Defining the Future

Don't get me wrong, I have a strong sense of who I am. If you met me today, you would think I was a lucky girl that has her life together. I would smile at you, make jokes with you, go to lunch with you, and generally be someone you admire. I am sorry to tell you it is all fake. 

I hate that I have gotten to a point in which my future seems like it will just be pointless. Just going through the motions of each day, trying to find happiness in moments, but never quite finding it. I have imagined and accepted a childless future. But only for me. I have not accepted my husband's childless future. That part really bothers me. That part makes me want to die. That part makes me sadder than anything else--because I am the problem--not him. I keep hoping that something terrible happens to me so that he can move on and find happiness with a family. Leave me here, save yourself. My future is already determined.

Here's The Deal

I keep fantasizing. Not about whatever most people do. I think about how nice it would be to have some idiot crash into me on the freeway and put me in the hospital where I'd been too sick to eat. I think about how much longer it will be before I start passing out enough that they have to take me into care. I think about how I can't say the things I need to say so I use my body to do it. The thinner I get, the more people tell me how skinny I look. I like it.

I hate the whole attention thing. It isn't the attention I want. It is the expression. Its a coded message. You noticed I lost weight, its like I told you what is wrong. We share an encoded secret. I am broken but to you it looks like I am skinny.

But for real. If I get bad enough they will have to put me into care. I will have to take time off work. I will have to talk to therapists and tell them what the fuck my problem is. That will feel nice. But I kind of feel like I might get stuck with doctors who don't get it. There is a serious problem with doctors being lazy these days.

Alone

Even in this blog. Alone.

Its depressing that I maintain the top accounts at work but miss more work than most. Probably 2 days on average month. I just get so tired. I work hard hard hard, then lose so much sleep, and get so weak. I have to take a day to recoup. And in it all I feel done. I feel tired. I feel alone at work, and alone away from work. For the few hours I have with my husband in a day, I feel companioned. I wish I had that all the time.

Related

I keep trying to compartmentalize my issues. My MRKH separate from my depression, my depression separate from my ED, my ED separate from my past trauma. But they are all connected. I believe that none of these things would have been as bad if I did not have MRKH. I bet I would have never been molested. I bet I would have never started down the path of destruction and depression to develop the ED to the point it is now. But no matter. I can't change it. I don't really want to. I want to wither.

Perfect

Perfection is an obsession that I am not alone in. I find it actually comforting that so many share two of my struggles: ED and MRKH. I hate to be defined by it but I essentially....am. I am who I am because of these things.

My old roommate is pregnant. Fuck.

Someone passively told me (meaning she was talking about it hoping I overheard-yep) that girls would not get eating disorders if they knew that it would ruin their chance to have kids. I wanted to laugh at the irony but instead it was just a direct hit. Battleship down. What does it matter how much I destroy my body if I can't have kids anyway? Maybe I was sick in the womb, maybe I always had something wrong with me and I was born this way.

I mention that I hide how bad my eating habit is. Especially now. I eat nothing all day except a few groups of food: celery, radishes, bean sprouts, lettuce ect... high water high fiber foods. Then I drink coffee, tea, and broth. If I am really struggling I will have miso soup. But by the time I get home, I have it down to a total of 25 calories for the day. Then I make sure to eat a cookie in front of him. To cook dinner and eat it in front of him. It brings it to under 300 a day. I've maintained this lower amount for 3 weeks now and lost 7 lbs.

Honestly, it is a distraction that I can take home. It is something I can do that no one else around me can do. It unfortunately helps me define my womanhood. Being thin, perfect, pretty. It is what I have because I can't be Mom. And when I have to finally tell people that I can't have kids I can blame it on myself instead of tell them what I am. That I was born this way. With ED and MRKH. That my curves concave instead of protrude like yours.

Water Weight

I have officially come to the point that I cannot talk or mention my diet or weightloss. I have a coworker who is rather catty and she blurted to me the other day "yeah, but most of its water weight, right?" I didn't know what to say. It made me feel like shit. But it also deepened my conviction.

