life inside the music box ain't easy...

"dear book, this is another day in my life. a life is like a book. a book is like a box. a box has six sides. inside and outside, so, how do you get to what's inside? how do you get what's inside, out? once upon a time, there lived a very pretty girl, who lived in a beautiful box, and everybody loved her." -gia marie carangi [01.29.60 - 11.18.86]

[eegee]

Lazarus.

I’m back, bitches. One of my resolutions for the past few years since I stopped blogging was to blog more. Better late than never, right?

I’ll spare everyone (“everyone”, meaning the one or two people that actually still read my shit)  the details of what I’ve been up to the past few years. Nothing life-changing, mind blowing… Let’s just fast forward to the present, shall we? I’ve lost weight, gained weight, lost a little weight, then finally have stabilized my weight. Am I happy? Not one hundred percent. Am I miserable and crying in a corner? Also no. I’m always going to care what I put in my mouth and I’ll never stop trying to be fitter and more athletic than I was the day before. I WILL, however, enjoy my life and not miss out on opportunities just because I didn’t have time to fit in a workout. I WILL go out on Saturday nights with friends even though there won’t be any dairy-free options or a salad bar. I’m so over isolating and hating myself. It’s really exhausting. I won’t say that I’m “recovered”. That word holds serious weight and I’m not ready or even close to using it. I know I’m not recovered because I still think I’m chubby and can afford to lose more weight. I’m not recovered because I still look up new diets and google articles on “How To Bounce Back After Vacation”… while on vacation. Despite the fact that my mind still plays tricks on me, I at least can acknowledge that. I can recognize and sit with the uncomfortable feelings that wash over me. I’m doing it right now. I’m currently on vacation in Vermont and I’m chillin’ with the uncomfortable feelings of guilt, gluttony, and laziness. I have not exercised since Wednesday and my diet the past few days has consisted of junk food (AKA my “fear foods”) and champagne. The anxiety is creeping in. “Giiirl, your face got even fatter. Good luck fitting in your clothes, you bloated biotch.”

[inhales, exhales]

Alright. So I’m on fucking vacation. I needed to give myself a break. And, yeah. That means letting go of my rules and routine. It means eating and drinking whatever the fuck I want because I never allow myself to indulge to this extent. Let’s call the theme of this Vermont trip “Soul Lovin’”.

Jacklyn has risen from the negative thoughts once again.

[eegee]

It's not a surprise I have an issue with food...

The people who are closest to me know I have a love/hate relationship with food. Do you have any idea what it’s like to look at a fully stocked fridge and a plentiful cabinet and get upset because you have “nothing” to eat? Do you know how jealous I am of the people who can so easily pour a bowl of cereal without measuring the serving size? Or even those who can eat a sandwich? Holy shit. What I would give to order a sandwich. When I finally allow myself to indulge, and those moments are very rare, (once a month maybe?), I hate myself. “You fat fuck. No pizza till the end of February. And only one slice!” The drill Sargent never stops. In my sleep I hear Her. “Your ring is tighter. Your fingers are bloated from all that junk food you ate. You better fix this. You’re weak! You want to be a size two, don’t you? Be better! BETTER!” “You’re not anorexic. You do eat.” The most common misconception. Anorexics eat. We do. Sure, there are the walking stereotypes. The emaciated ones with their bones jutting out everywhere. But it’s us that are the most dangerous. The ones who seem normal. We’re the ones to look out for. Slowly dying on the inside. She’s killing me. She’s making me miserable. She’s ruined every relationship I had and is putting a strain on the remaining friends I managed to keep. I want Her to leave. But She won’t. Not completely anyway. I hate myself. I want to be happy but She won’t let me. If I’m really good, if I skip that apple from breakfast to lunch, I can keep Her quiet. If I stop eating after lunch and wait till dinner, She’s happy. Ironic, isn’t it? It’s us that want that control, but our disease is what’s controlling us. We stop enjoying what we once did because our abusive spouse doesn’t like it. I can’t do this anymore. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have that piece of cake. Fuck you. Fuck you.

[eegee]

Chapter 1...?

With the New Year coming up, I want to actually DO something. I want to do things and stick with them. I Want...:

To be happy.

To feel sexy in my own skin.

To STOP comparing myself to other women.

