I have returned.

I am back...

I went through a troubled month. I reached breaking point. I walked away from mynew job. I pushed friends away. I fought with family. I was prescribed antidepressants and a spychologyst. I put on weight..
I PUT ON WEIGHT.

Well, I am back. I am ready to exercise, the reason why I put on weight, because I sure as hell haven't been eating.

step up, do it now, or lose me forever.

Thou who eat thy food, shalt be doomed to a lifetime of unhappiness

Tomorrow I start a new job. A fulltime job. I am extremely nervous. So much so, that I can not bring myself to eat. I am stressed. The mother said to me yesterday "since when have you had tiny stick legs? you used to have fat legs like me. How did you get them so thin."

Oh mother, you disgraceful bitch. Whill you make up your mind! Am I fat or thin! Won't you juce choose already? Stop screwing with my mind and just tell me once and for all what your perception of me is!

I have been designing a lot of outfits lately for work. So I have something new and intresting to wear everyday. I would love to post some photos up, but I have a overwhelming fear that someone I know may one day find this blog, and photos would make it impossible for my to deny that it is indeed my blog.

Lately I have been feeling fairly strange. I have had spouts of depressed feelings, a little numbness, some hyperactivity. Not much energy or desire to do anything too productive. Now, due to my 6am-if-not-earlier wakeups, I will be absolutely exhausted, plus the insomnia..

Basically I am screwed.

I really just can't be fucked.

So I went to op shops with my bestfriend the other day as I like to purchase vintage dresses and modernise them.. hem them shorter, fit them properly and cince them in with a vintage belt. Her reaction to everything bothered me. I still have been unable to tell her about my life, what I battle everyday. Eventhough I listen to her and comfort her, she is really never there for me, no matter how many hints I drop. It bothered me how much she complained and went on about how "I came with you.. all this way.. I don't like opshops!! blah blah blah."

Well, bestfriend. Need I remind you that I awoke extremely early one depressed morning of mine, to accompany you to get the morning after pill because you were too embaressed to go alone? Did I open my door to you when you were crying and fighting with your boyfriend. Do I give you advice, and talk to you about your troubles? I do. I am always there for you, and when I needed a few dresses to re-design for work, you have to insult my fashion sense, WHICH, by the way, you borrow those clothes everytime we go out, and WHICH by the way, it a lot better than a cotton on singlet and leggings. And then to complain that I never do anything for you?

Well, bestfriend. I am battling depression/bipolar every day of my life. I fight suicide thoughts and attempts. I try to help those whom I know that also battle similar things. I suffer through insomnia every night. And I have a broken heart. This is just the beginning of my troubles.

STEP UP AND START ACTING LIKE A BESTFRIEND.

Or you will lose me, for I will give up on you, or I will give up on myself.

I wish I were a butterfly

Once upon a time, lived a thirteen year old girl, who would look in the mirror, seeing a reflection of disgust and embaressment, and wonder if she would ever see a change.
This young girl, a girl with a corrupted childhood and a lack of an understanding towards the deeper components in life, looked in the mirror again one day, analysing the relflection. She told herself, "I know I will never change, I will never be thin, and I just have to accept this." Wishing there was another way, yet realising there would never be, she accepted herself, as a chubby little girl who would never be pretty and never be thin.

That is the last moment the young girl could remember. Before, that is, she transformed into a beautifu butterfly, and began to spread her wings. See, this thirteen year old girl was coming to many revelations. Boys, friends, parties, makeup, clothing. She noticed her friends, particulary the girl who would consistently eat a single apple each day at lunch, nothing more, nothing less. The young girl became very perceptive to the bodies on television shows, such as the o.c. Girls in bikinis. She could be one of those girls. And so she began to exercise, a daily walk, a few hundred situps.
Summer holidays came, summer holidays went, and the young girl returned to school. After an entire summer of eating fruits and vegetables, and small amounts. After an entire summer of continuos exercise, of dusting on makeup after dying her hair. After an entire summer of a routine she did not know she was completing, of a diet she did not know she was following, of an exercising regime she did not realise she was finishing each day... She had changed, she had transformed, well... she was close to it.
As she returned to school that summer, compliments came flying in her direction, praise an cheers and gasps. Girls telling her she was gorgeous, thin, stunning. "what did you do?" "how did you do it?" "did you diet?"

And the young girl, almost fourteen now, looked back at these girls, at her family, at the world. She looked into the mirror, at the relection, at herself, and smiled for a short second. Then she frowned, a tear fell, she dropped to the floor.

She was not pretty, she was not thin.

These girls, her family, the world. They were all crazy, insane, insulting.

She was not pretty, she was not thin.

She was the same, why would people suggest otherwise?

The girl looked back into the mirror, at the relection only she could see, the relection that had changed for others, and not for her.