Same coworker said to me about my new lap top case that I was okay to spend money like that because I don't have kids. Ouch. Its like she can see into me to the very things that diminish me and twist the knife on point. I hate my body. Nothing is as it should be.

Something Depressed and Cliche

I hate that I get into such deep ruts. And sometimes this happens out of nowhere. I can pin point why I am so sad but I can't figure out why it hurts me so much.

Things at work have been great. I've been the top employee for two years. But now they are changing groups around and I will have a whole new fucked up work load and my pretty and pristine work will go to someone else. It depresses me. I want to keep what I did. And I know they do this because they know I will turn it around. But they don't know how much I need things to be just so. Things must be in order, they must make sense, they must meet my standard. And when they don't, I freak out. I hate myself, and my body takes the hit.

Tonight I couldn't have drinks with my friends because I didn't want the calories. And then I realized that I was slipping into my bad eating habits from my previous job. Where I couldn't control a damn thing so I controlled my calorie intake to merely 200 calories a day. The fucked up thing has always been I know these things are bad but I want to do them. And I want to do it now and have for a week...ever since I found out about the change. And I lost 5 lbs in a week.

I'm tired of this. Tired of my life. Tomorrow I have to go to a super bowl party and I want to fake sick because I don't want to be around food.

This I do

-Scratch myself raw in the shower
-Pull out my eyelashes
-Constantly plan meals but never eat them
-Eat less than 500 calories a day
-Use herbal laxatives
-Hate my body
-Plan every menu each day so I won't go over

I know that these things are developing a potentially bad health system. It is not every day I am less than 500 calories but I feel awful when it is. I never throw it up. So let's say I ate well but then someone wants t go out for drinks and happy hour. I know I am going over. I will just pop some herbal laxatives when I get home.

At work, I consume around 100-200 calories all day. Some of my co-workers have noticed this and have started making comments about my meals. So now I try not to eat around them at all. Deniability.

But I am not an anorexic. I don't excessively work out. I can't, I don't get the time, and I don't have the energy. Because of that I am still way bigger than I would like to be. Plus, I am also afraid that I will pass out if I push myself to do that. And if that happens then everyone is going to lose their shit.

Oh Happy Dagger

The different roles I play are vastly different than the one in here. At work I am the top employee, I make jokes, people laugh. People even like me enough to buy me things on a whim, beg for my attention, all but start a fan club. I don't write these things because I have some sort of sense to brag. My point is I don't care that much about it. I do it all because it is a wonderful distraction from eating and hating myself.

At home, I am a devout wife. I make dinner the moment the door shuts. I dote on my husband.

When the lights are off, and only my light remains, is the time I have no more distractions. Nothing left to think about but the things I try not to think about. I have no jokes for this blog. No dinner to fix.

In fact, this blog is the only place I write things like this. I am a writer so I have a hard time just writing something that has no purpose. I hate to just write this shit. It really is just shit. Just stuff that goes through my head when I can't help it.

I have been in this stale state of existence where I keep catching myself falling into a routine where I think everything is okay. Like in high school, just going through the motions. Letting life just carry me to what comes next. Its unambitious. I get angry with myself that I don't have more to do with my life. That I fear that push just like the next person and I want to jump. But if I keep taking my sweet ass time to jump...

Then again, I hate that I write "I" so much in here. So self-centered. What do I matter really? Why have I taken such an interest just because I am stuck in this head of mine?

Beauty and the Beat

I know that I do not have a high self esteem.  I constantly think about my weight.  I look in the mirror and hate literally everything I see.  And I know this is just me being crazy.  I was in a store the other day and didn't know there was a mirror in front of me and when I saw myself, for a moment, I wasn't sending daggers to every flaw on my body.  It was a strange sensation.  I will see a different person when I see a mirror and when I see a picture.  I realize I do not photograph as heavy as I think I am.  I don't know why I hate my body so much.

I heard someone say that they wanted to be the kind of wife that loves their husband and loves themselves. I wish I could do that.  I know it pains my husband to hear me fret over my image.  I feel like I hate anything I can't change.  And that leaves a lot of things to hate.

So I beat myself up, all the time.  There isn't a single thing about me that I am comfortable with.  I would change into a completely different person if I could.

