Of Ranting...

I'm the youngest and my eldest brother is handicapped, unable to walk/talk/eat solid foods and my other brother died at birth. This makes me the "hope and future" for my family. I graduated high school at the top of my class because I was yelled at if my grades were any lower than A's. I graduated college Valedictorian and when I got my job, I only missed one day of work due to weather.

I was laid off on December 23rd and still haven't found employment. Not due to lack of trying, but my mum keeps telling me that I'm slacking, that I'm not trying hard enough. Hell, I put in four applications in twenty minutes one afternoon. I put in two applications Saturday, and all in all it's been about 15-20 applications in a month's time.

Both my parents support my music career, but they aren't willing to help me by being my manager. My dad works two days a week and makes more than I made in two weeks time. It isn't like he doesn't have the time. I bought my own car, I pay the insurance, my phone/internet bill, and I don't eat much. I've loaned them almost all of my money and my bank account is now down to $600.

Both my cousins on my mum's side are younger than me and heavier than me. My grandparents favour them and always have. If I gain any weight whatsoever, they tell me I'm getting fat. If I lose weight, I'm too thin and need to eat more. My grandmother tells me I'll never be a successful singer, even though that's all I've ever wanted, I have a demo CD recorded and another in the works, and I've performed numerous times for various events. I even have a radio DJ coming to watch me sing in June. I know I can do it, I just need someone to give me the chance.

When my dad accidentally saw the cuts on my legs, he said "Why in hell would you do that? Your life is too good for that shit.". Hence the reason I hide the fresh cuts and my ED. I'd hate to see how he'd react to that...Yes, I have a good life compared to most. My parents never hit me, they aren't drug addicts/alcoholics or anything like that. But that doesn't mean that I don't feel pain or that my pain doesn't matter.

Of Unbelievable Happenings

Saturdays and Sundays are the two days I allow myself to eat.
I'm allowed whatever I want, within reason.
Today I've had:

• Toast: 240cals (burned off)
• 1 breadstick: 180 cals (burned off as well)
• Salad: 60 (only partially burned off)
• 2 Hot Dogs: 180 (I just purged them)

Even on the days I allow myself to eat, I still purge.
I'm so pathetic.
I've got some cookies to make later and hopefully I can enjoy them.
I know I'll still feel like shit.

Sometimes I wish this were over.
I wish I could be like those girls who can eat without thinking of it.
Even the thought of eating even a normal meal disgusts me.
It literally makes me feel ill.
The control is worth it all, however.
I don't ned to be like those other weak people who need two or three meals a day.
I am stronger than all of them.
I have to be.

Of Self-Injury

God, I want to cut so damn bad.
I need to feel the blade slice my skin.
I want...
I need to see the blood flowing down my calves.
I've already carved the word "Fat" into my left calf.
I haven't cut since the 15th.
12 fucking days...

I wonder if God has forsaken me.
I find that I have to keep believing in Him.
Even if He has given up on me,
I have to hold on to something.

I wouldn't blame Him if He had deserted me.
I would have given up on me long ago.
However, I cannot let myself believe He's left me.
His love is eternal. This I must believe.
This has always been my sanctuary.

I am no enchantress.
Do not listen to me.
Listen through me.
No black clouds-just desert storms.

Of Fire

It's ebony-black outside.
Something has broken the stars.
They glitter in small delicate fragments.
Demons dance in my mind
But the voice is my own.
In this realm between worlds,
I remember the past in fiery sequences
Being twisted by force
Being shaken by wind
In a world where colours swirl and dance
Out of the shadows
And into the darkness
So different, yet the same
I'd rather be wrapped up in the storm
Facing the demons
Than in a life of false angels.

Of Cleaning

For some unknown reason, I've been in a cleaning mood.
I cleaned/organised both my bedroom and bathroom...
The one thing I haven't done is dishes.

I should go do that.
It can be my way of paying my parents with something other than money.
My bank account is getting very low and until I get another job, I'm afraid to go anywhere.
Unless it's to apply for a job (which I'm doing tomorrow).

