Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Due

I am now engaged and 6 months pregnant. Quick update. Let's just say a long summer of partying, ecstasy, friendship and summer love led to where I am now. Mike is a lovely crazy man, loves pizza and is completely excited about being a father. He is impervious to my little female games we all play when we are allowed to. He DJs house music for the raves we throw and he drinks a lot. I am crossing phases in my pregnancy where I eat and don't. I gained 20 lbs from november to january and only 2.5 lbs from january to march. I work at the same fast food chain I did 2 years ago, just in a nearby town where new faces replace the same personalities and my life is just as poor and awesome as ever.

I'm due June 25, literally a year after Mike and I met. How did we grow so close so fast? Lots of time together. When you're around your soul mate constantly, you tend to notice it. I was terrified of commitment until Mike snagged me. I know I'm always in love, but considering the circumstances I'm happy with how this is going.

We just got a truck to carry our family and rave promoting family in around. We should be getting out our own apartment soon...tired of living in an older couples' house who bitches at us about taking out the trash. We want our happy raver home and life will be good.

Yes.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

So not over it...

I'm terrified.

Somehow, I'm still alive. And life is killing me more each day.

Every moment I get more desperate for relief, for a release. I sink deeper into myself, afraid to speak my mind. I am the strong one. I hold on and keep everyone around me happy. I try every day to take my time alone to be sad, to sob and scream inside and push back the wave of pain I wake up to.

I find myself homeless, again. I was living out of my car, (finally, MY FIRST CAR!!!) until it broke down in 3 different ways, transmission, engine block, and emissions computer, if anybody knows what that means...basically all of it died at once 3 hours from home at a weekend camping rave festival and I had to abandon it. One month of owning a vehicle in my life and it just ended, I'm still a bit heartbroken over it. Since then my new boyfriend (Mike) and I have been staying with friends in his hometown (his "stomping ground" he calls it, :D ), about half an hour away from my life-long beloved hometown. Despite the expensive apartments, snobby rich college students, and my over-worried parents, I miss the hell out of it. Everything familiar in my life is gone. My big brothers who watched my ass through the days and nights I spent homeless and retarded on my first months of alcohol and substances...they've moved on. Maybe I never meant that much to anyone at home in the first place. Amy demonstrated how empty Sterling leaves you when she killed herself in June. Amy the curly haired tiny skinny girl who everyone loved and hated for being so pretty and sweet. And she was miserable. Who knew?

Then again...who could see it coming if I decide to kill myself randomly? I can't stop thinking about it. I know I won't do it, I can't leave Mike. He's such a good hearted soul, just doesn't know what he wants out of life most of the time. Sometimes I feel like he doesn't know if he wants me or not. He loves me because I love him. And I do, so fucking much. I see him all the way to his beautiful heart. And it is so. beautiful. But he doesn't see it, and I can see the pain from his past and our current situation clouding his eyes. Blinding him to anything that could be good, blinding him to me. I try to cheer him up, but my heart is so heavy I can only help so much. It makes me feel useless. I've been through these feelings before. I've longed for death and my own destruction out of pure hopelessness and I'm beyond that now...right?

I cry to get rid of pain. I try to expell the depression like a bad disease. I don't want it, I have no desire to lay in it and enjoy giving up like I used to. Suicide attempts are no longer my hobby. I keep a package of razors in my backpack for lines and haven't touched my skin with them once. I'm doing well, I'm getting better....

I'm just tired of looking at lakes as a comfortable dark place to jump into and sleep forever. I'm tired of leaning over balconies and musing over how easy it would be to pick up my feet and fly headlong over the edge. I guess you could say I'm addicted to suicide. And I'm sick of it. I don't want to leave my beautiful soul of a boyfriend behind. I don't think he would survive it.

I just have to hold onto the little things that make life beautiful. Those small things like butterflies, rainbows, sunshine, lone little weed flowers, a kiss from my love, a full moon on a cloudy night. Just hold on...

I'm 130 pounds now. The skinniest I've ever been, and it's because of drugs and the lack of desire to eat out of desperation. I stop eating when I'm broken inside. Yesterday Mike and I got $100 from his dad to keep us fed until we find jobs. Our first meal in three days, and I could only eat half a sandwich.

I can't even decide what I'm striving for anymore. My life is owned by circumstance and pain. I have no more goals, except the everyday goal to be skinny. That seems to be the only game I can win anymore.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Eat when you're hungry?

Hello, its been a long time.
I've recently dipped down to 130 as of this March. I gained a bit since then because of a trip to visit my ex in a small town where my only food was hot dogs and ramen and the only pastime was smoking weed and getting munchies. I am now settled at a toned, slight bone-baring 138. I can feel my spine, ribs, and abs. I can see my hipbones and my chest has gotten perkier. I've lately taken on the habit of eating only when hungry and when food is low calorie and I've taken my diet pills. When I'm not hungry (which is most of the time) I simply don't eat. But I do manage to eat something healthy and take plenty of vitamin supplements daily. It's a very balanced and semi-healthier way of eating for me. And I'm probably the happiest and prettiest I've ever felt right now. I'm newly single, talking to a couple of guys, and enjoying the party life of working for a rave production company. More on that later. :)

That's the update, hopefully will post again soon!

xoxo

~Kat

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Where from Here?