I spend time bathing and scratching my skin to get all the dead skin off (somehow I think this makes me cleaner and thinner) and this week I did it too hard and drew blood behind my knee.  It didn't bother me. And I hate the idea of liking pain.  I don't like that it leans towards a cutter personality.  I don't like that when I read about tips to avoid cravings they encourage me to do that and I want to.  But I wouldn't.  One thing about my husband is he has his degree in psychology and reads about all this stuff.  So he would know if he saw scars.  I hide everything else well.  I always eat around him.  The only time I eat is around him.  To him, I always eat.  But in reality I am keeping under 500 calories a day.  At work I eat around 75 calories a day.  Or drink, rather.  Usually miso soup and broth, and tea.  Then I am free to eat around 400 calories around him.

Funny, you would think I'd be a lot thinner.  Humph.

Journal Post 7

My sister's opinions bother me. She talked about how sad it was to see people so into their money and art and don't they have anything better in their life?  Where are their kids? Fuck you! Seriously. Fuck you. Some people can only buy their happiness.  I mean, tho could be my future.  I didn't choose it. Talk to your god about it.  You look at my photo frames--empty--and tell me you will send me pictures of your kids to fill them.  Fuck you.  You say people only have 1 or 2 kids and just don't build their family.  Where is your damn mind? Your thoughts are assuming pieces of shit. Do you not know that you have been lucky to place your priorities where they are? Come on. Think. For Christ's sake I'm your sister...I am that person you are judging. This is what I fucking have to be proud of.

I have this darkness in me...its always been there. And some would say I need religion to cure it.  But I don't.  I just need this pen...this paper. And I store it here.  And it hushes for a while. At least I get more from this that I ever did from god.

Journal Post 6

Every time I get into a funk I can't wait for it to be over.  Its like everything is lackluster and worthless.  If I'm worthless then how anything matter to me?  Its like trying to do rocket science--I don't know how, I'm too ignorant.

Today I wanted to be non-existent.  Again, this never has to do with dying, I'm not interested in dying.  Its just the closest thing to what I want which is to have never existed in the first place. I offend myself by being here, always a self imposed let down.

I ate way too much today.  Still down 28 lbs.

Journal Post 5

I've done well lately to distract myself from my...whatever.  I've lost 26 lbs working on another 10.  I am eating only raw vegetables and fruit.  I work out 5 times a week, always cardio, sometimes weight training too.  I've pushed harder at work and believe I will be promoted.

A friend of mine is worried I obsess over my situation too much.  Which I know is true.  I don't think I could face tomorrow if I wasn't though.  I've got to think and push and do.  Unfortunately, this will mean sadness, tears and pain.  But I can't fail before I try.  I have to try.  If I fail, I will assess that.  I still feel that I wouldn't want anything to do with myself if I fail.

I'm not angry with god. Even in he is there.  I just don't think he is worth my time.  God won't make me better or worse.  And I'm not going to save my last dance.  I'm not going to think of reasons about my after life to make me feel optimistic.  What difference does it make if everyone else gets mansions, 17 virgins, their own projected happiness, and I don't?  It changes nothing for me.  I don't think I could ever go back to being a believer.  I'd be believing in the Easter Bunny, for someone else's sake.  And I just don't care.

Most of what I do is so that I can feel like I am someone worth being with.

Its amazing to me that I can just cry and cry.  If I even slightly remember how sad I've been, WHAM, there it is.  The ELEPHANT in the room.  Everything is terrible.  Sleep, tomorrow, food, goals.  Awful. Its why tomorrow I will not eat.

Telling

I have written the letter that I will give to my husband to read about my sexual abuse as a teen.  I have edited it.  I have asked him when would be a good time to have him read something important and at first he said in about a month and then felt worried and wanted to read it sooner.  He said he has a feeling he knows what it is about.  Anyway, for me it feels like the cat is almost out of the bag.

I did not expect to feel so scared to do this.  I am afraid that he will not want me anymore, or treat me differently.  I am afraid I will hurt him with this.  Or I am afraid that he will react in a way that makes me distrust him.

