My fat is a symptom of my loss of safety.  My binge-eating is a symptom of my chronic emptiness.  My scars are a symptom of my inability to regulate my self-hatred and extreme emotions.  My anxiety is a symptom of my fear of both the known and unknown.  My nightmares are a symptom of the abuse and terror I have experienced.

I am lost and I am shattered, but I am not over.

The fact that I am still alive is a symptom of my strength and hope that I can still get better.

— ♥ — ♥ —

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Empty is hollow laughter and false smiles; pretending everything is okay when almost nothing is.  Empty is pushing away the people who care about you and pining for the ones who don’t.  Empty is saying you want something real but chasing an illusion.  Empty is changing who you are for a kind word yet caring more about things than people.  Empty is a sweetly overstuffed stomach and a mouth full of bile and lies; bingeing and purging your way through another day while you tell others how worthy they are and treat yourself like garbage.

Empty is not knowing who you are or where to turn.

Empty is my existence much of the time.


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In my world, “summer” is a six-letter word that inspires fear.  I hate that the days are longer and the clothing skimpier.  Summer brings out some of my worst body insecurities, because I see so many other women who look the way I wish I did wearing clothing I wish I could but never will.  To be clear: It’s not their fault; it’s mine.  Having dealt with an eating disorder since I was a young girl, I’ve never had a healthy body image.  My entire life has been spent looking in a funhouse mirror and summer magnifies that exponentially.  Add to that the fact that I’m not a sunshine kind of girl and it’s a few months of misery.

This year I’m going to do some things differently though.  I’m going to go swimming and face my bathing suit-reveal fears.  I’m going to spend some time outside, during the day, and try to enjoy myself (with a super high SPF sunscreen of course, because as pale as I am, I’m likely to catch fire after too long in the sun. ;))

And I’m going to remind myself that we need the sun to sustain life.  If I can learn to not only tolerate — but try to help — bees … after years of panic … surely I can do this too.

love & light.

♥—- ♥—- ♥

this post inspired by: The Daily Post
{and also my friend kittycat, who is one of the bravest people I’ve ever met ♥}

Fresh Air and Forgotten Dreams

The air tonight is crisp and smells of burning wood, like campfires and incense. I yearn to be in the forest somewhere; wild and free. I want to be in the cabin I dream about, away from everyone and everything except nature and my true self. The self that used to care more about saving the planet than getting a new iPad. How did I stray so far from the girl who was going to make a difference? When did I become so materialistic?

There has to be a way back to that girl. I know she still exists inside of me. I feel her when I’m under starry skies or watching the sun dance through the trees. I remember her passion and certainty that things could get better if only she dared to try. That girl would be beyond disappointed in who she grew up to be.

I’ve lost my way. But there’s still time to find my way back.

Tonight: I am grateful for fresh air and the idea that it’s never too late.


♫ Mark Snow — Disturbing Behavior OST

{*originally posted May 19, 2013*}

Goodbye Psychiatrist, Hello Panic

I received mail from my insurance company a few weeks ago and I’ve been avoiding it because I was afraid of what it would contain.  Even I realized I’m at the point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore, so I opened it today.  And got exactly the news I expected: My premiums are going up.

Since I had worried this would happen, I know what my next move is and I’m prepared.  The new plan will have a lower premium and some of my co-pays will be lower as well.  Great news, right?  There’s just one small problem.  My current psychiatrist, who I like and actually have a rapport with, does not accept the new insurance.  And I can’t afford to be a self-pay patient.  Which means I have to find a new psychiatrist.  And over half of the psychiatrists who are on the provider list for my new insurance are not accepting new patients.

As I said, I’ve been planning for this, so I titrated off my meds the day I received the correspondence from the insurance company.  I’m not sure how well I’m coping without them but there’s nothing else to do, and now that I realize I do indeed have to switch, it seems I made the right decision.  Like most cities, our mental health system is overstressed, overwhelmed and underfunded and who knows when or if I’ll be able to find a new psychiatrist.  It took me over a year to find my current pdoc.

I cancelled my appointment with her for this month because I saw no reason to see her again since I can’t continue with her.  I can’t deal with losing someone else I liked and who seemed to care about me.  I can’t deal with saying goodbye.  She didn’t treat me like a borderline, she treated me like a person who is in pain but who could (would) recover.  I’ve been trying not to think about this too hard but now that it’s real, it hurts way more than I’d expected and I’m scared.  I made the fatal mistake of letting myself care for her and I’m kicking myself because I should have learned by now that’s dangerous.  I lose everyone, one way or another.  I didn’t want to lose her.

I don’t know what else to say.  My heart is bleeding.