just a dream…

It was just a dream.  It wasn’t real.  You don’t need to worry about it.  It’s never going to happen.

But then why can’t I stop shaking?  Why can’t I breathe regularly?  Why can’t I feel it when I’m tearing open my own skin?

I can’t get it out of my head.  Running, chasing, being chased.  Putting my family in danger.  Hiding, trying to get away, always being found.  By friends, by people I know, by people I used to see every day… and they would be mocking me, staring at me, trying to make me leave.  I didn’t belong.  I didn’t belong anywhere.  Even the kids didn’t like me.

I was climbing, climbing trees, and even that didn’t help.  They found me there.  I was running, running through the woods… I love the woods… but even the woods wasn’t safe.  They followed me there.  They saw me.  They called each other, so that they could run me down, chase me away, make me leave.

Hiding places, safe places, places I come to a lot in my dreams… they were destroyed, compromised, taken over.  They were not mine anymore.  Some were destroyed, or worse… made into centers of abuse and torture and dehumanization.

My family was not my family anymore.  They had been changed, turned against me… I was alone.

I would hide, everywhere, anywhere, but it was never enough.  I would scrape my body, cut into my skin… I would bleed, but I could not feel it.  I was constantly trying to force everything down, to force the fear, the emotions down, to think logically, to figure out how to ward everyone off.  I was abusing my body, getting more and more desperate, because nothing was working.  Nothing was helping.  Nothing was calming me down.  I couldn’t feel any of it.  It wasn’t enough.  I had to keep going, cutting deeper.  I had to find more and more things, tools, I could abuse myself with.  But there wasn’t enough, there was never enough.

And then I was high, looking down, and if I jumped, I would die.  It was high enough, I could get away, I could be free, I could be free.  But then they were there again, chasing me, mocking me, telling me how I failed.  I could hear them talking to each other, telling stories about how terrible I was.  I could hear them talking to my closest friends.  I could see their faces changing, from love and trust to disgust and horror.  They were turned against me.

I didn’t know how to defend myself.  What if the words they were saying were true?  How could I deny it?  How could I deny my own corrupted heart?  Yes, I was selfish.  Maybe I really didn’t care about other people… maybe I just wanted attention, I just cared about what people thought of me, what people could give me… maybe it was true.

I wanted to die.  I wanted to reach the poison, to climb the tree, or the top of that building… I longed for a knife, a sword, a gun… anything that would end it all… but I could never get to it.  Always, they came and chased me away, mocking me, laughing at me, never letting me go, never letting me be free.

 

And now I am awake again.  It was only a dream.  Just another dream.  I can forget it, and it will be gone. 

But then why… why am I still searching for that escape?  Why am I still torturing my body, hoping to sometime feel pain, feel something, so I can calm down?  Why am I still longing for a knife, a sword, a gun?

I’m curling up, in the corner of my bed, in the corner of my room, trying to make it stop, trying to shut out the mocking voices.  But no matter how tightly I squeeze my body, no matter how hard I press and pound on my head, it never goes away.  It never stops. 

I just have to wait for it to quiet enough that I can get up and pretend it’s not there, pretend I’m fine, pretend I’m happy and calm and safe and strong…

like a dream

I don’t remember what was happening.  I just know that I woke up gasping for air, terror running through my veins.  Vague shadows and figures flit through my mind… I don’t know what was happening.  There were children, lots of little children.  Did I know them?  I don’t know.  There was crying, lots of crying.  Screaming. 

Something, someone, was coming towards me.  I could not escape.  They, he, it, was going to hurt me in a way I’d never been hurt before.  I was terrified.  Just as he touched me, I woke up, sitting up in bed a little, shrieking breath into my lungs.

Little bits of memories… no, push them back, push them down.  It was just a dream.  A nightmare.  I don’t want to remember it.  I’m just glad it was only a dream.  I’m glad all these dreams I have are never real.  I’m glad I woke up gasping, and not screaming for all to hear.  I’m glad I didn’t wake anybody else up.  And I’m glad I woke up when I did.

 

Night is hard.  Very hard.  But it never lasts forever. 

