Today feels kind of odd. I had another Danielle dream last night, albeit not as intense as the glass smashing one. I feel strangely shy today and my outfit and makeup scream for attention. I kind of want to wash my face and change into something less bright, especially since my mother is coming today, with Juniper. My Mom will make some kind of a big deal out of “you’re so beautiful,” etc. which I know she means in a nice way, but it makes me feel awkward. I don’t need the, “you’re the most beautiful girl in the world” speech from her. That’s what Brandon is for, duh. I just feel like I over did it. I was going to wear the pink fuzzy adidas, but I’m sticking with the mary janes. Let’s not go crazy, we are at EDC, not high school, right? I just don’t want to feel awkward. Maybe I should change into all black. I like that look, it’s so dramatic, or does that just scream I want attention in another way. I don’t know. I want my breakfast and coffee. I want to take a nap and skip groups. I want to hide in my room all day. We’re off to a good start, yikes.
It’s really quiet and the vibe is off. Is it because I ditched snack last night? I always feel like I get judged when I ditch snack or meals. Everyone is wearing headphones and wandering around without saying much. Except Jim, he’s making phone calls in the corner and it sounds really serious, like he’s conducting some kind of important business. The business tone. In a past life, I was told my business tone was scary. It’s part of the [deadname] image I want to shake. I think that’s a story for a different chapter, because we’d have to include Lindsay Marie Morris. Pretty sure that is going to need a “willingness to process feelings” rating of 8/10. We’re a 4 today.
I’m listening to “Against Me!” today. Fuck you Danielle, you don’t own this band. Besides, you hate them now, because somehow LJG being a bad person suddenly makes her music all suck? Sure. Because every rock star shares the same strong values that you have. Oh, wait. She’s trans. You hate trans people, like all of them, now. You’re not French enough to be French (turns out you’re probably more Canadian than French. You’re the descendent of a Canadian bastard, just look at how you spell your name, GAUTHIER. You’re so proud and it means you’re a bastard Canadian). You know which French people left and denounced France at the end of the war? COLLABORATORS. Your family was full of cowards and Nazis. Maybe that’s why you can’t escape your redneck TN blood. It’s who you are, a redneck, a bigot, a hate monger and a fucking phoney. Congrats and welcome home. You’ll never leave that state again and you’ll die a redneck in Nashville Fucking TN, the place you SWORE you’d never return, because it’s truly a shithole place. But since you’re a bigot now, maybe you’re a racist, too. Maybe you always were. But at least you won’t have to worry about running into me, except in your dreams, I’ll live there forever. I want to remind you that you abandoned your family. Every. Single. Night. As it turns out, you are a horrible mother, worse than yours. You traded your daughter for some dick and whatever fucking rep you’re gaining, you fucking scenester. It’s all you’ll ever be. Have fun.
True story. A day after I arrived at ERC, Danielle had the audacity to tell me she would always love and SHE FORGIVES ME. WHAT!?! Thanks sweet pea, because I was in agony worrying that you were somehow holding a grudge against me for something I didn’t even do. You’re insane. We don’t shame mental illness, but we do acknowledge it and your mental health has reached a pivotal point where, if you don’t get help, you are going to do something awful. You admitted to me that the morning you came over to shame me and tell me how you were flying back to Nashville, because I dared fall asleep on your couch, you weren’t in control. Fun Fact: You’ve not regained control and your decisions are shameful, embarrassing. But I have good news for you, I don’t need you anymore. I’ve found my people and you’re not them.
Don’t let them break you
Don’t let them tell you who you are
Doesn’t matter where you come from
You’ll always have a floor to sleep on
And you have your bamboo bones, nervous energy
Blind ambition, skin of your teeth
Push back, push back, push back
With every word and every breath
You’ve got to go and get for yourself
You’ve got to go and get for yourself
I’m embarrassed to admit it, I’ve got no grip
Can you see it from a distance, does it look ridiculous?
