Saturday, 18 June 2011

Fighting urges *trigger warning*


Not being able to describe how you feel is the worst thing.
When Nathan asks what is wrong with me I want to find the words that are so easy to look for when writing an English essay or making up a coherant intelligent answer in Psychology.
But when it comes to myself, my mind and what goes on inside it, there are no words.

That is specifically what I have been struggling with today.
I have laid in bed since getting home from Lakeside earlier, paralysed.
Tired, achey, and not wanting to be with anybody or do anything. Even Nathan was bothering me part of the time. I have been like this all day, and as many times as Nathan will ask what is wrong, I can't tell him.
This is my clear indicator, I am not ready for the removal of Prozac, just yet.
It's like being how I was last year, and that is a scary prospect.

I want to starve. I want to exercise. I want to cut.
Yes of course, I can fight those urges a lot better then I could last year, but the fact the thoughts are still there?
Worries me a lot.
I am looking at the marks on my wrist from Monday, slowly fading yet may leave a scar. I regretted it on Tuesday, knowing that I was having a much better day and that I didn't deserve that, now, on Saturday, I look at my wrist and think I deserve every last inch of it.
I hate what mental illness does to you. Wrecks your brain. Deceives you.
Makes the best and most able people feel like they are nothing.

I know starving will wreck my intelligence. But I look at my mum losing weight. Counting her calories. Doing her exercise. And I miss that. She hasn't had this much willpower to lose weight for ages, and although I am happy for her, I am slightly jealous. She isn't thinner then me or anything, but just that willpower. Something I used to have when I was in year 8, 9. The ability to control everything I ate.
Was speaking to Ellis earlier about the pressure this year. If I fall back into depression, again, I am essentially fucked. All the friendships I had made, gone. My grades, gone. 6 months was my time period and that was it. I got much better, sure, but not recovered.
I want University. I want City University. I want my grades. And slipping back, means none of that, ever.
It's becoming a consistant war at the moment between the rational and irrational parts of my brain.

Today, I am really unsure of what side is actually winning.


  1. Recovery can't happen in 6 months, sweet. You're in your recovery still, and it sounds like you were in a really low place to start. But just LOOK at how much you've overcome already! You're back in education! You have friends and passions and love and personality. Those 6 months - that was willpower. To go against all your urges was you, being in charge of your life, fighting a agreed fight than something as easy and petty as losing weight. God knows how naturally that comes when you're in a disordered mindset. My mum has been triggering me lately too and it's so frustrating, but we've got
    to keep our thoughts in more helpful places. I'm glad you're using your Wreck This Journal. School is stressful and you need to ward off some of the anxieties that come with it to be able to focus and take everything one day at a time. Best of luck, mei mei. Stay strong and stay well.

  2. *fighting a harder fight. Thanks, iPhone. :P