Tuesday, 21 January 2014

For some reason I am never able to let go of this now am I?

All I want to be is happy and truth be told, I don't remember how to be happy. I don't remember feeling genuinly happy. When I try to think of when I was happiest was when I had hit rock bottom. I was happiest destroying myself and doing whatever the hell I wanted to.

That's so messed up now isn't it?

I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't even have this blog. I was supposed to delete this in like what, 2010/2011? The last time I went into therapy. Earlier this year I nearly got back into therapy but I managed to somehow get out of it. Don't know how that happened, but it did happen.

Perhaps the stress of the exams is doing this to me, perhaps it's the loneliness now everyone around me has suddenly grown up, graduating from uni and moving out while I am stuck here up North because I spent the first year of uni starving myself and sleeping.

I admit that I miss blogging, I miss writing down my thougths and not being judged in any way possible. I miss the connection I had with all of you lot, we had a common goal and a common enemy and that gave me a feeling of belonging somewhere. Right now all I feel is lost, stressed and the awful urge to burn my journalism books and just quite uni again.

On a different note I still haven't gained much weight. Perhaps it's because I forgot how to enjoy food or because my bycicle got stolen and I have to walk everywhere. I don't know.

My roommates are upstairs enoying a night of alcohol, fun and games while I have been digging through old blogposts and laughing at how young and silly I used to be. I had so many 'issues' that, when I look back at those now, make me giggle.

Perhaps I am going to use this blog again, I don't know if I am going to use it for the reasons that I have previously used it though. Maybe perhaps, just every once in a while to rant and to sneakily check up on some old friends of mine.

Ana has never left me, but I think we're friends now. She understands that I need to be alone with my thoughts and I know that if I gain as much as a kilo that I have to get rid of it one way or another to stay at a stable underweight, but healthier weight than before. Does that even make sense?

I don't want to be a fat cow again, but I no longer want to starve myself every single second of the day and pour boiling water over my fat legs after I have eaten a cookie. And after all, I finally have my breasts back, it took me three years of yoyoing but I have finally got my boobs back and I kind of missed them, and the pretty bras that come with having boobs.

Alrigh should get back to studying. Yawn.

Bye blog, thank you for listening to my boring rant.

Sunday, 17 February 2013

One way or another.

I am gonna find happiness. And if it is with this illness or if it is when I am cured the only way I am going to find out is if I push the self-destruct button once again and.. Do whatever the hell I want to do for the upcoming few months and if I get ill enough they will lock me away.. And maybe they can fix me this time and I will find happiness when they have cured me.
Or maybe they won't find out and I can live my life the way I want to live it.

Maybe everyone should stop telling me what to do, what to think and how to live my life because I have not made a single decision that has made me happy in over the past few months. I have anxiety attacks, nightmares, moodswings and all I want to do is stop eating and feel alive again.

Is that too much to ask?
Can I have one easy way out, once in my life? Because I am going to lose this fight to battle my anorexia one way or another and I rather dive back in it and enjoy my life for a couple of months than slowly drown in my own misery again.

Fuck this shit. I am back bitches.

Friday, 18 January 2013


The truth is that limbo is slowly dragging me down the road of failure again. And failure is not something I can use right now.
Didn't pass two exams on a few points and the worst thing is that a part of me wants to fail because then I'll have a reason to get depressed again and stop eating and starve myself. It's the easy way out, something I do not like and something I desperately want to fight against but right now I am sitting here, blogging, in stead of studying.

As if it does not matter that if I fail this year, and won't get enough ECTS that I will have to work in a supermarket for the rest of my life. As if it does not matter that I will lose friends all over again.

I am thinking of getting back into therapy but it is not as easy as I want it to be. Because going into therapy is admitting that something is wrong, admitting that I am having nightmares again and that I just stuck my finger down my throat after a binge. I mean for fucks sake who eats ice cream for breakfast??

Admitting that something is wrong might be the right thing to do, getting into therapy might be a good thing but at the same time it will prevent me from being happy. Though I have to confess getting my ECTS for once would be something that could cheer me up for a while.

There is this part of me that is so incredibly sad, tormented and broken every single second of my life. It causes me so much heartache during the day and prevents me from sleeping at night. The stress of only having 10 ECTS yet while I could have 30 doesn't make anything better. I should study for my resists which are next week, but all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. Scream, get rid of this heartache, pull out my hair and stop living. It's not like I want to die, I just want to give up. I want to curl up in a ball in bed and just lay there for every single second of the rest of my life.

Of course that is never going to happen, so in stead of that I picked up an extra shift at work, I decided to try and study for an hour and study tonight. All night.

This, again, is just a random trail of thoughts. I am seriously not able to function properly anymore because everything I do has some sort of horrible consequence. Getting into therapy means stepping back into that roller coaster, getting pushed around between therapists, doctors, hospitals, you name it I've been there. It also means possibly making it to next year at uni, yet it does not mean I will be happy. There is no certainty that if I go through all of it again that I will get better and that I will be able to start living the life I know I deserve.
I do not think that I deserve this. I really don't. No one does, no one deserves to go through the things we go through every single day. It's exhausting, it's phenomenal, addictive and at the same time it destroys you. Not only physically, it destroys your identity.

Eventually people will find out you'll be stuck in therapy for a while and then you will be either right back where you started or in limbo. And limbo might be even worse. Because you are too terrified to move forward and mortified to give everything up once again.

Oh if only I could do something to make everything either better or worse.


Sunday, 13 January 2013

It's kind of a funny story

According to Bob Dylan one who isn't busy being born is busy dying, seize the moment, carpe diem, live your life like every second, every smile and could be your last. What about the women on the titanic who waved away the dessert tray moments before the ship shank?

