I think I may be hitting bottom. Every little thing makes me feel like shit. I can’t stop thinking about ripping my flesh open. And the angry voice in my head keeps saying the most hurtful things over and over.
My folks told my little sister that some boy is going to fall madly in love with her in college and change her mind about never getting married. The instant I heard it my heart broke. Not for her, but because it occurred to me that no one ever said that me. No one ever thought someone would fall in love with me, convince me to get married. No one ever told me I would be worth it for someone else. I keep hearing those words over and over in my head. I want to fall apart.
My folks told me they got the things for the Easter baskets. Little Sister and I are getting the same makeup, except she isn’t getting any concealer, she’s not old enough, still in high school. It occurs to me, I was told to wear concealer in middle school when I first learned to wear makeup. Apparently I am not pretty enough to go without. And I never have been. That notion keeps haunting me. Bringing in other memories that threaten to destroy me.
I just want to not feel like this anymore. Not feel like my mind is trying to kill me. I have a lovely little rubber band I keep hidden under a bracelet on my wrist. I enjoy snapping it until the skin burns. But lately it isn’t enough. I want to rip my skin open, see the blood. I want to feel something other than what I feel now. Unfortunately my current weapon of choice is a plastic knife with the sharp little teeth. It scratches the skin but doesn’t break through. It only relieves some of the tension. The knives I have tried are not sharp enough to cut.
I ate too much yesterday and today. Threw caution to the wind in exchange for a nice Easter weekend. Naturally the angry voice returned to tell me how worthless I am, how disgusting I am, how no one could possibly find me attractive. Certainly if I was capable of being attractive, someone would have told me that by now. Of course at 29 years old, having never been told I’m beautiful, I’m quite certain I am not. Maybe when I am dead and laying in my casket, someone will look at me and say, oh isn’t she beautiful. But I think not. I have lost another 12 lbs. In two weeks. It will never be enough. Nothing will ever be small enough to make me worthwhile.
Somewhere along the way, the light went out inside me. Somewhere along 3rd grade I stopped feeling special, worthy, deserving. Whatever you choose to call it. Somewhere along there I learned I was not important to anyone, that no one would notice if I disappeared. I still believe this to be true. The only reason I haven’t left yet is I love my dog and cat too much. Though my mother takes particular interest in telling me how much more my dog loves her than he loves me. She seems to enjoy lording that over me, that only she knows how to take care of him, that only she cares about him, that he loves her more. (FYI, reason #1 in the list of reasons to never have children). So with that being said, maybe he would be better off without me. I’m not good enough for even my dog. How pathetic is that?
Sorry to be a total downer to anyone who actually reads this crap. It’s just a day in the life of me, where the food is good and the company sucks.