Category Archives: self-harm

Exposed: My Story (Update Nov. 19, 2014)

Eating. Drinking. Smoking. Snorting. Weighing. Hurting. Burning. Cutting. Starving.
Purging. Praying. Stripping. Weighing. Binging. Dying.

These are words are verbs, actions. These words are not who I am, but things I have done. These things don’t make up a person or even describe a person. They are things that people DO. Why? For myself it is how I survived in the world starting in my very late teen years. These things were my way of living, dying, punishing, forgetting, numbing, functioning and coping. These are my sanctuary, my safety and at the same time, a double-edged sword that was jabbing away at my soul, my spirit and my life. (Read full story)

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Do you see this little girl?

945971_10151874063161477_2020789806_nLook at this little girl, the silly smile on her face
see her tiny dimples, and sunglasses perfectly in place
She’s only a young toddler, the entire world before of her
But if you knew the road ahead, your heart would become heavier

Do you see this little girl, innocent and small?
Her parents love all of her as they watch her learn to crawl.
She’s only a few years old, but has an old soul
Always laughing and playing, her future still untold

You focus on her smile and the light in her eyes
It’s hard to believe years down the road a darkness will rise
You couldn’t see the shadow, even if you wanted to
Inside this little girl, a disease began to grow

She will be bullied and taunted, pushed and shoved
Her heart will shrink and she’ll feel unloved
Her once loud laughter will shrink down to silence
Her bright smile will fade, and she’ll meet quiet violence

People won’t hear her, so she’ll turn inward with her pain
What used to beam sunshine, only storms inside and rains
Her hope will begin to dwindle as she slowly slips away
But it’s only going to get darker, from glitter to gray

She will find her way to fit in after yearning to be wanted
She takes her first sip of alcohol, takes sobriety for granted
Turning into the life of the party, she’s the center of all the jokes
She just wants to be loved, but people prod and poke

She’ll give up on trust and love by the time she’s nineteen
When a man twice as old as her gets on his knees
Her voice is gone, she can’t make a sound as she sits paralyzed
She turns to stone, gives him his way, and inside breaks and cries

By now she’s lost her faith in God and turns to worship booze
Now an alcoholic, she’s lost her ability to choose
Not long from now, it won’t be enough as she rolls a dollar bill
She’ll snort away her problems, as heroin moves in for the kill

Nothing takes away her despair, her stomach full of guilt
She throws up her food, her shame, the life she could have built
When puking isn’t enough, and starvation is the only way
She turns her brokenness inward, stops eating and fades away

Once a healthy baby girl, she is dying inside and hopeless
No matter how much weight is lost, all she see’s is ugliness
She screams and yells, but no one else can hear
So she runs to the blade and she slices and tears

This little girl, now 21, is hollowed out and empty
This shell of a woman, no where to go, steps on the stage for money
Do you see this dancing girl, a friendless and pained daughter
There’s no way out she’s become her own slaughter

Now rewind time, back inside the playpen, look at the girl there
You wouldn’t know by looking, but you can see me if you stare.
You see, I am this little girl, now grown up and fighting to live
While I can’t protect her, I can try to help her forgive

Nothing could have prepared her for the broken road ahead
But she needs you here, she needs you now, because she’s not yet dead
Listen to the little girl, and when she asks hold her hand
Because I am her, all grown up, and still need help to stand

Memorial Day Weekend — Remembering tough times

Memorial Day has come and gone and I have learned a heavy amount of insight between the weekend and the actual day that is one I would rather forget.

While this may be a long blog post, I believe I must continue to document my life story — good or bad. One of the biggest things I must relay is that no one can truly recover from any trauma without love.

Memorial Day weekend, and into the actual day, is one of the only days of the year that I’d like to avoid. Four years ago, to date, was marked as the day I was changed forever. When I was 19 years old, I was violated and traumatized by something I would not learn to comprehend or understand until the past couple years. I was sexually assaulted by a customer at a store that I worked at for more than two years.

