There’s a part of me that wants to recover, wants to inspire others, express love, and do something good in this world.
Then, there’s a part of me that doesn’t care if I recover, wants to fuck everyone, do drugs, work a shitty job, and just live.
Can someone tell me what is wrong with me?
plus my psychiatrist says that my schizo is probably what’s giving me the delusions of being obese, when I actually have a normal bmi. hmm. idk, I’m new to it all. this new lady is great, though. she’s licensed to treat both of my mental illnesses: schizophrenia and ednos. I like her. and I like my grandmother for being able to pay for her expensive ass sessions.
gracias por todo, abuelita.
I hate being schizophrenic. I legitimately hate it.
but at the same time, it’s beautiful. idk, maybe if I learned to control it, I wouldn’t be as bitter towards those that fake having such diseases. til then, I hate them. I hate them for being able to have their brain function on a level that’s considered normal.
is it the new trend nowadays to have a “mental disorder”? like is this shit a joke now, or…..?
because personally, I don’t think it’s funny. try actually having one, then maybe you fucks will understand.
do you ever go through those phases where you just don’t feel like talking to anyone for a few days and it’s not because you’re mad or anything you just don’t feel like talking???
money can’t buy happiness but it can buy a false sense of security and fruity alcoholic beverages to numb the pain and honestly what’s the difference
“How will your tattoos look when you’re old?!”
Pretty fucking bad ass apparently.
i will never not reblog this.
Last year, my school decided to show this video to prove a point to the teenagers. So in our homebases, we were showed this and I wanted to cry while watching. After, the teacher spoke to us about what we thought about it. Before I had the chance to say anything, a kid raised his hand and said “This girl thinks she’s fat, as obviously she was in the mirror, and is really stick skinny because she never eats. It’s horrible.” My teacher didn’t like the answer so he said, “The girl in the mirror was normal size, and that’s why this is horrible.” I never looked at the kid the same again. It disgusted me so much that he thought the girl in the mirror was giant, she is perfectly normal and gorgeous. Well done society.
Why do people always have to ruin good gifsets with rants lol.
fuq society if u dun reblog dis u hav no hart
My eyes are watering. Why do I feel so close to this post. Oh yeah because I feel like that every day. Not good enough.
This makes me want to cry so much…
I know exactly how this feels. I’m always squeezing fat & crying.
You want an eating disorder? You think this is glamorous.
It’s not. It’s puking up blood. It’s lying to everyone you love. It’s feeling numb. always. It’s losing friends. It’s losing health. It’s losing interest. It’s losing intellect. It’s crying yourself to sleep every night. It’s feeling like shit 24/7.
You know what eating disorders aren’t? they sure as hell aren’t glamorous. I can promise you that.
I cry whenever I see this image. Look at the pain on her face. I’ve been here. This is the truth about eating disorders.
An eating disorder.
This is not about food.
This is not about looking good in a dress or wanting to be a supermodel. This is not about wanting the cute guys to turn their heads and stare at your beauty. This is not about going to a store, sliding a size zero skirt over your hipbones, and laughing all the way to the check out counter.
This is not about wanting attention. This is not about enjoying feeling death and refusing food until you need to be force fed with a tube in an ICU. It is not about deliberately pissing off the nurses on the ED unit by hiding your clif bar and boost under your sweatshirt and stashing butter in the bed pans. It is not about selfless starving for all the children in Africa. It is not about the latest fad diet or losing the holiday weight. It is not about reading fashion magazines and pining for the Body Mass Index of Paris Hilton’s pet Chihuahua. It is not about getting a good man/woman. It is not about religion, G-d, the media or culture.
This is about having the self-esteem of an insect. This is a polite way of committing suicide. This is about having no life because it’s impossible to go out with friends to a restaurant and order a bowl of dry lettuce. This is about weighing, measuring and counting pasta, cereal, raisins and anything that passes your lips, including toothpaste. This is about secrets and lies and shame. This is about not wanting to admit that you need to eat. That you deserve to live.
This is about being scared. This is about being terrified. Of everything.
This is about control. This is about numbing away the feelings of abuse. This is about starving away the pain. This is about wanting to disappear as to not be taken advantage of again. This is about hiding under layers of clothing that are mostly black so that no one sees your womanly body. This is about non verbal communication. This is about avoiding. This is about denying the past. This is about intense self hatred.
This is about needing so much that you can’t stand it. This is about wanting to not need anything at all. This is about not wanting to be touched but afraid to be let go. This is about having emotions that bubble up and spill out and scare people away. This is about being so overwhelmed and traumatized that it’s easier to avoid everything by obsessing over the amount of calories in a grapefruit. It is about getting lost in the mirror and scale instead taking responsibility and just f*cking dealing.
This is about wanting to be safe. This is about wanting to curl up in a nutshell and ignore the big bad world that’s too noisy and dangerous and can’t be trusted. This is about not trusting anyone and relying on food (or lack of) to give you an all enveloping comfort blanket when the feelings bloat you up and make you feel fat, ugly and intolerable in your skin.
This is about really crappy coping methods. This is about a way of life you’ve known for 13 years. This is about habit and second nature. This is about making a choice that will quite possibly kill you. This is about chaotic relationships, hospitalizations, devastated families, worried friends, treatment programs, trying and failing, and more hospitalizations. This is about losing your period, failed kidneys, and hollow bones. This is about cardiac arrest at age 21. This is about being sick. This is about not being sick enough to think you need, or agree to go into, treatment. This is about being so sick that you have to be court ordered into a hospital.
This is about trying to be understood. This is about fighting with all you’ve got and more hard work than you ever imagined. This is about exhaustion and tears and needing support. This is about fighting a battle with yourself and the world. This is about trying to survive.
This is not about food."
From a friend on Facebook. It was just too amazing and powerful to not share it. (via meg36)
- The old me: how could anyone be anorexic? I love food so much. I look good today :)
- Now: god I'm a pig. I'm not counting past 200 today.
- The old me: yuck I hate throwing up. It makes me feel so gross.
- Now: Get ALL of it out. Every single bit. I love feeling dizzy.
- The old me: how are people depressed? Today is wonderful!
- Now: I hate everyone and everyone hates me.
- The old me: I could never cut, blood scares me.
- Now: how much can I cut and still be able to hide it?
- The old me: I could nevvvver commit suicide, that's insane.
- Now: please please please kill me. Please end it all.
if being 100% gay is playing for the other team then i’d like to imagine being pansexual as playing for every team. you just sort of run around between the in and outfields juggling the extra balls and sit a couple innings in the audience eating a hotdog and eventually everyone starts to question whether you even know how to play baseball or not
I held my breath at the last one.
IT WAS COOL AND THEN IT GOT SCARY AS SHIT