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nofluffystop:

Please know that if you date me, I am a very touchy person. I will like to pet your head and hold your hand, rub your shoulders or hug you a lot. Simply put, to physically feel you in some way is very comforting to me and I can’t really apologize for it, it just feels natural to me and makes me happy.

(via whathavewebecome9)

Eating disorders are diseases of silence. We are all silently screaming for something: attention, love, help, escape or forgiveness. Although we might be looking to fill different voids, we never ask for the things we need. We feel unworthy—that for some reason we don’t deserve them. So, we play the game of “guess what I need from you.” Your inability to guess just feeds our feelings of worthlessness.

When you finally realize there is a problem, it is much too late. We will now fight, lie, and cheat to hold on to the one thing that has given us support. You see the symptoms, weight loss, weight gain, or depression. You watch us starve, eat, purge, and isolate. You tell us to eat or not eat, to sleep or to get up and do something, you can’t understand why we can’t just get better.

If it were only that easy! Some of us have been living with this, like this, in this hell for half our lives or more. We honestly believe it is the thing holding us together. Even when all others see it as the thing that’s making us crumble to pieces. It is not just a part of us, but it has become us. It is our identity and who are we without it? Many of us are afraid to find out. Fearing without it we are nothing.

It becomes our sole companion. It is the thing that makes us strong, so that we don’t need, don’t want and don’t feel. It is our cape of invisibility. With it on you can not see us, you can not see our pain and shame, we begin to disappear. Slowly at first and then before you know it we are gone. Lost in a world of pain. Always fighting for control that we never seem to get.

In the beginning the control is easy and the high from it incredible. I can not eat for 4 days, I can exercise for 4 hours a day, or I can throw up everything I eat. I am in control. But somewhere along the road we lose that control and the eating disorder takes on a life of its own. We no longer control it. It controls us. We wake in the morning hearing its voice and can’t sleep at night because that voice is too loud.

We stop listening to anybody except our eating disorder. We believe we are fat, useless, unworthy, unlovable, and weak. We honestly believe that losing weight will on some level make things better. We wake up with thoughts of food; they consume us all day long, and often cause sleepless nights. It becomes all that matters. We listen to the voices that constantly tell us we are not good enough, thin enough, strong enough, a little more and then we can stop. But there’s always a little more and it doesn’t stop.

You may see us hurting ourselves and not understand; we do not really understand either. We know we must lose weight. We know we must punish ourselves when we feel guilt and shame. We use laxatives, exercise, sleep deprivation, and self-mutilation to take away the pain. Many of us get to the point where the pain is too much and the road so long, we decide it is just not worth it. Since we have no worth, the world will not miss us. If we could just disappear, the pain would go away and we would no longer hurt others with our problems.

Death becomes a way out. Can’t live forever with an eating disorder, can’t live without it. It becomes the question we will ponder for many, many years before having a definitive answer. Do I want to live? Why? Our reasons not to live may seem mundane to someone without an eating disorder. You can not feel our emptiness or understand our loneliness. We can’t share this world of silence we have made for ourselves. It is the thing that may have saved us in the past and might kill us in the future.

You look at the consequence and can’t imagine why we would do this to ourselves. We are losing our hair, rotting out our teeth, bleeding when we throw up or even just brush our teeth, dizzy, tired, dehydrated, malnourished, and mentally unstable. And at some point these things do scare us. The first time throwing up blood, passing out cold or being admitted is an eye-opening experience, but not usually enough to stop the behavior. Some of us might even see these consequences as reinforcement that we are succeeding at something. Look, I’m really good at being eating disordered!

To give that up would be giving up a piece of us that we aren’t sure we can live without. It is with us in the morning, telling us to get on the scale for the first test of the day. Even if the number is down it’s never good enough. Then taking a shower where we close are eyes because the sight of ourselves is so disturbing. Next is finding something to wear. This can take hours because nothing fits right and everything feels tight. After all of this it’s time for breakfast? No way we can eat after that disappointing morning.

The day goes on in the same manner. Nothing is good enough, nothing quite right. So we push ourselves to eat less, run faster, dance longer, whatever we are doing we must be the best. Then comes night, where the distractions of the day aren’t there to drown out the voices. Sleep is difficult when thoughts of hopelessness, self-hate, failures and suicide ruminate for hours. So instead of trying to sleep many of us spend endless hours on our computers, exercising, reading, cleaning, anything to avoid sleeping. We eventually sleep usually for just a few short hours, and then the cycle begins again. Only now we have to beat the day before, weigh less, eat less, do more. By our side our faithful coach and partner is filling our heads with criticism, demands and insults.

