Here’s an illness that wants to tell everyone that I am lying. That everything I say is ingenuine. That when I talk about the illness I am over-exaggerating, that I am just an attention-seeking sorry-for-myself loser who brought all her problems on herself. Who can’t do anything right. That no-one likes that person. That this person should give up any effort at anything, immediately. Cos nothing’s gonna work.
You can see the honeymoon period’s been over for a while now. When you look at some of my first posts you can see the honeymoon period in the way I talk about things. I ridicule the illness for its irrational ways. Pick on it. I laugh and I am hopeful. That’s the real me, I am happy and hopeful. When the illness isn’t fuckin with me so much, the real me shines through.
In recent days it’s not been so easy. These posts have a more sombre tone. I need constant reassurance from myself and from my most loved ones that I can do this. Because sometimes it’s so tough that I almost want to give up. But I am not going to. I am currently listening to the Rocky soundtrack in the uni library, earlier it was RuPaul. Whatever gets me through the day.
I know why things have been difficult. I haven’t been able to attend support groups, my treatment and other positive places for about a week now, because of a national holiday. During that national holiday I had a ball with friends and drank a bit more than I usually do (I don’t drink a lot because I don’t want to rely on alcohol to make me happy). Yesterday was Hellscape 1.01. I was panicking, crying, dying, feeling physically like death – your usual hangover symptoms then. But as I recoveree, because I used to live a half-life and never feel quite human, I sometimes still forget that I am indeed a human and am affected by such things as drinking, sleeping too little, eating too little. It gives me immense comfort to know that I am a human. That other humans react in the same way as me. All I want in life is to be a human and live like other humans do. Peacefully, without constant anxiety, without the voice in my head telling me I shouldn’t be.
I am quite alone most of the day during the week. I sit in the library, make job applications, write this blog, do some study. Whenever I am alone, I hear my thoughts. And dear reader, them thoughts are challenging. We all have that part of us, the negative self-talk part. When I eat enough, that part is quieter and I can manage it with the power of my rational mind. Of course, as someone with history of a long-term and severe ED, eating ain’t that easy. As I’ve said before, current life stresses make it harder. So the brain is sometimes full of bad thoughts. But I know my thoughts cannot kill me. My anxiety simply cannot extend a hand towards my throat and strangle me. This is a fine fact. Thoughts and feelings just won’t kill me now. They pass like clouds on a blue sky. The blue sky is me.
Here’s one of my heroes, the lovely Jinkx Monsoon, saying what I also know: can’t words (thoughts) hurt ya. (Sorry if I broke some copyright by putting this pic here, don’t sue me)