I am working to remember that the morning always comes.  The sun always rises.  It doesn’t matter how deeply dark the night is, the sun still rises.  It doesn’t matter how terrified I am, how hurt I am, how paralyzed I am.  It will end.  There will be peace again.

And even if it doesn’t come right away, it will come.

Dreams and nightmares are not real.  Life is real.  And in life, the sun still rises.  There are still smiles and moments of peace.  In life, life is worth it.  It’s going to be okay.

Once Upon a Dream…

Last night I dreamed of stars.  They stretched from horizon to horizon, glittering across the sky like nothing I’d ever seen before.  They formed shapes and patterns, ships and people and horses… and they were moving.  Sparkling, living collections of stars, they were everywhere, swirling through the darkness, dancing like a swarm of birds in autumn time. 

I ran to the edge of everything to see them.  Past the buildings, into a field, I leaned over the edge of nothing, peering through the trees that clung to the rocks on the cliff face.  It’s the most amazing experience, watching the stars dance.  I ran along the path until finally I found a break in the trees.  And then I stared in awe.  They were spreading across the sky.  It looked like they were caught up in currents, in rivers in the sky.  And they were forming into chariots and racing everywhere.  Sometimes they seemed to come so close, and I reached up to touch them… but they were still millions of miles away.

I learned in class the other day that one of the purposes of dreams is to awaken our imagination.  It did.  I want to dream and imagine and make things and see the beauty in the world.  I want to write a story, to create a fairytale… I want to make the stars dance.

Suddenly my heart longs for adventure, for great journeys and daring quests.  I want to explore somewhere new.  I want to do something hard.  I want to prove that the impossible is possible.  I want to touch the stars… and I want to show everyone else that they can, too.  This is where I want to write a story that brings people in, that invites them into a whole other universe and shows them things they had never seen before, things they had never before imagined.

Maybe it is possible.  Maybe the stars can dance.  And maybe… maybe we can touch them.

the desires of my heart

Run, run away, run somewhere far, somewhere safe.

I want to lie in a field, hidden in the tall grass, and stare at the clouds. 

I want to sit on the overgrown train tracks and dream of the rumbling and whistles that used to sound there so often.

I want to sit on the tracks and watch a train come toward me, unstoppable.

I want to go where no one knows me.

I want to be with someone who loves me.

I want to curl up in a ball and be alone.

I want someone to sit with me and hold me.

I want the freedom to not smile… yeah, I’m doing great, technically.  But I’m tired.  I still want love and affirmation even when I’m not cutting and puking my insides out.  I’m scared.  I’m insecure.

I want to scream.

I want to be truly quiet, no pressure to talk, no pressure to talk about how I’m doing, or ask how others are doing.

I want to feel nothing.

I want to be warm.

I want to let the tears flow… they’ve been leaking out so many times in the past week.  I want to just let loose and cry for once.

And yet I want to go back to when I did not feel, did not cry, when I simply existed numbly.

I want to be pretty, to dress up and do my hair and put on makeup and feel like a princess.

I want to be invisible, and slip through the shadows unseen.

I want to keep growing, to gain more joy and life and energy.

I want to go back to depression and suicide.  That’s what was comfortable.  That’s what I knew.  If suicide’s not my fallback anymore, what is?

I want everything… and yet I want nothing.

These are the desires of my heart.  I am weary, confused.  Tired of being strong.  I’m not used to being strong, you know?  This is the longest I’ve gone in years.  I’m insecure.  Doubting everything.  My mind is tired.  It’s hard to think, hard to think about deep things or simple things.  I am scared, scared of what this year might hold, of what recovery looks like.  I’m scared of losing all my friends, the ones I call my family.  I’m scared of being forgotten.  I’m scared of letting go.  I’m scared of rejection, and failure, and letting people down.

I’m weak.  I’m not really strong.  I’m weak and tired, and I don’t know what to do.  I’m in the mood where all I want to do is to make others happy.  I will go out of my way to make someone smile, to surprise someone with a gift, to write someone a note… something they would not ordinarily receive.

