Five good things that have happened to me, 5 years and a day after the hospitalization date that kept me from committing suicide

1.) Relearning to laugh

By the time I reached my breaking point, I could not muster so much as a smile

Teaching myself to laugh again at even the smallest of things was a hurdle

Now I laugh loud enough, often enough for people to recognize it as me from opposite ends of halls

Laughing at minor inconveniences was one leap I made, knowing it would soon come easier

Yet I acknowledge that there are hard days I cannot let the tiniest of giggles out

2.) Falling in and out of love many times

Teaching myself that a lover doesn’t define you, but how fully you loved

How fully you loved someone who didn’t deserve you, someone who didn’t love you back

Giving too much of myself to the wrong ones

Giving away pieces of my love to people who needed it the most

Recognizing rock bottom in other people, giving them the shoulder when I knew I would have needed one

3.) Learning I was permitted to take up space

Knowing when people were trying to minimize my shine because they were uncomfortable with it

Using my stubborn voice to never back down

Just because I am a woman doesn’t mean I cannot posses the personality traits assigned masculine

Fiery, stubborn, loud mouth throwing sarcastic daggers that I have learned to embrace

4.) Realizing it’s alright to have emotions if they aren’t used to hurt someone else

Crying when I really need to, allowing myself to be angry when need be

I am not a robot and emotions are never as black and white as they seem

5.) Loving myself again, even if milestones are reached slower than someone else

My relationship with food is always tinged with the way my bones felt jutting out of my skin when I thought I didn’t need it

Days where I can look at food and not see the calories, fat content, sugar, etc. are days I count as good days

Days where I don’t calculate how much exercise I have to do with the extra food I take in are also good days

I have been allowed to accept the personality traits handed down to me, even if they are not seen in the brightest of light

Learning to accept myself at face value is a permission I am eagerly awaiting, but until then it is the baby steps that count the most


Another Starvation Poem

It has been 7 years since I first began betraying my own body

I was never officially sick but my bones poked through my skin

I lost 40 pounds in 2 years but the doctors were only afraid for a moment

Last year my physician told me to see an eating disorder specialist but that same week my therapist said I didn’t meet the criteria anymore

I tango with that old feeling starvation gave me

As if I am actually succeeding at something – as if I am making my mother proud by not weighing as much as the next girl

I do not have the words to define what was yet wasn’t

Back then I wasn’t much more than skin and bone tangled with a sadness that cannot be cured

I just call it the disorder now – I knew it was anorexia but doctors are skeptics

My physician knew I was afraid of food but my therapist knew they wouldn’t give me a second thought at the psychiatric ward because I wasn’t small enough to fit in their box

6 years ago I was 2 pounds away from the help I so desperately needed

I have so many female friends who have suffered been in the grip of food and the fear of but most were never given the treatment

When you see how many of us are sick you begin to wonder when people will realize it’s not an isolated issue, but maybe an issue with what we are taught to look like

Food and I still have a strained relationship, we are reconciling after a bitter divorce

Some days I still wish to return to starvation’s grip

Age Living With Society

7 years old
Not a care in the world
All the girls in my grade are so much thinner than me
So I stop eating
I’m afraid to go to school
She’s going to hit me again today
Like yesterday and all the other days before
I start dissecting myself with scissors
So the darkness begins
I’m so thin I could disappear
I stumbled upon a razor blade to spill my veins on this page
And down the drain
The darkness is consuming
Maybe that’s why I’m in this hospital
They gave me PTSD
I hallucinate on a regular basis
Without drugs
No one listens
He tells me I’m beautiful
I don’t believe him
He left me with cracked ribs
I am no longer thin enough to disappear
People are starting to listen
But I still feel so worthless
I split open my veins
So why am I still here?
Because I’m more than that

Video Here

On Bullying

First off I would like to tell you my history with bullying. When I was in elementary school I was often picked on for being a bit chubby and not quite fitting in. I cut my hair short and kids liked to call me a boy or tell me I was gross. The first year of middle school was to my memory, bully free. Then 7th grade hit and so was I by a girl I was suppose to call my friend. She emotionally and physically harassed me that entire school year. The next year came and her best friend started hitting me on behalf of her. This time it was to a worse degree and a more frequent event. A more frequent event meaning once or twice a day she would physically harass me. The physical harassment events caused me to become depressed and develop PTSD. I had also developed anorexia, but not caused from bullying. My freshman year people would comment on how thin I was and such. My depression and anxiety built up so much that I was hospitalized because I was threatening suicide. At the hospital I was diagnosed with clinical depression. It was a low in my life, but my friends were proud that I got help. Although one person called me a dumbass when I returned to school after I was discharged. If you were wondering I was diagnosed with PTSD during the summer after my hospital visit. Then my sophomore year a guy moved to my school. He has harassed me on two accounts, once when he wouldn’t stop kneeing my butt. I asked him politely to stop but he wouldn’t stop, so I had to backhand him to get him to knock it off. The other occasion he tried to drag me down our friend’s driveway by my backpack. I couldn’t do anything that time. I have been verbally harassed multiple times by multiple people in high school. 

So you’re probably wondering what’s my stance on bullying. Or you could figure I would say it is very negative. It has negatively impacted my life to the point where I have lost years of my life to mental illnesses like depression, PTSD, and self harm. It takes so long to get out of the hole you dig for yourself and other people help dig for you. It has taken me years to start accepting myself because for so long I thought it was all my fault. I thought I was a piece of crap for letting that stuff happen to me. Then I realized that it wasn’t me who was the crappy person. I had to relearn to let myself be happy and that it was a good thing to be happy. Bullying can cause worse than in my case. Many bullying cases see suicide, and that still doesn’t end harassment in some circumstances. Sometimes harassment of the deceased occurs throughout the school after the suicide. What we need is more education on how to be nice to each other. We need to learn the signs of mental illnesses. I was so under educated on mental illness that I didn’t realize my hallucinations were a factor of anxiety. I thought wanting to die was normal until I was sent to the psych ward. Something needs to be done about the bullying epidemic. We need to punish the perpetrators, not the victims. I often see the victims get in trouble rather than the perpetrators, and that’s so wrong.