Friday, 3 December 2010

The girl who kicked the cornet's nest

"I will never know myself until I do this on my own
And I will never feel anything else until my wounds are healed
I will never be anything till I break away from me
I will break away and find myself today"
- 'Somewhere I Belong' by Linkin Park

Sometimes I feel like nothing will ever fill the gap that the eating disorder has left. That nothing will ever make me feel so good, as strong, as in control, as accomplised, as free from the chaos in my head.

And then I see my friend, eating lettuce and gravy, and I feel completely liberated from those chains.

I'm not like that anymore, I don't believe in it anymore, I don't want it to be a part of my life (even by proxy) anymore.

So who am I instead? I have no fucking idea! And maybe that's why I still struggle so much with everything else that's going on inside. Why I am still 'ill', why I'm depressed, or anxious or self-harm or get suidical. Because I don't know what else to 'be'. But right now is one of those times when I'm not prepared to blame my body, or believe that losing weight will solve anything, because it won't. I don't know what will but I know that it won't.

My psychiatrist thinks that I've been feeling so shit because of everything that the rapes have left behind, and I have to admit that she has a point, and that a lot of what's going on right now is directly down to that, flashbacks, low mood, wanting to die, anxiety, it's all got so much worse since I started talking about it, and sometimes I wake up in a complete state just because I no longer have the ability to hide it all. I still don't understand why it's all come out now, what's been so special about now, why I suddenly realised that it was a big problem rather than a series of unrealted incidents that just happen to happen to me, and I just then happened to get on with things. I would never have even imagined that I would be in the position that I am right now, going to rape crisis, accepting that the way I feel isn't completely unrealted to it. I just wouldn't have thought I needed it. I genuinely thought that it would just go away on its own. That by not coping with it I had somehow tricked it enough to be able to cope with it, get on with things.

I feel so weak for not being able to get on with things, for talking, for feeling whatever the Hell it is I feel.

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