I messed up

I cut. Yesterday afternoon. I just decided, what the hell. What the point anyway? Why is this so bad? Of course, I was rationalizing. I had an interesting conversation with myself in my head. My friend say there are two mes, the me who wants to live and be happy, and the me who wants to hurt myself and be in control.
Me #1- happy me
Me #2- hurting me

Me #2: You could just cut. Why does this matter? It's helping you.
Me #1: Yes, but then I would disappoint everyone. I should really call a friend.
Me #2: Ok, well think of it this way- cutting is helping and hurting you. Quitting is helping and hurting you. So what's the difference.
Me #1: I guess... *wavers*
Me #2: Ha! *cuts self*
Me #1: Wait! I wasn't done fighting yet!
Me #2: Too freaking bad. You were too slow, as usual.
Me #1: Well, I guess now that it's done, I shouldn't feel guilty about it because then I'll just cut again...

I love my internal conversations sometimes. I've never thought of there being two mes. I've always thought about it being me against self-injury, or me against my ED. But I guess it was me against myself the whole time...

I am also convinced that I am in control of this thing, when really, I'm not. It's like how I was completely convinced that I was in control of my ED, when that's silly, because you never are. You think you are. You are NOT. It controls you. If I was in control, then I wouldn't have crazy urges to hurt myself all the time.

The cut was a little bad. I should just really stick to safer things, because razor blades are scary. Or, I should really just not do it. My friend came over, and I gave her my last razor blade. I swear this time. I already miss it.

Well, I have more to say, but I SERIOUSLY need to write my papers. I have two 8-10 page papers due in a week... fml. <3 you all.

Blah de blah de blah

So, I kind of lied. I didn't get rid of all my razors. I kept one. Sorry. But I didn't use it! I had a difficult situation last night where I was legitimately sitting on my bed, holding it to my ankle, getting closer, changing my mind, getting closer, changing my mind, getting closer, changing my mind. It was getting really ridiculous and I knew that I either needed to do it or get the hell out of my room. I decided to do it. And then my alarm went off. I had set it for a nap and woke up early and never turned it off. It was seriously a Godsend. So I got up, put the razor away, and hauled ass to a friend's room.

This is really freaking hard and I don't want to do it. But I guess I have to. It just doesn't seem like a big deal anymore! I've been doing it for so long that it doesn't bother me and it just seems like part of life.

But anyways, I was reading Emry's blog, and I realized that I passed the one year mark of when I started this blog and didn't even notice! On April 4th, 2010, I wrote my first post. WOW. It's amazing how much difference a year can make. I'm just glad to still be alive, because there were some close calls.

Well, off to breakfast! Yummmmmmmmmmmm. Coffeeeeeeeeeeeee.

I'm ok, really

I guess the last post was a little concerning, so I thought I'd post again, cuz I got some worried comments.

I'm ok. My friend (who reads this blog) came over and took my razors away. It was hard and I'm scared without them. I feel like, what's the point? I'm never going to be able to give them up completely. It's been nine freaking years since I started this! And I've tried to quit so many times. The longest I ever went was right after I went into recovery for my bulimia when I was 16/17. I went 1.5 years, I think. I was so focused on recovery that I didn't even think to cut. But then I got to college, and that made me cut again.

But anyway, I know it's bad for me. I also know that it helps me a ton. I realized (for the first time, can you believe that, after 9 years??) what I like about cutting. I mean, it's not the only thing I like about it, but you know. I like that my mind is finally clear after I do it. All I have to focus on is the cut, the blood, the clean-up. I don't need to think about anything else because that takes priority. And my mind stays pretty blank for a while after, which is nice, since my mind is usually going a mile a minute. After I cut, I like to do something easy, like watch TV, because I'm generally tired and calm.

For example, I cut on Monday before my Nutrition class so that I could get through it. I hate that class, mostly because I hate the professor. He is stupid and infuriating, and I frequently end up snapping at him. Which I don't do with ANY other professors. EVER. So I cut beforehand and it worked. I was able to get through class calmly. Clearly, this is not the way to do it. But it was nice for once.

Writing about cutting makes me want to cut. I still have my scissors (they're my knitting scissors, you can't have them, sorry), but I probably shouldn't use them. I won't. It's right before breakfast and I don't have time. I mean, I probably shouldn't anyway, but that's my rationality to myself (the part that wants to cut).

Well, gotta go eat. I love you guys :)

Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb

I'm a stupid idiot. Seriously. So you know how I was hooking up with Isabel? Well I'm a dumbass. I have feelings for her. Lots and lots of feelings. Like possible love feelings. I'm fucked. I've gotta get out of this as fast as possible. But I don't want to... I don't know if I can do it.

