11:05 am. - 11/25/01
myself, were she a good thing. ->
It's kind of frightening to realize that self-proclaimed ED supporters enjoy my old journal. I'm almost concerned to start giving out the address for this journal because I don't want the fact that I openly documented my eating disordered thoughts to convince anyone I condone such thinking. I don't. I'm just sick. I was in an amazing facility for 2 1/2 months and I came a long way, but I'm still sick. I still struggle the way we all struggle.
It's the type of illness that warps the way you see the entire world. How can you accurately understand what's around you, when it twists the way you understand yourself? When you feel guilty in a store with sizings like "2" and "XXS" because you know you've done something terribly wrong if you can't fit into this? It's an illness of shame, and no, I don't support it. I don't. I have it, but I don't support it. My eating disorder stole my life, and I'm still fighting to reestablish myself in the world of the living. In my world.
Brea and I decided last night (isn't Brea a beautiful name? or is only beautiful when you know the girl I think of when I type it?) that when I go to NYC I will be healthy and "normal" (ha) and strong. I will be who I am with confidence. She was such a darling. I wish I could meet her daughter. I just want to witness the girl who has Brea for a mom. I wouldn't even bother to shake her and tell her how lucky she is, how blessed she is. I'd just look at her and imagine...
I'm a vicariouslove whore when it comes to Jordan...
I have a lot of cutting/ burning urges lately, and I'm not completely certain where there coming from. What I do know is that I barely recognize my body; it feels so different when wrapped in thoughts of them.
There is a switch inside me they turn on, and the heat stemming from it burns around my neck, even as my eyes are opening.
I watched The Breakfast Club this morning in honor of my red. In my twisted fantasurreality they were watching it, too.
(She said she'd never make fun of me, in that sarcastic, amused way that says she is, and then she said it again, seriously, to make it clear that even as she laughed at me, we were at eye level.)
sigh
chord
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