We're all running from something. 
And we're all dealing with that in our own way, however there seems to be one major thing in common: the need to forget. 

We're running from something we need to forget. A past decision we made, a lover that left us, ideals people set for us. It's all the same, just our ways of running are different. 

My method of running involved controlling my food intake and exercise habits, until that didn't work anymore, then oxy was the best bet for a bit, until that ran out, and now it's watching tv shows in order to get swept away into someone else's world so I don't have to live in mine. I am constantly running from the things I wish I could forget, do without, etc. 

I run so I don't have to feel my emotions, so I don't have to deal with problems of mine or in my relationships, so I can be numb and light, so I don't have to suffer from the hatred within my own mind. 

Others run in the form of drugs, alcohol, sex, work, staying busy, exercising, controlling others, and the list goes on and on. Anything can be a form of running if it becomes something you do in order to forget what you need to confront. 

Take 'staying busy' for example. This seemingly innocent act is something millions of people do every single day, yet why, what for?

Why do people insist on keeping themselves busy? What's so wrong with having nothing to do?

Because when there is nothing to do, the brain wonders and thoughts take a hold and you end up remembering what it is you wanted to forget. You're staying busy in order to block the thoughts from catching up with you. 

My fiance does this all the time. Whenever he's feeling down or upset, he finds things to keep himself busy, working on the car, going to the gym, cleaning the house, etc. It seems legitimate at first, but what are the reasons behind the action? If you're busy just because you have to get something done for school or work, then by all means, be busy. But when you actively look for things to keep you busy and your mind at work, then there's something else going on. 

And this goes for any of the forms of running. Because they're all forms of addictions like it or not. Once they become something you use, they're no longer helpful. 

TV shows are great, they exist to entertain people and make people happy. But when you watch them all day, every day, just to escape the reality of normal life, they become...not so great. 

I had no where else to turn because I'm a runner. I'm not afraid to admit that. I'm not immune to the epidemic. I have always found ways to escape reality, because things are easier that way. I turned to TV shows which is, essentially another form of reality. One we wish existed but does not. When I watch these shows, I don't think about anything. I am fully emerged in their fake world, engulfed by these fake characters and their problems. Thus, I forget my own problems. 

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that it's not just about drugs, alcohol, and other commonly known addictions. If we are truly aware of our thoughts, we'll realized we are all trying to escape something, forget something, run from something. We all do it in different ways and it's important to grasp this idea. Anything can be an addiction or form of running if we allow it to be. I'm not saying to stop, I'm just thinking out loud and maybe help you realize something you've been trying to forget. 

xoxo
Tayla

 

It seems to be that I'm in a relapse of some sort again. And I don't mean a relapse of the anorexia. The dictionary defines relapse as falling or slipping back into a former state, practice, etc. which is more what I'm talking about when I refer to my state of being. 

I seem to have fallen back into a mindset I knew quite well back in May or somewhere around there. A mindset of negativity and hopelessness, in which I just can't climb out of this time. Granted, I'm not abusing medication or cutting, or anything serious, but it's still painful, and sometimes I want to go down that road again because then people would, at least notice the suffering. 

I mean that's what the anorexia gave me. A form of suffering in which people could look at me once and know I was in distress. Now, without that exterior there's no way for others to see my pain. And although this sounds self-centered and vain, it's normal, just nobody talks about it. Being in pain (mentally or physically) gives me something to hold on to in the presence of others and even just in my own presence. It's mine and no one can take that away. People feel sorry for me, I am the ultimate victim, etc, etc. 

Although horrible, these thoughts are true for me. 

But this post was supposed to be about the relapse, which actually doesn't sound as bad as it feels. The worst part is the hopelessness; the shear hatred for life itself. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about what the point is to life, why I'm even fucking here, and how much I hate myself for everything. 

You know, people see me and are happy because I'm not anorexic anymore, and that's great and all, but just because I've gotten a handle on the eating part doesn't mean the mental part is any different. Actually sometimes I feel less in control and more screwed up than when I wasn't eating. Because at least then I had something to take my hopelessness out on; my body. 

I don't have anywhere to hide anymore. I'm all alone with the depression and anxiety. And it never leaves me because everywhere I go it's there, in all of its miserable agony. People wonder why I look so lost, so sad, and I can't tell them why because it's too complicated. 

If you knew what I had in my head, it'd scare you. 

But I try to keep my emotions tight inside for fear of people being upset and frustrated with me. Why are you so sad all the time? Why are you never happy? Why can't you just appreciate your life for once? This is hard work! I can only keep so many tears from pouring out my eyes, so many words from escaping my mouth, so many days from being horrible. Because that's what the day becomes when Tay is sad and lets everything out: horrible. 

I keep things to myself because it's better that way. No one gets hurt. 

But I don't get any better this way right? The same issues arise every couple of months because I never did anything about them, besides pushing them down deeper. They come back. And more forceful with each blow. 

I'm not sure there has been a day within the last month that I haven't thought about killing myself. I wonder what it would feel like and how people would react. I wonder if anyone would even notice. I wonder if things would really be better if I were gone. Maybe people would be happier. 

But of course I never get around to actually killing myself, because what fun would that be? I couldn't continue to be the victim, which, apparently I love so much. 

There's no happy ending to this post, as you probably already concluded. Is there such thing as a happy ending? I used to believe so, but not so much anymore. Your mind can imagine so many beautiful things, it's a shame we have to live in the reality of this shitty life. 

Sorry I'm not sorry for the overwhelming negative vibe this post emits. 

xoxo
Tayla