An Explanation

A reply to hateful "friends"

 

No one will read this, but I'm writing it anyway

I feel like I've explained myself a million times. I've asked for forgiveness a million times too. It's a shame that all my words and apologies were worth nothing to some people. I guess I'm going to do it one more time. Not in hopes of gaining their approval, but in hopes that maybe they'll stop by and read this and gain just a small token of understanding.

 

I honestly can't remember a time when I didn't hate myself. The only times, I suppose, must have been before I even knew what hate was. Those times when I wore pink footie pajamas, sat on my little pink plastic chair, changing positions every five seconds while watching care bears. I must've  been 5. But I can remember my self hatred even when I was 8. More when I was 12. And ever since, it has grown into a 20 foot demon that clings to my back and ruins most days.

 

I've always been too shy, too awkward, too fat, too ugly, too stupid, too short, too annoying, too weird. I have some painfully early memories of realizing these things. Whether they are true or not doesn't matter, because they've been true to me for most of my life.

 

I was 15 when I learned to fake confidence. It helps in some situations, but sometimes I get carried away with it. Sometimes I can get myself to believe that I'm pretty. Then I'm gorgeous. I'm a great writer. I'm the next Edgar Poe. My clothes designs are good. My style is revolutionary. I'm a genius. I'm amazing. Then I can talk to anyone. My insecurities don't get in the way, because I have none. I can do anything when I feel that way.

 

Too bad it's rare. Because the moment that the smallest thing goes wrong. Mom says I should style my hair, it looks bad today. Someone comments on how I can eat a lot of Chinese food. I trip and fall. Anything, and I'm immediately embarrassed. Much like a little girl getting caught wearing her  mom's jewelry and trying on her makeup, believing that she's a little starlet. I'm caught believing the same. And suddenly my false confidence erodes like soft soil in a rainstorm. I'm too shy, too awkward, too fat, too ugly, too stupid, too short, too annoying, and too weird... all over again but with a newfound shame.

 

For the greater part of 11 years, I've spent hating myself. Hating myself so completely that I doubt I've hated anything or anyone any more than myself. I've got my own pretty history of problems, addictions, disorders that developed over time.

People don't seem to understand that I didn't go out seeking them. I was born with a predisposition for bipolar. Something happened to trigger it when I was 7 or 8. I can't remember, but I remember what happened. And with bipolar, you don't just get that, something else joins it. It's always bipolar -with-. I just happened to develop a tendency to self destruct.

If you know me, then you know my history of cutting. No, I never did it for attention. Hell, for the longest time I didn't even know that anyone else did it. The first time I did it, I didn't even know why I was doing it. I just knew it made me feel better. Instead of learning to develop good coping skills, I became reliant on that.

Though it helped the immediate pain, it didn't do enough for the long-run I guess. I still hated myself. I was still too much of everything bad. I guess those I called my friends couldn't see the pain for the mask I'd created. I always felt that it was weak to show your true feelings, especially if it was sadness. It was hard pretending at first, but after so long I became an expert at playing the role of the carefree, silly girl.
 

Then, I remember, in gym class in 8th grade, I heard a girl say to her friend "Don't just not eat, you'll get fat." I was so confused when I heard that. It didn't make sense to me. Obviously, if you didn't eat anything, you wouldn't have anything to produce more fat, so you'd lose weight. At this point, yes, I'd thought I was fat from the earliest point being 7. I just never acted on it.

So I decided I'd do a little experiment to see who was right, me or her. I went home and simply didn't eat for 3 days. I remember the final day. I was wearing this blue and green striped sweater I always hated wearing because I thought it made me look fat. I looked in the mirror of my mom's china cabinet. I turned to the side and was awestruck, I was thinner. I remember smiling and thinking "What a stupid liar!"

I began noticing the nutrition facts on the canned foods in our cabinet. I never knew that they were there before. I didn't really count calories, but I became obsessed with weighing myself. I remember when I went to my friend Taylor's birthday party that year. We were all sitting there in the dark watching Stephen King's It. I remember thinking "Ok, I'm not allowed to eat until my stomach growls. And then I can't let myself get full." I did just that. When my stomach growled I finally got a handful of chips. But I left it at that.

Keep in mind that it took me about 2 years of this to even know that I was disordered. I'd heard the words "anorexia" and "bulimia" but I didn't know what they were or what they meant. And of course I had no clue that they applied to me. I was just "dieting".

