S.G. that is (if I’m going to initial with surnames too. As there are 4 S’s…). I can actually call S.H too if I’d want. Except that she’ll be asleep with her husband. Well, both will be asleep. M will probably also be sleeping. And I wouldn’t want to call any of them anyways. I’ve nothing to say. And it’s not fair. And they wouldn’t be interested anyways. And I’ve nothing to say.

I hate feeling so alone in the world. And then I know that it’s my fault. If I’d taken up H’s offer, when she sort of offered to be there, she’d be there for me. I’m not interested in anyone being there. I hate people who feel like they have to be there for people. I hate people caring. I can’t handle people caring. And the caring isn’t real anyways. Even if it is, it isn’t. And it doesn’t make a difference if it is or isn’t, coz’, somehow there’s a distance.

I know that no one really cares. I know that everyone would be better off if I wasn’t here. And it doesn’t help how much I also know that it isn’t the reality. For I know that it is so. And it is a little strange that this is what I’m thinking about now, when objectively speaking, I’m really in an okay place. Whatever. So yeah, just feeling really alone at the moment. I don’t want people to be here. I don’t want people to care. If anyone would I’d push them away. Not that they would anyways. And yeah, they’d be better off without me. I’ll tell you what I think. Take M. A good friend. Who actually knows me. M and S, well both S.H and S.G know me. As in they really do know me. Somehow they’re still my friends. Most people who are my friends are my friends so long as they need me. And then they leave. Then they call when they want something. I can’t figure where R fits in. What she wants from me. Why she’d want to be my friend. She’s way too ‘normal’ for lack of a better word. Besides that she lives in a different country and I rarely see her or speak to her. She actually keeps the relationship going, and I don’t know why. With the other people, I wonder, if I wouldn’t keep my part of the relationship, if they wouldn’t need me, would they be here? The answer is no. They wouldn’t. I know it. And it’s normal. And, dunno. I don’t know what I want. I want people to care. Yet I don’t. If anyone does I won’t be able to handle it. I remember when I got burned. When people asked me how I was I’d flip out on them. Couldn’t deal with it. I hated that my dad prepared me an apple. Hated that he’d do it for me when I couldn’t. Any other time I’d have appreciated it. I hate this. I hate that really it’s just my issue.

Coz’ objectively speaking, my family care. I know they care for their sakes more than for mine. But they care. my friends care. For their sakes too. But they care. I just don’t believe that they do. I honestly don’t. And that’s not anyone’s issue but my own. So I’m feeling alone. And that’s my own issue. For not being able to believe that anyone can want to be here as part of my life. And then I wonder if it really is my issue. For in reality it’s also the truth.

I don’t know anymore.

Eliza

3 Day Quote Challenge – Day 2

Rules:

  • Thank the person who nominated you.
  • Post a quote for three consecutive days (1 quote for each day).
  • Share why this quote appeals so much to you.
  • Nominate 3 different bloggers for each day.

Thank you Anita!

My quote for today

My past does not define me.

I’ve messed up in my life. I’ve used food – eating too much, throwing up, not eating at all. Self harm. Painkillers. And some other things. I’ve scars. The first time I wrote this quote was actually using henna tattoo. I covered my thigh with it and took a picture. I don’t quite remember why I did that, I think because I wanted to believe it. Now I actually don’t define myself by what I do or don’t do. At all. I can’t say I never think of it, but it’s not usually an issue. It’s just, a part of my life. If I’m messing up at the time. That’s a part of my life. If I’m not, it’s a part of my story. And hey, you know, I’ve an entire life to live. That’s just a part.

There’s another quote that reminds me of this that I’d want to use. I can’t remember the words, but basically, I can look at my scars, and choose what I see them as. I can choose to see them as failure. I can choose to see them as victory.

Your past does not define you. My past does not define me. The only person who defines me is myself.

Come join the challenge (if you’re interested ;) – I don’t know if you do these or not…)

Fight to become
Sara
Beckie

Eliza