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Rated: ASR · Prose · Teen · #1918174
The downward spiral of a girl suffering from depression, among other things.
Trigger Warning:
This is a collection of personal diary entries. The majority of these deal with issues of depression, self harm, suicidal thoughts, and eating disorders. If these issues offend or trigger you, I apologize; however, this is my way of dealing. Please respect my freedom to write.

8/7/2012

That one emotion where you feel like you could crawl out of your fucking skin because you're so anxious but you're so used to just smiling and being happy that nobody really notices anything different about you. And you don't want them to because you forget about it until you let your guard down and you're by yourself and it's not like anyone thinks it's a valid emotion anyway. Because what do you have to worry about? You always seem so happy. Your life is peachy.

9/29/2012

I feel it again. I don't want this. I just want to be simple and happy. It hurts. Always doubting myself. Doubting everyone else. Who really cares? Why should they? Who knows how long this will last? I trust him... and that scares me because he has all the power in the world to break me. And then I'll just be worse off than when it all started. Why do I get like this? What's wrong with me? I just need someone. Right now. I think I might love him. It's terrifying even as I love that feeling. I miss him. It's horrible.

10/4/2012

She's always fucking disappointed in me. Like, I'm sorry if I'm not happy enough for you. I'm sorry I'm not perfect. I'm sorry I'm fucking selfish. I'm sorry I'm sad. I'm sorry I'm spending all of your money on my stupid over-priced college education. I'm sorry I hate it here. I'm sorry I'm homesick. I'm sorry I don't want to see you. I'm sorry that even talking to you makes me feel like crying. I'm sorry I can't stop having the random anxiety attacks. I'm sorry I don't want to be around anyone. I'm sorry I'm so boring. I'm sorry I'm becoming him. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

10/9/2012

Sometimes I manage to get almost all the way through a meal without thinking about it.



But then, all of a sudden I look down. And I can picture clearly how much food there was. And I have to compare it to how little is left over. And I have to stop.



Sometimes this is a significantly worse problem. But yeah... if I don't leave any food on my plate I feel like a complete failure.



Good thing I'm so good at being open. And especially good thing I don't hate myself more than ever right now. Yeah. Good.



Just kidding. I'm fine. As always.

12/3/2012

Sometimes I really miss my ex-best friend. She was basically the sister I never had and I would give anything to have that friendship back the way it was. I still feel like it’s all my fault that everything is different now. Logically, that makes no sense…but she was supposed to be that once-in-a-lifetime friend, and she was for about 9 years. I miss that relationship because I could literally tell her anything. I love my friends with all my heart but that friendship just kind of changed the way I look at every other relationship. It’s hard for me to be that close to someone because we spent every minute together, we shared everything and then one day it was just over. She was done. Or I was done. I’m not exactly sure how to look at it. She definitely didn't want to share anything intimate with me anymore…on the other hand, I wasn't ready to hear anything else at the time. She sprung all that information on me and didn't give me time to process and respond appropriately. She shouldn't have had to give me time. And I should never have approached her that way when I suspected that… I know how it feels to go through it. To be so ashamed of what you’re doing but unable to stop it. To think so little of yourself, to believe that you deserve it. She never deserved anything other than love. I should have just been the supportive best friend. I should have been there for her. But it all just struck a little too close to home. I couldn't imagine her having to deal with all the same shit I had already been through. She was my little sister and I couldn't protect her. I was responsible. I didn't warn her. I didn't know to warn her. I was selfish. I was ignorant.

I love her so much and now we never even speak. Except when I send her Happy Birthday messages. I never got one from her last year. That hurt me more than anything else because I knew I didn't deserve it… but… wasn't our friendship worth more? I can’t stop questioning everything. I can’t stop thinking about what I should have done.

12/9/2012

I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I don't feel right. Again. I can be happy for such long stretches and then something sets me off and it's back. I start "forgetting" to eat, avoiding people, pushing them away. I don't want to be this way. I just want to be close to someone. I want to feel loved and comforted and a million other things but I can't ask for any of that. Who has that much extra to give? I feel like anything I want is too much. I don't deserve anything. Ever. I'm falling apart again and I don't know how to stop it. Why don't I deserve to be happy? Why? Why? Why? Why can't I stop? I want out of myself. I don't want to deal with any of this right now. I don't want to think about why I'm feeling this way. I just want to stop feeling. I'm afraid that I'll never be enough.

