bought two sports bras from walmart because i neeeeed a bra for when i go inpatient

it feels weird.
my size reeeally does not translate well into s/m/l
32DD is not going to fit into s/m/l.
i got a medium one, its loose in the back and i seriously have to shove my tits up to get them held right in there.
its weird.
i’ve never had or worn a sports bra before.

feels really really weird.
i wish my mom was alive so she could be confused with me.
i just want a family woman-figure to talk to about this shit, but i don’t really talk to them much and my mother’s side is really petite and i got the boobs either through worshiping soy or through a damn late growth spurt courtesy of my father’s side. 

calendarnotes:

Sometimes when I see things about how mental illnesses don’t only affect the sufferer, but people close to them too, I think “well no one really knows about my mental illnesses, especially not my family, and the few people that have guessed I have an eating disorder either left or don’t care, so I’m not affecting anyone”.

Then I realise that just because they don’t know, it doesn’t mean they don’t suffer.
I treat people badly sometimes because of my mental illnesses. It’s not a good excuse, but I can’t always help it.

People don’t have to know what you’re dealing with, to suffer.

you know what sucks?

when bricks figuratively fall on my back and i get ridiculously stressed out, i go seek people.

then i stressvent to them, and continue audibly stressing, and then it stresses THEM out.

i’m a fucking loser.

i just had to ask arianna who the rapper was that i and my internet wife samira love

my memory is really getting bad
i was checking the “hey look, you and samira are friends and this is us stalking you two!” page
i thought it was snoop dogg, but wasn’t certain
then yanna remembered almost instantly
ludacris.

do you know how much ludacris i’m going to listen to today?
RIDICULOUS AMOUNTS OF LUDACRIS.

okay.

• called psychiatrist, fixed up shit with them at least partway
• called NAMI housing, still looking at waiting until september through december for housing
• called my lawyers about my case, shit’s good still
  
  now all i need to do today is get some food to eat and take my morning meds, and i’m set.  

dear disorder,

i don’t like you. i can’t even pretend to like you. i hate you so much.
tonight you shoved me out the front door with angry manic force and threw a cup of water at me. you yelled at me. you yelled for a while.

you did your usual thing. but i hate the way you take over my father’s body as though he was merely your puppet. you steal his very soul from him. i love my father. i love him more than you could ever understand, disorder. but the way you separate me from my father is cruel to him and to me. you take over his entire body, his whole brain; you pin him against himself in an awful way. disorder, you’re killing my father.

disorder, you’re killing me from the inside out. i’ve been rotting in my own head, drowning in failures. you make me blind. you numb my senses to a point where i don’t know what’s real and what’s not. i hate you, disorder. do you know how much medication i have to take daily to not become suicidal or murderous? i hate the monster you turn me into, i hate the creature you make me become. i become someone i don’t even recognise when you take me over. sometimes you take me over and don’t let me remember it. i hate you more than anything else in the world, disorder. i really do.

i miss my dad, disorder. i miss my papa bear. you’ve taken him from me. you’ve stolen him. you’ve taken his everything and replaced it with cruelty and and vengence. i know when i’m talking to my father and when i’m talking to you, disorder. the differences are vast. i love my dad. i hate you, disorder, with a harsh fiery passion.

disorder, you’ve ruined my life for too long.
you’ve stolen my father from me for too long.
give me my father back. give my father himself back.
i miss my father so much, but its been so long since i’ve seen him. he comes out in little doses when you aren’t looking, disorder. that thing that makes him HIM, i don’t know how to describe it with words, i see it sometimes. i see it shimmer in the sunlight, i see it soaking up peace. i see it every now and then and nothing could ever make me happier than seeing that glimmer of my father being happy. nothing in the entire world.

you upset me so much, disorder, but i’m going to get my father back from you. i’m going to free him from your tight grasp and he’ll open up his arms big and wide for a bear hug. he gives especially good bear hugs. i miss those hugs. i’m not letting you take my daddy away from me, disorder. i’m not. my dad is worth so much more than to just give up and let you eat away at him until there’s nothing left. i love him even more than i hate you, disorder, and i’m going to put up a damn good fight so i can get my father back from you.

i mean it.
-nicole 

ego states

i have a page of computer paper front and back filled full of my description of my ego states
there are more still
there are so many more
and i need to ask yanna or cody to help me see some of these ego states from an outside point of view
because some of them i don’t remember what happened, what was said, but those are the most hurtful ones that are me

my therapist wanted me to do this
and i’m still finding it difficult to tell them apart or even figure out if i’m doing it right
but a full sheet of paper containing my ideas
the paper full of things that i think might be what he wanted me to write
its better than having nothing and just curling into a ball and asking ‘but how do i even do that?’ because i’m afraid to start
i’m afraid to think 

i really need to not throw away this paper
i put it in the drawer so i don’t have to look at it for a little bit
i want to get it at least to my dad’s so i can copy it to my hard drive and email it to my therapist at the very fucking least
because i need help and i need to stop avoiding the things that scare me
i’m still somewhat convinced that everything i remember is just some foolish lie i made up to fucking pity party myself all day long 

but the yelling
the yelling reminded me of my father’s
most angry yelling that seems to me to have come out of nowhere reminds me of my father
and according to ego states and shit, i’m reverting to vulnerable child mode
which makes sense
i just don’t want to exist when that happens,
i want to be as invisible as possible
i don’t want to be seen or heard or a bother anymore
i don’t want anyone to touch me for any reason at all

i just want quiet, both inside and outside of my head 
i want to be invisible and unable to make sounds or be heard and i want to not take up space.
but that’s not a reasonable desire because i’m human and shit doesn’t work that way. idk.
i made her cry on her birthday
i didn’t know that until today
i fuck up everything.
everything.
not even wishing on the fluffiest fucking dandilions ever will stop me from fucking up everyone’s goddamn day

why can’t i just stop being me?
i hate the me they tell me i am
i hate the me i wake up from, asking people what happened
i hate so many of me.
i hate so so many of me. 

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my psychiatrist saw my hickeys despite my wearing a tshirt that hid them moderately well and wearing my hair down.

he’s starting to warn me about the dangers of hypersexuality

fuck. 

okay, so i got my pride in my sexual prowess back

apparently my netherbits feel virginal and that is why he came in five minutes.
and the time before that when he didn’t climax, it was because he knew he was doing something he’d consider morally reprehensible and he couldn’t let himself relax.

so i am good at sex even if it is my only skill.
fuck yeah. 

trigger warning: stupid ED is being stupid

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