Well, I'm off to do the dishes!

Of Frustration

I believe I am nearing my monthly cycle.
Unfortunately, unlike some, I have never lost mine, despite my weight loss.
How can I tell?
Lately, everything seems to irritate and annoy me.
I'm more tired than usual and sleeping later.

In other news, I've been fasting the past three days.
I haven't lost a damn thing.
What the fuck?!
Urgh...it's so frustrating.
If only my body didn't hold on to weight so easily...

Of Poetry and Pain

Today on PT, a member posted a poem.
She didn't write it, but said it described her emotions.
I have decided to share it, because the words ring true:

Torment

A weight falls heavily upon me -
A steady pull inside my brain.
In one room I seek love and understanding -
In another I purge the guilt and pain.
My guilt never leaves.
The pain only deepens.
My life is a wild rotation from one room to the other,
Locked in a ceaseless circle of torment -
A game of chess I cannot win.
I stand up, throat on fire, head spinning, heart pounding;
Begging for an end, any end, to this hell.
I gaze into the mirror, wiping my mouth,
Wondering who I have become;
A drawn and pale face, dull, expressionless eyes.
I run my hands through my hair
Hoping it will quiet the screams in my head -
But it doesn't, and tomorrow the game will start again.

by Emilith

In other news, my feet were killing me today at around 07:15.
I walked up and down my stairs 40 times and around my house for an hour.
Then, I took a break and did laundry (which needed to be done badly).
My back is also in pain, and when I touch it, it feels almost numb.

Day one of my 5-day fast went well.
Four more to go.
I have yet to decide what I will treat myself to this weekend....
Perhaps a breadstick or some grilled toast?

In other news of poetry, here is a poem I wrote awhille back that truly describes my state of mind:

Frozen in the sun
Rays searing my skin
Smothering embrace
Battles raging from within

Frozen in the rain
Pain, longing to be free
Water drowning all reason
Do you really want to be me?

Of Fasting (Again)

I'm beginning my 5-day fast tomorrow.
I will not fail this time.
No matter what. I don't care if I have to flat-out say "No, I don't want it."
Damnit, I will make it to 70lbs.

Of Tests and Novel Writing

I just finished taking an online test to determine how depressed I am.
My results?

Major Depression: Very High
Dysthymia: High
Bipolar Disorder: Very High
Cyclothymia: Extremely High
Seasonal Affective Disorder: Moderate
Postpartum Depression: N/A

I'm also working on my novel "Out of the Shadows".
I know I'll hit periods of writer's block, but I'm determined to finish it.
Here is the beginning of the first chapter.

Even in her sleep, Amelia could feel the cold breath of evil. It surrounded her, filling her lungs, suffocating her until she awoke, shaking and gasping for air. The silhouette was framed by the doorway for an instant before it slowly began its journey toward her. Fighting to stay calm, Amelia shut her eyes, hoping this was her vivid imagination playing tricks on her. She opened one dark green eye. The dark figure was still there, slowly closing in on her.

“Who-who are you?” she asked, her voice sounding much braver than she felt.

Silence.

She began shuffling backward until her back slammed into the headboard. She knew, with a sinking feeling, that even if she were to make a run for it, she would have nowhere to go. The figure raised its arm and before she even had time to feel completely terrified, she saw the glint of silver as the knife came down.

The icy blade pierced through her flesh and she screamed as the metal scraped the bone above her breast. She felt the hot spray of blood--her blood--on her throat and then all she knew before the darkness swelled around her and finally consumed her, was the face of the attacker.

It was her own.

Of Being a F***ing Failure

Fuck you, recovery.
Fuck you, 89lbs.

You're both over now.

I'll make it to 70lbs.
Or damnit, I will die trying.

Of Recovery and Nervousness

So, I've decided to give recovery a shot.
My first day went over okay I suppose.
I managed to keep a bagel and four pieces of salami down without burning off the calories.
I'm also thinking of confiding in my parents.

