Inner Ramblings of a Mad Woman

Not eating makes me feel powerful. It makes me feel like I am in control. Having something that I can choose to do when life keeps spinning around me.  Every time I eat I feel weak and disgusting, I hate myself. I can feel myself getting fatter. My doctor says I have a binge eating disorder because while I may refuse to eat for long periods of time it is always punctuated with me eating anything and everything there is while hating myself. I eat so fast that I make myself sick and get food all over me. I feel a compulsion to binge eat when it happens. Something will push me to the edge and I dive in, losing myself. Usually after a binge I refuse to get out of bed, depression strangles me. My mother has an eating disorder and so does my grandmother. I guess it runs in the family. I’m considering going into a program to help get these thoughts under control, but I am ashamed of myself. I am only admitting it here because I feel anonymous.

He was supposed to love me, and maybe in his own way he does. But no one deserves that kind of love and I am still waiting to see if I can survive it.

My new Mantra. Whenever something scares me, I have to just remind myself that life starts outside my comfort zone.

I feel like I was so much more...just more.. as a teenager and every year that passes I fall deeper into complacency. As a teenager I was full of fire. I read any book I could get my hands on, I went to new places and talked to people and took on challenges that I would never dream of as an adult. Now, my biggest struggle is deciding what I want for dinner. Growing up is exactly like turning a lion into a house cat. How do I get that fire back?

Submitted my first chapter to be published on a website. I am so nervous! I really hope it gets approved!! Even if it doesn’t get great reviews I am proud of myself for trying.

Most of the time I feel awkward in social situations. Its like my mind is so busy looking for social cues to direct me on what to do next. I never know what to say, or what to do with my hands-- in pockets, not in pockets? I try really hard to connect with people, probably too hard. All the people that are supposed to be important in my life have left of their own volition, at least once. Is that why I try so hard? Because I feel like I am disposable.