June 2, 2013

• How to Say Good-Bye [Timestamp: 1 Edit: 1]

  (blogspot link has been added)
  In my mind, I imagine myself typing so much more than this, but I can't find the words.  I always thought this place would be here.  I imagined myself with a teenaged John and posting pictures of his graduation and prom.  I am not the kind of person that normally imagines what the future is going to be like.  I didn't imagine my wedding day as a child.  I never imagined what my children were going to be like.  I did imagine Xanga always being a part of my life. I would like to be able to thank each of you personally, but honestly I can't because it doesn't seem right to just say the one sentence my mind will allow my to type.  So what I will do is post tid-bits from posts from the past.

  I came here at a very confusing time in my life.  Memories that I had suppressed resurfaced, and it felt like my whole entire life was a lie.  I used to be one of those people that would watch talk shows and laugh at people with suppressed memories.  Then it happened to me.  Now that a second round of memories resurfaced and I know a little more about PTSD, I know that the memories are never really forgotten.  They are stored as random and disconnected pictures that flash in your mind, but you ignore them because they make no sense or it's just of some random person you used to know, but I digress.

  I came here in the olden days of the Pro-Anorexia movement.  At first, I didn't post here much because I spent more time on message boards and in chat rooms.  Most of the time I was at Bluedragonfly (BDF) or The Thin Forum (Thin(k) Pages). So here are some flashbacks"
  
  
  

  They say when you die, your life flashes before you.  Every good thing and every bad thing.  You see every second that you have lived.  I don't know if that is true or not.  I also do not care.  I know some people are afraid to see their lives.  Some people are afraid to relive it, but I am not.  I want to relive my life.  I want to know that it was real.  I want to know that it really happened and that it isn't something my mind made up.  I know that it FEELS real, but some how it doesn't.  I feel like I have been shattered into pieces and each piece is a different life.  None of them are the right life.  I regret so much that I did not tell anyone because I can't ask anyone that's in my life now if it is real.  I know that either way, I'd die happy.  I'd die happy to know that I am not crazy and I really was raped.  I'd die happy knowing that I was crazy because only people on movies have suppressed memories.  I want proof either way.  I wish that someone who knows would tell me that it really happened.  I know that the rape really did happen, but I want proof.  I want my memories to feel like memories and I want to remember it all.  I want to be able to direct my hate at someone else besides myself.  Screw Karma to Hell.  It's not like I wasn't a horrible person in a past life to be so fucked in this one.  If I could hate the right person and take it out on them every day of my life, all the hatred in the world could come down on me and I'd be the happiest woman alive.........I've tried letting the anger go but I can't.  Even if it meant being shallow and sheltered, I'd rather have my old life back.  If I can't have my old life back, nothing would please me more than to make the guilty suffer.....

  I suppose I should add wrath to my list of sins...

  Posted 10/10/2005 at 7:16 PM

  Thank you for letting me know that I am not alone.  Thank you for being there for me as I went from being shocked, to accepting, and finally healing from the abuse that I was referring to in this passage.  Thank you for being there for me when even more memories surfaced last summer.  Thank you for being there as I came to a resolution that works for me.  Thank you for baring with me as I worked through the other abuse that happened in my life.  Even though toward the end, I stopped sharing my thoughts with you all, I knew you would have been there if I had shared.  I struggled with accepting the part I played in allowing the abuse to happen (I'm not saying that I was at fault, but I did play a giant part in putting myself in dangerous and stupid situations)

  wow you wear my 6 year olds daughters size....

  Posted 6/29/2006 at 8:1 PM by b1aluciana

  Do you think that if I went to the ER and told them that I swallowed a bunch of pills, that they would pump my stomach to remove the potato chips?

  I won't die from 1000+ calories?  Should I go to the ER and tell them I took a Xanax, clonapin, percoset, flexeril, tylenol, diet pill, and aspirin cocktail so I can pump the potato chips out of my stomach?  Would they just ship me to Bryce Hospital or that other one?  Would they want to do that before or after they discover I didn't take the pills and all they see are partially digested potato chips?

  I should look for stomach pumps on Ebay.  Could I use a vacuum?  I could sterilize the parts.

  hmmm, the ED voices haven't called me fat lately.........

  Posted 6/27/2006 at 1:44 AM

  .  

  I was dying and I honestly wanted it.  I don't think the emophoto I posted was even me at my thinnest.  She the comment above.  I really was the size of a 6 year old child.  I could wear my nephew's clothes and he was my son's age at the time.  Whenever I start to think I want to give in to my eating disordered thoughts.  I read those entries.  I read the responses I received from people that were encouraging my behavior and I think why would I want to be that way again.  So in a way, thank you for encouragement.  I hope all of you are doing well.  For those of you who didn't encourage me to stay sick, I am glad you remained my friend even when I stopped being a total train wreck.  Now, I am just derailed.