To pursue my dream.

To write more. (I vow to write an entry at least once a day.)

To stop gossiping.

To stand up for myself and others.

To work harder.

To reach out to old friends.

To let go of all the toxic people that make me feel less than.

But more importantly... I want to give myself a break every now and then. I criticize myself WAY too harshly. I always think my best is not enough and that I can be better. I can be more perfect if I just tried. The truth is, I know I can be lazy. But who doesn't? I don't think I've fully grasped the definition of what it is to be human. To make mistakes. I haven't realized that no one is perfect. Isn't that what they teach you at an early age? No one is perfect? I've always liked a challenge. So striving for perfection has been a goal of mine. It isn't going to happen. Try your best, but don't beat yourself up over it if things don't go the way you want them to. Ugh. I just need to remember that. I'm turning this blog into a journey for complete and utter happiness. Starting today. My name is Jacklyn. Welcome to MY "Happiness Project".

[savegrace]

[th0serubber-peanuts-deactivated]

Some people just really don’t understand

[eegee]

draw a blue star on your hand today if you or anyone you know is/was suffering from an eating disorder.

[flossiemcknight-deactivated2023]

how far have you walked for men who’ve never held your feet in their laps? how often have you bartered with bone, only to sell yourself short? why do you find the unavailable so alluring? where did it begin? what went wrong? and who made you feel so worthless? if they wanted you, wouldn’t they have chosen you? all this time, you were begging for love silently, thinking they couldn’t hear you, but they smelt it on you, you must have known that they could taste the desperate on your skin? and what about the others that would do anything for you, why did you make them love you until you could not stand it? how are you both of these women, both flighty and needful? where did you learn this, to want what does not want you? where did you learn this, to leave those that want to stay?

Warsan Shire (via flossiemcknight)

[jewahl]

[theniftyfifties]

Anthony Perkins, 1957.

[girlshbo]

WHEN GIRLS' RIDES ARE LATE

           via iamunsmoteable

[eegee]

i legit used to think the same exact thing, hah.

[theresaann]

Why does this all have to be so complicated?

Why can’t I just be like those people and not give an eff about anyone but me.

Why am I holding myself back?

Leaps of faith are much more scary than they should be.

I want to fast forward this part.

[girlshbo]

WHEN GIRLS GROW UP

via popculturebuzz

[eegee]

this was one of the few times i actually felt a connection between myself and hannah. that whole little monologue is true for everyone.

"i know. i cut myself all the time picking up glass."

[theniftyfifties]

Brigitte Bardot

[jamesdeaner]

[theniftyfifties]

James Dean

[eegee]

i have said this for years now... james dean is my idea of the perfect male specimen.

[live-to-the-point-of-tears]

Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath. Stress is an ignorant state. It believes that everything is an emergency. Nothing is that important. Just lie down.

Natalie Goldberg (via cosmic-koz)

[erickgonz]

[eegee]

"girls" guys.

[asmallopinionata-deactivated201]

I had this girlfriend who at first I didn’t like very much. Or I didn’t take her very seriously, I guess. She just seemed like, you know, a piece of ass. But she was persistent, man, and she just hung around, and hung around, and showed up at my place, and gradually, it started to feel better when she was there. It wasn’t love, the way I imagined it. I just felt weird if I didn’t know what she was up to or whatever. And I liked knowing that she was going to be there, and warm, and staying the night. And she acted like I was teaching her everything about fucking history, about sex. She didn’t know what street Central Park started on or how to use soap, and I showed her. And I wanted that chance to show someone everything. But she changed her mind about me, and it was that fast.

Adam Driver, Girls (via asmallopinionata)

[eegee]

"once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a young girl whose hair was made of gold. when the people in the village saw her, they said, 'oh, how beautiful she is.' ... but the people in the village were very poor and every night they crept into the house where the girl slept and they cut off a piece of her golden hair and they sold it for money. 'she'll never even notice,' they said. and so, all the gold was gone from her head. and the people said, 'oh, she's not beautiful at all,' and they took her from the beautiful house and they drove her into the street. and she went away. and she never came back. and soon people became hungry again and they went back into the beautiful house looking for gold...but there was no one there."

[filmsploitation]

Gia (1998) dir. Michael Cristofer

[eegee]

yep.