I don’t know what it’s like…


I don’t know what it’s like to know exactly who you are.

I don’t know what it’s like to look in the mirror, day and after day, and see no flaws.

Better yet, I don’t even know what it’s like to see flaws and accept them because you know you’re only human.

I don’t know what it’s like to wake up in the morning excited about the day ahead.

I don’t know what it’s like to see something new, different, and feel this overwhelming sensation that equates to holding your hand over a flame, knowing that, that thing you’re witnessing is what you want to do with the rest of your life.

I don’t know what it’s like to have a passion for something so strong that any negative thought or painful doubt you have about it is insignificant.

I don’t know what it’s like to be 100% authentically you.

I don’t know what it’s like to enter a room full of people and be nothing but calm.

I don’t know what it’s like to love yourself.

I don’t know what it’s like to feel someone touch you for the first time and get that wave of excitement, because all I feel is fear.

Just the thought of a simple hand holding gesture making me wince some days.

I don’t know what it’s like to be untouched and beautiful

I don’t know…a lot…of things.

I don’t know a lot of things that I¬†should know,

that I want to know,

and I don’t know that I ever will.


Blogmas day 14: Listening to my gut


Tonight I got offered to spend the night at my friend’s house. I have done this before seeing as he and I are exes and still very good friends. There was no hidden intent behind the invite, he and I are just very close and there’s still some unresolved feelings, but we’re in a good place. I really wanted to say yes, I really did. I like sleeping at his house and waking up with him. It has never failed to make me happy.

I had this nagging feeling to say no though. I tried ignoring it, tried figuring out why I was having that gut feeling, but I couldn’t figure it out. I try very hard to listen to those feelings though so I did opt out and he was happy to take me home. It was ultimately my choice so he was fine with whatever I chose.

On our way out the door though, it hit me. The last time I had slept at his house was the night I got put into a very uncomfortable, still unidentifiable, situation with a guy I had just met. A lot happened that night and I think my mind was trying to protect me from likely having a nightmare. My friend’s house is now associated with that night, not entirely, and often it doesn’t even cross my mind anymore, but it did right then. I’m glad it did, because had it not, I would have spent the night and potentially had a nightmare.

I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. I am very ready to spend the night with him. He’s someone I trust and am comfortable with, but mentally I don’t think I am ready to be vulnerable again. I don’t think I’m ready to sleep there again yet. He is not a bad memory. He is not a bad thing of any sort. He is my safe place. He is my comfort zone. Mentally, I just don’t think I’m ready to sleep there again yet.

It sucks, it really does, but I’m working on it. I have goals. I have counseling. I will be okay. He is so supportive and so patient with me. He is too understanding and kind to me and I am so grateful for him. I hope he sticks around through all of this because he is someone I don’t want to lose because of something someone else did to me.

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.