Is it weird that I am still stuck in Limbo? That I still do not know what I should do, if I should eat, if I should continue fighting my illness or if I should stay in bed in day. Come to think of it, my life is kind of a funny story as it is not going anywhere, and maybe that is because I am not going anywhere. I don't know. All I know is that there are so many contradictions in my life that it is preventing me from moving on. The choice between my sick kind of happiness and health, the choice between the good and the bad, the bold and the beautiful.

I can choose to be happy, stop eating and lose weight, feel beautiful and perfect or I can accept that I am who I am, and that my big fat nose is not going to change, even if I lose weight and that my stomach will never be flat, my legs won't be thin, and my skin won't be flawless.

I can try and fight every day to eat three meals, to stop myself from either purging or bingeing and being a good girl. Do what the doctor ordered, what my family asked and my friends expect. Or I can let go and eat the food I need to get through the day; live on nicotine and caffeine like I used to do, something I loved more than anything.

I can achieve my goals and be thin again which does not only mean that I don't have to look in the mirror ever again and cry my heart out but I will finally feel beautiful, I will finally get the confidence to do all the things I want to do.. Be able to wear those shorts again. Yet achieving my goals also means being tired, anxious, alone, having no boobs whatsoever and hurting everyone around me.

Basically I don't know what to do. I know what I want, and I know what I should want. There are differences and in the meantime I am just trying my best to stay in Limbo the best I can, trying to get through day by day and at least do the best I can.

I am going to try and recover. I think. I think I am going to try and get rid of the voices in my head and the heartaches, the tears in my eyes. I think I should make this about beating anorexia rather than obsessing over it online. I don't know, I am kind of empty today though not feeling anything also has it perks.

Maybe I should stop now.


Tuesday, 18 September 2012


Since I have moved back up North I am constantly on trains because every week I travel back to my home-town to work and to see my family and friends. Being constantly on trains should be like the most boring thing ever, yet for some reason, I can't seem to get on trains without meeting these strange people and have these weird adventures.

Being the spoiled brat I am I take all my clothes back home for mom to wash them during the weekends so I wont have to do it, I know horrible. This leaves me traveling with a suitcase which is almost as twice as big as I am and weighing too much for me to even properly carry around in the too small trains. I always have to leave it in the corridor annoying people when they try to get past it- believe me it's easily accomplished if people would eat less, I can get past it with ease. Not a problem. Oh well I am babbling away again.

Last Friday, I traveled back home as I do every Friday. Having to change trains two times I was so relieved to be finally home that I got up early to stand impatiently in front of the door. Staring at how my hometown is passing which only makes me more anxious to get off the train, I was completely in my own world not paying attention to how someone had walked after me until suddenly I heard how a voice was talking to me. "Finally, weekend."
Two words that makes anyone react to a complete stranger. So I looked up to see how a pair of twinkling green eyes were checking me out. Immediately I was taken back as the hot  blond haired guy that was standing there seemed to be talking to me. I smiled and politely answered that indeed it was finally weekend. Just confirming what he said, for some reason this only amused him even more. As if he could feel me getting uncomfortable with every word he spoke. Glad I amused at least one of us. He asked me irrelevant questions, why I had the big suitcase, if I liked Uni so far.. I was so incredibly relieved to finally arrive in my hometown after the two and a half hour train journey that as soon as the train stopped I grabbed my suitcase to lift it out of the train, but.. As I wanted to step out of the train the guy stood in front of me and shook his head, demanding me to hand over the suitcase. You should have seen my face, but realizing that the international train to Germany would leave even with me in it I handed over the suit case and jumped out of the train where he was waiting for me. Grinning widely, he handed me back the suitcase. 'Beautiful girls shouldn't have to carry their heavy suitcases themselves.'
Now imagine a train station, only two platforms, crowded as it will ever be and a tiny pathetic girl that needs to carry a suitcase. No one should care. Everyone should mind their own business but there he was. Calling me beautiful. So of course I turned scarlet, thanked him, wished him a nice day and I ran away, deciding to get a cup of coffee, giving him time to leave so I would not have to embarrass myself even more.
Problem is though, as soon as I had my cup of coffee I still had to go down two long stairs to continue my journey home. So imagine having a big blue suitcase, a bag, coffee and being too clumsy to even be allowed to exist.. This could only go wrong, falling on my face, dropping the suitcase and having all my lingerie fly through the air or spill all the coffee over myself... All the possibilities had gone through my mind twice as I looked down the stairs until I felt how someone grabbed my hand and removed the suitcase from my grasp. As I looked up to see the by now familiar green eyes the only thought that ran through my mind was that either he was incredibly thoughtful, waiting for me to descend those stairs. Or a stalker.
So basically he carried my suitcase down the stairs and walked with me outside where it was raining cats and dogs. Of course, knowing my luck, I had to walk home. Living only five minutes away from the train station it isn't a problem, though I would rather not get soaked but I was so happy to be in my home-town that at that moment I couldn't care less. He was still carrying my suitcase though, grinning widely as we were standing in the rain. Getting utterly and completely soaked. We stood there, staring at each other awkwardly, not even talking. Breaking the silence I thanked him again which made him laugh. 'Seems I have to catch the train every Friday at this time so I can carry your suitcase again. Challenge accepted.' With a wink he walked away, hopped in a bus, possibly never to be seen again.

I mean how did that happen? How is that possible.
Things like that don't happen to girls like me. A part of me is still convinced I made the whole story up.

Now I notice that this is going to be a very long post, so I will tell my other train stories a different time. I have plenty of them. Do you have any weird train stories or am I the only one? Please if you have share it!! I would love to know that I am not a freak who attracts stalkish hot mysterious guys. Or something.

Oh well, great motivation for this week to lose weight. Maybe I will see the guy again this Friday. Part of me wants to. I guess.

To be continued...