Maybe, deep in the deepest roots of my heart, my shy little hope is that someone would do that for me.

wild

Let me be a wild woodland brownie.  Let me run barefoot down the deerpaths, with slow curling, gentle unfurling ferns reaching to touch my knees and wispy grass brushing my ankles.  Let me feel the softness of moss-carpet beneath my feet, let me tumble the rubbery mushroom houses with my toes.  Let me spin, arms out and eyes closed, in the warm beams of sunshine that spill through the trees.  Let me dance to the music of the forest, to the warble of the bright cardinal, the high melody of the crickets, and the whisper of the leaves in the wind.

Let me be wild.  Let me be free.  Let me be me.

I want to slip through the forest unseen, unheard, leaving blessings and beauty and laughter in the hearts of those I meet.  I want to watch tired faces break into smiles and shine.  I want to watch dull eyes brighten and gleam with excitement and joy.  I want people to live again, and to love living.  I want them to look up at the sky with the unabashed awe of a child.  I want them to grasp what it means to wonder again.

The wind is roaring in the night… can anyone else hear it?  It’s so beautiful, so strong.  Like a lion’s roar.  Like thunder echoing through the hills.  God’s voice, speaking to me, reminding me He’s here, and He’s big, and He’s still in control.  I want to run, to cry, to feel, to know.  What does the air taste like when you’re alive and breathing deep and free?

I want to ride the wind.  I want to leap into the air and fly, far, far away.  I want to breath the wild golden wisps of morning mist that rise from the water.  I want to be caught by no one, to live without walls, without restrictions.  I want to be free.  I want to get out of this cage.

Let me walk.  Let me run.  Let me eat.  Let me laugh.  Let me swing.  Let me climb as high as I wish, and ride in the tops of the highest trees as they sway in the wind.  Let me sing, and let me sing with all my heart.  Do not judge me, do not condemn me.  I am me, and I am wild.  Try to catch me and hold me to the ground, and you will feel my anger, you will see my pain.  There is wilderness in my blood… I can only be in a cage so long before I lose control and mania takes over.

Let me be free.  Let me breathe.  Let me sing.  Let me love.  Do not tell me how to live my life.  You are not me, and you do not know me.  I am wild.  I am free.  I will only survive if the wild survives in me.

dark dreams

Las night, I dreamed dark dreams.  I dreamed of cutting and bleeding and dying.  And I wanted to feel the weakness again.  When will the dreams stop?  I lie in bed forever, waiting for them to get better.  I always think that, if I stay asleep long enough, somehow a happy ending will emerge.  And sometimes, well… actually pretty often… it does.  But not always.  Not always.

It’s like I’ve gone so far, it’s got me hooked.  I want to go farther.  Once I’ve tasted it, I want more.  I want to see how far I can go.  But I can’t.  I can’t let myself give in even a little.  That’s the thing.  Only a little is never good enough anymore.  I want to get to the point where I can barely hold my hand over my wrist, because I’m so weak.

In my dreams, my littlest sister was dying.  And somehow, it was my fault.  Or at least it felt that way.  I don’t remember all the details now… I only remember fear.  And deep, deep sorrow.

I hate these dreams.  I want happy endings.  I know that when I fall asleep again, I will remember everything.  I really don’t want to go to sleep tonight.  I mean, I’m exhausted.  Purging does that.  But I don’t want to dream dark dreams again.

I’ve been trying so hard.  I haven’t cut in over two weeks.  And I know I’ve wanted to.  I’ve wanted to so much.  But these dreams aren’t helping.  I want to feel weak again, I want to collapse into bed and actually sleep… without dreams.  I want to cut.  I want to bleed.

I WON’T cut.  I refuse.  I refuse to give in.  But oh, dear God, help me.  Because I can’t do this alone.  I don’t know how much longer I can last.  I hope these dreams end happy.

Questions…

The wind is blowing softly.  It sends chills down my arms, and I am glad to be wrapped in blankets.  Softly blowing, the wind is rustling the leaves so gently.  It’s playing a soft little tune on the wind chimes, reminding me of winter nights and their stillness.

The beautiful day is over.