Of course, this has me terrified.
I can't very well say "Hey, mum, I have an eating disorder."
I'm so afraid that they'll look at me and say "You don't have an eating disorder. You're not thin enough."
Or that they'll be angry.
I know my dad will be angry.
I figured that the next time he goes out of town on business, I'll tell my mum everything and try to have her break it to dad gently.

I don't know.
Am I doing the right thing?
Or is this all a big mistake?

Of freaking out

Damn.
Fuck.
Damnit.
This is fucking terrible.
My mum is bringing me home a meatball sandwich from Subway.
580cals.

I guess I can purge it.
Really, I have no choice except to purge it.
And I have to make sure I get rid of all of it.
I can't let this fail.
I'm so close.

God, help me.

Of Fasting and Worries

I've fasted the past two days.
I hope to continue for the rest of this week.
Saturday and Sunday are the days when I allow myself to eat one thing I've been craving and then nothing else.
I've been re-reading my copy of Portia de Rossi's novel Unbearable Lightness: A Story of Loss and Gain and I realise how many of Portia's habits are similar, if not the same, to my own.
I'm beginning to get truly worried about certain things.
Half of the time, I cannot remember what I did the day before, or an hour ago.
I sometimes have to think about it for long periods of time before the answer will become clear to me.

Am I losing the ability to distinguish fantasy from reality?
I have already decided what my reward will be for reaching my goal weight.
I'm getting a new tattoo, either a black swan or a cross.
Mark and I went to see the film the Black Swan Saturday, and it was amazing.
I loved it and when it comes out on DVD, I plan on buying it.

I'm still looking for a job, but I heard from Arthur today.
He said he thought they were going to keep me and that he fought Nina for me.
I'm also on their re-hire list, so if (God forbid) I haven't found another job by the next peak season, I'm going to apply again.
These comments made me feel better.

I feel like I'm losing myself.
As if the woman I used to be is gone
And now a wretched bitch has taken her place.
As if, with each passing day, I become more and more unstable.
I want to feel something other than the pain, guilt and worthlessness.
And the days go by
Like a strand in the wind
In the web that is my own
I begin again

The voices of Ana and Mia...
The beloved friends
The hated tormentors
The harsh rebuttals
The sweet, yet uncommon embraces
They determine my mood
They predict the amount of self-loathing I feel from day to day

The most complex and believable illusions are not the ones made by magic, but by our own minds.
But they are also the most painful when they shatter...

Of New Band Members, Anxiousness, and Tattoos

Well, I'm making it official.
Dustin is no longer a member of Last Daylight.
From now on, it will be myself and Chase.
After all, if need be, I'll be the percussionist.
I'm not even going to inform Dustin of this.
I would think that when you say the things he's said and then disappear for a week, it's obvious.

Even if he decides to speak to me again, I can't work with him anymore.
All he wants is a sexual relationship and I can't give him that.
I won't do that.

I've been feeling very anxious and bitchy today.
Don't ask me why.
Maybe due to lack of food.
Maybe due to the monsters in my head.
Oh, wait...those monsters are me.
I'm caught on a one-way street with them.
Darkness is upon my door and I feel like I can't take anymore.

I've decided that my new tattoo is either going to be a cross or a black swan.
I haven't decided yet.
I love them both.
I'll probably get the cross first, then later go back for the swan.

I long for the days when I knew nothing.
When I was an innocent child who knew nothing of the harshness of life.
I want to stay in love with my sorrow
But I want to let it go.
Can I find solid ground
Or am I just wasting time?

Of Black Swans, Both Film and Otherwise

As most of you know, there is a new film out titled Black Swan starring Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis (both of whom I love).
I haven't yet seen it, but it looks amazing.
I plan on seeing it as soon as possible.

The title, however, gave me an idea for a new song.
I suppose it could be loosely based on the character of the black swan in Swan Lake.
Very loosely.
I have no idea what it is about.
But, here it is,
For your interpretation...
And luxury....

