The air is cold
But I am sweating
I whirl around and around
Just looking for a way out
It doesn't have to go this way
I can slow down
Nothing has to be destroyed
It is too late
The damage is done
My mind is a war zone
Things torn down and houses gone
There used to be love and happiness
Now all I have left is what I can grab
Nothing more
My motivation was torn
My life destroyed in front of my face
How can I eat now?
I must
But how?
Stay Strong
xo Aria
There's a Hannah Montana song called I'm Still Good and right now it kinda describes my life. Saturday night I made a huge mistake and weighed myself. This of course sent me into a tailspin that is still going on. Between restricting and just hating everything... it's been a long couple days. But I was in the car today and this song came on. And it along with my therapist and dietitian who have been crazy supportive, helped me realize that I can stand up. It's okay to slip up. But you can't lay down and let everything slip away. I've worked too hard for that. So, whether it be today or tomorrow, I need to pick myself again and prove that I'm not that broken girl anymore. I can eat. It's scary and I don't want to. But I can. And I have to. I've let this go on for so long. And yes I hate everything about myself right now and may have considered ending everything last night....but I didn't. There's a reason I am here and a reason I have these opportunities. I will pick myself up again and show that I am still good.
How do you come back from a lapse?
Stay Strong
xo Aria
I'm not talking about normal bracelets. I am talking about hospital bracelets. Ones from the ER and hospital wards and residential treatment centers. The bracelets with numbers and codes on them. The ones that you get defined by. I have a collection of these. Around 15 or so actually. Some because I was admitted, others because I ripped them off. Every time I get a new one, it only confirms one thing. I am a number, an eating disorder, another "messed up" teenager. When I point this out I end up upsetting people who care about me but it's true. I've been reduced to a number so many times that I am not even sure I am a person anymore. Between bracelets and scars and pounds.... I am a number. The first bracelet confirmed that. And the diagnosis with it confirmed the rest of the numbers after. When I go to the ER I keep the bracelet on for hours after discharge. It feels right. Normal. My wrists feel empty and strange without the laminated paper and plastic. I have become those numbers printed on the bracelets or encoded within them. They define me. I am a number.
How do the numbers make you feel?
Stay Strong
xo Aria
