I am trying


So I have gone and seen my counselor twice now and it has gone rather well. The sad part is I already know what  have to do in order to de-stress myself and I am not ready to let any of that go. I don’t want to believe that I have to let go of one thing in order to let go of my ED that to me is unfair. I have control of what I want in my life.

He has started me writing down what I  have been eating and what my feelings have been and what actions that I have been doing. It sounds silly but know this and I know I have to do this in order for him to help me. I have to keep up wit this and take action to a healthier better me.


I just wanted to say that I am fucking trying ok. At least I can say I tried.


Storms and Tea and Naps?


I wanted to sleep all day. I don’t know why either. Last night I went to bed at a decent time too with my boyfriend and we laid there with the windows open just listening to the rain. There was thunderstorm and it was so romantic in itself. When he left for work I just wanted to sleep forever. I don’t know what came over me. I felt so tired still, so depressed that getting out of the covers and turning the fan off just seemed utterly impossible.

My boyfriend didn’t have work again today and that was good/bad at the same time. I love spending time because I know pretty soon hopefully if I ever get a fucking job I wont ever see him because I will be working weekends I am sure. And insert the high anxiety NOW to all the endless possibilities of what will happen then.

I have been drinking tea all day (after two cups of coffee.) and I just want to sleep still. I feel out of it, and detached from everyone. Like I feel like I am not welcomed anymore in the house, I feel that my weight gain is getting out of control. I am being mocked since I don’t have a job right now. I just…I don’t know.

I want to sleep for a little while. Just a little while…

To The Body I will Never Love;


TO the body I will never love;

I am sorry. I am sorry I have abused you every single day for the last 6 years of my adulthood. I am sorry that I never felt accepted or wanted because of my size. I am sorry dear body that all you were doing was making sure I was still breathing, pumping blood from my heart and helping me move my bones. I am sorry that I mentally told you I was done living on more than one occasion. I am sorry for all the drugs I have tried to kill what I thought was pain inside. Dear body I am sorry that I ate so much and then didn’t. Dear skin I am sorry that you have stretch marks from being overweight to being too skinny to putting on weight again. I am sorry for the fact that I lost so much so fast now I look like failed weightless survivor off of the Biggest Loser. Well because I am the biggest loser. For hurting you dear body.

I am sorry I can’t love you as I should. I am sorry that I have a sickness in my head that I hate myself and you dear body. I see these images of beautiful women of all sizes and I cannot be happy with what I have. I have made drastic changes that have hurt my insides I have ruined you. That isn’t fair. You know for a long time dear body that I was trying to kill myself because of the nasty thoughts that I was thinking and feeling. I shouldn’t have to think that way all because I thought that I didn’t fit into the world of beauty. I am beautiful. It shouldn’t matter size jeans I am in, it shouldn’t matter what the fucking scale says. I am beautiful. I woke up and I am breathing. That is beautiful.

I am sorry dear body that I feel out of place with you all the time. That I feel you shouldn’t be touched by anyone but me. I am sorry dear body that my boyfriend loves me but I have it in my head that he will always love someone else bigger and prettier than me. That is what is inside my head that I clearly need help with understanding that I am wrong. OR am I? I am sorry that I am scared of ever getting married because I feel I will never look good in a wedding dress or that I am afraid scared to have a child because I am afraid to get morbidly obese. It is a gift to have children and to marry the love of your life. I am sorry I am afraid of all these things because I hate you.

I am sorry dear body. I wish I could one day love you and myself for what I really am.

Serving Rant


In is last time I knew 2014. 

This is a era of when I as a woman can be successful, potentially actually make more many than a man *gasp* and not be a young mother. When I was working in the restaurant industry as a hostess and a sever I got asked a lot about my children…which I guess in a way is quite normal for younger women like myself working as a server and it doesn’t help that I actually have a tattoo on my left wrist of a date. Which actually has nothing to do with another human beings birth. 

I remember one night I was so so annoyed with a woman’s nagging about me being so pretty and I shouldn’t have to work like this to put food on the table for my kids. I blew up. I lost it. I smiled at her as sweet as I could and said. “Ma’am the tattoo on my wrist is not my child’s birth date. I as a matter of fact don’t have children. Here is something shocking for you, I am college educated, I take care of my Grandfather after my Grandmother passed away, that date you think is my kids birth date is the date of when I reconnected with my biological father who passed away. Yes I have a boyfriend but no we don’t want to have kids. Please think before quick to judge someone who is serving your food.”

She actually left me a nice tip. 