A rose in December
A hauntingly beautiful work of art
The flame of a dying ember
Dwelling in the shadows of my heart

A little breathing space
A heart bathed in ebony
Rooms filled with lace
Masking the harsh reality

Caught standing in a hurricane
Saved by the breaking dawn
A twisted saviour from the rain
The graceful yet wicked black swan

Adding fuel to the flame
All hope is now gone
Trapped in this twisted game
By the graceful yet wicked black swan

Swaying softly in moonlight
Cool breeze chilling the air
Ready to join in the fight
Of destroying what was never really there

A single rose bound in satin
A whisper of wind in the trees
A ray of light on the earth now frozen
This vision that only my eyes see

Caught standing in a hurricane
Saved by the breaking dawn
A twisted saviour from the rain
The graceful yet wicked black swan

Adding fuel to the flame
All hope is now gone
Trapped in this twisted game
By the graceful yet wicked black swan

A rose in December
A hauntingly beautiful work of art
The flame of a dying ember
Dwelling in the shadows of my heart

The graceful yet wicked black swan...

Of Past Encounters

This was inspired by something that one of the girls I know who also suffers from ED asked me. "What would your 11-year-old self say to you if she could see you now?"

She walks up to me, her bright emerald eyes shining behind a veil of unshed tears. Pain and confusion have replaced the happiness and joy that once shone there. She stares up at me, a true feat considering my own height, and when she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Why?"

I cannot answer. The words catch in my throat, so instead I say nothing.

"Look at yourself," she whispers, "What have you done?"

I try to find the strength to tell her, but I can't. The numbness has returned, enveloping me like a soft summer breeze, a fire on a cold winter night. This feeling of emptiness is more terrifying than anything I've ever experienced, and I want to run.

"You had dreams and goals. You had talent. You were so bright. You could be so beautiful. Don't throw all that away. What is more important to you, reaching your goals, being who you wanted to be, or being thin?"

I turn away, tears threatening to fall, hot and scalding, from my eyes. I can't listen anymore. I can't bear this child, who has not yet seen the future of her life, saying these things to me now. This child, young and innocent, hasn't seen who she is going to become, what she will become.

"You can still fix it. You can make this right. Please. Stop. Stop now, come back, leave this all behind while you still can. Before it's too late."

After a gentle hug and a kiss sealed with tears, she turns, walking slowly away from me. I watch her retreating figure and wonder how I have gone from this, the small yet happy child I used to be, to the darkness I have become. My eleven-year-old self turns one final time, and in that brief moment when our eyes meet, I can suddenly see the pain that will change her forever. The change has begun. It's already too late.

Of Belonging

Will I ever fit in anywhere?
 Even in the world of disorders, I don't belong.
Too fat for anorexia, not fat enough for binge eating, don't purge enough for bulimia.
I suppose, in a way, it could be a good thing.
I can justify what I'm doing.
I don't have a problem, I've never been diagnosed.
I'd almost welcome a diagnosis.
At least then I'd know I belonged somewhere.
I certainly wouldn't be taken as seriously by a doctor as someone who had an official diagnosis.
 Who knows, maybe I will go see a doctor and pour my heart out and be completely brutally honest...
I doubt it.
They wouldn't take me seriously.
I have this voice in my head that tells me
"Hey, you don't have a problem.
You haven't been diagnosed.
Just keep going.
Maybe you'll find where you belong someday."

Of Control

I pace the room, my footsteps echoing in the silence.
The room is dark, the only source of illumination coming from the candles flickering softly.
My mission is simple: avoid food at all costs.
Food is the enemy.
Food is the tormentor.

The low rumbling of my stomach begs to differ.
I glance down at my thighs and that familiar feeling surfaces again.
Disgust.
Repulsion.
The flesh should not be touching.
So why is it?
Am I really that weak?
No. I know I'm stronger than that.
I continue staring at the flesh, half hoping that if I stare long enough, it will melt away.

I know that isn't possible, but I can dream, right?
Sway on my feet, holding my hand out to stop the fall.
Bones on the left wrist stick out.
Smile slightly.
How do I make the other match?
Calorie intake improves. Smile again.

I stare at my thighs, held in by the tight fabric of my jeans.
Too tight. Too fat. Shouldn't have eaten those crackers.
Stupid. Stupid.
Look in the mirror. Smile pretty. Deny at all costs.
Perfection.

