I'm Sorry

So this is who I am. On the inside. I have a couple of different blogs, all showing my different personalities, but this is the real me. The beautiful girl with a fucked up mind.

[itliveswithinme]

No

CW: Sexual Assault

It was dark and raining, unsurprising for a night in February in London. She kept her head low as she walked down the street, trying to avoid the worst of the rain. She looked up occasionally to make sure that she was going the right way. The wind whipped around her making her feel as though she was in the beginning of a Halloween movie. Finally she found the door, it was pink and surprisingly inviting for a Sexual Health clinic. As she stepped into the room she squinted against the iridescent light and white walls that accosted her eyes after being in the dark. Her ears rang from the silence in the room compared to the howl of the wind outside. 

She approached the desk, overly aware of the squeak of her trainers on the white tile floor. She opened her mouth and in a voice too loud and too North American she let the nurse know that she had arrived for her appointment. She was immediately self conscious of the eyes on her back. The nurse smiled at her though and handed her a form to fill out

She found a seat and gazed down at the form before filling it out. It was the usual questions: 

Is there a chance that you are pregnant? No. 

Are you breastfeeding? No. 

Is there a chance that you are a victim of a sexual assault? N-. 

She stared at the words, there, in black and white. Was there a chance she was a victim of sexual assault? She glanced up, anxious that someone had seen her stop writing, then she was thrown back to that night. 

She had said no. She had said no right? So then why was he taking her clothes off? Why was he touching her? Why was he clawing at her. No she didn’t want to. He pleaded with her, touched her, she said no. Finally she said yes. It was finally over, she slept, she didn’t mean to. The alcohol clouded her mind, she was tired. She just wanted to sleep. 

He started touching her again. No, she didn’t want it. He didn’t have anything. She didn’t want to. 

Why hadn’t she just left? Why didn’t she leave? Why did she fuck him when she said no? 

She was snapped back to the cold sterile present and put an X in the box marked No. She could have left, she didn’t have to fuck him. Her no could have been stronger.

[itliveswithinme]

Living for others.

We are told to not live for anyone else. We are told that living for ourselves will help us be at peace with who we are. What they don’t realize is that I’m still alive because my parents would fall apart if I ever did something. I’m still alive because my siblings would never be the same incredible people they are today. I’m still alive because I could never put my friends through that.

Sometimes the idea of living for someone else is the only reason why I get through the day. The promise that my friends and family have is the reason I am standing here today. Living for someone else doesn’t always mean living to please them, sometimes it means just making it through the day, day after day so that your loved ones never have to deal with that sort of pain.

[itliveswithinme]

Who am I anymore?

There was a time in my life that thought I wasn’t sure who I was going to be, I knew the type of person that I was. I was skinny, I was bubbly, I was outgoing and sometimes I could string together a sentence or two that maybe sounded pretty okay. Now though, as I’ve gotten older, those things have gone away, I would have never have thought that I would be the person who I am now. I’m not skinny, but I am relatively strong. I’m bubbly sometimes, but my wit and charm have escalated to sarcasm and quick laughter. I’m outgoing, but sometimes my depression cripples me, making it difficult to face people during the day, constantly frustrated, but also unable to sit still.  If you had told me four years ago that I would be a power lifter, on a dragon boat team, dating someone who is just as committed to fitness as I was, I don’t think I would believe you. My body has changed significantly over the past SIX year (yes, it has been 6 years since my hospitalization in 2012), it has gone from starved to strong. It’s teaching me a lot, not all things that I think I want to learn, but things that I have to. I still hate my body, and still battle with my depression, but sometimes I like to think that I am getting better. Slowly but surely. 

[itliveswithinme]

I could never hate anyone as much as I hate myself. Feeling this way is so exhausting and takes up so much god damn time. I wish I could just let it go. Not care so much, maybe finally be happy. But more often then not I think of how much easier it would be if I just never woke up tomorrow.

[itliveswithinme]

Still sick, still fat, so much hate, I just want to get over it

[itliveswithinme]

Ahh yes

I haven't cried about my weight in a while. I mean sure, I get upset when I don't look as tight, or I hit a number I really didn't want to but full out cry? It's been probably 4 months, which is good considering it used to be an every few days endeavour. Being on holiday right after Exams is hard. I didn't move much over exams, I'm not moving much now, but my intake has doubled. My muscle mass is rapidly declining, and my fat stores are shooting through the roof. I can't weight to get home and blast this fat away. I'm not gunna say that I hate myself today, but I'm definitely disappointed. I'm ready to face this challenge head on.

[itliveswithinme]

I had a thought today

I used to want to change every part of my body. Nothing was quite good enough, nothing was perfect. Today, as I looked in the mirror I realized that this was no longer true. Yes, I have a lot of imperfections, but I'm realizing that I didn't want the magic pill that made everything perfect, I wanted the sweat and grind and perseverance to show on my body for everyone to see. I want the work, and the journey. There is nothing quite as satisfying as seeing hard work pay off and looking damn fine.