She stared toward her perception...

That was when the battle began.

That was when the eating stopped, the exercise started.

That was when the happiness halted, the lies began.

That was when she lost herself, the girl she accepted.

That was when she became a butterfly in the making, and she didn't even know it.

That..

That was anorexia.

Real anorexia.

Anorexia Nervosa.

The kind that you are blind to.

The kind you do not notice.

The kind you do not control.

The kind that see's you.

The kind that notices you.

The kind that controls you.

As the girl stared at her relection, and skipped her meals, and stopped eating in public, and exercised constantly, and stopped bothering with school, and became all about appearance, and distanced from her family, she fought a battle she didn't know she had.

Her perception had changed, her reality was altered.

She saw a caterpillar, when in fact, she was a butterfly.

And to this day, now almost eighteen years old, the girls perception hasn't healed, the girl still see's a caterpillar, and wishes that one day, she could be a butterly, again.

Me

To you, I am a stranger.

Another girl on another blog.

It's the little things about someone.

That makes them who they are.

So here is a list of random things about myself.

So maybe, just maybe, you will notice a link in common that we share.

And then, maybe you will realise I am not a stranger.

Not another girl on another blog.

That the little things that make me who I am.

Are just like your's.

1. My favourite part of Alice in Wonderland is the moment when she breaks off/ eats the mushroom.

2. I am obsessed with flossing my teeth, but only ever do it once in a blue moon.

3. I prefer unflavoured waxed floss.

4. My favourite flavour chewing gum is "exrta bubblegum flavour sugar free chewing gum for kids."

5. I actually enoy the taste of black coffe with no added sugar.

6. If I were to drink orange jucie, I prefer pulp in it.

7. I feel invigorated when I am sewing, but also angry because I always screw it up somehow.

8. I can not recall a time when I have ever actually been happy.

9. If I do eat, I like to eat things that I hate: eg: raw mushrooms, peas, pickles.

10. I have insomnia.

11. I can gladly stare at a wall all night and it won't bother me.

12. When I get hyperactive, I have to clean everything and reorganize everything.

13. At night time, I always have the best ideas and the most exciting revelations that make no sense in the morning.

14. I despise the number 8.

15. I always press the letter "G" then backspace it several times.

16. I am deadly illergic to cashew nuts.

17. My perception on myself and everything else is completely screwed up.

18. I remember nothing of my childhood as I blacked most of it out.

19. I generally black out on a daily basis.

20. I do not fear death- I welcome it- I challenge it.

21. I believe schizofrenicz are not crazy.

22. I sense when people have a mental illness such as depression or an ED.

23. I am in love with candles, and fire for that matter.

24. I love to walk. LOVE to walk!

25. I express myself through writing, poetry, drawing, painting.. etc.

26. I have never been in love.

27. The only thing I live for.. is the idea that maybe one day I will fall in love- a two way love!

28. I have been played by a boy.

29. I am a damn good liar, and lie alot.

30. I prefer depressing music, it is the closest brush with happiness I ever experience.

31. I am extremely insecure.

32. I believe I have bipolar depression, meaning I go from depressed and sad to overly hyperactive again and again.

33. I give up way too easily.

34. I love anything to do with "Reality context" and that includes movies like Donnie Darko.

35. I have literaliy cried myself to sleep many nights- it's not just a saying-you actually fall asleep.

36. I really enjoy reading, a year ago, i'd never have guessed this.

37. I am a "track coverer," where I put a lot of effort into covering my tracks-eg: hiding my ED.

38. I like the colour black and white, because these colours are stable and constant.

39. I always want something so badly, until I get it, then I'm over it.

40. I can easily live off three hours sleep.

41. I find it impossible to study, so much so, that I wonder whether there is an illness that would explain this.

42. I'm not exactly shy, except when I'm around boys or family.

43. I have only ever truly had three bestfriends. One is a callous bitch now, who I realise was a waste of time, one saved my life on many accounts without ever knowing it, the other is my current bestfriend and without her I would gladly throw myself off a cliff.

44. I dislike celebrations, like christmas, easter, birthdays.

45. I don't like family.

46. I want to fall in love and get married, but I don't know if I could deal with having someone around me 24/7 because I like to be alone- I learnt to be alone.

47. If I'm writing a poem, I prefer for it to rhyme.

48. I despise animals, apart from the evil black cats that everyone fears.

49. I hate summer, and love winter.

50. I always have black toe nails, and black fingernails when I can be bothered.

51. I will never pass my drivers licence because I am the worst drive in this world.

52. I genrelly act on impulse.

53. I hate boys with hairy chests and legs.

54. I get inspired by offices.

55. I get inspired by green grass in parks with trees.

I could go on forever, although I simply can not be bothered.