Standing on stage, the clothes smothering me. Suffocating.
99.
Too fat. Way too fat.
Just 7 more pounds and I'll be perfect.
Maybe.
Maybe 92 isn't enough.
88. I can be 88 pounds.
I can. I will. I have to.

The hunger is calling to me.
I fight it every day and every night.
Too fat. I fight it to feel alive.
"Maybe you should eat," Aaron says.
He looks worried. I smile.
"No. It's fine. I'm fine," I reply.

101. How? I've been good.
I've been very good. Why?
How?

Erin smiles at me. Something's going on.
"You used to be so pretty, Anya."
Used to? What does she mean?

I hold my breath. Hide behind a smile.
Sip my water and hold the smile.
See? Nothing wrong here, baby. Everything's perfect.

I remember the world from the eyes of a child.
I want to go back to believing in everything.
To knowing nothing. The sun is cold.

Aaron watches me from the chair.
I feel his eyes on me.
Meet his eyes. He looks away quickly.
Doesn't want me to know.
What's wrong? Doesn't he see how happy I am?

Need to be perfect. For me. For them.
One rib, two rib, three rib, four.
Check the hips. Jeans barely hanging on.
I smile.
95.

95.
Not enough. Not enough.
I don't want it, Erin.
I said no. I mean it, Erin.
I walk away.
"Anya!"
I ignore her and walk away.

Aaron sighs and puts down his pen.
Turns to face me.
93. The pride and accomplishment shine in my eyes.
Three pounds. Three pounds to go before I reach 90.
5 pounds until I reach the ultimate goal.
Five pounds. Just five more pounds.

No, Aaron.
Don't want it.
Ate earlier.
Control.
He looks horrified.
I knew it.
Too fat.
I'm too fat for anyone to look at me.
Smile.
I feel like crying.
Control.

Lack of food.
Stomach rumbling slightly.
Natural high.
Aaron's watching.
Pick up the apple.
Take a bite.
He smiles.
Turn my head.
Spit it out.
Control.

I ate that stupid piece of bread.
Where did the control go?
Stand up.
"Where are you going, Anya?"
Erin.
"I have a show to get ready for."
Walk out the door.
Have to jog and walk it all off.
Breathe. Footsteps strangely loud on the pavement.
No one is here. I'm alone.
Nothing new there.
Control.

Of Bathrooms, Cher, and Jack Nicholson

I spent my day with Erin today.
We watched The Witches of Eastwick (one of my favourites) and we ate fried hot dogs (sounds gross, but it's actually pretty good).
I purged those hot dogs, and told her that I was looking for a sweater in order to hide my purging.
Long story short:
Mission Stop Purging=Fail.

While on the way to Erin's house, I was listening to Cher and making commentary during the songs
Which resulted in us discovering that Jack Nicholson left me for Cher after that first kiss during Witches of Eastwick..so sad.

Erin: So, Jack left you for Cher, huh?
Me: Yes, isn't it sad? That first kiss ruined what Jack and I had! *fake sobs* But I was with them both. She doesn't need to know about him.
Erin: Maybe you can win him back.
Me: No, it's okay. He's locked in my closet. Along with Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, and Josh Groban. Cher's in my pantry. They can both be with me, just not each other.
Erin: What about your cage with Josh Turner?
Me: Oh, yeah. Forgot about that.
Erin: Where's Stevie Nicks going to stay then?
Me: She can stay in my bathroom. After all, she says bathrooms are inspirational.

Then, we discussed how Stevie Nicks once said that some of her best songs were written in her bathroom, which was a very inspirational place for her.

Erin: Maybe you should try that.
Me: What? Write a song in my bathroom?
Erin: Why not?
Me: Hmm..Yeah, I could take a pen and paper, take a bath and if inspiration strikes...

I went home, put on some instrumental music (3055 by Ólafur Arnalds, Breathing Space by X-Ray Dogs, etc) and drew a bath.
This is what came of my bath...for the man who has wasted too much of my time, and his.

