Blogmas Day 10: The struggle between looking “too skinny” and looking “too fat”


So here’s the thing…

I look back on old photos of myself, old videos, read old documents I wrote and saved to a hidden file on my computer, and I think to myself, that girl was so damn broken. She was so hurt. So fucked up. I found videos of me singing and I looked so skinny. So underweight, but nobody saw. Nobody noticed. Likely because I hid it well, but still. I found old documents that listed everything I wanted to change about me physically.  That entire list was nothing but me saying I wanted every single part of my body to be free of fat and to be trimmed and toned. I remember being scared of an apple. An apple. They have, what, 100 calories in them? I was such a mess. I was so broken.

When other people think of someone in recovery, they assume it means that person wants to be skinny. That person looks back on old photos and misses that body. That is not true for me, and probably for a lot of people in recover. When I think of that time period, I get sad. I get upset that I was that girl. I get upset that part of me still behaves in that way and part of me does not want to let go of the eating disorder because I identify with it.

Being in recovery for me is so confusing. The reason being, my brain is not completely healed, it may never be. So, while part of me wants to be skinny, is afraid of gaining weight, the other part of me is also terrified of looking too skinny again, of looking underweight again. There’s also this part of me that is just as scared about looking too heavy, overweight, etc. I am very confused and lost and this is a daily battle that I will likely face on and off for the rest of my life. If I manage to be a lucky one who fully recovers, great, but that’s rare. I get that, but I want to be further in recovery than I am and for the life of me, I can’t wait until the day comes when I can just be comfortable in my damn skin and see things in a way that goes beyond calories, image, social acceptance, etc.

I just want to be done with this, even though being done with this is one of the most terrifying things I have ever had to face.


I’m scared…


I am so scared now.

I am 23 years old, I should not be scared to meet new people. I should not fear for my safety when I think about going somewhere with someone new. I should not have intrusive thoughts about all the ways this new person could hurt me physically or emotionally.

I should not be fearing that this new person is going to touch me where or how I don’t want to be touched. I shouldn’t be scared, but I am.

I am very scared. I have been manipulated, taken advantage of, and touched by two different men in my life. I have been hurt and I am now scared to meet new people and put myself into vulnerable situations. I shouldn’t be scared of these things. These thoughts should not be plaguing my mind at 2am when I just want to sleep.

See, I am meeting this new person next week. I am so very excited to meet this guy. He’s a lot like me in terms of interests and he’s very funny and personable and likeable. I knew of him in high school, but I was always to afraid to talk to him because he  always seemed like someone who wouldn’t want to know the girl who’s terrified of people. So when he reached out to me, very much to my surprise by the way, of course I wanted to talk to him. I would love to know this person and for this person to know me. I think we would get along really well and we would have a lot in common.

I genuinely like the plan he has to show me around a local city because I’ve never been there. I’ve never had someone to show me the ropes and show me the area. So this is such a good plan, one that I am excited about.

And yet, I sit here in the early morning hours, scared. Scared knowing this person thinks I’m attractive, a concept that should be flattering, and it is, it really is, but it’s also quite scary. It makes me wonder what his intentions actually are because the last time I went to hangout with someone new, I was touched in ways I didn’t want to be. I was attracted to that person as well, but I didn’t want to be touched like that. I am not an object, and that’s all I was to him. An object.

So now I’m scared that this new person, who I pray does not read this before we hangout because I am sure it will scare him off, this person will hurt me just as the last did. This person will try to do things to me that I don’t want. I find this new person to be very attractive, he’s basically the epitome of my type honestly. So I’m not saying I don’t want him to be attracted to me, I just don’t want to feel like an object again. I can’t do it. I can’t feel like an object again.

I don’t think this person means me any harm or sees me as a goal to fuck. I really don’t. He has always struck me as a genuinely good guy. I hope I’m right because if I’m wrong, and I get put into that awful situation for a third time, I don’t think I’ll come out of it.

So please, if by chance you do see this, don’t cancel on me. I’m not broken. I have a rocky past, but I’m so worth knowing as a person. Please don’t be scared of me. That being said, please, also be the good person I’m pretty sure you are. Please don’t prove me wrong. Please have enough respect for me to hear me when I say I can’t be hurt like that again. I can’t be.



I got called gorgeous the other day…

I got called gorgeous and it made me smile. It made me feel happy and proud of myself. It made me feel noticed and even a little bit unique.

