Blast From The Past: March 8th, 2011

I found this poem from March 8th, 2011. And wow, it’s crazy. Also, I realized I am a horrible poet. My writing has improved drastically, thank goodness!


Why won’t the pain go away?

Even when I fake a smile,

the pain just grows

knowing not even faking will help.


With others I smile, laugh

but alone I cannot dream of these.

I hate myself.

I hate my life.

I want to die.


Is it bad to pray to die?

The thought of driving into

other cars head on is daily,

I am in fear of driving alone.


When my best friend moves,

I will have no one.

If I am not dead by then, I will do it.

I have already made up my mind.


I like being hopeless –

it’s a feeling I can feel.

I do not want to change,

I want to get worse


Lately I have been too tired

to cut or to hurt deeper,

but once I am awake,

I hope for the painless

world of sleep.


The sight of my blood

makes me happy,

the sight of people

pisses me off.

But this is alright.


The fat on my body –

I am craving my anorexia.

Or even better – cancer.

For if I died naturally,

I wouldn’t have to hurt

my family or my few friends.

They do not care anyways.


I want to go to treatment,

somewhere far away.

If my mom knew how I feel,

I would be carted off to the hospital.


I wish I could escape

without hurting whom I love,

but this is necessary.

And it must be done.


Inpatient Day One: 4-20-17

**Written on 4-20-17, published 4-27-17 from my inpatient journal**

Well, what a doozy it has been. I was feeling quite awful the last time I posted and I went to the ER. I had taken six shots, knowing fully well I was being self-destructive and that it would land me in the ER if I didn’t self-harm horribly or attempt to OD. I knew I would purposefully trigger myself. I knew I would end up self-harming. I didn’t know I would end up legitimately wanting to kill myself, and preparing the pills and alcohol. I freaked out and began self-harming like never before. I have always believed strongly that I would never be able to kill myself because of my aunt, so the fact that I was willing and able shocked my system. After about 40 cuts, one needing stitches, and six shots, I asked my roommate to take me to the ER.

I am writing this on a yellow legal pad with an illegal pencil I snuck into my room in an inpatient unit at a private mental hospital. I took an hour and a half ambulance ride to a hospital that actually had a bed for someone like me. I am absolutely horrified. I feel like my problems still aren’t bad enough to warrant this and I feel like I am wasting so much of my parents’ money (**I no longer believe this, but at the time I fully believed this**). I see the thinner, sicker girls, and it is so triggering. I am still fat and yet they put me on this stupid eating disorder protocol. I don’t know, I am very exhausted, but I want to document my experiences. I’m sure I will post more details after the fact.

What have I done…

Inpatient Day Three: 4-22-17

**Written on 4-22-17, published 4-27-17 from my inpatient journal**

Today I was exhausted. I passed out this morning during 5am vitals. From sitting to standing, my blood pressure dropped, my pulse increased dangerously, and my vision slowly turned black. Orthostatic hypotension I suppose, but I don’t know what is causing it. I am so tired from being woken up by check-ups throughout the night, from 5am vitals, from constant groups, from being forced to eat and being watched, from not being allowed in my room for an hour after every meal. I want to go home so badly. I hate eating and I want to go back to restricting. I just need to figure out finals, ugh it is adding so much stress and making things worse.

Keeping this short and sweet because I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.

I adore the people on the eating disorder protocol with me. Joy and Megan are angels and I am not sure I would make it through this without them keeping me as sane as they can while inpatient at a mental hospital. The dry, crude humor and sarcasm with Megan has me laughing for the first time in a while. I wish I could make Joy and Megan’s pain go away… They deserve the world and then some. Everyone here does. It hurts me that everyone here is hurting so terribly.

I got a lot of positive affirmations today. People told me I have great energy and I bring a light to their day. I was also told I was gorgeous and that my beauty is awe inspiring. This made me feel so good, but I still don’t believe it.

Okay must sleep. Goodnight.

I have to be discharged Monday for finals. Please….



Trigger Warning (I feel like my entire blog is a trigger warning, ugh)

Dear Diary,

It’s funny. When everything in your life feels so out of control, you feel like an outside observer of the catastrophe that has become your reality. I fear I have fallen deep back into the depths of Ana’s grasp once again. Because when everything is out of control, we go to great lengths to at least find something we can hold on to.

I still have not found out about PHP and it’s torture. I saw an emergency counselor at my university’s counseling center and it went alright. She did recommend that I go from the appointment to the ER, but of course I cannot do that as I am traumatized from the last time and they don’t take you seriously unless you have a bottle of pills in your stomach. They belittle my mental health and make me feel like a failure for taking up a bed in the ER. That’s the last thing I need right now. Especially because I know if I get bad news about the program that I will end up in the ER anyway.

Sorry this is so scattered, I feel so weak from not eating that I can barely type, let alone write like a literate human being. My brain is just not working very well. Everything is going to shit and all my support is out of town. I’m so overwhelmed, I should just go to the ER anyway. All I want to do is listen to podcasts, read, and purposely trigger and anger myself with 13 Reasons Why (aka the most horrible show in the world and it’s popularity only perpetuates the stigma with mental health and suicide, ugh, but that is a post for another day). I self-harmed again, but at least I didn’t need stitches this time. I’ll try to update more often, I need to stop bottling this shit up.

How the hell am I going to get through finals if I don’t even know if I can get through each day…

Venting: I can’t do this anymore…

I have had a HORRIBLE week. For the first time in my life last night I believed I actually would be able to commit suicide. I have binged and purged multiple times, otherwise haven’t eaten at all. Drank to drown the sorrows. Self-harmed once again. Alienated my mom, friends, family. I’m just about to my breaking point. If I don’t get into PHP I am really, really screwed. Just needed to get this out there.

I don’t think I can handle the pressure of finals on top of all this. I just don’t know what to do.