I guess that’s just what I have to live with
Still I have a mind to think, knees to break
I’m going to push back, push back, push back
With every word and every breath
These words were never about you. You want to have your narcissistic ego stroked so badly, you don’t know what pushback means. You’re not a punk. You’re not even a rock kid. Maybe I wear too much makeup, too often. But at least I’m doing it for myself. At least I have the courage to express myself beyond a band t-shirt and hipster talk. You’re boring, dull and you’ve stopped growing and reverted back to a 26 year old that wasn’t even really you. You were sick, remember? Remember, you had to be medicated to regain your 22 year old sanity. “Remembering who you are…” Bullshit. You’ve reverted back to a hateful person that wreaked havoc on your life and cost you the career that you really wanted. You’ve been blacked out, because you’ve become what both Tom and LJG hate. You wouldn’t be allowed to hangout with either one. Your girlfriend status doesn’t make you special. And while we’re talking about your boyfriend, when’s he going to quit that gubment job? Marry a communist business owner, LMFAO. Good luck. Didn’t he tell you his last GF broke up with him because he wouldn’t spend enough on her. You little princess, enjoy driving your Honda.
Speaking of boyfriends, I have a great one. His values include taking care of his friends, volunteering for the homeless, video game tournaments, and working out. He spends his day off volunteering, EVERY SINGLE WEEK. He loves me AND treats me well. He adores me. He doesn’t care if I wear makeup or not. He doesn’t care if I listen to Katy Perry or Shipping News. I’m not defined by my band t-shirts, but rather my character. He’s not an ABUSIVE FUCK, like you.
You’re exactly what you hated about your Mom and your Dad. You’re medicating your mental illness with alcohol now, just like Daddy. You’re verbally abusive and physically abusive, just like Daddy. You sick fuck, you sexually harrased Josie. It happened. Denying it a million times doesn’t make it not true. You’re so broken, you don’t even realize that you’re a disgusting criminal, borderline rapist. Running away won’t make your brain work better, only getting real help will. But your sycophants have let you convince them that nothing was EVER your fault, because you’re a narcissist. Cluster B behaviors, Danielle. You’re exhibiting all of them. It’s ok, it will catch up to you sooner than later. Karma is a bitch she’s coming for you. You’re so terrified of death, but your kidneys and liver are DYING and they will kill you, maybe soon. You’ll be drained and filled with chemicals and put in a casket, in a vault, where your body will mold and rot away slowly. You’ll never rejoin the earth, because your sisters won’t let that happen, they’re too practical.
I’m not angry, I’m too disappointed in “the real you” to be angry. Who misled who? Everything you promised to me and Juniper was a lie. Everything you promised to be was a lie. All of your supposed values were fake. Your identity crisis has made you even more bitter than you were before. You have no character. You’re a coward. You’re a fake. You’re a liar. Yes, YOU, you’re a LIAR. You’re a thief. You’re untrustworthy. You stole my journal and copied it, something you swore you’d never do. You’re unhinged. Out of control.
I’m relieved. I no longer have to worry about being berated, shamed and hit. I no longer have to worry about your threats, you have no power over me now. You will never shame me again. You’ll never hold power over me again. You’ve got a new victim now. Congratulations. I’m glad you’re gone. And guess what, I FORGIVE YOU. I forgive the abuse, I forgive the lies, I forgive the betrayal. I forgive your non-sense story telling. I forgive narcissism. I forgive you for being a terrible mother. I forgive your alcoholism. I forgive you unchecked mental illness. I forgive you for breaking my ribs, blacking my eyes, biting my lip, calling me a faggot. I forgive you for it all. I’m free from you now and I forgive you. You wanted your freedom, I’ll never be there again, to pick you up. You’re free and that’s what makes you happy, right? Congrats, you’re free. Free from your responsibilities that you signed up for. Free from being adored and cherished. Free from the person that shared your passions. Free. You’re FUCKING FREE. Good on you. Guess what? I’m free, too.
