finals week

ugh.

so i'm laying in bed..this is probably the second week in a row that i haven't slept well hardly at all. I have two more final papers to write in the next two days. i'm exhausted mostly due to the graphic nature of the novels i'm writing these papers on...Yo, Rigoberta Menchú and Love, Anger, and Madness for paper one// Metamorphosis and the Hunger Artist Un señor viejo con las alas enormes.

Both papers basically have to do with the value of human life (in very different ways, granted) and imagination/subaltern speaking...the books are just so graphic that it's been exhausting.


i constantly fight between being not strong enough (crying, breaking down) to being too strong (the *i don't need anyone, get the fuck out* stance)...i always say that i'm embarrassed according to my bf..he gets really pissed at me about it too. i think it's because i have a deep sense of shame. it's the emotion i've experienced most of.

i think a lot of girls with e.d., even ones in recovery like me, have a deep sense of timidity/shame, especially victims of abuse and domestic violence.

i hate it when people insult my intelligence or don't even give me a chance to speak, it underlines feelings of inadequacy, unworthiness, and shame that i already feel.

for me, school has replaced my obsession with harming myself. it has given me something to strive for, and so i give it all that i have. i might obsess too much, but that's the thing about anyone who has had an e.d.....we set these perfect goals that we strive to meet and rituals that we will use to continue to reach for that goal long after most people would have given up..when someone belittles my intelligence, it makes me think that despite the demons i've overcome..that people can still see the weakness in me and judge me as a foolish person for struggling in the first place, or that they consider me to be lazy. i associate laziness with letting oneself go, which makes me feel fat and stupid and guilty. if they ever listened to my thoughts or knew any of my story, i still doubt they would even care.

my story to me, is something i remember in bits and pieces. i remember a lot quite vividly now; it disturbs me and is probably the reason why i haven't been sleeping..i used to not be able to remember at all most of my life until a certain point and it was very hard for me to create new memories because i was overwhelmed by PTSD and flashbacks..i also suffered from a mild form of dissociative disorder where i would completely check out of reality. time would confuse me, places would confuse me...the space my body occupied confused me the most. i remember doing everything i could to eliminate the area of space i took up. i guess starving, purging, SH, are all ways of trying to disappear. i think in my dissociative ideas..i thought of not taking up space as equivalent to floating away..i don't know where i wanted to go when i floated away, i certainly didn't think i was going to heaven..i think i believed that i might just evaporate into the sky. (that is one of my favorite stories by subcomandante marcos btw).


so why am i awake now while my love snores next to me ever so sweetly? i think it's because i wish he understood more. i think it's because i wish i was less selfish. i think maybe i should talk to someone i can pay per hour to listen to this shit...not a prostitute haha, just someone to listen to me. my memories are really intense, but i haven't slept well in weeks. and the intensity of my flashbacks only gets worse with stress..it's really hard to focus during the day on other's traumas in the books, and i dread closing my eyes at night, despite my exhaustion. i lay here and i just want to go run, i think about my body, i disgust myself: i try to sleep, i see faces from the past that i can't talk about to the person closest to me...it's painful. it is so painful.


i consider myself to be a survivor; my story needs to be told.