9th grade, when the s**t hit the fan, everything is a jumble. I lived in the village, with my dad, with my mom in Michigan, and with my grandma. I changed schools twice. I think we moved to Michigan, that's how it started. Yeah, we sold most of our things to move to Michigan. We lived in Bessemer in the UP (upper peninsula). I had a pilates DVD that I did religiously every night. I can't remember much, as for some reason home-life was a blur. I probably blocked it out because it was too depressing. I ate mostly light yogurt and never ate school lunch. I can't remember what I did during lunch though. I remember one time I came downstairs. I went to my mom and said "Hey guess what! I thought of a saying that will help me diet!" She asked what it was. "Fat people are failures who get nowhere in life. Thin people are successful!" I said with pride. She told me that it wasn't true, and at the time I knew it wasn't that cut and dry, but I grew to believe it over time. That should've been a sign that I was taking it a bit too far.

Then, mom and Mike got into another fight so we moved back to Indiana. We had nowhere to live so we moved in with my grandma. I remember drinking lots of black tea and green tea to keep my energy up. I also remember one oddly vivid night when I had a sugar cookie and didn't want to get fat, but I wanted it so bad. So I got a cup. I took a bite, chewed it up and spat it back out into the cup. I figured, if I didn't swallow it, it'd only be like one tenth of the calories and fat. I finished off that cookie that way. Later I did the same thing with a brownie. And no, I didn't get the idea from a website. I still had no clue I had a problem.

Then mom wen't crazy on her meds. The doctors screwed her up. She didn't want me living with my grandma because she thought my Mimi was trying to steal me from her. So when my dad came up to visit, she called us in the hotel room. We got into a screaming match. I tried to tell her that she wasn't making any sense and that I didn't want to leave. All my friends were here. I left.

I moved to Alabama with my dad for the rest of the school year. It was there that most my problems got progressively worse. I started keeping a food diary. Monitoring what I ate and how much. I kept an exercise log. 100 pushups. 100 sit ups. And about 20 minutes of stretches. For lunch I remember I usually brought a ziploc of maybe 10 red grapes. I don't want to blame her, but it was my fault for envying her... but I made a friend down there. My only friend down there was admittedly anorexic and bulimic. She was beautiful. She was about 5'9" and 114lbs. I remember how thin her wrists were and how she wore that one black hairtye on her right one. I remember how pale she was, especially for living in Mobile Alabama. She wore SPF 50 sunscreen every day like I did. She always wore an oversized navy blue hoodie (in school uniform) every day despite the heat.

I remember when we got to talking, my first day there. She liked metal, I liked punk. We were fast friends. She saw the cuts on my wrist (the gym shirts were short-sleeved and I couldn't wear my wristbands) and started talking about that. I had no problem telling her, she didn't know my dad so what harm could she do? Somehow we got on the topic of being fat and eating. I told her how I kept my diary and my little "rules" I'd developed over the past year and a half. She told me about what she did. When she said that she'd been diagnosed anorexic and bulimic I was shocked. Here was this girl who did the same things I did, but she's anorexic? That means I must be too. It was definitely a turning point. As naive as I was, I asked her how to make yourself throw up. I was tired of starving, it made me too grumpy. I'd tried to make myself sick for a while at this point and was tired of laxatives. God bless her, she refused to tell me. Sure, I figured it out myself later, but she was a saint among sinners.

When I moved "home", my mom and I stayed with my grandma for a while again. Then we moved into the Villiage. Section 8 housing. She had no job. When she finally did manage to get a job, she worked at Casey's gas station. We were poor. I was turning 16. It was then that I figured out how to make myself sick. Mike was sleeping. I put a tape recorder outside the bathroom door. I ran the water in the sink and in the tub. I purged for the first time. Later I replayed the tape to see how loud I was. And I was loud. So I tought myself to be quiet about it.

It was around this time that I discovered there were forums where girls who had the same habits as me could talk. It felt nice, being able to talk with people who understood. Sure, it may have allowed me to self-destruct a little faster than I would have had I not found these websites... but it was a comfort. Like my only english-speaking friend in a foreign country.

I began purging in the shower. Nearly every night. If I couldn't purge, I'd dump my food periodically into a cup. I never ate with my parents. They couldn't see my plate. Or I'd take it into my room and throw it away. When the bulimia got worse, I had a trashcan in my closet that I'd puke into. I'd tie up the walmart sack when I was done and throw it in the dumpster outside the apartments. It was this time that I got down to my lowest weight of 97.

