|
fat ugly worthless disgusting...there's just no end to it |
|
|
| Written by Diana, on 18-11-2006 23:00 |
| Views |
272  |
|
|
|
In an email to my sister that became something I could never send her & has transitioned to a journal entry when I decided that, I have written the following...
Hello,
I guess I wanted to reconcile with you, I don’t know if you’re angry with me or if you think I’m angry with you but I’m not angry and I’m sorry if I did something to make you angry. 90% of the time I’m just angry, 89.95% of the time I’m angry at mom. It could be because mom said two words to me, maybe because I ate something I shouldn’t have, maybe I didn’t sleep or had nightmares or something but for whatever reason, I’m not usually angry with you. I just want you to know. I was bothered that you said aren’t I too old to watch Spongebob like you really thought we ought to compare our choices of television, especially the day after mom & I had been fighting, but usually whatever you say or do doesn’t bother me. I sort of felt like you were mad at me for going home Thursday but I did work several hours on the website from home, same with every other night. [here ends the part I was willing to say to her] Part of my anger comes from everyone acting like certain things are no big deal, like mom will make fun at things that I say. Michelle and I have this running joke, I didn’t know if I’ve ever told you, about “butter on the potato.” A few years ago when I actually ate what mom & dad had for dinner, we were having baked potato and I asked her if there was anything I could put on it besides butter, no big deal right, just a simple question and I had told her and Michelle had told her I had an eating disorder and mom knew it bothered me to eat certain things and instead of offering a suggestion or saying no, I can’t think of anything, she made fun, like she laughed and acted like my question was ridiculous, what was I thinking. She’s that way about most everything I tell her, or she denies saying something an hour before, she denies saying things I have in writing. She says things that are hurtful and then denies saying them when you tell her it effected you in any way which makes it twice as bad. She tells me she’s angry with me because I acted angry with her => I say I was angry because I felt like she was angry with me or because she snapped at me => she tells me I can’t feel angry for X bull shit reason and she would never snap at anyone, that she never acts angry, that she never isn’t speaking to me blah blah blah (lying f***ing wh***). If I agree and say that I was angry I’m screwed but if I deny it or say I was tired or whatever or that I wasn’t angry I’m also screwed. I’m not allowed to be human. ACT HAPPY! they say like I could tell you what means, like I remember what that feels like. The first day I stopped acting happy was the first time anyone ever asked me what was wrong, if I was okay. [at this point it became a journal entry] Of course I very confidently said I was fine but at least I knew what I had been doing wrong all those years. I wasn’t prepared to find out someone actually cared and it happened to be beyond anything they could have understood or helped me with. At least someone cared. I cut for the first time that evening, I think because I wanted so badly to say yes, something is wrong, I’m not okay, but I knew that was the wrong person to speak to and I didn’t have a right person in my life at the time. I begged them to let me go to an eating disorder facility, I did the research and contact Monte Nido and they would even had a bed available in two months. I wrote a long letter and sat in the family room and read it out loud to my parents. I read about families who have no money and yet money is no object when it comes to treating their daughter's anorexia. They would sell their home, the clothes on their back to make them well. My family had the money, I had sold my horse and stopped going to college and they weren't willing to find a way for me to get the help I so despirately needed and actually wanted. It's too bad I guess. Today I want nothing else than to be thin. Even my life is worth very little to me. I would give my life to acheive my vision of "thin." I would literally die to be "thin." I sear a size zero to two depending on the style of clothing and I cannot imagine anyone seeing anything but fat when they look at me. I do not feel thin in the slightest, I feel my stomach bulge when I sit, my thighs still get wider at the top, all these things translate to fat ugly worthless disgusting...there's just no end to it.
Last update: 23-11-2006 02:56
Users' Comments (0) 
|
|
|