And I’m a writer now, apparently and I’m publishing my work. Apparently I know my values and I know who I am now. I’m more than my relationship with you. I’m proud of who I’ve become and I’ve found people that cherish and adore me. I’m on my way up and you’re about to drown in your own well and you’re going to take everyone in your grasp down with you. That’s what you do, you steal the energy of others, suck it dry and move on. My energy is being rebuilt and you’ll never steal it from me again. I’m free. Thank you. Thank you for running away. Thank you for declining to get help that you need. Thank you for leaving my life permanently. I’m glad we’ll never speak again. I’m glad I’ll never have to see your hate filled and cruel eyes again. I’ll never have to cry because of you again. I’ll never be told I can’t sleep in my own bed. I’ll love my daughter every day until I die, and I’m going to live a long life. My kidneys aren’t failing me. Death is coming for you, your body is falling apart. The outside is just a small representation of the inside. The saggy breast, the stretch marks, the scars. They’re just a micro expression of how torn up your guts are. And when your health fails, you’ll die alone.
I’m starting a new chapter, that’s what my therapist calls it. In reality, I’m writing a new book and you’re not even a minor character. You’re a tombstone that read, “I ran, I lied, I died. Alone.” And my life is about to be beautiful, filled with joy. Filled with connections with kind hearted people that care. Filled with people that aren’t weighed down by their guilt or their failed accomplishments. And I’m doing it to the soundtrack of Katy Perry, just as a final fuck you. I chose the soundtrack of my life, not you.
Now someone get me some clonazepam, that was a lot to feel and process. But the rest of my day is going to be splendid. I am beautiful, I am real and I am finding joy in all aspects of my life.
And now that we’ve gotten those emotions out of the way, I want to make the rest of the day about feeling good, making progress and loving myself enough to do what I need to do to be healthy. That’s the thing about abuse, it weighs you down and takes away your self-esteem, your feeling of self-worth. And once you escape it, you’re essentially starting from the negatives and building from there. I choose to build my self-worth by accepting that I’m not perfect and I don’t always make perfect decisions, but I make my decision based on values instead of beliefs. Beliefs can be distorted and be influenced by cognitive dissonance, but values are what they are . Once you know your values, your decisions become easier and as you process the emotions surrounding those decisions, you start to feel worthy. That’s the very thing that an abuser wants to take from you, your worthyness. If you don’t feel worthy, then you deny yourself love. And if you deny yourself love, you seek it from your abuser, who dangles it like a carrot to control you for whatever purpose they choose. I think for Danielle, she felt threatened by my femininity. So she dangled the carrot so that I’d behave in ways that were contrary to my authentic self. The ways that fit her mold of what a woman should be. Guess what, short hair and soiled clothes that she wears don’t make her a badass bitch. Maybe a lazy and unoriginal one, but definitely not a badass. Being aggressive, scary even, doesn’t make her a badass bitch either. It makes her an abusive one. Putting down others’ intellect to make herself feel big doesn’t make her anymore smart, but it does make her a narcissist and an abuser. I’m not ashamed of being who I am, I’m proud that I stood up to be who I wanted to be, instead of her puppet.
I’m proud of who I am. I am a woman. I have courage and strength, but I’m delicate, too. You can be both, you don’t have to choose. Yes, I have an eating disorder. Yes, I have mental health issues that I’ll contend with for the rest of my life. But I don’t let those things define me. They’re just a single line in a long and beautifully written song. Yes, I survived abuse by an unhinged abuser, but that’s only a bridge to the next verse of my song. And I’m going to let my song play and be heard by anyone who wants to hear it. I’m not scared, because I no longer have fear. I am accepted. I am loved. I am authentic. I am a good Mom. I am empathic. I am willing. I am here and I am fighting to live and I don’t run away because of my fears. I embrace them with all the energy that I have and I grow and become a better human being.
I don’t know who said it, but the day we stop learning is the day we start dying and I continue to grow and learn. I’m still young in my heart and it’s reflected in my presentation, from head to toe.
