Free to choose ???????

Wilkie said something that so many people say to me.  " Riss, it seems to me that you fight so hard to keep your body alive." This came after a very long discussion about how I do not identify with this ugly, fat, sick, vessel that my mind and spirit calls home.  I have told her how disconcerting it is to stand in front of a mirror and not recognize who the hell is staring back.  So, I wondered if I should tell the truth about the physical part. I have never, not once told anyone why I am willing to treat the body when it is ill, or in pain. Granted, if I focus on the pain that is caused by living in a diseased body it is so much easier. Easier to admit that I have no fucking clue why my spirit is so ill. I don't have to admit that my mind is ill and torturing me.  Underneath all of that is another reason. One that I said out loud for the first time. I believe that the body god gave me was destroyed. Beaten, raped, and finally deemed used up.   Because even though my mind and soul screamed for relief.  My body refused to obey.  I went back. I didn't run fast enough. I couldn't scream loud enough.  Most of all I could not tell.
I do not know what memories I have made up, exaggerated, or happened to someone else. All I know is that there are huge empty spots of things I should remember. I also know that deep inside me is a small child that stands in a corner of my mind with her eyes screwed shut and her ears clapped hared over her ears, Her mouth open in a scream that only I can hear.  Is she me ? Is she made up ? I don't know. I don't know if it matters.

       So, I told her.  I feel like I earned the right to destroy this body. I feel like in every way conceivable, this body has betrayed me. It remains to do so to this day. In my mind it is comparable to the worst kind of criminal. I feel that I have earned the right to return the favor in kind. It betrayed me it has teased and tormented me, into believing that I might heal, physically, mentally, and even emotionally. Only to be forced to give up dreams, passions, desires, and needs. Now I am at war with myself. I will beat, starve, purge, medicate, and exhaust it.  Because it is my tormentor. Cancer, Pneumonia, coma, hypothyroid, POTS,  those are its weapons. I can only fight with what I know.
     
      The only problem with all of this is my spirituality. My belief in god. I know that somewhere stands beside me a guardian angel. He has done a damn good job of reminding me that my values do not mesh with any of this. That I believe that one day there will be peace.  That if I can get through one more day  I will learn. I will find all of the dreams, the passions, and my deepest desires will be found. So today is one more day that I made it through the pain. Yes I did it with restricting, isolating, and ineffective behaviors. Today I chose another day in hell.  I hope one day I don't

hey, i got sumthin to say

Here is my problem. I feel lonely. I feel ignored. I feel fat. Fat with emotions that I can't seem to handle, let alone control. I have so much to be grateful for. I have so much to love. Here is the thing. I have so much to say.  I feel like I want to start screaming and never stop. I feel so completely alone. I think that is why I have relapsed. I need to quiet that screaming. I need to silence all the words, swirling in my mind.

What I want is to tell. To bitch and moan, I want to be mean and hateful. I want to be angry.

So since no one ever reads this blog I will say it here.

Stone, I am so mad that you think that that I am the one that needs to do everything to keep this friendship alive. I feel used and unsupported by you. I feel like you think that having a friends means the have to do every thing to support you with nothing in return. 

Tree, What can I say. I feel used. I feel second citizen. 

momma, I hate that you make me grovel. I hate that you think I have no needs. I can't stand that you can't put the fuck computer down and talk to me. You asked me to come over. I hate that I need you so much.

Daddy-o I am so sorry I was born and that I turned out to be such a failure. I hate myself enough for us both.

E-dog I blame you for leaving me in such a mess. I am so sad.
That is enough for now. I feel so ashamed sorry everyone.

Trauma work

Hello Ed, Goodbye Me..( jenny schafer would have a hay day). Oh well, so here we go, I am back to praying to the porcelain goddess. Yes I hate myself, but can I stop it no.  Here is a better question. Do I want to ??? Don't ask.
I had a dream the other night. It could have been a memory. I remember so much, so much that I had forgotten.  I am starting over with the trauma work. I am so confused, what is real what is not. hiding in the attic waiting for him to come, running from the others, remembering the teachers the touching. So here I go down the trauma road hand in hand with my good friend EDNOS.