hatred |ˈhātrid|nounintense dislike or ill will ORIGIN Middle English : from hate -red (from Old English rǣden[condition).

Thud. (fist hitting wall)


THUD. (miscellaneous object hurled to the floor)

Stop being so WEAK!!(!)

Cue hysterical sobbing, punctuated by loud wails and pounding of walls/floors/own body.

It sounds so... silly... now that I am hours removed from the situation. But in the moment, hatred surged through my veins like heated adrenaline.

It's moments like that... they scare me. I could actually really do myself harm when I'm in that frame of mind. These self-destructive urges... they sweep over me, and it's all I can do to listen to the voice of reason.

Today, I've been toying with the possibility of going ana. My rational mind screams at me, "What are you, crazy?! You're trying to get HEALTHY, not develop a new sickness! You've done the research-- you know that it is NOT the solution to your problems. And besides, what about your plans for the future? It would screw up your whole life. How can you expect to help other people if you indulge this side of yourself?"

And that's the thing... I do, I do, I do want to help other people. I mean, that's the dream, right? So how can I jeopardize that, just so I can feel in control?

But the other half of me says, "Go on, do it. I bet you can't. I bet you'll cave. I bet you'll fail. I bet you don't have the guts. It's what you get, anyway. You think you hurt now? I can show you real pain. What you've got now is all in your head. I can make it real."

And isn't that I want, after all? Something tangible to fight against? Maybe some way of making myself pay for... for... whatever my sin of the moment is. Some sort of masochistic penance.

And then there's this whole thing with Mom... she is so sick. It's really weighing heavily on me. It's not just the fact that she's sick.. it's that she sent me care packages. Finally! The thing I've been yearning for for years! But it's bittersweet... tainted with guilt... stained by my deep sense of unworthiness. Like, she could have spent that money on a thousand different things, better things... but she spent it on me. What a waste. But she did it because she loves me, and it makes her so happy! So I ham it up, and churn out more enthusiasm than I'm feeling, because I want her to be happy, and I am happy to get these things, but not as happy as I sound, necessarily, because she really could have spent her money on something better but I'm not about to tell her that and burst her bubble... and part of me longs, yearns, craves that love she's showing me. It's like rain in a dry desert.

Ah! She loves me! How wonderful. 

I don't know how to explain it. I guess I just really want to be free to enjoy these gifts, but I can't. I'm not. I don't know.

The other big thing is my schedule.
Monday: work for B.
Tuesday: therapy day.
Wednesday: work for B, record, session w/Julene
Thursday: racquetball
Friday: clean house, clean church, group (possibly Bible study w/Johnson kids)
Sabbath: church
Sunday: sometimes something, sometimes nothing

Maybe it just feels like BW all over again, but I'm getting claustrophobic. The walls of my life are starting to close in on me, and I'm freaking out. Seriously freaking out. Like, I'm tired of "doing".  I don't want to "do" anything anymore. This being scheduled for something every day is...well, freaking me out.

I'm just itching to run... No, actually, not necessarily run, but to dump everything and hermit myself away. But the GUILT that comes attached with such an idea is so tremendous that it outweighs all else. I can't quit anything! They need me! I'm committed. To back out would be high treason to them and to God. Because, I mean, look at me... I'm already selfish enough. To just quit everything but the bare basics and hide away is selfish, right? Well, I don't know. That's why I'm asking.

I just can't make sense of my life anymore. It's all unraveling, from the inside out... and what exactly am I supposed to do right now? What does trusting God look like at this point? Just sitting tight and chilling? Quitting? (Because that was the answer at one point before...) Certainly not developing an eating disorder.

But how, pray tell, do I deal with the rage that wells and pools within me? How do I stop hating myself? And how do I get to the point where I no longer want to destroy myself?

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