[itliveswithinme]

D-Day approaches

As November ends, and December approaches, all I can do is think back on what going a month of not weighing myself has meant for me. There have been just as many empowering moments, as disastrous ones. There were many times when I looked at myself in the mirror and actually for the first time in a long time, liked what I saw and then there were times when I couldn’t even look at myself in fear of what it would do to me mentally. As I have gotten older, my capability of caring about my weight as much as I once had has decreased significantly, this doesn’t mean that I don’t care anymore, just not as much as I had when I was 16. I’m scared and excited all at the same time, which is weird considering I thought that I would be more terrified than anything. I’ve come to the realization that it really isn’t possible for me to become fat. I don’t eat junk food very often, I work out everyday for two hours, and walk over 10km a day. That being said, not weighing myself, I have found that I have been giving myself more and more excuses to eat poorly, or eat more than I would normally rather. But to be completely honest, I’m not exactly mad about it. I have been starving myself for so long that I almost created a binge cycle, I wouldn’t eat during the day and then at night I would come home from class make dinner and not stop eating until around 8pm. Then I would be mad at myself for an extended period of time, almost throw up multiple times and then go to bed feeling hungry again. Though this cycle did seem to continue through my month of no weigh measurements, I also found myself being more inclined to go out during the week. I was more social, more willing to do things that I wanted to do, not bound to my apartment due to fear, and then ending up eating too much food anyway. I have also been dating again, which is nice. It’ll be a good reminder for whatever happens on thursday, no matter the weight gain, that 4 different men have found me attractive and have wanted my attention in this time span. That my looks have not changed, and that I am still beautiful no matter what the scale says.

[itliveswithinme]

Let’s have a little chat for a sec

Okay, so I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m gonna say it again. I am currently changing and moving around and just living my life, but this November I decided to adopt my own little mantra - No Weigh November. A little play into “No Shave November” - an excellent cause by the way. I support everything it stands for. But anyway, its been a little weird I’m gonna be honest. For someone who used to be so scared of not being able to weigh themselves, like actually being in tears because I wouldn’t know that day, or weighing myself at 6am before leaving for a family vacation just because I couldn’t not know. So to say the least, this is weird and yet weirdly freeing. Having started taking weightlifting more serious, I have come to the realization that by building muscle, I might put on weight and that is okay. Just as long as my inches are smaller or roughly the same. I’m starting to change my perspectives, I am a very active individual, I work out 6x a week, and am running from class to class as well as eating a mostly plant based diet with little dairy or bad food. My real only vice is drinking, and maybe the drunchies (whoops, a girls gotta have her chicken nuggets and french fries!), so I’m realizing that it would be very difficult for me to become “fat”. Coming to that realization has been a long time coming. It’s been 4 years of crippling fear, and over a decade of self-hate. Now I’m realizing now, and coming to terms with being okay with knowing that I’m an attractive individual and it’s okay to know that. For a long time I was always convinced that I was not allowed to think that I was pretty, so I told myself that I wasn’t, how much does that suck? Then I moved away from home and my best friend taught me to embrace it and that I was allowed to think I was pretty. So that was a neat transition. But now I feel really good. Lifting weights has taught me things about my body, and taught me how to depend on it, and that it can really do anything. My mental health is at a peak, but I’m scared to weigh myself in December just in case I really messed up my body and put on 15 pounds. I’m measuring my inches though, so I should have a good idea of where I’m at as well as taking progress photos. It’s an interesting journey, and a lot of time I want to quit but I just have to muscle through and keep going.

[itliveswithinme]

Hey team!

I just wanted to make a lil post here because I've been thinking about it for a while and it's about time I said something. I will continue to struggle with my body image, it's something that I have to come to terms with. I have been treated through CBT methods for the past decade. For those that don't know, CBT or cognitive behavioural therapy is a type of therapy that is used to essentially retrain your brain. Either to have more positive thoughts, or to have a more positive body image or something to that extant. I have never found CBT very helpful. I was given strategies but never really put them to use and then felt guilty and lazy for not doing so. Anyway, I go to the gym fairly regularly and recently I have started going with a friend who weight trains. I love strength training as I've learned. Yeah being surrounded by cute boys all the time definitely doesn't hurt, but knowing that my body is strong enough is something that no amount of talking can compare to. Everyday I can see my body change, I feel a little bit stronger and I feel a ton more confident. I am by no means at my goal, but my goals have changed. Cardio sucks, I will be the first to admit it. Running for half an hour is the literal worst. Plus it doesn't prove anything, sure if you're outside you get to see and experience life, but in a gym you are just running to nowhere. Anyway, that's my rant about cardio. But yeah, anyway, weight training. That's a thing that I like... I feel hot again sometimes. Which is nice.

[itliveswithinme]

What have I done

So, I’ve royally screwed up my body. Having suffered from anorexia for 2 years, being hospitalized three years ago and then living in weird states of starvation for about two years it’s don’t some serious damage. My metabolism is shot and I’m gaining weight like crazy. I’m also addicted to laxatives. I need help.