And then I realized something that also made me feel a bit perplexed.

That was the FIRST time I have ever been called gorgeous. I mean, if you don’t count my best friends occasionally throwing it out there of course. It was the first someone who was new to me had ever called me gorgeous. I got the typical “pretty”, “cute”, “hot”, and once in a while someone would throw in a “beautiful”, but gorgeous? That is not a word that was ever associated with me.

When  I realized that, it took me by surprise. This person was seeing something nobody else had because “gorgeous” isn’t a common compliment, or at least, I  never thought it was. It always seemed like a special word only unnaturally attractive people got called. So, to have someone call me gorgeous was rather surprising. To have someone that I am also attracted to call me gorgeous, even more surprising.

So a few days ago I got called gorgeous, and as strange as this may sound, it made me a ridiculous amount of happy.

I have so much to say and no idea how to say any of it


I sit here right now, at 9pm, thinking about a lot.

Thinking about what happened just a few nights ago,

thinking about how I feel about it, why it happened,

thinking about how much I want to not be thinking about it.

I sit here right now feeling like I’m forcing myself to write this,

not out of a fear or anxiety of doing so, but rather a lack of interest in what I am saying.

I always have so much to say, so many thoughts and feeling in my head, but the second I type in this website address and hit “add new post”, my mind goes blank and I become robotic.

It doesn’t make much sense to me because just sixty seconds ago I had thoughts upon thoughts ciricleing and suddenly they’re all silent.

I sit here right now trying way too hard to write what is on my mind, but don’t you comment anything like “you just have to go with it, let it flow, relax and type” because that’s not how my brain works. I’m a thinker. I live in my head. Getting out of it, even just putting words on paper, which is actually something that lyrically I am quite good at, I can’t seem to do it here. I’m guessing it’s a judgment thing towards myself. I don’t know.

I sit here right now thinking this is not at all where I thought this was going to go, nor is it what I wanted to say at all.

I wanted to recap the events that transpired on Saturday night, the good events, the events that happened after the bad ones.

I wanted to write about how confused I am so that I could lay it all out in front of me, but I can’t seem to figure out how in the heck to make that happen.

I wanted to write about my coworker for two seconds because I am so envious of her and that makes me feel guilty because I’m not being fair to myself.

I wanted to write about how I have opinions on very controversial topics that would piss people off, but I do not think I could pull that off because I value being liked over stating how I feel.

I wanted to write about how grateful I am to have this one specific person in my life and write about how I feel about that person both positively and negatively.

I wanted to write about how I feel guilty for telling another person about what they did to me and how I took it. I want to apologize and take it back and let them know that they aren’t a bad person. But I cannot do that.

I wanted to write about how I’m kind of over what happened to me physically, but I’m not over all of these thoughts of guilt and acting about it. I should talk to someone but then I feel terrible for having to go back to therapy AGAIN.

I am so torn in so many directions and I am so very confused.

I have so much to say and absolutely no idea how to say any of it.

I wish you never did it


I wish you didn’t do it

I wish that I hated you for it

I wish that I was genuinely mad, but I’m not.

I’m scared, and I’m hurt, and I feel very violated and dirty

but angry is an emotion I do not have towards you right now.

I  think you’re a decent human being who made a bad decision,

who sucks at reading body language.

I wish you didn’t do it because we could have been really good friends.

I wish you didn’t do it because we have common interests and  could have talked for hours about them.

I wish you didn’t do it because now I’m wrapped up in my thoughts and feelings of nothing but chaos, confusion, loss and lies.

I wish you didn’t do it because I’d be happy right now if you didn’t

I wish you didn’t do it because now I’m back in a place I havent been in for a while. A place I worked hard to be free of. A state of mine where I judge myself constantly and think I am lying and making up stories and solely  to blame when that is not the case.

I wish you didn’t do it because I am a person. I am not an object.

I wish you didn’t do it.

I wish you never did it.

Dreary Monday Mornings


Today is nothing more than a stereotypical “Monday”.

It’s raining, it’s dark, it’s so very cold and I’m not even outside but I can feel it already. It’s probably also foggy and slippery. It’s another Monday. The kind of Monday that makes you want to curl up in bed with a book or a TV show…or a cat/dog if you’re anything like me. Who needs a partner when you’ve got a pet, right?