We had a talk on Saturday. She initiated it, and asked what I thought we were doing, where it was going, how I felt, etc. I told her that I had some feelings but that it was fine because I knew exactly what I was doing (it's all for her, it's her big lesbian college experience, she's basically using me for sexual favors). I do know exactly what I'm doing. I'm just not sure I should be doing it. I'm dumb. Really, really dumb.

After our talk, which we had on the way to this dance show, I cut myself. 26 days down the drain. Fuck. And since then, I've cut at least three times per day. Saturday, Sunday, today. Well, today I've only cut twice but I'm about to do it again. And I went to Walgreens today and bought real razors. The really sharp, scary ones that I shouldn't be allowed to have because I freak myself out with them and usually need stitches (but never get stitches). I'm a dumbass. Dumb dumb dumb dumb.

Dumb.

Life. It sucks. I'm depressed. And suicidal. Not much, but enough that it's not just a passing fancy. I think my therapist and I have some sort of agreement that I call her when I feel suicidal, or else she won't treat me. But I can't remember. So better not tell her about this. I can't tell anyone. I can't have anyone tell on me. I'm supposed to be fucking past this! What the fuck? And going back to the hospital would be a waste of time and money (plus I'm not that far gone yet). The hospital was stupid. Didn't help. I'm stupid. I could call a friend but I never do. I could pray to God to help me, but I never do. I could actually care, but I never do.

Dumb.

Also, Lent is over, so I can eat chocolate! That is the one bright spot this week. Yummmmmmmmmm.

Soooo

My best friend and I are in a fight again. This is so frustrating! I'm starting to question our whole friendship. I won't go into the details, but it's something really stupid again. I'm just concerned... why do I even call her my best friend?
- I don't trust her as much as I trust my other friends.
- She would be my second or third call if I needed help with something (ED, cutting, rape related).
- We fight about stupid stuff all the time.
- I feel like she is always judging me.
- Every time we have an argument, she manages to make it all my fault. She is never doing anything wrong.
- She makes me feel like a bad person when we fight.
- She doesn't know what I need (in freak-out situations), and doesn't tend to listen when I tell her.

All of this makes me question if we should be friends. The other thing is that we are basically best friends by default. She doesn't have any other friends and I don't have any other friends who don't already have a best friend. I hate being the third wheel, and I'm not with her. But that shouldn't make us best friends... I don't know. This sucks. Thankfully, she's studying in Chicago next semester, so I won't see her as much.

In other news, I forgot to tell ya'll that I purged... yah. I don't know what to make of it. I think this was a few weeks ago, but I can't remember exactly when. I was drinking and it was the end of the night. I was trying to sober up, and thus was eating cheetos and drinking a crap-ton of water. I was feeling like I was going to barf anyway, so I made myself throw up to hurry the process along. But unfortunately, it didn't stop there. I did that several times during the following two hours. I don't know what I was thinking, but I don't think it was a good idea all around. I don't think I needed to keep barfing, so I'm not sure what my thought process was. So like I said, I'm not sure what to make of that.

And finally... I had another hook-up. No, not with Isabel. I went to a party on Tuesday night (we didn't have class on Wednesday because it was Spring Day, which is a day every year where we just get to have fun- bouncy castle, water balloon fight, laser tag, dunk tank, etc.) and I met this guy. He wasn't that attractive, but he started grinding on me on the dance floor and I didn't stop him. Eventually, we ended up making out and I brought him back to my room. He was kind of a douche... he dissed Greek life, which pissed me off, but I let it slide. But when we were hooking up (making out topless, basically), I was just BORED. He was a bad kisser and I was bored. My body was responding, but my brain was somewhere else. Instead of thinking about the hook-up, I was thinking about my laundry... lol. So I finally kicked him out. I told him that I was too sober, haha. And I was, I was totally sober. Also, he gave me this huge hickey, but I'm a MASTER at getting rid of hickey's, so it was gone the next day (ha!). But after he left, I showered because I felt dirty. He was gross and I should have known better. Ew ew ew ew.

All of this kind of worries me. I'm hooking up with people, drinking more, feeling happier and more confident for no reason... does this sound familiar? It sounds like last semester to me. I really don't need a hypomanic episode right now. Please go away, hypomania... grr. Maybe I'm just paranoid. Idk.

Sorry it's been so long!

Hey ya'll, sorry it's been so long since my last post. School got pretty crazy and I legitimately forgot about this blog. Having two blogs is getting confusing...

Not much to tell here. I had two job interviews last Friday and I found out this Friday that I didn't get either job. I only have one (out of nine summer internships that I applied for) internship that hasn't rejected me yet... I'm slightly freaking out. I realize that even if the summer internship doesn't work out, something will happen and it will be ok. God will take care of me. But that doesn't mean that I can just forget about my anxieties and be completely fine, just like that. Ha. Yah right.