[magnifficent-blog]

I may be a little weird but at least i didnt write fifty shades of grey 

[itliveswithinme]

I don't know what to do

Guys, I don't know what to do right now. I really screwed up the weekend of my birthday. I got really drunk, fell all over the place and screwed up my foot and ankle. I can't work out anymore and I don't know what to do. Working out is the only way for me to validate eating food and not gaining weight. So now I've stopped eating to the best of my ability. I drink mostly Diet Coke and coffee, i'm eating plain sugar just to keep my blood sugar from plummeting and I don't get a headache. I'm a mess. Not only does working out stop me from resorting back to my crazy anorexic tendencies, it is also the way in which I deal with stress. When I'm overwhelmed and stressed the only thing that I can do to feel better is exercise. Getting blood to my brain is the only thing that I can think of, and everyone I know is telling me to do upper body work outs, but my doctor tells me not to since it could also be a ligament issue so I can't put any stress on my body. I'm. A highly caffeinated clusterfuck of crazy. I hate this. I want to run, I want to eat, I just want to be me again. I feel lost, this isn't who I am.

[itliveswithinme]

Where it all went wrong

I had a friend commit suicide last year. I still can’t quite come up with the words to describe just how I’m feeling. I miss him everyday, and especially now as I continue to struggle with my own depression I can’t help but think about him more and more. I love you Billiam, always. Rest easy brother. I wrote the passage down below two days after his death. Writing helps me get out my emotions, without feeling as though I am being judged. Though, I kind of wanted to share it with someone. So why not the internet?

I’m not sure how to go about this. Will, you are the father of “The Squad”, without you we wouldn’t have come together that first night, and now as we grew apart through the year your death seemed to bring us back together. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.    

Everyone says how much that they are going to miss you, and I am too. That you were an extrovert, who always made everyone feel better. You did Will, even when we would butt heads, and I would be mad because you would be talking shit about me, or something dumb would happen and I would blame you for it. The thing that people have to know though is that you were suffering. In those last few weeks, I think I only saw you twice. Granted I started to pull away from the group too, but you weren’t happy Will. I’m so sorry that you weren’t happy. I’m so sorry that you felt that you had to run away every weekend. I’m so sorry that I didn’t try harder to talk to you, or put aside our differences.

Even now, I look at my phone and think, I should text Will. Maybe he’ll be alright. Then the logical part of me just goes “no wait, he’s dead.” Will you have no idea how hard that is. For someone who wants to fix everything, I can’t fix this. I can’t fix you, and I’m so sorry that I never tried.

You never held it against me, what happened last semester. Even when I texted you pissed off because you said something that I had something and I didn’t and then the very next day you wereso willing to give me a ticket to the frat party. I have never met anyone like that, someone who is so ready to forgive, and so ready to move on. I wish you could have forgiven yourself. I really do. Will, we may have had our differences, and we may have been a little bit bitter and we may have argued and bantered from time to time. But that’s the part I’m going to miss most. I’m going to miss those times when we’re screaming at each other over the tables in fung, and then it always ending up with the whole squad laughing. Will, you’re the one person in the squad to not make me feel like an idiot. Sure you teased me like the rest,but it was never mean. It never hurt, it was always just in good fun. I’m gunna miss the guy I met in frosh week. The sweet guy who I naively believed at first, but then we would even still we would flirt and laugh and it was still a good time. Will, you have no idea how much I’m going to miss that guy. The guy you were, the guy you should have grown up to be.

[itliveswithinme]

V-day

I'm not mad that I was single for Valentine's Day. Realistically I had more fun with my girlfriends having surprisingly intellectual conversations and seeing some of my best friends that I haven't seen since October. No, I'm not mad or sad about being single, I'm mad that I have the social constraint to be sad about it. That I am being told by other men and women that I should be sad about not having a SO during Valentine's Day, or that by some extension there is something wrong with me. I am a beautiful independent woman and I can do anything I want to. Yes sometimes it would be nice to have someone there with me to laugh and be silly with, but I'm not dependent on that. I'm a fairly independent person and I don't need to define myself through someone else. I never have. Why should I be sad about Valentine's Day? It's just a commercialism tactic to get us to spend more money on things that we don't need. Brilliantly wrapped and packaged Mind you, but a tactic all the same.

[vinstage4u]

[itliveswithinme]

I’ve been having weird feelings recently, I’m too sure how I feel about them. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I just don’t feel good and I hate that. I was so happy at beginning of the school year, and now I feel shitty and sad and out of control. I just want to sit around and cry all the time and I just want to waste away into nothing. I want to eat, I want to not eat, I want to starve and live in my rolls and rolls of fat. I’m just all over the place and I hate it so so much. I feel like I have SAD (Seasonal Affected Depression), and I kind of want to talk to someone, but I don’t know how. My mom will only think that I’m not happy in my program, which isn’t true. I love my program, I really do, I just don’t know what I’m going to do with it and I don’t know if my grades are good enough for me TO do anything with it. The only reason why I would consider moving out of the city is to attend an easier university so that I can get better grades but that’s not really a logical reason. I mean, sure it is, but it’s copping out and not being able to handle the heat. Which you bet your ass I can handle the heat, I quite one difficult school I’m not prepared to quit another one. I just want to quietly die in a hole and never do anything ever. Except drink. I need a lot of drinks. well shit.