After that it's been a blur of binging and purging, restriction and fasting.

It's honestly the only way I know how to live. It's been too long for me to remember how to live "normally".

I used to keep secrets like my life depended on it. I was like scrooge, collecting as many as I could. Refusing to share them with anyone. Ever since my breakdown that led me to Meadows, I've been painfully open, with everyone. I never lie about how I'm doing. You ask if I'm recovered, I'll tell you no. If I'm trying, I'll tell you I'm trying. I'm honest.

But I'm starting to think that maybe, in cases like this, honesty isn't the best policy.

Maybe I should start keeping my secrets again. Maybe I should put that mask back on and lie about everything like I used to. At least my "friends" didn't hate me when I lied.

But that's the s****y part.

I've told all of you everything. I haven't hidden a bit. I've peeled back my skin for you and shown you how my blood pulses. But what do I get? I get cut off. I get lied to. I get told that I am stupid and portrayed as a careless imbecile.

What you don't understand is that my brain is essentially re-wired. Honestly, my world has been upside down ever since all of this came to a head. Every day is a battle and I struggle to identify rational thought from the irrational. And all of this is very hard to do without medication. We're too poor to afford my medication, so I'm doing the best that I can, ok?

If I'd developed normal coping skills like most people, I would've been able to handle the obstacles that whoever is in charge has hurled at me through the years. Sadly, I never did. I tried to handle them in the only way I know how. I know it made a wreck of me, but I'm trying.

I can't just jump headlong into wellness. I know what to do. I know how I should eat and how I should exercise... but the battle is all in my head. If it wasn't such a mental thing, then I'd have no problem getting better. I just have to learn how to get my brain to cooperate with my body's efforts. And without a therapist, that is unimaginably difficult.

This whole year has been nothing but trying to figure myself out. I'm not even halfway there yet.

But what I have figured out is that most of the people I used to trust and love and consider almost family have been lying to me for a long time. And that hurts.

I used to hold on to the past with such nostalgia. I held a special place in my heart for the old times. I'd listen to the music that we used to listen to and I'd replay those memories as an attempt to band-aid the longing for it to return to that state. I've always known that it never could return to that... but this is the first time that I'm glad it can't.

I've realized that you don't accept me. You can't accept me because you fail to understand. It's sad that you can be best friends with the lie I created, but when I turn to honesty and take a chance, you refuse me.

You always say that you miss who I once was. Well, that's impossible. I don't remember who that was. I remember that she was a kid. Beyond that, I've no idea. She was before half of the things that have molded me into who I am now had happened. We are entirely different people. It is impossible for me to be her. I think you should be okay with that. I've asked you for nothing more than to be yourself and accept me as I am. You can't keep up your end of the bargain and neither can I.

It's time to move on.
 

I've only had the urge for suicide 1 time in the past 5 months. That's a new record for me. So I'd say I'm making progress. If you know me, you'll understand. Those numbers are far better than when it was a nightly ordeal.

I think part of that is because I've already done something pretty great. Sure, I may not have a job. I may not be in school yet. I dropped out of high school and got my GED. I may have no friends and I may be poor, but I've made an impact. I've provided a miracle.

For those who want to judge me for what they think I considered a "mistake" well, you weren't there when it happened. You weren't beside me the entire time. You wouldn't let me talk to you and tell you my side of the story, you just talked at me. You barely know me, so what right do you have to judge me?

Yes, a child is a gift from God. But if we have it in our power to make that gift go two-fold, shouldn't we? I never once used my disorder as an excuse. It was a reason. One among many.

My mom and I can't even afford to feed ourselves. We're living with my stepdad and eating his food. She gets literally no money from her paycheck, the government is taking it all. We can hardly take care of ourselves, why would I put an innocent child through that?

Our family, or what's left of it, is in shambles and is drowning in drama at the moment. Ever since my grandmother died it seems like everyone has lost their minds. I didn't want my baby to be exposed to that.

Bipolar is hereditary. She has a chance that she may wind up with it. Though it can lie dormant if not triggered. The life she has now is so stable and sweet and beautifully Catholic that I highly doubt anything will happen to trigger the bipolar she may or may not have. I know that if I were to have attempted raising her, with the calamity my life is and has been, something would've triggered it. And with that predisposition, the chances of her winding up catching my habits or eating problems would be really high. There is no way I would risk my lovely daughter having to live the nightmare that I've had to live. It takes so much away from you and is emotionally crippling. Why would I want that for her?