In brief description, this was a man that I knew and had crossed my boundary lines, broke my trust, and caused my heart and mind to fracture. For the past several years, I have been diligently working to recovery from alcoholism, drug addiction, self harm, anorexia, and bulimia.

With the trust of my therapist for the first two years of talking about this, I had learned to name it for what it was. Since, I have been stripped of a self-destructive behavior every year, making the actual date more and more difficult to manage.

This year, I was faced with the trauma sober, clean, and self-harm/purge free. That is some seriously scary shit.

However, the hope in this post is that I was able to move through the weekend with support and love from those around me.

For the first time this year, my mom was filled in on the truth of what happened — the full story. She not only validated my experience but shared some things from her life and encouraged me through remembering that through God, bad things bring good things.

That’s a hard truth to trust, but there is no other option, is there?

Beginning that weekend, my mom and a large amount of the women from her church gathered to share encouragement and experience. Not only that, I had women from AA who knew of this date and texted me throughout the weekend offering an ear and a shoulder.

Saturday night was one of the worst throughout the weekend, for I was hit with a frozen numbness that completely took over. I had spent the day down in the town that this all happened and coming back from that I could only stay as strong as possible. I spent the remainder of the day obsessively cleaning my house and would not leave until I was finished. I had some people from AA calling me to get me out but I refused to leave until I was done.

Finally finishing my cleaning, I ventured to the AA club house and simply sat on a chair, under a blanket, quiet. I had no words and I had no motivation. I literally just sat for an hour. Then my new sponsee came up and we did some step work. After, I went home, went to sleep.

I managed to make sure I was awake in time for church, and it felt so great to be back. For me, connecting to my spirituality and God is key and important, and church helps me do that. It was a great morning, filled with lunch and fellowship.

Throughout the evening, I was struck with another panic attack due to some financial issues (which I will write about in my next post) and then went to my sponsor’s Big Book meeting. The topic — fear. Now, I’m pretty positive that my higher power — GOD — had bigger plans. The meeting was really beneficial and I connected with the concept that fear is a blockage that keeps God out — it’s self-reliance not relying on God and faith is courage.

That evening, I managed to get my laundry done and I stayed over one of my best friend’s house and we baked cookies and brownies for the AA Memorial Day BBQ.

That morning, we picked up my little sponsee and drove to the BBQ and it was a lot of fun. But then, a girl can only handle so much. After doing everything I could, I finally went home for the night after running my Monday night meeting and shit hit the fan.

My anxiety was the worse it had been all weekend. Suddenly I was overcome by this extreme terror and fear, anxiety, and no matter what skills I used, how much I prayed, it would not ease. I finally fell asleep and since my anxiety has been very edgy. But I’m working on it the best I can.

The support I received this year from family to my church family, to my AA family was remarkable and their love is the only way I survived this year without hurting myself in any way.

Exposed: My Story (Update)

Eating. Drinking. Smoking. Snorting. Weighing. Hurting. Burning. Cutting. Starving.
Purging. Praying. Stripping. Weighing. Binging. Dying.

These are words are verbs, actions. These words are not who I am, but things I have done. These things don’t make up a person or even describe a person. They are things that people DO. Why? (Read more…)

944600_10151678328886477_1551160873_n

Where am I?

It’s been disappointing — the lack of motivation I have. I know that this journey is far from easy and the truth is, in ways I am getting better. I have not purged in more than six months. That is a miracle and a gift from God. However, I just refuse to let go of the control I have with my eating. I cannot even think about what would happen if I fully just ate all day; normally; and not being my size — it’s just not manageable.

However, I am not even sure where I am with everything else. I am 14 months sober and that is wonderful. However I feel as though I am not known. In a way, I feel like I am erasing my existence. I do not have therapy this week, and my doctor appointment fell through this morning. Honestly, I am not complaining. I don’t feel like getting weighed. I don’t feel like talking about how to fix my eating behaviors so I gain more weight. Fuck you, weight.

My body feels out of place. I feel like I don’t have the words anymore to express everything. Sure, my therapist tells me to keep talking, don’t sit in the silence, it’ll only make it worse. But talking about it doesn’t make it better.

