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Friday, October 22, 2010

my identity

i spend most days not knowing who i am. or what i want. or where i'm headed. i hav said thousands of times that i really really don't know who i am.

but that's not true

not even close

the truth is i know exactly who i am. i'm the sick one. i'm the weak, fragile, delicate one who's not doing anything because she's sick.

i'm too sick to work. i'm too sick to maintain a normal schedule. i'm too sick to have my children live with me. i'm too sick to maintain relationships. i'm too sick to be responsible, or accountable , or dependable. i'm too sick to have direction, or purpose, or goals.

so i stand still. or sit still. in all actuality most days i lay still. and do nothing. my life has been on pause for nearly 10 years because i'm the sick one. i'm that person in my own eyes, and in the eyes of everyone who knows me. failure is the norm. giving up is expected. and i am accountable to no one. not myself, not my parents, not my friends, not society, no one. but it's ok because i'm sick.

i don't wish to downplay mental illness. i do have an illness. it is real, and at times those with this illness really are too sick to function. but not for nearly 10 years. not me for nearly 10 years.

all i see is the illness. all i feel is the weakness. all i know is failure. all i can do is hide.

i don't know how to break this cycle, this pattern, this trap. they say it takes 21 days to form a new habit. how long must it take to break a 10 year long one? one that is so ingrained in the core of my being any attempt at change brings on panic, fear, and a total loss of rationality.

my confidence is below zero. my energy, will, strength and drive are non-existent. in my conscious mind i want more, but in my heart and subconscious i find it impossible and give up before i even start trying. the lows are getting lower, the highs have nearly disappeared, and i have given up on myself mentally, emotionally and physically.

i don't know where to start. even starting to think about starting brings on unbearable uncomfortableness.

i have become my illness. i am not a person living with, or fighting mental illness. i am mental illness. its who i am. right now its all i am. its all i know.

i am the sick one...

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

something's gotta giv

haven't posted in a long time, but not all that much has changed.

a month and a half ago i moved into a great apartment in a great new city, but i am still my not great self. i wanted to start fresh in a new environment, new surroundings, with a new plan. so far no fresh start and not one bit of sticking to the plan. after a month and a half i am not even close to finished unpacking. there is still a room completely full of boxes, a dresser in the hallway, and i have yet to commit to the arrangement of my living room furniture after 12 different tries so that too is a disaster area. i planned to go to bed at a decent time, wake up early, and most importantly get out of bed every day. FAIL. i planned to stop wavering between starvation and overeating and eat a whole food, healthy, energy boosting diet. FAIL. i planned to start school and make friends and learn a craft and build a future. FAIL. i planned to get a job, meet people, gain experience and confidence, and feel useful. FAIL. i planned to find a roommate to help with rent, start budgeting, start saving, and get control of my impulse buying and wasteful spending. FAIL.

in reality i spend most days in bed watching tv on my computer and bingeing on sugary, salty, fatty, carb loaded food to try and fill the giant void inside of me that i thought i could run away from. i moved halfway across the country to escape the pain and the emptiness but it didn't work, pain and emptiness followed me. or more truthfully pain and emptiness are inside of me, so much a part of me that i cannot escape them and they just moved right along with me. I barely clean anything in the house. I'm not even taking care of myself. Showering is such a chore that sometimes I goes days (several days) between them. I neglect my face, my teeth, everything. I am gross and disgusting. I am a mess. And I don't care. But yet I do.

See here's the thing. I am tired of being poor and worrying about money, yet I spend money I don't have on things I don't need and waste money on binge food (1/2 of which usually gets thrown out) like crazy, i am not motivated to find work, find a room mate, or find my passion in life so that i can actually focus on a real career. I hate being fat, chubby, and out of shape and want to be thin and fit yet I binge eat constantly, don't eat regular meals, don't eat healthy foods, and don't exercise at all. I am lonely and want friends and a boyfriend yet I don't try to go out anywhere, in fact i rarely leave my apartment. I don't actively put myself in situations where i could meet people and even if I did I would be too shy and lack the confidence to speak to anyone or put myself out there anyway. I want to not be broken and sick anymore yet I don't take my meds, don't see a counsellor, and haven't even tried to find a Dr out here yet who may be able to help.

I want so many things yet I am doing nothing to get them. I want so much change, but I do not have the energy, motivation, drive or inclination to work for any of it. I am exhausted and feel like I have nothing left. I feel empty and useless all the time. I feel broken and not good enough so what is the point? I feel like it will never, can never change so why bother. I feel like sick and weak is all I know how to be anymore. I am so afraid to fail that I am afraid to even try. My confidence is so low that I assume total and complete failure at EVERYTHING from furniture arranging, to school, to diet, to friendship and so I refuse to try. I sabotage myself at every step before I even begin because quitting has become easier to take than failure. Being stuck and immobile and frozen and not caring not trying is better than failing. As long as I don't fail. I can't deal with anymore proof that I'm not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, talented enough, or anything enough. I can be a useless nothing easier than risking proof of my failure.

So here I sit. Fatter than when I moved here. More exhausted, stuck, broken, and depressed than when I got here. And not showing any signs that the pattern will change. At this rate within a year I will be a 180lb slob who is completely broke, on the brink of homelessness, living in a disgusting mess of an apartment, and showering 3 times a month. I will spend every, not just most, days in bed and leave the house once every two weeks or so. It sounds horrible. It is not what I want, but it is where I am headed. And I don't seem to have it in me to do the things necessary to change the downward slide.

I want and need change. I want and need a life. I'm just too lazy and useless to do anything about it. I have become so entrenched in my sick, weak, victim role that it's become impossible to break free and be anything else. I'm letting my depression, eating disorder, bipolar, and borderline completely take over and ruin my life even more than they all ready have. I'm letting them take over to the point where it's soon going to be too late. I've wasted so much time, and just keep wasting it. Days, weeks, months gone.

Yet here I sit. Doing absolutely nothing about it.

Most days I just want it to all be over, but I'm too lazy even to do that.