Hello, again. Here I am, again. Like a crack addict scouring the alleys for her fix, I'm back to this blog.

Although, I never really left. Not even 3 weeks after my big farewell here, I began another blog, under another name. It's not the first time I've done this, and it's all to avoid my extremely nosy sister, Kate. Not that I really care what she thinks...it's that I have the deep, frightened feeling that she will tell my parents again. Not that I care what my parents think either, but honestly...it's out of the goodness of my heart this time. What good does it do my poor, overworked mother to know that her troubled daughter is, well, extra-troubled? And how many more gray hairs on my father's head do we have to turn white with worry?

The only thing that brings me back with some level of confidence, is Kate's sweet little farewell message on her blog. The feeling that she is no longer interested in reading up on girls like me. Girls sick in the mind, torn apart with hatred for their own bodies. I'm happy that she's recovered, I really am. I'm just sick of recovered anorexics and bulimics who preach the value of "healthy eating." It's easy for them to talk. They got skinny, they got what they wanted. And they should know just as well how hard it is to give it all up. Yet as soon as they turn away from the mirror, they seem to forget Ana's pale, papery grin. They seem to bury the memories of just how hard it is to ignore that grin. They act as though it's so very easy, to eat without care, to ignore the scale. "If I did it, you can too." They say, their voices dripping with sticky-sweet sensitivity and caring. "I can help you," they offer. "Just eat healthy and exercise. There's no need for this silly starving behavior anymore."

And they act like they still struggle. "Oh, I know it's hard. It's so hard. I still have trouble eating breakfast some days." They wipe a crocodile tear away and smile. The difference between us and them, is that they still do it. They manage to eat without worrying themselves sick over it. The sad fact of the matter is, we just aren't there yet. And they need to understand that. However, I have yet to see a recovering ana who hasn't pissed me off with her failure to understand and her high-and-mighty "I'm cured!" attitude.

For those who wish to read up on what's been happening the past few months, the alter-ego blog (where I took the name Lilly this time) is here: Perfect, Empty, Thin.

I haven't decided whether I want to continue writing here or there. Either way, shoutout to Nikki (Letters from Ana) who has been with me for the past several years now, as a fellow Ana, confidant, and friend. She was the only one to follow my alternate blog since I took leave from this one.

So where from here? I'm not sure yet. I'll see what sort of reaction this post gets. I'll see how far my 5th or 6th relapse (I've lost count now) plays out. Either way, I want everyone to know I have missed you and I think of you all the time.

Stay strong, think thin.
xoxo
~Kat

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Legacy

Last night I read the archive I have saved of the old "Quest for Perfection." It's interesting to see how much I've changed.

My very first entries in December 2008/Jan '09 reveal a 17 year old girl tired of being called fat and thinking anorexia was the coolest thing in the world.

"Have I mentioned how much I crave this dizzy empty feeling in my body? Part of the reason I feel so rotten when I eat is because that light and empty feeling is gone...When I'm starving, I feel like a dancer, just skipping and floating through life. When I turn and look in the mirror at my stomach going flatter and flatter every day that I avoid food, it lifts my heart like nothing else can. The sight of my ribs turning more and more visible protruding from my skin is gorgeous."
-January 5, 2009

I read the slow destruction of myself as if it were someone else entirely. My heart sank as I read the posts about my initial bouts of bulimia.

"My eyes were watering and my throat burning, then FINALLY...it happened. It was so fast and easy I almost couldn't believe it. But soon the cookie mix was out and then some of the cereal I had binged on that morning. I wiped my mouth and stood up, breathing hard. It had been so different than what I expected. Easy, simple...relieving in fact. But it proved something. This isn't a game anymore...this isn't a fun little diet. I am sick-minded enough to violently force my body to expell its contents."
-Saturday, January 31, 2009

And the time when I reached my lowest weight, 133, and lied about recovery in order to cut off all help from my concerned friends and family in order to keep my disorder.

"Maybe this is suicide...cutting off all anti-anorexia "support" in my life. But I don't care. Thin is too important to me. If they are all stupid enough to believe me when I SUDDENLY want to get better...then it's their fault when I end up in a hospital bed. WHEN. I DO intend to be hospitalized by this someday. It's my ultimate goal. To be sick enough to need it."
-April 28, 2009

Well, I've grown up a lot since then. I know better now. I no longer enjoy my vision flickering and my head reeling with weakness. I don't find it strangely addictive to hurt those around me while I self-destruct. I no longer want to be hospitalized as a bag of bones.