She says I have PTSD. I used to believe that. But part of me now doesn’t. She says by definition it was sexual assault. But today, I feel disgusted, guilty, and ugly. It should be over by now. It constantly replays in my head and I constantly feel his hands on my body, his mouth on my flesh. It makes me sick. But really, it all sickens me. It was not a violent incident, so it’s hard to believe her. I haven’t reached out to my therapist in four days now, which is unusual being that I usually reach out daily, throughout the day.

I can’t wrap my head around why it hurts so much – why it hurts so much to let her help me. Why does she even want to help me? She said every girl is worth it — and that is so true — but why am I worth it to her? So much time and dedication and love has poured out from her hands and heart. And I’m turning cold recently. I know I need her help, i do. I wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for her. I just feel like recently, she doesn’t know me. I don’t know me. I don’t even think I am a person.

My urges to cut have been awful. All I want to do is cut my body. I haven’t yet… but the urge doesn’t die down. My spirit is just crumbling.

“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.”

I’m not sure where I have been. The last time I posted I was celebrating one year of sobriety. It was a beautiful celebration. But it’s now February.

It would make sense to post a long entry about what has been happening; but really, nothing extremely impacting has been going on.

I enrolled to go back to school in the fall; this is the highlight of my year to come. I’m just waiting for the green light to sign up for my part time courses.

Other than that; I’ve been managing with my new doctor (who is my former doctor). But I missed my appointment on Monday. I was sick last week physically, so I just slept all the time and could not wake up. This morning I set more than 10 alarms to wake up in time for work so I could make it on time to therapy after.

I’ve been pretty walled up lately. I’m cold and afraid of getting hurt. Actually, I’ve already gotten hurt. I have a broken heart. The woman who introduced me to hard drugs has once again, surfaced in my life and it is painful.

I had to make the unbearable decision to write a letter; cutting things off so that I could finally heal from this toxic relationship and move on in my life. But it just feels lousy right now. It’s like a really bad break-up.

Not only that; my anxiety is so extreme that I feel like I am drowning. I am always anxious, scared, paranoid. I feel like everything is off beat, and the world is spinning in the opposite direction.

My need to take showers and completely organize then reorganize then organize has been out of control and even that doesn’t calm me down but if I don’t do those things I am even worse. Layers are maxed out and my urges to self-harm again have skyrocketed.

The other night, I broke my razor and placed it in the shower to wait; so it would be ready if I had to cut. I did not… but I’ve been exhausted trying not to use destructive behaviors. But I feel a little discouraged right now.

My anorexia has more than flared. I mean it’s manageable but it’s really intense. I’m tired of drinking ensures and boost, and all I want to do is take care of everyone else. I’m a caretaker. Because I can’t control anything else in my world right now.

The other night, I raised my hand in an AA meeting to share and the next thing I knew, I was crying, hysterically in this room full of people. Then I went into the back room with my mentor and just started sobbing, and I collapsed on the floor.

I can’t find God right now; I feel so distant and also so ashamed, guilty, and distraught. I know we hit a bottom when we stop digging… but I don’t even have a shovel at this point.

Oh, I have 13 months of sobriety.

365 days

new year

456 posts. Oh, my golly. Wow. Uh, woah! In less than eight hours, I will have one full year of clean sobriety. I have not had a drink in almost one full year. I survived my first year of alcoholism recovery. AHHHHH!!!

Tonight I am going to an AA dance with my wonderful friends from young people’s meetings and then I am sharing my story for a 4 a.m. commitment.

In addition to being sober; I can really count down every single new year to a year of SOBRIETY. That’s a miracle.

I don’t yet want to reflect on my past year – only because that entails much thought and time because of how much I have actually gone through this year.

However, I will say happy ONE YEAR BIRTHDAY to me!!!
I hope everyone has a safe and happy new year!

I have spent this past year fully anonymous, with the start of this blog and also, the journey of recovery. So with a good bye 2012 gift, I leave with this:

My name is Brittany, I am an alcoholic.
I also struggle with cross addiction, anorexia, and bulimic tendencies.

But I am recovering.