You assume that I thought she was a mistake. You assume that I didn't want her. You assume that I didn't love her. Well guess what, you are so f*****g wrong it hurts.

I never once viewed her as a mistake. Yes, I was terrified in the beginning. But the more time I "got to know" her, the more I grew to love her. She matured me so much and taught me to care for someone that I didn't have to care for. She taught me love and gentleness. I would get so worried when I'd be riding in a car. I was worried that a car would hit us and she'd get hurt. I was worried when we'd drive on a bumpy road. Her safety was my priority.

I did want her. Believe me, if I didn't have my reasons, she'd be here with me right now. I loved holding her in the hospital, even though it made me nervous. And I swell with pride thinking about how beautiful and smart she's going to be when she grows up. I can't wait until she's old enough and we can meet. I know she's going to be a lovely young lady.

I love her so much. Not a day goes by that I don't think about my darling Annabel. I wonder what she's having for breakfast. I wonder if her mom is taking her for a stroll. I wonder what she's getting for Christmas and how many family members are going to fawn over her. I get pictures every month and I treasure them like gold. I've got two of her pictures in frames at Mike's. I keep the photo albums by my bed. I've written poems for her that I hope she'll read one day. I even wrote her a letter before she was born, that I gave to her parents to give her when she's old enough. She's the first person that I've loved so completely.

And I hope, by the time she's old enough for us to meet that I'll have my self destructive addictions beat. I want to be someone that she can see and say "I'm proud that she's my birth mother."

They say, don't lock up something that you wanted to see fly. And I want to see her fly so far. I want her to soar above the clouds and accomplish any dream that may come across her mind and heart. I figured it'd be cruel for me to chain her down with me and drag her through the mud as I try to break free of it. It would've been selfish of me to have kept her.

I've done the best thing.

I got the miracle of open eyes and I gave the miracle of a child to a family that could've never had one. They waited so long and just kept praying. I thought of her over myself and look what I accomplished. They've got a family now. And I've got a chance to get my s**t together and not harm anyone in the process.

 

So if you actually read all of this and still choose to hate me, be my guest.

 

But from here on out, I'm not going to bend over backwards to keep a friendship that isn't worth keeping in the first place.

 

I'm tired of living in the past and wasting my time for people who are either holding me back or just contributing to the problem.

 

I'm moving on.

Author's Note

So I recently came across some things my "friends" said about me on myspace, behind my back. one called me stupid for having an eating disorder. The other said that I "used my disorder as an excuse as to why I gave my baby up for adoption". Those hurt deep. Especially the one about my baby.

So I wrote this and posted it on my blog. I hope they read it. I don't care what they think.

Reviews

[Bud]

I haven't made it past the first paragraph, and compelled to respond to what is said thus far. Have you considered that perhaps the rest are the ones who owe apologies and explaining themselves for a change? We all have our darker moments in life. Yes, you are absolutely without room for error correct, it does hurt. No matter what.

"I was 15 when I learned to fake confidence."

I do believe you are the first one I've met that actually put it that way... the honest truth of it. Usually it is phrased in the sense of "winging it" or "fake" it on a different level. Never mentioning their lack of confidence. Commendable that you speak it in truth.

"I've always been too shy, too awkward, too fat, too ugly, too stupid, too short, too annoying, too weird. I have some painfully early memories of realizing these things. Whether they are true or not doesn't matter, because they've been true to me for most of my life."

Again, you've laid it out as is for all to see. Our mirrors are distorted, no matter what. But as you have pointed out, it is your mirror and how it reflects in your eyes...The cutting and eating disorder really hit me hard in the core. I have experienced that with my oldest. Scary stuff. I had to help her deal with it, without showing my fear. And even then I wasn't making much headway. I never once scolded or was harsh with her. I didn't know what to do. Hell, I had no answers for myself, let alone her. I was terrified. I mean terrified. Not so much that she was doing it, I understood all that. But I didn't know when or if she would go the distance with a change of mind. Saying, "What the hell?". I couldn't, and still find great difficulty imagining anything happening to my girls. Hurts more than I can handle. Even though it's just a thought... But I understand the relief that all find in whichever "poison" they choose to use.
I'm not going to hog up all of the comment space, here. I easily could. A book for that matter. DO know that someone feels your pain. To a certain degree I know where you are coming from. As for your child? Yes, which is better? For a child to be in need, ending up lost to the world due to lack of resources to feed, cloth, nourish, nurturing all the needs necessary for adequate growth, well being, survival? Or to see to it that the child has at least a fair chance, if not better of making it in this take, take, take world we label give and take. It is by far more take than give, though the contradiction, contrast is that we give more that we take,,, Somewhere, someone is taking more...
It takes tremendous courage to bare yourself like this, I know. People don't understand what it is like being down. I mean down. Most are so programmed, they fail to recognize their own emotions. Because the have shut them off in the name of attaining that "dream" which is never realized due to their not seeing with their hearts.
You have put so much of yourself out here, and so much emotion invested. There is no appropriate word that will praise you enough for your courage, and honesty in this piece. Except that I stand here applauding you with a standing ovation, for all your efforts to come to a better understanding of yourself, your disorders, your errors, your life. And trying to find that comforting peaceful zone of acceptance. Never give up on it. As long as you keep searching, you WILL find that zone on this earth, in the living... You have it in you, it's a matter of locating it. And that can be quite difficult. Sometimes, it takes a lifetime to define our lives, knowing just who we are, being able to accept and believe that person...