And now, given that it’s Kristen’s last day with us at ERC, I’m wondering if she’ll have time to hunt me down before lunch. I want to restrict my meals today and depending on what I ordered it may be easier or harder. The easiest way to restrict myself is to hide in my room and refuse to go to the cafe. Jack made the executive decision to split up our Aries table last night, I could have kicked him in the shin. Now I’m in the back corner, facing the wall again. It’s like the 2nd worst seat in the cafe. And they separated our important Aries spokeswoman, Priscilla, to another table with Rose. I didn’t even get to have Rose at my table. WTF? What a let down. It’s my last full week here and I want to sit with my favorite people and I really liked what we had going for us. Don’t get me wrong, Maddie is great, Maggie is super cool and Anneluese (is that any closer) is definitely one of my favorites. Maybe I’m too much for Priscilla anyways, at least that’s where my anxious brain goes. She moved in the group room to a different seat and it threw me off my balance. I hate when people start moving around in the group room. I just get comfortable, start feeling safe and suddenly there is a shift in energy and I feel a void and wonder if it’s something I’ve done. Am I no longer interesting? Did I give off the wrong vibe? Is it just me being insecure? All very real and plausible possibilities in my anxious and overactive brain. Maybe I need a nap. Maybe after lunch I’ll curl up outside of the nursing room and take a nice nap, just like I did yesterday. I like napping after lunch. I’ll take some hydroxyzine and watch the rest of Euphoria and drift off to sleep. I don’t have nightmares during my naps, only during my night time sleep. One more solid reason to nap more and sleep less at night. It’s Nurse Bailey today, so I don’t expect any special privilege or to be treated with particular kindness, but that’s ok. If I do that, then I should be good going to PM snack and dinner.
I want to play and sing today, but the group room is locked up and there’s no one to hear me play. Actually, I’m fine with the last part, but the group room being closed is a fucking problem. And the strangest thing with Monica… the 2nd time she was here on our unit, I asked her if we could have group outside and she was kind of snotty about the whole thing and just flat out said, “No. I can’t do groups outside,” followed by a list of weird excuses that were all complete bullshit. Every day she’s been here since, she’s had a group outside and they go great. I don’t know what changed except maybe she didn’t want to be outside those days and now she does. It’s weird. I don’t like being lied to, but I”m not sure I can call this a lie, really. Maybe just some confusion. So strange, but that’s how it is some days. Rules that don’t make sense are the norm and others ignored. And then reversed because someone feels those rules no longer make sense. It’s all very confusing.
It’s a weird fucking day. I just feel… odd. My anxiety has the best of me and I’m tired. I got to see Juniper, which was really nice, of course. I get to see her again tomorrow, too, which is awesome. Tomorrow…****le sigh**** It’s going to be a busy day of course, because of the holiday. I’m pretty sure half of ERC has quit. And I just feel weird. Like the anxiety has just really ramped up today and I don’t know why. I’m stressed out. Maybe it’s all the staff that’s quit. Maybe it’s people leaving, people moving, people stepping down. Maybe it’s just talking to my mother and all this medicaid BS that we’re having to deal with. I’m just so fucking stressed. I’ve been restricting every meal and snack. Eating half or less of everything. I just, I want to feel something. I want to feel the hunger pains? I don’t know. And this anxiety, I’m climbing up the walls. It’s the fucking Danielle dreams over and over again. She just won’t leave me be. I just want to be left alone. It’s this feeling of loneliness today, like I’m not part of the picture. Like no one wants to talk to me or sit with me. I just feel isolated, so I’m staying isolated. It’s just this day, this fucking day. It feels odd, everything seems off. I just want to feel normal today and I don’t. I feel stressed and stretched out, like a picture painted on a balloon that gets distorted when the balloon gets too big, just before it bursts. I feel like I’m about to burst.
It’s starting this blog. Blogs are something I’m good at. I’ve got hundreds of pages of real, raw, human written content. I wonder if I’ll have any readers. I wonder if Priscilla will come through with the editing. I guess I don’t care. I should just post it all. Back date it and start posting, throw google analytics on there and see what the search engines think about my rambling mess of a novel. Ugh. I want to sleep. I wish I could take 2 more clonazepam and drink a glass of bourbon.