However, I can’t do any of that. Well, I have about 30 mins or so to do that, then I have to get ready for work. I have to get up and have a productive day. I am working all day today, 7:30am to 8pm. Alone. I work a front desk position in pediatric doctor’s office. Monday’s are CRAZY. So needless to say I’m not totally looking forward to it, but I have to do it.

But I mean, I slept decently last night, which came as a surprise given recent events. It took me awhile to fall asleep, but once I did, I was OUT. Then my alarm went off and I said “well fuck” and laughed at myself because I never do that. I usually just roll over, lay there for a minute…or like, 10…and then get up. This morning though, I said “well fuck”. My day started with me dropping the F*** bomb. That’s awesome.

So now I’m here. I got my breakfast, which consists of some overnight oats and a banana. I think I’m going to make a chocolate-cherry smoothie to take to work with me because it was the first post I saw this morning when I logged into WordPress! So now I must have something chocolatey and indulgent. Besides, it’s a typical dreary Monday, chocolate is always a good idea on days like this. I mean, if I ever actually finish this oatmeal that I’ve been eating for a good 15 minutes now. I’m blogging, there’s only so much I can do at once!

My lunch is prepped though and I am feeling fairly calm, I say as I take a very big inhale and exhale it slowly. Literally, that’s what I just did unintentionally while typing I’m feeling totally calm. It’s a Monday, but it’s also a new day. It’s going to be a long day and I already know that I’m going to have some drawbacks and some intrusive thoughts and probably some shifts in mood that I’ll have to work myself through…it was quite a weekend guys. There’s also the rain that I’m going to have to commute 45 minutes through to get to my solo 12.5 hour day…there’s that…but it’s okay.

It’s okay because I am going to have a chocolate cherry (not cherry banana, I love it, but I’m not in the mood for extra banana today) smoothie. My lunch is prepped, my breakfast is yummy, my hair’s a mess but I’ll fix that….and it’s a new day. It’s another new day.

I hope you don’t take this the wrong way…


“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way…”

he says while holding onto me and grabbing my boobs

“There’s just something about you”

as he kissed my neck and back


I’m sorry. How exactly am I supposed to take that? A casual compliment? As innocent as saying “oh you look pretty today”, because that’s NOT how I took it.

I told you that you aren’t going to kiss me, that I wanted you to be my friend. You agreed, you said okay. Granted then you pulled me in close to you and wrapped my legs around your waste while saying “you need to trust me”. But you said okay. You said you kissed my cheek and that was enough.

Then you proceeded to kiss my neck and back and pull my pants down lower. And lay me down and wrap me in your arms like I was just a doll you were holding and didn’t want to let go of. I didn’t feel like I could move.

You said you’ll give me the special treatment when I said you can practice your massages on me since you were going to school for that. I didn’t ask for anything more. I didn’t ask you touch my legs. I didn’t ask you kiss my back or my neck. I didn’t say no, but I also didn’t yes.

I didn’t say it was okay for you to kiss my boobs. I didn’t say it was okay for you run your hands up my inner thigh. You were testing your boundaries. The VERY first time I met you.

I said I wanted friends. I said you weren’t going to kiss me, but all you kept doing is pulling me in close to you. Sitting me on your lap. I didn’t want any of that.

I didn’t want you to touch me like that.

I pulled away from you so many times. I shook my head no so many times. I did not verbally say it, but I kind of figured you could read body language, but I guess not.

I asked you to take me to my car, and you said lets just lay here for a couple more minutes and then you pulled me down.

All I wanted was to leave. I was so uncomfortable. I got so scared. You didn’t want to know me. You wanted to touch me. You wanted to feel me. But I did not want any of what happened last night.

You said you’d respect me, but nothing that was done last night was respectful. There were no questions asked. You said “let me know if I shouldn’t” as you were unhooking my bra or pulling my jeans down lower. You kissed my boobs and held my hands above my head. I wasn’t allowed to move.

You knew what had happened to me in the past. You didn’t know details, but you knew there was abuse, and yet, that didn’t matter. Because you got to touch me.

Maybe I am partly to blame here because I knew I should have been forceful, but I got so scared. I had flashbacks and I got timid and I thought that if I got aggressive, so would you. So I let it happen. You did not fuck me.

This is not a document of rape or even sexual abuse or assault.

But what you did was so wrong in so many ways. So I’ve blocked you and I don’t want to talk to you or see you. I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want anyone new to touch me anymore.

I was just trying to be social, I think I can take a break now.