12/15/2012

I hate that eating stresses me out so much...and that I feel like nobody can know about it. Sometimes I just want to make a post about it and put it out there without worrying that someone will start acting all concerned. Like, can I please just complain about having an eating disorder without anyone caring?

And I hate the feeling I get when I've eaten enough, or even too much, all day. It's like a pain...but not. I don't know how to explain it but it's a sad feeling. It makes me want to stop being for a while. Like, just take a break from myself. I sincerely wish that was a possibility.

I can't even begin to explain how many times I've thought "Can I please just sleep forever?" or "I want to go to sleep and never wake up." on the rare occasion that I've actually voiced these thoughts everyone laughed it off...but when I say that I am so serious. I'm too scared to go committing. But if I just stopped being alive I would be so happy. Actually, I wouldn't be anything and that would be so much better than being everything all at once.

12/29/2012

Confession: I hate when people use the word perfect to describe me or anything about me. I have for years now. It's not new. Every time I hear it, it makes me think of every single thing I consider wrong about myself. And that is a never-ending list. If you tell me that I'm perfect or that my hair is perfect or something like that, I am immediately thinking: But I'm a whiny bitch, I'm annoying, I'm passive aggressive, I have split ends, I'm insecure, I'm mean when I'm scared, I'm afraid of commitment, I have depressive periods when I push everyone away, I have those lower back dimples but mine are because I have extra fat there, my feet are too bony, my thighs are too big, my stomach is never flat no matter how much I restrict, when I'm sad I binge, or I scratch myself, my cheeks always look patchy and flushed, I'm too competitive, I'm over-dramatic, I'm too sensitive, sometimes I don't wear makeup or use my contacts for days or even weeks at a time and I look like a twelve year-old, I spend too much money, my face is too round, my collar bones aren't visible enough, sometimes I hope for a fatal accident because I couldn't imagine actually putting my family through a suicide, when I spend too much time alone I withdraw socially, I get really bad social anxiety at the most unexpected times, sometimes I have to hide away because the anxiety or depression or insecurity or self-hatred or ed or whatever sneaks up in me and my family can't know about that side of me and when they see it they ignore it or comment on how much they hate it, I seem ungrateful and cruel when in reality I'm just reacting to my own mixed up emotions, I blame myself for everything, I've considered suicide, I say I'm sorry too much, I hate myself, when I get depressed it's considered good if my hair actually appears clean, I lie about eating in the summer because it's the easiest time to restrict, I restrict at school because the food's an easy excuse, I come home and binge and do nothing about it because I'm too scared of being caught, I did that one thing that one time that I and one other person will never forgive myself for, I don't think I deserve forgiveness, I don't regret what happened, I regret how it happened, I regret how I told that person about it, I regret how I handled that entire situation, I regret that one time I scratched my leg because it left another scar right by my stretch marks, I have stretch marks on my thighs that depress me so much, I feel like I've gained so much weight on this trip home, I've gained maybe two pounds but since my mom is going to be out of town this weekend I'll probably make up for it, I lost ten pounds over the summer, I lost another six from September to Christmas break, it's not enough, I can't stop drinking soda or tea, I'm getting stuck in the ed mentality, I can't sleep, I'm becoming dependent on NyQuil to sleep, I sleep perfectly well at school, I hold onto every single mistake I have ever made, my teeth aren't straight enough, I have a huge number of nervous habits, sometimes I can't eat simply because of my anxiety, this leads to weeks of not eating or eating very little, sometimes I get anxiety because I'm not eating, sometimes I get anxiety because I am eating, stupid things trigger me, but I forget about all of this stuff when I'm up because my highs can be so fucking high, my mom has asked multiple times if I need to see a shrink but I'm too scared to say yes and deal with whatever happens, instead I say no because I worry about money and my family and every fucking thing, this doesn't even begin to discuss the problems I have with myself.

