I Missed That...

Before making the previous post, I failed to look at the post before that. #1) I couldn't spell for crap. It's BULIMIA, but nice try. #2) My eating disorder stemmed up before I thought.
I had no idea that I'd ever typed that out. I'd forgotten completely. But... to know that I had ideas of having an eating disorder a YEAR before I developed my eating disorder, makes me feel like a FAILURE. I could have started then, and lost a BUNCH more weight by now. OR I could've gotten help. I could've told someone and seen someone; gone somewhere, but no. Now I'm stuck with people who know and don't give a fuck. These people all know how fat I feel and they still call me a - AND I QUOTE - "fat lazy cow." These people know that I hate to eat, yet they still hover over my shoulder when I'm in the kitchen, and berade me about what I'm eating. They know that I throw up and not once have they tried to stop me.
But what hurts the most is knowing that I could have avoided this. I could have had this NEVER happen. But I'm dumb; I'm a failure; I'll never be good enough for them, and I'll never be important enough for them to notice. I'll never be enough for them to call 'beautiful'.
That's all I really want... is for someone to call me beautiful.

Check Back

I haven't been to this blog in over a year. Since then, I've developed a drug addiction, and an eating disorder. I am pulling through. Not in hopes that one day my life will get better; not in hopes that one day I'll recover and have children and live happily ever after. No.. it is my hope that by pulling through, perhaps one day I'll be good at this. Perhaps one day, I'll be good at having an eating disorder (be 100lbs) or have enough money to support my addiction. I pull through EVERY day in the hopes that one day it'll be easier to pull through. I would never be so naive to wish recovery. You can take cigarettes away from a smoker, but that doesn't take away the mental drive. You can force food on an anorexic, but it will not take away the feeling in your mind that you are too big. Nothing can take that away, and though I eat the meals that you make me eat, I will NEVER enjoy them, and I will turn back to this all when I move out. When I hold the cards, I'll live in a house with an empty fridge, and an ounce in the cupboard. And I'll be happy with that lifestyle. That's what no one understands; if I could just live the life that I want to live and live it comfortably, I would be happy. That would be my happily ever after.

Insights..

Is self-mutilation (self-harming) such a bad thing? If it helps to get you through the days, it can't be that bad. From my point of view, though, if someone asked me WHY I thought that, I'd tell them 'Well.. would you rather walk into your childs room and see them with a razor blade pressed to their arm, OR walk into your kids room to find them hanging on a belt from their light?' So which would you rather??? Obviously, self-harm. Luckily, for my parents, I don't cut. Tried it lots of times before, but it doesn't seem to do anything for me but cause more stress because I have to figure out how to hide it while doing the dishes or whatever. So it doesn't help. But I'm thinking that bulemia might help with my self-esteem a bit. It might motivate me to do some more things, too. Because say I eat... 2 peices of pizza and a can of pop. Now I feel fat, because that's all I've eaten today, and I KNOW that that's binging and I KNOW that binging just makes you fatter than you were to begin with. So what should I do??? ...I shouuullllddd... find an excuse to barf it all up. So that's what I do. And THEN, now that I've barfed, I have motivation to brush my teeth and get rid of that taste, and to have a shower to get rid of that smell. So it's a win/win situation... for me. I get to have better cleansliness, and.. well, just better all-over appearence. Anyone want to share YOUR thoughts on the situation??

What A Lovelyyyy Day

Good evening, and welcome to another "episode" of depressed and sad thoughts. /roll

So I'm babysitting for my moms friend (again). And she probably wont pay me (again). But oh well, I just sit on the computer the whole time, so there wouldn't be a lot to pay me for. But we all know that that's not what this blog is about. This blog is about my half-brother barging into my life randomly and stealing the last bit of attention that I had left. And now, thanks to him, I've no dignity, either. It's pretty darn hot out, so I'm wearing my ONLY pair of shorts right njow. But - thanks to my moms side of teh family - I have frikken thunder thighs, and these shorts look HORRIBLE on me. I'm thinking about "coming out" about my sexual orientation. I'm gay. I'm just really not sure how I'm going to tell my parents. From what I've seen, I'm nearly positive that one - or both - of them are homophobic. My mom MIGHT accept me after that, but I doubt my dad will ever feel the same about me. And then I'll have MORE rejection in my life. Great. So, you see, that's why it's still a secret. Most people (my friends) think I'm bisexual, cause that's what I told them. But with every day that goes by, I find myself drifting further away from boys, and closer to girls. It's like a number line almost. It has to move back or forth. It can't grow in size, so when it moves further away from one side, it's ultimately moving CLOSER to the other. And that's what's happening to me. And spending atleast 2 hours with 2 engaged lesbians yesterday made it move closer to girls by 10 MINIMUM. I don't really have much to say about suicide or my depression today, but I'll say that my mom is COMPLETELY bipolar and indecisive. She kept complaining today that she was "glad that that lazy fu**ing kid was going home tomorrow" when just YESTERDAY she was saying how she was "scared to send him home because Mike might beat the sh*t out of him." I know that she was just stressed today, but it really frustrates me that everyone - EVEN MY MOTHER - come to me with "their" problems, never thinking that maybe, just ONCE, I'd like to talk.

If anyone has any suggestions on how to come out, or know of someone I could talk to to get support with that, contact me. (you know where \/ \/ \/ \/ (leave a comment))

A Cry For Help.

July 16th, 2009 - Capital Ex Parade - Edmonton Alberta Canada.

I (12yr old Jenn) tell my mother that I think that I have a problem with anxiety. She tells me 'It's just stress because of your brother'. My long-lost half-brother has been staying with us for a month and he leaves this Sunday. Now - true - Jordan (my brother) has been PART of the reason for my feelings of not being good enough, but I've had issues WAY before he even contacted us. I pretty sure that a teacher at school said to us 'no matter what, when someone talks about suicide, depression, self-harm, or anything like that, it should be taken 100% seriously.' So shouldn't my mother have atleast talked to me???
Well, I think so.
But of course, she's too wrapped up in Jordan; asking him about what's been going on with him. She used to talk to me almost every day. And now? Now I'm a shadow in the night... Invisible. Shouldn't she care? Shouldn't SOMEONE care? I take pills, I cry, I fake smiles and laughs, I listen to music that CLEARLY states how I feel. And now, I've asked for help. And still, they don't believe me. What does it take? What does it take for someone to realise that I need help. I need SOMETHING. I need someone to talk to me and tell me that everything's okay and that they love me...
Will it finally hit them when they find me dead; hanging in my closet. Or maybe they'll hear a gun shot, and find me on my bedroom floor; blood dripping from my head. Maybe they'll call me for dinner, and - finding no reply - discover me in the bathroom having overdosed on tylenol. Maybe then.. they'll finally see that I was serious. That I meant every word I said that Thursday at the parade. That I really wasn't worth it, and I really couldn't do it.


Maybe...