THIS is 1 Reason My Anorexia Persists…

I did online dating. And this really does exist. Men are entitled. They think they deserve to have this skinny perfectly shaped Barbie. While they themselves are beyond flawed.

At least that is how it persists in the area I live in. It sucks to be a woman.

But that is besides the point.

How, as someone with an eating disorder, as someone who is trying and fighting every damn day to love themselves, are you supposed to take this?

I know I am not the only woman out there who has dealt with this.

Please share your stories so I can empower you.

Because I have horror stories, too.

Some caused relapse. Some caused sex binges because they were triggering.






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Pictured Thought 

Ed’s Voice in Pictures

Been saving some up so I had a nice little grouping. Just so people might understand the thoughts that slowly kill us.

Battling Myself

I saw this awesome project on Pinterest. It involves a mini 3 drawer system in which you organize things. In this project, you organize your coloring things. 

I LOVE coloring! It is my zen. My go to self healing self care thing. 

It also is an OCD thing. Arranging my coloring utensil of choice by color. Coloring in the lines. You get the point. 

This project requires one to put all crayons in one drawer, all colored pencils in another drawer, and all markers in the third drawer. 

Sooo simple right?

Haaaa.

I like my crayons to go back in the exact spot they came from. No one is allowed to use my box of crayons because they might use them wrong. I own 6 boxes of the same type of crayons [1 for sharing] so that I have backup if anything goes wrong. They are to be used a certain way.

Yes you are thinking, dayam Cassie is crazy. I am thinking, I have control and it is perfect and how I left it… Exactly how I left it and will be the way I left it. 

With the little I have ever had control of in my life, it is this I have come to rely on.

Was my OCD behavior bred? It is possible. My invalidating environment definitely fostered the behaviors.

I digress.

Tonight I did it. I bit that crazy hard bullet. I mixed 3 boxes of crayons: 2-24 packs and 1-64 pack in one drawer. 2 boxes of colored pencils in a second drawer. 2 boxes of fine tip markers and 1 box of regular markers in the third drawer. They have all been mixed.

It looks so organized! I can easily access my coloring now and color more. I might actually use them now!

I mean I have to because they are all cross contaminated by each other. They can’t go back into their original boxes… No way of knowing now…And they cannot be mixed because that is just wrong to put them with someone that is not their crayon family…. they belong together!

Omg wtf have I done……

I am glad I am lying down. I was so proud of myself for the past hour. Now I have a headache and this is almost too much to bear.

Contaminated! 

Bite size pieces to process….

Site Fail

It seems there is some failure going on with WordPress.

 

I have tried to post a couple different posts now via the app, my usual method, and it has failed. It asked me to login which was weird, and when I created my posts and said error in posting and then in saving.

 

All my hardwork–gone. My thoughts. My expressions. My stresses gone. Add this to the stress. Sup WordPress you suck.

 

Can’t even upload a picture.

 

Story of my life.

Who’s That? Oh, ME.

Driving home today I had a moment of complete derealization.

I was thinking about how I was driving home, to my place, where I live with my boyfriend, and it was no thang. It was normal. And then I slipped out of body.

That’s not me. Who would think I was capable of actually sustaining a relationship and not ruining it? To go home to a shared bed. So foreign. Sleep in a bed that I share with someone. This should freak me out but it was not. To a home that was not my old home. A nest that I nested. A new safe. A real safe.

I have a safe place now? That’s possible?

I felt like I was splitting in half and it lasted for about 10 minutes.

What worries me is why it’s happening.

It’s happened before: when I was not medicated, from/during severe trauma, trigger [that is obvious], etc. This was random.

I think my subconscious is slipping through my avoidance…

Hiding for Fear

I have so much to say. Multiple topics. Lyrics to post. Images to relate to. 

But I feel like whatever I am to post will not be good enough. 

Ya. It’s that phase. 

The not worthy. Not good enough. Why can’t I be accepted. Phase.

Leads to:

I am feeling fat. I am fat. 

Why am I not good enough. 

Smile. They will never know.