So don't tell me I'm perfect. I know I'm not. Don't tell me you see me as perfect. Nothing of the sort. Upon hearing that, I will be triggered and I will start searching for that perfection. I will launch myself into this sense of duty, that I need to become whatever you expect of me. It won't be your fault. But it will kill me a little every time I hear it. I'll cry about it sometimes. At night, when I can't sleep or my mind won't stop turning. Then I have to start trying to remember the things I like about myself. And that list is so much smaller and it hurts to think about because it doesn't feel like it's enough and there's so much that I want and need to change. If you want to compliment me, don't tell me I'm perfect. It doesn't hurt me when I hear that I'm beautiful because I interpret that as the way that a person perceives all of me. They see me as enough. Compliment my mind, but only if you really believe what you are saying. I'm not asking to be complimented on my looks because I don't perceive myself as being attractive, but if it is something that you truly believe about me, feel free to say it. Never say I'm perfect. It creates an aching need. There was a time not long ago that I pushed that pain down and pretended that it wasn't there. I did a lot of self-destruction then that nobody seemed to see. I might look at you and smile and accept it as a compliment, but I will never believe it and it will kill me inside. It does not matter what your intentions are. I've experienced some of life and I know how I've dealt with it so far. That is far from perfect. I will never be perfect. Sorry.

Undated

"Butterfly Kisses" still gets me every time... I wish my dad and I had had that kind of relationship when I was younger. I just remember this song coming on at our school's father daughter dance two years ago and he was crying... I've only ever seen my dad cry at those dances. Makes me wonder if he regrets our relationship too.
When I was little he read me a bedtime story every single night. He worked all day and then he came home and made sure to read to me before I went to bed. And I always, without fail, asked to have Mom read to me instead because I was such a momma's girl. I think I always kind of held against him that he worked so much. But he had to because Mom was staying at home with us back then.
And then when he lost his job... I was so horrible to him. Because he wasn't Mom and he didn't do anything the "right" way. Mom had recently gone back to work for the first time since my older brother was born and none of us were fair to him. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for the way I treated him during that time. All he ever wanted was to provide for us. To make sure that we had enough. The one time that he couldn't I just completely rejected him. I was so mean. I picked on him. I know now how hard that whole time was for him and no one has EVER given me shit for that. Sometimes I wish they would. I'm pretty sure that's the whole reason our relationship is fucked now.
I've always known that my dad loves me. It's never been something I questioned. But last year when we went on senior retreat it was his letter that made me cry. It was this realization that he has always sacrificed everything for our family. For my mom. For us.
When we first moved to Kentucky from Texas my mom she was so depressed. My dad is from Michigan, that's where his family lives. He never complained about it. But when we moved away from my mom's family, it was like we all just kind of fell apart. It wasn't until years later that I found out how my mom kept it together. My dad. He bought her this card with the song, "I Hope You Dance." And they talked about it. I don't think my dad realized how much he was giving her with that simple song and bouquet of irises. She's used that to keep her going for the past eleven years. And when I started to struggle with my own problems, she passed it on to me. It's these little moments that show me what love really is. I don't care if I never fall in love because it's enough just to know what love is.
And then I remember everything my mom has been through. Her ex-husband and how horrible all of that was. How when my dad met her, she couldn't have been particularly trusting or willing to be so close to someone. And then, near the beginning of their relationship, my mom found out about the tumor in her knee and started having her surgeries and everything with that. My dad hadn't known her for very long, but he went and visited her in the hospital almost everyday. They hadn't been dating long, but already he was committed to her, even though she was scared of that relationship could mean. That man amazes me. He had to teach her that men could be good again. She never had a good example from her father...she's almost always been let down by the men in her life. But my dad completely changed that, he gave her a reason to believe that there are good men and he's been there for her ever since. He is literally the most supportive man I have ever known. I need to know this man better...
Things have started getting better between us. I trust my dad a lot more now than I ever did before. And when I think about him reading me bedtime stories I just remember giggling and telling him to stop using the weird voices, waking him up when he fell asleep in the middle of the story, and getting upset when he didn't use voices. Sometimes I really just wanna be that little girl in the pale pink room with the Minnie mouse comforter. The pale pink room I insisted was white. I don't know how many times I tried to convince my mom that it needed to be pep-to bismol pink... But when I hear Butterfly Kisses I'm transported back to that time. I was that little girl. I said my prayers before bed every night, gave my daddy butterfly kisses, and grew out of that tradition way too soon. It worries me that he might not know how much I really love and appreciate him. I regret so much. I think the thing that drove it home the most was looking up at my dad and seeing how proud he is. It's all over his face and I don't know what I ever did to deserve that but I am so grateful.
© Copyright 2013 Merisol Venice (madzthecat at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1918174