Although we say we hate the voices and the disorder. We don’t hate it all. We love the high of seeing the number go down. We long for that empty, numb feeling that comes with starvation. We thrive on what begins as compliments and turns to worry about our weight loss. Nothing gets rid of feelings the way throwing up does. The disorder is the thing that makes us feel strong and special, while at the same time letting us disappear and run away from life.

We will say we don’t want your help. Sometimes because we are in denial and actually believe things are fine, sometimes we feel guilty receiving help, because we feel unworthy, and sometimes it has just gone on so long that we have given up hope and accepted that “I will live with this until it kills me.”

When we say we don’t want your help, those are the times we need it the most. We need you to stand up for us when we can barely stand, love us when we hate ourselves, hold our hope when we feel hopeless, and never give up on us, the way we give up our ourselves.

We will push you away. We will make you angry with us. We will tell you we don’t need you and to leave us alone. We will throw temper tantrums and even throw food. We will close up and lock you out. We will blow off important appointments. We will do the things we’ve been told we can’t, exercise, chew gum, drink Diet Coke…we will push every limit. We do not do these things to hurt you; we are just scared and feel threatened. You want us to give up something we can’t imagine living without.

So be patient with us. Whether you’re a parent, spouse, friend, therapist, or doctor; there will come a time when we realize what you have done for us. When we reach out for you and ask for help. When we will ease your burden and start to take care of ourselves. We will share more, smile more, and live more than you have seen us do in years. We may still have negative thoughts, be obsessed with food and body, and eat in a different manor than you, but we have taken a huge step in recovery and the rest will come in time. We may always have issues with food and our body, but we now have outlets for our negativity and we know it is all right to ask for help. Just because our symptoms lessen does not mean we no longer need you. We will always need you.

"How it Feels" — K. Martel (Source: thinsiqnificant.tumblr.com)

(via sparklee--shinee)

Actual Quotes from my Dad (An English Teacher)

Dad: Why the hell did you put a comma there?
Dad: Do you even know what a participial phrase is?
Dad: Omg. He's like my favorite character of all time.
Dad: Who should I dress up as for the movie premier?
Dad: Hey are you awak? I know it's late, but you read Animal Farm, right? Yeah. I need you to read this report. I can't tell if I am just super tired or if this is actual bullshit.
Dad: Alesha wouldn't be able to spell 'definitely' right if wrote it down for her. She would fucking erase it and then write 'defiantly', because she doesn't care. I hate her.
Dad: I need you to bake brownies. I lost a bet.
Dad: Omg. You cannot ship me with Gilcher. You know I don't like tattoos and he's like twenty-five. And for Christ's sake, he teaches math.
Dad: Omg. Gilcher said the funniest thing today.
Dad: Mrs. Ashworth and I have decided to start a band. It'll be called Great Expectations.
Dad: It's like you didn't read the fucking book.
Dad: Okay. So this week you're reading this book I stole from Mrs. Ashworth's. It's like sixty pages long, but you'll love it.
Dad: *puts books on my bed for me to read everyday and demands that I read them*
Dad: My son doesn't like reading. I have not only failed him, but society. You aren't my son. Leave.
Dad: Okay. So you're getting books for Christmas. All of you. I get discounts on them since I'm a teacher, and since I'm a teacher, it's all I can afford, so...
Dad: Fucking standardized testing can go fuck itself in the ass.
Dad: I have to teach for the required testing instead of what they really need to know.
Dad: Fuck the government.
Dad: Fuck the school board.
Dad: Close the door.
Dad: Charles Dickens was so fucking pretentious, and I hate him, but he also caused change, but he's such a Dick. Ha. DICKens.
Dad: I love puns.
Dad: People who say sarcasm is the lowest form of humor are assholes.
Dad: Please shut up.
Dad: Catching Fire was the worst book but the best movie and that feels weird.
Dad: I wouldn't get so mad when you call me at school if you didn't change your ringtones to inappropriate rap music.
Dad: I fucking hate Alesha. She asked what countries were apart of Austria-Hungary today and I almost told her to get out.
Dad: You cannot visit my school in a dress that short. There are boys there.
Dad: Barbra Parks is fucking Queen.
Dad: I need you to make me a good, relaxing playlist for silent reading. I'm too lazy.
Dad: If I have to watch two of my students grind on each other at one more dance, I will kill them both.
Dad: They act like I care what they think.
Dad: I hate homework.
Dad: I have decided to become a politician.
Dad: What's the one book with the guys and the one kills the other and the chick without a name who dies and the short angry man? Mouseman? Oh my fucking gosh. Of Mice and Men. I have failed.

Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas. They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions.

Susan Cain, Quiet (via larmoyante)

(via sparklee--shinee)

I always know my mind is falling apart when I start drinking red wine again and watching Girl, Interrupted