Of course I want to be skinnier, I don't think that desire will ever go away. But I don't feel I belong in the world of Pro Ana blogging anymore. I'm just not into it. I'm trying to take some "me time" and make positive choices in my life right now. I recently made a decision to stay away from drugs, alcohol, and sex while I get myself under control. A few of my friends laughed out loud at me for those decisions, but I don't care. If this decision is good for me, then I have no shame in standing by it.

Hang in there, Anas. You CAN be happy.

All my love, signing off.

~Kat

Friday, August 27, 2010

Where from here?

Counting down to my mental detonation. Everything got really fucked.

I broke up with Johnny two days after my last post. I feel like my own apprehension ruined it before anything else could. I was just so scared of watching another relationship fall apart, I wasn't even willing to put the effort into building it up. I watched the confusion and heartbreak on his face as I tried to explain (make excuses) that I couldn't do it. That he was a great guy (and I'm an out of control fuck-up) and I'm not trying to hurt him (just myself) and that I'm really sorry (but deep down I'm not sorry) and yeah...then he rolled a joint and we lit up. I went home after a day of successfully not eating and binged, hating myself. I passed out on the couch watching TV, only to wake up at 4:00 am feeling like I had a rock in my stomach. I burst into tears and popped laxatives, trying to get rid of my shame. I spent nearly all of the next day lying in bed between trips to the bathroom.

Yesterday I managed to not eat until 7:00 pm when I caved and went to Taco Bell with friends from the college. Why the fuck do I pick junk food? I don't know, but it's a bitch. Every time. Today I had some fruit when I got home.

Goals are in order. I need numbers and stats to keep me on track. So, back to the old routine! I'm reposting my stats because I went to the doctor and found out that I am taller than I was 2 years ago when I started the blog. Happy face :)

KAT
Age: 19
Height: 5'9"
CW: 145 lbs | BMI 21.4

GOAL WEIGHTS:
Sept 1: 140 lbs | BMI 20.7
Sept 10: 138 lbs | BMI 20.4
Sept 20: 130 lbs | BMI 19.2
Oct 1: 125 lbs | BMI 18.5
Oct 10: 120 lbs | BMI 17.7 (UGW for now!)

Right now I feel like Ana is the only thing I have to live for. The only thing that I can keep track of, the only thing I can control. How many times have I said that before? I know I must sound like a broken record, but we're all broken in some way, my lovely Anas.

We'll survive it.

xoxo

~Kat

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Waiting...

I am waiting for a text.

This text will say something along the lines of "you still awake love?"

It will be a text from my new boyfriend, asking me to meet him.

It's 2:00 AM.

I am scared.

It's hard to describe the longing I feel right now, deep in the pit of my stomach. Maybe that's just a gnawing ache from the emptiness of acid trying to regenerate in there after throwing up an hour ago. Maybe it's a nicotine overdose from the rack of cigarettes I just inhaled to try and calm myself down. Perhaps it's a longing to allow myself to be happy. Or all three.

The new boy is Johnny, a sweet skater-type boy who recently moved to my parents' neighborhood. I met him on the bus a little while ago after running away from another guy who was trying to hook up with me. Johnny is a darling soul, very innocent and naive. He thinks I'm the cutest thing on earth. When I'm with him, I forget about everything. All I can think about is his lips on my forehead, his hand on my stomach, his breath in my ear as we whisper to each other under the stars.

It sounds perfect right?

Right.

Right...?

right...

Then why am I so scared.

I feel like the world is on my shoulders and I can't shake it off. I feel like I wrapped myself in duct tape and wrote all over it in sharpie: "untouchable, unlovable, unreachable...NOT allowed to be happy, NEVER."

And yet I'm the only one who pays any attention to these labels. If Johnny doesn't see them, they don't have to exist. If I wasn't such a fuck up then I could maybe believe him when he tells me he loves everything about me, that I'm perfect. Why is there a tiny voice inside my head, growing louder every day that tells me..."Johnny wants you to be skinnier, like him."

It's getting fucking LOUD.

I can't even sit beside him without straightening my back and sucking in, hiding the ugliness that is my shape, my fat, my imperfection. I can't even fathom the idea of sex at the moment, as much as I want it...I really don't. It's not like I haven't done it before...I often think of myself as quite the experienced whore. It's like my human and feminine desires rise up and take control, and then as soon as it's over, I want to hide. I can't get my clothes on fast enough, I can't get away from the guy soon enough.

I want so badly for it to be different with Johnny. But I don't know how.

There's always the easy solution, just fucking get SKINNY already and this won't be a problem. God, you ridiculous sack of shit. If your weight is the problem (which it OBVIOUSLY is) then DO something about it, you useless slut. Nobody wants to fuck a fat girl. It's funny that you wonder where all your relationships go wrong. It's YOU, Kat, it's YOU. Once they see you naked, it's only a matter of time before they turn tail and run. You're such a worthless waste of space. And you will never...

EVER...

...be happy until you are thin.


.........

Thanks for the pep-talk Ana.

xoxo

~Kat