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I’m not really even sure anymore..

I deleted so many posts today, only because they reminded me of when I was sick, they reminded me of a time when I was figuratively trying on different hats to see what I liked, but nothing ever stuck. Everyday I think that tomorrow is going to be better, and everyday the same shit happens. I’m tired of having to force myself to eat, I’m tired of my anxiety being so high I can barely function, I’m tired…really that’s all it is. I want things to be easy again, I want to go out with friends, I want to actually have friends, I want to be able to go through my day without having to have such a strict meal plan in place. I want to be able to eat what I want and when I want it knowing that even if it’s a little too much or not exactly enough that it will all work out in the end, but I’m not there yet.

For me, I was always afraid of gaining weight because I associated it with a loss of control and that scared me, but losing weight is just as terrifying. So now I’m stuck in a position where I feel like I have to control everything I do; I have to be in control of everything I say, everything I eat, every action, every thought of every moment of everyday and in doing so I’m losing everything that makes me who I really want to be.  I lost control before, I lost control before and stopped eating…I can’t let myself get back there.

I’m scared.

I’m scared that I’m not good enough, that I’m never going to accomplish anything, I worry that nobody really likes me and that they are all pretending because people don’t like being around depressed people. I’m so scared that I have to put on a mask every morning so that people don’t really see how bad things are, I’m a chameleon, every conversation I’m a different person. Which is why I don’t know how to act in groups, I don’t know which version of myself to be so I just hide away and hope that somebody comes to me. I hate it. I’m disgusted with myself every time I look in a mirror, because all I see is a monster constantly changing faces. The funny thing is, people come to me for help because I’m reliable, I’m responsible, “I have my shit together”, but nobody will ever see how bad it really is.

You’re never going to see this

You’re never going to see this.

You’re never going to know how much you meant to me, never going to know how much it hurt when you walked away. After all that happened, after all that we went through, you walked away. You left, you found somebody else. You tell me that I’m the most important person to you, and you spend all your time with her. You say that I’m the person you care about the most, but you treat me like I’m nothing. You ignore me, you avoid me, you do whatever you can to spend as little time with me as possible. You told me to talk about my feelings, and then you shoot me down every time I try. I’m sorry that I’m not what you thought I was, I’m sorry that I’m not comfortable with hanging out with you and you’re new girlfriend, I’m sorry that I couldn’t meet somebody as quick as you did. I wish I could fix all that I broke between us, because there obviously has to be something wrong with me for you to treat me like this. I had to do something wrong, but you always lie and say I didn’t. You try to protect my feelings by hiding the truth, and lying about what is going on. You’re never going to know how much you hurt me, you’ve stopped caring, you abstain from listening, you’ve giving up trying. You were and still are everything to me, and now I’m nothing to you.

The worst part of all of this, no matter how bad it gets, no matter what happens, I wouldn’t change anything. I would do it all over again exactly the same way, because having these past few months with you were worth more to me than having a lifetime without.

My Struggles

For so long I had been hiding all that was wrong with me, all the issues I had, all the frustrations. I thought that life would be easier if I just pretended that everything was fine, that somehow things would get better if I just ignored all the problems. The depression that took over my life, the anxiety that keeps me from doing anything, the eating disorder that kept me weak. I wouldn’t let myself talk to anybody, growing up I was always taught that it was the manly thing to do to suppress all your emotions, because men weren’t supposed to have emotions; men were strong, confident, brave, and able to take on endless tasks without showing any signs of weakness. That wasn’t me. I wasn’t strong, brave, or confident. I wasn’t able to take on everything, I could barely handle getting out of bed.  It wasn’t always that way though, but I don’t have any memories from before it started getting bad. My memories consist of constant arguing, fighting, hateful comments, a family more content on bringing each other down instead of trying to make things better. I was an outsider in my own family, I had to actively try to hide my emotions or risk being belittled by my father. I had to hide my weak points, hide the times I was scared because my mom had enough to deal with. I couldn’t be near my sister, because she hated everything that I was and made it a point for me to know how little she cared.

It wasn’t really until I started college that things took a turn for the worse, without the constant need to put on a show for my family I retreated into the blank canvass that I was. I never really had the chance to figure out who I was growing up because I only ever focused on making others think I was something else, something that they would like and get along with. I became a chameleon. I didn’t know who I was. That’s when the depression took over. I couldn’t get up to go to class, and if there wasn’t a test I didn’t see the point. I started failing out of college, which was another thing on the long list of things that I had to hide. Then the eating disorder came in. I would go days without eating, almost as a way to prove that I could do something. Like somewhere somebody would be proud that I could go without food for days, somebody would look at me like I had complete control because I could keep myself from needing even the basic necessities of life. It took me 6 years before I could even tell somebody that I had an eating disorder.

When I told my dad about it, it was the scariest thing that I had ever done. I had to show all my weaknesses to the person I was trying the hardest to keep them from, and for the first time I saw a whole new person. The man I saw before me wasn’t the hard, unforgiving, uncaring father that I knew for 24 years, it wasn’t the person so hell-bent on destroying my mother that he took me down too. He was scared, and I had never seen him scared like this before.  I told him that I needed to go somewhere to deal with the eating disorder and he was supportive, and he did everything that he could to make it work.

After telling him, I had to tell everybody else in my family. Much to my surprise, everybody said they would do anything to help me, that they would support me no matter what. For so long, I had these impressions on what it meant for a man to have an eating disorder, it’s always talked about being something that girls deal with. So if I had an eating disorder it really meant that I was somehow less of a man. So I put myself into a treatment center and spent the hardest 3 months of my life trying to get to a better place. Things aren’t better for me, every meal is still a struggle, there is a war going on in my mind every second of everyday, a war between ending it and knowing that things get better. I’m not perfect, I can’t make things better overnight, but I don’t want to stop fighting. I’m tired of these feelings, and I’m the only person who can make them better.


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