Today I was home alone, for the first time since the hospital.  And I blew it.  Lunch turned into a small binge, and I purged afterwards.  And then stepped on the scale, and saw the number drop.  I know it’s mostly from water loss, but still, it made me want it to go farther.  I feel fat again.  I feel like I need to lose more.

I wish I could fly.  I want to run outside, run in the icy air, run away from this world and its demands.  I remember freshman year, I would go outside and sit in the cold until my fingers and toes were completely numb, and I could hardly hold the key to open the door and get back inside.  Sometimes I’d go out barefoot, because I got cold faster.  I guess it was a kind of self harm.  The cold, the pain, felt good.

All I can think of right now is blades and edges and bleeding.  I want to open an artery, but the ones in my wrists are so messed up with scar tissue, it’s kind of hard.  Why do I want this?  It’s crazy.  I’m crazy.  This night is so dark, and I can’t let it go.

It seems like every time I’m doing well, I always jump back to where I was before.  I can’t hold on to the good days very long.  It’s as if, every time I start to truly step away from my eating disorder, I panic and jump back in.  I can’t let go.  And that only makes things worse.

Here’s my question:  Why am I here?

Why does God keep me alive when I want to die?  With all the times I’ve tried to go, why does He make me stay?

What good have I ever done?  What good could I ever do?  Why am I here?

I have dreams, yes.  I have hopes, still.  But dreams of helping people seem more like fairy dust when I think of it through my life.  Fairy dust… sparkly and pretty for a moment, then gone in a breath of wind.  How could I help people?  Me, who’s so messed up myself?  How could I bring anyone hope when I’m ready to give up?

I had another one of those dreams last night, where I’m trying to kill myself, but something’s not letting it work.  WHY???  Why am I still here?

I wish I had something to go on.  I wish I could know that I matter.  Am I here for a purpose, or is this life just to prolong my misery?

Is there hope for me?  Hope for today?  Do I mean anything to anyone at all?  Not just like when people say they love me.  I know that, and I’m grateful… but have I ever helped anyone?  Have I ever made someone’s life brighter, better, easier?

I wish I could know.  Because I honestly need something to hold on to right now.

But questions whispered to the wind never have answers.

Nightmare

I had the most terrible nightmare last night.  I went on a binge, and then I couldn’t purge afterwards.  I tried and I tried, but nothing came up.  Then I went in to treatment, and there was this huge pan of baked ziti that I had to eat.  Every bite was too much.  And everyone was talking to me and telling me to eat.  And it was torture.  I felt so bad, and I couldn’t tell them about the binge, because I was so ashamed that I couldn’t purge.  By the end of it, I was ready to kill myself.  Yeah, I know that’s pretty ridiculous for a nightmare, but for me, it was terrible.

I guess you can tell what’s been on my mind lately.  I feel like I’m eating too much.  But I haven’t been able to purge.  I’ve wanted to.  I want to now.  But I’m not letting myself.  And I hate that I can’t.  I feel like a failure.  When I was in treatment, everyone would talk about how they skipped a meal here, or purged after a meal there, and it make me feel guilty for doing well.  I feel like I’m eating way too much.

I had breakfast today.  A whole, complete breakfast.  And a whole lunch.  I was going to skip lunch, but my mom was in the kitchen all day long.  She would’ve known.  Why in the world do I have to eat so much?  It’s ridiculous.  I should be allowed to eat less.

Today is hard.  I’m bleeding again.  It was four weeks since the last time I cut.  Four weeks!  I’ve never gone that long before, not since it started up for real.  Then today I went and blew it.  My wrist hurts.  And it feels so good.  Why does pain feel so good to me?  Why am I so opposite of most people in the world?

I was starting to get better.  But I’ve been pumping myself up with ED thoughts in preparation for school.  I really want to skip eating when I go back.  I really want to skip eating the whole first week.  And now, I feel like my brain is all messed up again.  I hate eating.  It was vacation that did it.  The meals took so long.  I want to stop eating.  But I have to keep going.  And it’s too much pressure building up inside.  It’s gonna let loose sometime soon.  I’m living a nightmare.  And I don’t know how to wake up.