I did a 36 hour prayer fast with the Christian Fellowship group at my college this weekend. We started at 8 pm on Friday night and just broke our fast this morning at 8 am. Yesterday we spent the whole day together, praying, having fun, chilling out, and fellowshipping. It was really fun! And just what I needed too, because I had a craptastic Friday, so it was nice to have a fun, relaxing Saturday. The fasting part was a little dangerous and challenging for me, because of my history with fasting. Fasting was my absolute favorite thing to do when I was restricting. I LOVED fasting. It made me feel powerful, superior, clean, empty, beautiful, strong. I loved the feeling of complete emptiness. I loved that I had the willpower and cunning to avoid eating for days at a time. I once fasted for five days before I broke down and ate. Of course, my fasts always ended in binges, but usually some of the weight loss stuck.

Anyhooooo... I had a little bit of a food issue yesterday. I found myself afraid to drink the gatorade that we had available. I kept thinking about the calories and felt like it was cheating. Every time I've fasted before, I only drank water. Eventually, I had to tell a friend that I was freaking out and after that I was more able to make myself drink some gatorade and not obsess over it.

Thankfully, I was ok when we broke our fast this morning. Except I'm SUPER full right now and my stomach hurts :( But it was totally worth it. We were praying mostly for homelessness, which was really good. It was nice to focus only on God for the whole day.

Other than that, nothing much has happened, at least that I can remember. Oh wait! I started hooking up with my friend Isabel again. We hooked up for a bit in October and then I started getting jealous of her boyfriend so we stopped. But she's graduating in three weeks (noooo!) so I decided that I would ask her if we could do it again. We hooked up last night and it was freaking amazing. I felt great afterwards. So good. I have no words to describe it. Aaaaaahhhhh.

But yes. That's it. Love you all! <3

Friend situation resolved

My friends and I made up on Saturday night. My best friend and I talked for a while, which turned into arguing, until we agreed that we can be friends if we just never speak about the incident again. My other friend and I talked too, but we didn't have as many issues to work out, so it was easier. After we all kissed and made up (metaphorically, although I have kissed both of them while drunk), we went to WalMart and bought Monopoly! We have been thinking about buying it for a while, and it just seemed like the opportune moment. And get this: it has electronic banking! It has credit cards and a credit card machine. It is SO COOL. I want to play Monopoly all the time now.

Other than that, life has been pretty good. The urges to starve have pretty much dissipated. I had one incident on Sunday when I had asked a friend what she had heard about me, and she told me that people talked about how I was mentally unstable. That really hurt me, because although it may be true, it hurts to hear it said in those words. I would prefer that it was phrased differently. At that moment, I wanted to hurt myself. But I went and sought out a friend to talk to, and it was all ok.

I got baptized on Sunday, which was pretty baller. I don't feel any different, but I am really glad I did it :)
On a last note, have you guys seen the video called Old Gregg? WATCH IT. SERIOUSLY. I almost died laughing.

Best. Video. Ever.
Love you all!

Blah blah blah blah

Sooo... I've been checking my weight and fighting a lot of urges to starve again. But you know the funny thing? I'm eating what I normally do, and I'm losing weight. Not a ton, but I'm almost back to where I was when I was starving. I've lost three pounds since the starving incident on accident. Ha! It does exist! Lol. I'm resisting the impulse to not eat though. Honestly, it's all God. I don't talk much about my faith on this blog, but I know that God is protecting me and I have been asking for his help with the impulses every time they happen. And it works!

In other news, my friend Dana (the other friend involved in the Saturday night incident) tried to tell me that I have an alcohol problem. Like, what? She saw me eating alone yesterday at lunch, and she came to talk to me. We talked a little bit about what had happened Saturday, and then she told me that she thinks I need to watch my drinking and that she's just looking out for me. She had another friend who had to leave the school because of her drinking, and apparently she sees the same stuff in me. I repeat, what? Seriously, if anyone was going to tell me that I had a drinking problem, it would have been last semester, when I was binge drinking to the point of fuzzy memory and blacking out on both days, every weekend. And no one did. Why now?? This semester I have drank a total of 5 times. All five times were with Jamie (my ex-best friend). One time I drank before a show because I was afraid I would freak out during it if I didn't (it was the Vagina Monologues and there are monologues about rape, so I was nervous). The fourth time, two weekends ago, someone called me a slut and alluded to the night I was raped, and I freaked out and ran away from my friends because they weren't being helpful. And then the fifth time was that Saturday incident last weekend. And yes, sometimes I do go over my limits. I'll say I'm going to drink 4 drink and I have 5. Big fucking deal. I don't have a freaking alcohol problem. Do I? What do ya'll think?

Other than that, it's been smooth sailing. This semester is fairly easy. Only 3 classes and very few other commitments  It's nice! So I guess that's it :)