  Thank you for being there to support me when my dad had cancer.  I'm glad you were there.

  Not all of my memories from long ago were bad.  This is just me being sick and twisted.  My old neighbors were creepers and not the Lovelyish meaning of creeper either.  Read the quote below and keep in mind, one of these guy attempted to murder his girlfriend.  They were evicted (dry, cynical, gallows, please laugh).  My life should be a dark comedy I swear, it would be awesome.

  Last night, early this morning, these drunk assholes scared the shit out of me.

  I couldn't sleep so I stayed out working on one of my stories.  My brain was dead so I didn't feel like working on my dissertation or anything really productive.  I finally became sleepy around 3:00 am.  I fell asleep on the couch.  They woke me up by breaking a beer bottle against the wall.  Then they kept knocking on the sliding glass door as if I was going to actually get up and let them in or answer it.

  All kinds of crazy thoughts kept running through my head.  What the hell did they want?  I wanted to call Jim at work.  I thought maybe I should call the cops, but I didn't want to talk to them.  I was afraid of what would happen, so I just hid under the covers until I couldn't hear them talking outside their apartment anymore.  These people are new.  All of our other neighbors, especially the ones that have been there forever, are wonderful.  Our block of the complex is very quiet.  I never think about closing the shades.  I don't think about walking around in my underwear and a tank top.  I like the sun light during the day and I just never think about shutting the shades at night.  Why the hell did they put these losers on our block?  They could have put them with the other idiotic undergrads that live in the complex.  There used to be nothing but grad students, more serious upperclassmen, and, families.  When I told Jim he was pissed.  He is going to report it.  I don't want to make a big deal out of it, but I am sure my other neighbors complained as well.  They were being pretty damned loud.  I just hate it when I don't feel safe in my own home.  I Hope it doesn't happen again.  I don't want to become obsessed about locking my doors and corning myself into one room at night.  I don't want to be too afraid to even get up and go to the bathroom because somebody might have broken in and they are waiting to rape me and kill me.

  Posted 6/25/2006 at 11:15 AM

  Thank you for supporting me through my pregnancy.  I needed it.  It was hard.  I don't have much to say about this other than it was when I decided I needed to be a better person, and it represented a big change in my life.  After I had my son, I took a Xanga break.  I appreciate all of you that were there before and after.

  I was right.  I am pregnant.

  I am scared.

  I cried for an hour already.

  What self-obessed person can tell they are pregnat at 6-8 weeks by looking at thier belly?

  I am not going to like seeing a nutritionist.  I am not going to like not working out.  I am not going to like this at all.

  I want to be happy, but I am just scared.  I don't want to fuck this up.

  
  

  Posted Wednesday, 17 January 2007

  When I returned, I considered deleting this Xanga and starting a new one.  I thought it would be symbolic of starting over again.  I thought about it and decided that you don't get to start your life over and you have to take the good with the bad.  The only thing I regret is that I deleted my posts that were extremely eating disordered. It would have made the story about me more complete.  When I was eating disordered, I always complained that people who wrote books on how they let go of their eating disorder made it seem like a magical transformation, and then I go an do the same thing.  Oh, well.

  I also started to enjoy talking to people who weren't members of the eating disordered world, and that was an amazing thing.  I have a feeling that there are a few of you that I have recently found here, that I will never hear from again.  Whether I found your site informative, interesting, funny, or annoying I am glad I was able to know you for a short while.

  I think I have said enough about how much you have helped me.  I hope that I was there for you when you needed it.  I hope that I provided the same level of support that you provided me with.  I have to admit that I did enjoy helping you through your hard times and I hope that we don't disappear from each others lives.  I hope I am only saying good bye to this place, this site, which used to be where I poured my heart and soul.

  There are so many other stories I haven't told and I feel I won't have a chance to tell them.  Some of them are funny, some of them are painful.  I can't post them anywhere else because I don't feel safe. Even the funny ones.  In my mind the other places are too public,  and the people I am talking about will recognize themselves.  Even if I am not Friends with them, we have Friends in common because it is a small world. 

  I will be timestamping the hell out of this post.  I am not leaving just yet, I will be here until the end.  After that, I will be at WordPress and on Facebook.  I may open blogs on the other sites, but I won't post there.

  http://feignedaffections.tumblr.com
  http://erikamsteele.wordpress.com/
  http://www.writerscafe.org/FeignedAffection
  https://www.facebook.com/erika.steele.98
  http://feignedaffections.blogspot.com/
  

  • 9:34 am
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