You said I didn't accept you
Well, how about you take a look in the mirror, baby?
You know that what I'm saying is true
Your eyes are open, but you're too blind to see

I have to be true to my own heart
I'll break the spell you had on me
Your doubt was there from the start
Afraid of what I might see

Now I'm setting you free, letting go
This is the last song I'm wasting on you
As you listen to my voice on the radio
I hope you feel twice the pain you put me through

I hate to waste my creativity
I'd rather sing of love pure and true
Once again, you got the best of me
So here it is, just for you

I've never been one to talk
Never been the type to kiss and tell
So why don't you take a nice long walk
Isn't revenge hell?

Please be silent, don't speak at all
I don't want to hear your voice
I watched what we once had fall
No matter what you say, you had a choice

Now I'm setting you free, letting go
This is the last song I'm wasting on you
As you listen to my voice on the radio
I hope you feel twice the pain you put me through

I hate to waste my creativity
I'd rather sing of love pure and true
Once again, you got the best of me
So here it is, just for you

Just for you...
Just for you..

Of Job-Hunting, Guilt, and New Promises

I have a job application to Dollar General on the counter in front of me.
Hope it goes well. Turning it in asap. Wish me luck.

Dustin and I are more than likely going our separate ways.
We're just not able to work together.
All he cares about is a relationship (ie, sex) and not about music at all.
I've already told him that I can't be with anyone whose religious views differ from mine, and he was upset by it.
I have to be true to my heart and spiritual mind thugh, and I don't feel any guilt over it.
I'm tired of walking on eggshells around not only him but everyone else.
I'm not going to censor myself anymore.
It's a new promise to myself that I fully intend to keep.

I don't make promises that I can't keep.
I won't be a prisoner to somebody's needs.

Nobody nowhere holds the key to your heart. When love's a possession, it'll tear you apart.

Of Writing

Once again I am writing.
I've written a new song, and am working on another one right now, which I will post when it's finished.
This one is for the man...who I someday hope will understand.

You want me to open up
You want me to let you in
Wanting simply isn't enough
The thread we hang by is much too thin


I've built walls around my heart
Been alone so long that I'm scared
It might take some time to start
Breaking down the walls to breathe the air


To live, to scream, to want, to wish
To hold your breath until there's nothing left
To be the only one you cherish
To hold your head up with no regret


The darkest corners of my mind
The heart of stone I guard with my life
All of this could be yours in time
If you could end the pain of the searing knife


I want to be whole again
I never want to fear the sun
I want to dance in the rain
My life has only just begun


I'm trying not to pull away
I just need you to understand
This isn't going to happen in one day
My heart is on the mend


To live, to scream, to want, to wish
To hold your breath until there's nothing left
To be the only one you cherish
To hold your head up with no regret


The darkest corners of my mind
The heart of stone I guard with my life
All of this could be yours in time
If you could end the pain of the searing knife

Of Searching and Frustration

I am still searching for guitarists, lead/rhythm/bass.
I an still searching for a manager.
I am still searching for a new recording studio.

No one will give me the time of day.
Samantha and I are planning on filming a music video during the spring/early summer.
I already have my music on YouTube and my MySpace account...
I've been looking into performing in various bars, but I want to wait until I'm in Nashville and closer to the music scene.

I will make it someday.
I know I will.
I have the talent and the determination.
All I need is the chance.

Won't someone give me the chance?

Of New Years and New Beginnings

Today is the first day of 2011.
May this year be better than the last.
Dustin and I went out last night and we're going to hang out sometime this coming week.
I'm so tired of  being alone, but I'm scared of getting hurt.
Billy hurt me, Alan nearly destroyed me, Jonathen hurt me...

I just don't want to be hurt again.
I don't know if I could handle it.
I'm building even more walls tham before around my heart.
To be completely honest, I wish my heart was made of stone.
With a heart of stone, I'd be well protected.
In the game of love, there's no room for the innocent.
Love is a game...until it's played.

I'll keep breaking until I'm done.
I'm going to take my time
Until I wake up one morning
And find that I feel better.