I am floored by how some people don’t have a filter. Who just simply think it is OK to judge someone by their work, their tattoos, their hair due. I probably came off very bitchy like but she needed to be put in her place. That tattoo is very special to me. I mean it is understandable that someone was quick to judge a young woman working as a server. It happens. Some people also need to realize that some young men and women don’t just serve because they cannot get a regular job or go to school. ACTUALLY some go to school and just help pay some extra bills. I know its 2014 and there has been a lot of young moms out there but sorry folks who either asked me bluntly or silently judged me because of my past work…I don’t have kids. I don’t. I hope that lady has refrained from asking other servers about their personal life. I mean it is great to chit chat and such but since I have moved on from the server world and moved out of state itself it just doesn’t stop. 

Am I doomed till I actually get an “adult job” that people think I am living on welfare and chain smoking popping out babies? This society is slightly twisted and we are always so quick to judge. I am not one to talk I see a homeless person and wonder, gee what got them in to this situation? Drugs? Gambling? Booze? Lost it all to someone they loved and trusted? Why didn’t they get help when there are ways to get help? Perhaps we will never know. I have a roof over my head, a loving boyfriend, friends and family that love me and support me. No kids, income and maybe someday I will have a “big kid job” and people wont whisper about my personal life about my kids…they can just wonder how many tattoos I actually have that are hidden.


Another Blog


Typically writing on a new piece of paper has always been so much easier than writing on a blank slate of a computer. Why? Because for me just writing anything down can be a tedious task. I feel I have altered and mastered the task of pure procrastination. And yet here I am again. I also have a tendency of always starting out great say with a new journal or writing a blog or something. I start out sweet and good and writing a lot then it starts to dwindle down and die fade out like it never even mattered in the first place. I always carry a journal with me (or a book.) I write down what I feel at times or I ignore it. They say that writing can heal you. Damn really? I have been writing off and on since I was 11 years old and I feel quite damaged still. Damaged why you say? Because we, all humans are flawed, and slightly broken. We are wounded but not that wounded. We are survivors of life and we still march on like soldiers. So I am sure most people do an introduction of who they are and such.  Me? I am as of today 25 years old. A woman who is tied up in the media (socially as well) and what you are supposed to look like with body image. I enjoy reading, though I am picky on what I read, mostly mystery thrillers, or true crime. I do enjoy poetry and have a fondness for Sylvia Plath. I feel that her and I would have been friends if I was born in the same era as her. Also our writing is about the same. The same feel for the neurotic flavors. Depression is quite the nasty blanket that I and so many others share and have wrapped so tightly that it feel like we are all suffocating at the same time. But that is for another post. I have in fact graduated college with a degree that seems now quite useless because the field that I have studied was law and they want you to have experience. How else does one gain experience if you are not given the change too? It is such a messed up situation. I know I am intelligent and not from my GPA either.(If anyone was wondering it was 3.8 but not bragging rights here.) I am a sleuth of my own accord and enjoy the challenge. Sometimes my detective skills almost scare me but not really. If you have internet access and the patience you could just be as good as a FBI agent. Too bad these skills haven’t gotten me INTO the FBI. I am more likely to get a visit from an agent and being question for the history of my computer. (lucky for me I am smart enough to use my boyfriends….lucky for me bad for him HA!) As you can see dear reader I also try to be funny. It might be dry humor it might be dark humor. Or just down right retarded. Or this is just lack of real communication and I am simply out of coffee.

Lately I have also been trying to channel my inner girly girl-ness. I went through a tomboy stage only because my weight made me judge myself on matters that I felt like I didn’t fit into being all girly girl. Now that I have lost weight (also weight problems shall be a good chunk of my life/writing/pain/hate/self-hate/etc ) and I look really GIRLY with curves and a pretty face (some would say that is always been a feature like my smile.) and nice cloths I just feel like it’s really not me. Yes I love shoes, and handbags and all things that small. But some days I just want to wake up and throw on shorts and a tank top without being gocked at. It happens. I also wear yoga pants or yoga capris all the time because I am simply a lazy human being. Flip flops are my shoes of choice I wear them up till its bitter cold out and my toes turn blue. My feet need to breathe. (To quote Abraham Lincoln!) My boyfriend thinks its funny and hates I wear clogs in the winter. I hate how he never wears flip-flops or nice polo but I love him just the same in our weird crazy relationship we have.

I just want to be able to write and get my thoughts out there. I know that it’s really hard having a writing career but it’s always been a dream of mine. Granted love that line ‘dream big’ we can always dream and dream whatever either that or sometimes your dreams are nightmares. I sometimes you have to understand the difference from reality and not. I was told a lot that being a writer is just a fluke if you make it and that it can be a total waste of time. Ok I get it. So what its a dream? So like I said before I already have my degree in something that is supposed to be professional, and yet no luck. So Why not just chase that dream?

Maybe this time I will stick with it and not give up like I always do. I need something to keep me stable since this time in my life it’s almost hitting rock bottom and I am too young to fee this old.