What is strange is I KNOW I was molested on several occasions but I still fall into a pattern of thinking "its not a big deal" or "I could have prevented it".  I read up on sexual abuse and my symptoms keep leaping out at me.  I hate that I have harbored so much shame and guilt for so long.  I hate that I confused molestation with every doctor I went to and felt molested there.  I hate that all my anger, confusion, and depression was treated with pills instead of counseling.  I hate that I never trusted anyone to tell them and no one ever asked.  I hate that it is only now that I am realizing that what happened was not okay, and that I shouldn't feel the way I do.

I am afraid that I will tell him all this and he will not want me anymore.  That he didn't sign up for this.  That he will be mad at me the way I was afraid my parents would have been.

Journal Entry 4 (ending 2009)

I am scared to go to the doctor--I don't know where to start.  I am scared that though I have ovaries, my eggs will be useless or non-existent.

I feel like a failure to my husband.  I find myself hoping that I accidentally die somehow to spare him an empty future.  He's still young and can find happiness with someone who can make him a father.  I should have never let him marry me.  I wasn't meant for anything in this world.  Just a mistake, a natural disaster.

While visiting family at Christmas I cried myself to sleep twice.  One at my sister's and once at my mom's.  It was just so hard because I awoke to a baby crying. I wanted to wake to a baby instead of to depression.

I am pretty sure my depression has become pretty bad.  I don't have much faith in tomorrow but understand it is my responsibility to move forward.  I don't want to kill myself, I just wish I was never born in the first place.

When I think of the future all I can imagine at this point is sadness.  I can't even imagine a child anymore--it seems so fairytale.  I read about these other women with MRKH and they are doing everything to have a baby.  Shelling out cash and taking out loans--and they are failing.  I can't handle the thought of losing my future again and again.  I can't be told I can't do it.  I think that would be my total downfall.  I would lose all hope.  I don't know how I would learn to cope with that.  I would ask my husband to leave me.  I would hope he would.  I don't know if I could ever be happy, I would have to distract myself with traveling or drinking or start doing something reckless.

I obsess over money.  I worry I will take out a loan to have a baby and fail and then the monthly bills will come reminding me that I have to pay for my failures.

I guess my state of mind is despair.  I don't see tat happiness is an option.

Journal Entry 3

I am so beside myself with grief.  So much has been compacting me deeper into lifelessness.  I feel like I will keep fighting forever and never be happy.  I feel useless and angry.  I want to be beaten.  I want to be hit by a car or crash into a tree, to get away from all my worries and fears and failures.  I want to make my last mistake and never be remembered.

I waited 20 minutes before driving home today just so I wouldn't do anything stupid.  Then I put my makeup back on to cover the tears and ended up smearing snot all over my face.  I have such a dreadful feeling inside, I want to dig it out.  I want to feel the pain of my heart being sliced away from my poisoned body.  I honestly hate who I am.  I hate me.  I want to stop having panic attacks. Why do I even fight for my breath?  Why breathe so deeply?

Its all a scary dream, or scary movie and you just want the terror to end.  I can do that, I can be my hero and end this monster.

But I don't want to be anyone else's monster.  I scare me enough--I have to protect those who care for me so they never know the terror.

Journal Entry 2

What we don't know is will it work? Well, I don't know.  Should I get on with my life?  Should I decide this now, that my life will be forever empty?  Fill it with books and art and selfish endeavors?  Never becoming who I wanted to be all along?  I might as well want to change my age, my race, my height.  I am who I am, whole or not.  So much weighs on tomorrow and now it seems like yesterday.  There's no time.  There's no money.  I feel so weak.

I don't think about killing myself but I sometimes wish something bad would happen to me.  Something that would take me out, that would relieve all the doubts, pressure and my worries would be simpler or gone.  I drive often without a seatbelt.

I know the fault in thinking that way.  I thought about talking to a counselor but I know what they would say.  They would say I am a real woman, whole and worthwhile.  They would say I need to not bear all this burden alone.  But is is my burden!  And who can lift it?  Who can solve this puzzle?  Who can give me what I need? No, this is my burden.  I must carry it.  If it weighs 2 tons, it doesn't go away with more backs to lift it.  Its still there, it will never go away.  I will just learn to accept what I didn't understand all those years ago and what I am coming to understand its full implications.  This is not a birth defect.  This is not a syndrome.  This is not infertility or a challenge.  This is a new reality based on something much like worries--except for the expectation that something can be done.  Is that fear? Defeat? Doom?