I'm finding it's not easy to be perfect

Who are you to tell me, that I'm less than what I should be. I'm finding it's not easy to be perfect, mirror mirror, you don't define me, you don't own me. I don't need to listen to the list of what I should do.
-Mirror: Barlow girl.

Reading one of the many blogs I follow, I read this song in today's post. It's actually a pretty well spoken song. A girl arguing with the mirror. It got me to thinking...

I don't battle the insanity of an ED day in and day out for the pure hopes of one day becoming thin, pretty, perfect. I don't do it all so that the mirror can give me a pat on the back and tell me I'm beautiful now that I've lost enough of myself to define me as perfect. I don't know why I do it. And I don't want to do it. At the same time, I have to do it, I have no choice. I'm finding it's not easy to be perfect. The mirror certainly won't know when I'm perfect, it's just an array of particles that shine back your reflection. The mirror doesn't see into your soul, your heart, your spirit. The mirror can suck a fuck for all I care. So can the scales. So can the measuring tapes.

Basically, I've lost my appetite. Completely. I can't even forve myself to eat a celery stick. And I love it.

No, I don't battle this ED so that the mirror can praise me and welcome me to the world of perfection. I do it for the release, the control, the escape. I do it, because I have no other choice. And because if I'm lucky enough to be in the 40% of girls who actually die from this, then I can be set free into a world that does no judge, that does not measure perfection and beauty and magnificance from a mirrored reflection, but seeks deeper into the soul of someone and notices them for them. A world that appreciates that your beauty may not be crafted across your face, or sculpted into your body, but, may echo out through the beat of your heart, and the tick of your mind.
You are not less than what you should be, you don't need to listen to the list of things you should do. Define yourself, love yourself, save yourself. Or you too, will be another number in the 40% of girls who let the mirror, the scales, and the meauring tapes shave away a small part of them each and every day, until in the end, even the beauty on the inside has bled dry too.

As a decade closes, who will you become?

Who are you?
Who were you?
Who do you want to be?
. . .
At this moment, there are exactly three days left of this decade we're currently in. In four days, a new decade commences.
Does this thrill you?
Knowning, that is, that there is a new timeframe in which you can measure your goals?

Think about, just for a minute, the fact that the next time we are three days from the following decade - in ten years time - that you will be a different person. You will have different experiences, views, goals.

In ten years, will you still want to be thin? In ten years, will you be thin? In ten years, can you say that you were once thin?

You will never be as beautiful and in shape as you are as a young woman. While you can still attain a lovely figure at an older age, its not quite as easy as it is now.

We are all amazing in our own ways. And as a new decade rolls in, a new you glides along beside it. Face it, you have what it takes to get to where you want to get, to be who you want to be, to live how you want to live. You have the skill, the motivation, the power. In ten years, you will look back at this moment, at this revelation, and realise that you are a diamond in the rough, and with a little attention to detail, a little restraint, and a little self control, you can be perfect.

This decade is coming to a close. Sieze the new year, sieze yourself, and shine like the diamond I know, deep down, you truly are.

Who will you become- your options are limitless, and your time is running out.

Welcome to my confessions

"You are so thin, Sally, how did you get so thin?"
. . .
"You're so bony, eat something!"
. . .
"I'm so jelous of your figure, annorexic bitch!!"


Oh, the overwhelming joy of recieving these types of "comments" on countless occasions, soon turned into pure antagonizing, anger. In the beginning, yes, a little comment from a friend was nice, but when girls you don't even speak to are calling you annorexic, and your mother is threatning to send you to hospital, you can't help but flare up a little.

Some of you may believe that these comments should be praised as "complements" instead. And yes, you are right to think this. However, at the time, while I denied what they suggested, and secretly soaked up the words in grattitude, I was also a little confused.

THIN!! I would echo within. Are they insane? How could anyone think I am thin? I just could never understand how other people could call me thin, when through my eyes, I was attrociously large. Looking in the mirror was just plain embaressing. Wearing tight clothes was not an option. Dancing with that body? No way! Everyone was out of their minds to call me thin. Or so I thought.

Turns out I was "suffering" from annorexia. Hah! Who could have known? Certainly not me, certainly not my perception, and, even more surprisingly so, certainly nobody else knew either. Infact, to this day, I am still alone in this "illness," this "disease" that consumes me, that controlls me, that fuels me. No one else knows, and I'm sure no one else cares, either.

Annorexia is not a lifestlye, nor is it a disease. It is, however, an illness, an illusion, and, to be honest, a pain in the ass at times. But it is my illness, my illusion, my pain in the ass. I am trapped, and I really couldn't care less. Why? I can assure you, you will find out in due time.

Until then, I welcome you to my mind, my life, my world. This is my blog, and these are my confessions.