Fuck me! I began this post on my cellphone and "Rainy Days and Mondays" by The Carpenters comes on XM Radio. How apropos...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PjFoQxjgbrs
Freaking Monday night depression hit me hard, strangely revolving around an intense desire to restrict back to September of last year... Karen Carpenter smacked me in the face with the hard truth of what that means...it essentially means death... but I tend not to concern myself with that neon pink elephant looming in the room... Not me... Nope...
For those unfamiliar with Karen Carpenter, she died of anorexia, more specifically, of a heart attack due to refeeding syndrome, in 1983, 2 years before I was born... they like to show documentaries about her in ed treatment facilities and on Lifetime...
Back then, for the vast majority of my disorder, and even now, this disease was and is extremely misunderstood and, sadly, often mistreated if not untreated... The consequences are devastating and ED's currently claim more lives than any other mental disorder, yet many suffer in silence and more still can find no way out....
Being anything but silent, I probably represent the latter... But the price of exposure of your disorder, although inevitable after so long, is to either accept or feign responsibility for your behavior...
It's that or let everyone believe that you're on drugs and go invisible for several months every year or two...
It's strange how ashamed and totally unashamed I am at this point... I despise the attention the truth gets me, but it's far easier to tell the truth more often than not... at least the truth keeps people from guessing you have AIDS or a big time addiction to heroin...
But, the result of being honest is vulnerability and transparency... everyone knows what goes on in that restroom and has a little insight into that twisted little brain of mine... People see the deliberate nature of your behavior around food and eventually gain the knowledge to make judgements and even decisions regarding your wellbeing...
This is where I get myself into trouble...
I have a tendency to blindly leap at recovery from time to time with no real desire for what that really means... total surrender of what has come to be my life...
For those unfamiliar with Karen Carpenter, she died of anorexia, more specifically, of a heart attack due to refeeding syndrome, in 1983, 2 years before I was born... they like to show documentaries about her in ed treatment facilities and on Lifetime...
Back then, for the vast majority of my disorder, and even now, this disease was and is extremely misunderstood and, sadly, often mistreated if not untreated... The consequences are devastating and ED's currently claim more lives than any other mental disorder, yet many suffer in silence and more still can find no way out....
Being anything but silent, I probably represent the latter... But the price of exposure of your disorder, although inevitable after so long, is to either accept or feign responsibility for your behavior...
It's that or let everyone believe that you're on drugs and go invisible for several months every year or two...
It's strange how ashamed and totally unashamed I am at this point... I despise the attention the truth gets me, but it's far easier to tell the truth more often than not... at least the truth keeps people from guessing you have AIDS or a big time addiction to heroin...
But, the result of being honest is vulnerability and transparency... everyone knows what goes on in that restroom and has a little insight into that twisted little brain of mine... People see the deliberate nature of your behavior around food and eventually gain the knowledge to make judgements and even decisions regarding your wellbeing...
This is where I get myself into trouble...
I have a tendency to blindly leap at recovery from time to time with no real desire for what that really means... total surrender of what has come to be my life...
My half assed efforts remind me of old roadrunner cartoons, lots of anvils and walls and splats and explosions, but for some reason I never get to die, just come up with another equally stupid idea that's going to leave a me standing, charred, in a cloud of smoke holding the fuse...
A lot of death has been hovering around my family and I lately. Most so far, grow old, some VERY old, before age or disease takes them... This blows my mind, as I had zero expectation of living to be 28, much less 91...
I've begged for death, even sought it out to the extent that I was even given last rites...
I don't seek it out so much anymore, but I still struggle with living in this particular version of my body... and that in itself confuses me to no end about what exactly it is that I want.... I cannot live this way, can't live that way, I apparently can't even die right... what the fuck!?
I'm actually willing to admit that a lot of this hostility towards my physical self is due to the fact that I'm especially triggered since last weekend. I went to a sort of reunion this past weekend and awkwardly tried to reconnect with some friends from my high school theater troupe, they hadn't seen me in 10 to 12 years... though I would never attend a school reunion, I'm known to make exceptions for smaller groups that I'm more intimate with, but the experience scared me shitless... I was grateful that no one really asked where I'd been or what I've done with my life... I kept it simple: degree in psych, worked in case management, pharmaceutical research, and a psychiatric hospital... even let some of my closer friends know about my "dancing"...
But yesterday the pictures of the event showed up on Facebook.... thankfully only within the theater group which is closed... and I saw my body through the lenses of their cameras and pondered making an app that lets you cathartically rip digital pictures into pieces to make yourself feel better (technosavvy app designers, msg me)
Some hours and research later... it exists already...thunder stolen...
https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.km.photo.torn
Great! Just what I need to take self-loathing to the next level... because Fatbooth wasn't bad enough...
I would normally let this post trail off into oblivion while I downloaded and redownloaded both apps respectively and manipulated every picture in my phone into a human thumb to tear apart, but I just don't have the stomach for it tonight... Not only am I thoroughly disgusted by my self right now and have no desire to make it worse, but I feel so guilty that I'm actually having these thoughts as someone I love spends his last night on earth... I think its high time I pulled my head out of my ass and prepare it for the kicking that's coming over the next week when it isn't the center of my attention for once...
Love and Neurosis,
Little One
No comments:
Post a Comment