[T.S. Rex]

...
WHAT THE F**K, who said that s**t? Cause I'll march my fat a*s down there and lay a prego beat down on them.

And I applaud you for this, it was amazing to read, especially about little Annabel. She is so lucky to have a mom like you, because you gave her life and the chance for more than you had. It takes so much courage to do what you did and not take the easy way out (like a certain someone @.@).

I hope one day that we will all be freed from our disorders and that we can get what we want out of life, but I think for now we just need to accept what we are and who we are until we know that we are ready for that change.

[Leech Wife]

Tori Amos once said, "Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much, but you have to crawl into your wounds to discover where your fears are. Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin."

Adolescence, is without a doubt, the cruelest and most natural life experience there is. Your story and your honesty are both overwhelming and powerful.

One's burning past are theirs and only theirs to bare. I agree with 'LisetteCanWrite!' when they said, "No one can know your situation better than yourself." You are the only judge in this court; you call the shots. And you most certainly did, and I do not look down on your decision about giving away your child in hopes for giving her a better life than your own. You did not kill her, you did not look at her with resentment. You did what you felt you had to do; No harm is done. And it is your business to keep.

Although, I'm not sure what to tell you about your current friends; I do not know their side of things, so it is hard to say. But if you feel they are only resenting you, then to hell with them. Drop them. Find somebody who understands/relates to your situation and talk to them.

Eating disorders gravely concern me. I personally have had close friends of mine in and out of the hospitals, passing out on cafeteria floors, throwing up in my bathroom. If you lived down the street from me I'd be dragging you to a bolted room with a feast layout on a table saying, "Eat this.", but I have no control over you or your situation, and it is in my best of interest for you and your health to keep yourself in check. Don't be afraid to get help. You have a very strong mind, so don't let your body down in return.

Have a wonderful night, dear.

[LisetteCanWrite!]

Wow.. I applaud you on the energy and honesty in the outpouring you have flowing out here! This is a decision you made whereby you placed your child ahead of your own selfish needs.. clearly giving up a child is one of the hardest things for a heart to do.. still many WILL judge in ignorance. No one can know your situation better than yourself.. if you are unwell to that extent then you did the right thing I think! What I think does not matter though.. truly .. the only thing that matters in reality is what you think of your decision as only you can live with those decisions.

Through the years I have learned that people do not always understand a person inside and out.. if you have such hateful friends on such a website.. remove them and move on for your mental health.. for reading or hearing their comments will only bring you down further don't empower them by allowing them more info to harm you. People do not always respect others.. friends will come and go.. some are very pushy with their thoughts and short-sighted moreso once they gather in groups and bring up such topics.. I mean really.. can't people make REAL conversation anymore??? I think everyone goes through something in life that they feel this way at some point.. it's sad to get what is actually alot more than tough love .. it's a kick in the pants when you are already down..

Focus on your health.. understand that many of those friends you may have grown apart from anyways.. friends do come and go.. make new and better quality ones.. This fired me up.. cause it seems that most people have forgotten what real friendship is about anymore.. you just made a new one with me!

For those friends that do such things.. one good turn deserves another and no one is perfect.. one day their bricks may come crashing down.. for every person they put down their foundation is weakened and it could be their own demise through Karma.. that is a truth! At the same time be forgiving.. as to make new friends you don't want to take such bad feeling into new friendships and relationships.. never burn bridges as sometimes enemies can become friends.. life is funny that way!