My mind tells me to run away, move far away from everyone and live alone like you are destined.  See things that no one else will ever see and let that be your quest, your purpose.  Why push so hard to fit in this round hole when you are square.  Be square.

Pricking

Inside my head by choice
Looking for a way to explain
Who I've become instead
Of who I was . . .

Each hated corner I've lighted
I've found a new one for you.
A perfect place to bleed
A shiver of painless blue
Of who I am.

So fearful are we to talk
Knowing of all the dark
That hasn't been charted.
Doubting evil we fear to mark
Of who I will be

Journal Entry 1

I am sick of telling people I don't want kids and coveting theirs.  The truth is, I can't have them.  Please don't make me lie anymore.  Please don't make me cry.

The hows are crushing me again.

People gush over how cute I would look pregnant and what cute kids I'd have. They want me to catch the baby bug.  But I am sick of having it.

I hate to want something so bad and feel like it is a lost cause but try anyway.  To save and save and blow my life's savings and loans and have it fail.  The sadness I would bring to so many.  All I will want is to die.  I promised myself I would never kill myself in my twenties nor if I had to write a note.  And I would have to.  I am just going to hold the hopeless hope that I might do the incredible.

I grow so tired of crying.

Pea Salad

Dear sweet Jesus, shoot me if I ever blog about pea salad.  I was taking in a dose of reading some blogs from some friends of mine and wishing I had kids as happy as them when I realized that these stay at home moms are blogging about peas.  PEAS.  As in those delicious little green balls.  Why are we blogging about peas?  I can only assume there is nothing else in this world that can occupy a mind that sits at home with happy little kids.  Don't get me wrong, I would love to swap, but you can bet I wouldn't blog about peas.  Oh the irony.

Today I ate nothing except for a pear, 5 pecans, and 10 kernels of popcorn.  I drank a lot of tea.  Then I came home and devoured an entire quesadilla, beans, and a large horchata.  I have been hating myself for this all night and took some laxatives to get it out sooner.  I realize I am doing something wrong but it just feels too awful to eat and when I do it feels to awful to keep it in.

I have a skewed perception of myself.  I am constantly asking my husband if someone looks to be about my size so that I can get an idea of how big I look.  Because I honestly can't tell.  To me all I see is ridiculously large breasts, rubbing thighs, a double chin, fat upper arms, and the roll of back fat from where my bra cuts in.  I wish I had a job where I moved around all day and burned calories.  I feel like I will never be thin.

I am gearing up to be surrounded by kids in a few days.  My nephews specifically.  I am excited to see them but also know that last time I cried all night for 2 nights.  It is sincerely painful to have a little boy put his tiny hand on my cheek.  Painful to have a little boy tell me he loves me.  Devastating to see a little boy go unnoticed.  Every time I write about kids I realize how much I suppress because automatically the tears start coming.  I feel like Superman, acting all normal during the day yet completely out of my element, and then I come home and look through as many walls as I want.  Forgive my failed metaphor.

Also, today a strange occurrence unfolded on my way to work.  It was unbelievably foggy and I couldn't see more than 5 yards ahead.  Some guy tailed me and tried to pass me on a two way road.  He almost crashed into two vehicles, fish tailed, spun out and hit a ditch at 45 MPH and flipped over.  There was no place for me to stop to help so I had to call it in.  What was strange is I kept wishing that he had hit me, or that I was in the ditch.  I hardly ever have those kind of thoughts, it is more I wish I was never born or cease to exist kind of thoughts.  But literally, I was envious that I was not in the ditch.  That feeling was so disgusting to me that I cried from being mad at myself.

I am biding my time to be able to talk to my husband about my issues going to a doctor.  I have wanted to tell him every night but I don't want to burden him with something new to worry about.  Honestly, I wish he would have married someone who is better for him than me.