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.