Danielle, I miss drinking bourbon with you. I miss cooking with you. I miss sharing a home with you. I miss being married to you. I miss you and I fucking hate it. I don’t want to waste another second thinking about you, but when I’m not thinking about Juniper, it’s all I fucking do. I wonder how you are, if you’re happy. If you need anything. I want so badly to hold you and hug you. I want to hear that everything is ok. I wish everything was just ok. I’m so mad at you. You make me cry every fuckign day. I miss you while I’m awake and when I sleep. You haunt my dreams, you torment me. You’re making me cry right now. Right this fucking second, tears are pouring out of my eyeballs and my nose is all running. What the fuck? You’re the love of my life, I’m not just some bf that you toss to the side. We have a fucking child. We’re a team and you fucking ditched us. You ditched us for some bullshit facade of rock and roll life and I hate you for it. You hurt us. You abandoned us and I need you. I need you to be in my life and you’re gone. I’m scared to email you. I’m definitely too scared to call you, but all i fucking want is to hear you voice. I just want to hear you say it will all be ok. I want my normal back. I want to eat tacos with you and talk about music and basketball. I want to make plans with you that we never intend to carry out. I want to continue building OUR garden. It’s OURS. What am I to do with it now? I want to hear every wild thought that passes through your head. All I want is for you to come home. It’s our home and without you it’s just a hollow house. I’m hollow without you. Why did you do this? Why would you abandon us? We’re your family. Stop making me cry. Stop hurting me. When is it going to stop hurting? When will I stop feeling like my guts have been torn from my insides and twisted and smashed and slashed? I didn’t forget you for 15 fucking years and then we married. You think we can just move on? You really think this is going to work? How could it? I’ll never have a normal life again. I’ll never be satisfied and I’ll never have a place I can call home. I hate this. I hate this so fucking much. I want you to get better and wake up and realize that you still have a family and you made promises to us. Big, BIG promises and you’re betraying your own values by betraying us. This is not you. You wouldn’t do this. Where are you? Where is the girl that I love and promised my life to?
Fuck food. Fuck eating. You’re at least 75% of the reason this started and you haunt me, every fucking night. So today, fuck food. I’m not going to eat. I am going to die because of this illness and there is nothing anyone can do about it. I’m going to spend the next week fasting, except for water and breakfast. I’m done with snacks and I’m done with lunch and dinner. I just want breakfast and coffee. Fuck eating. Fuck food. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to eat. My mantra that got me through the weeks you spent away. It’s going to be my mantra again.
Ironically, now the entire unit is standing around chatting and watching funny videos. I’m really lonely today. I miss my family. I miss my relationship. I miss texting my best friend every little thing throughout the day. I miss her texting me to find out what I’m doing or how I am. You fucking bitch, you’re making me cry again. It just won’t stop. You just won’t stop. I’m a real fucking person with real feelings, not something you can just decide one day to stop loving. I’m not a pound puppy that you can drop back off at the pound when you decide I’m too much work. Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck eating. I told you, if we ever split up, I’m dead. Not suicide, just loss of will to live. I haven’t moved on and not for lack of trying. But there’s this piece missing. The conversations, the back and forth, the hours of chit chat about nothing and everything and everything being nothing and so on… It’s absolutely cruel what you did. Cutting off communication, why? Why can’t we just talk like normal. Why can’t things just be normal? You said we’d be friends. You said you will always love me. Stop making me cry. Stop it. Stop hurting me. You’re still hurting me. I’m giving up right now.
Fuck food. Fuck eating. Let it kill me. Let my heart collapse while I sleep. Stop the flow of energy to my brain and maybe the thoughts will finally stop. I can’t do this anymore.
This is one of those days, one of the difficult struggle days. This is one of those days where my thoughts are just too much. Where my brain is just working too hard. Where everything is moving too fast and I just need sleep. I just need to rest and sleep a dreamless sleep and wake up tomorrow and try again. Because if I had to make the choice today, I’d quit and give up. But I don’t entirely want to give up, but I don’t want to carry on either. This is the problem, indecision. Make a choice, stick with it and don’t back down. Yesterday I felt so normal and today I feel so odd. I feel like my brain is spinning like a roulette wheel and I’m waiting for it to fucking stop. Please just fucking stop. Stop thinking, stop seeing, stop hearing, stop, stop, stop. Slow the fuck down and stop. Please. I’m dizzy and tired and I just want it to stop.
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