Pandora's Box

2009-12-11T08:25:00.000-08:00

Open up

Ugh, so I'm not feeling too terribly good today... it's just one of those deals where my entire body still feels like it's sleeping, inspite of the fact I'm trying to move/be awake. I'm also extremley nauseouse, inspite of another epic french toast based breakfast. So I'm going to update later on in the day, for sure, because there's still lots to be done! I'm in DESPERATE need of groceries, so am going to brave the cold. First off though, I'm going to try working out, since that usually makes me feel a tad more um alive haha. So hopefully I'll be feeling better later on in the day. In the mean time, be sure to check out Maggie's Giveaway! http://http://www.mybreakfastblog.com/2009/12/simple-giveaways.html
Have a great day everyone!

Mint Condition

2009-12-10T20:35:00.000-08:00

Open up

So in addition to my freezing cold, mid morning runs, I've developed a few new addictions... Celestial Seasonings Peppermint Tea, The Office, and Dark Chocolate Reeses Cups. Ok, the last one really isn't an "addiction", considering I ate one. whole. Reese's Cup... but it's something that I'm really proud of. Fuck you ED. Yes, I can have Peanutbutter and Chocolate Candy... it doesn't even have to be organic. Or natural. Or anything special. I can eat candy, in moderation, and be healthy.

I had therapy today. I love my therapist, which is something I've never said about an ED professional before, with the exception of my Physician on the day she hospitalized me (I knew I was getting ready to die at the time).

Me and my therapist talked about mainly how I handle uncomfortable situations. And place all the blame on myself. The pressure, the complications, expectations, they just become too much. So I bail... I just don't feel like dealing with anything. This is my pattern. It makes life chaotic. I can't grasp hold of the rest of the world. So I make my own... full of rigid rules and little quirks. Little, deadly quirks.

These traits still carry on- it's my downfall. Even though I've been weight restored and getting all my calories in, the behaviors take different forms. Another thing I really like about my therapist is she said Eating Disorders aren't all about the food. Food is a symptom, but not the problem. I love this. I agree with this. I have been telling myself this when I want to use ED as a crutch, in order to avoid things.

All in all though (we talked about other things, like with dance and stuff), it was a successful session. I got alot out, and got a few challenges assigned. One was to have a challenge food (duh!), because, well that's a challenge she likes me to do once a week. But this challenge food had to be intuitive... So more than just the "once a week" thing.

Well my mom and I went to purchase some Peppermint Tea, which, if you haven't tried it yet, GO AND BUY SOME!!! Hehe. Anyhow, we were in the checkout line, and I see Dark Chocolate Reese Cups. I grabbed them and put them on the store counter. My mom just kind of smiled and then asked me to grab another Dark package and then a regular one incase "Santa needs stalking stuffers".

When we got home, I started brewing the tea, and just kinda set the Reeses aside. Then, after therapy, it was time for another snack. I had a Flat out Wrap with salsa, some Tuna, Scrambled Eggbeater, Celery, and a Cheesestick. I was planning on having Oatmeal with the snack, too. But instead, I decided to go for the Reese's cup. Even though the package had two, I just had one of them. And will deffinetly be having the other one in the VERY near future. Because these things are SERIOUSLY delicous. I am so happy I ate it, really.

So yeah for my little victory over ED, who insisted that plain oatmeal would beat a Reese's cup. (nothing against oatmeal though lol). Other than that, today didn't really hold anything exciting. It was just the usual, wake up, get outta bed, drag a comb across my head (OK, I stole that from John Lennon in A Day in the Life haha). But really, everything was routine. Breakfast, school work, workout, food, food, food... You get the point. And college shit. I am so scared. And so exctied.

Just get me the hell out of Youngstown!!! I hate this city so bad, there is nothing here for me. I have no friends and just want to start over new. Yes, this is my impulsive, manic side... but I REALLY need to leave, like PHYSICALLY leave my past behind. In order to fully move on.

Youngstown holds all the cold... those horrible winter chills... the lonliness... the way kids would snicker at me as I was dying. The pshyc wards. The failed "treatment providers". It holds the holidays. Ugh... I'll post on Christmas tomarrow... it's too long to do tongiht (seeing as it's 11:50 and bed is calling my name).

So umm another fleeting post? I'll update tomarrow though! I think I'm going shopping... with my mom... for Christmas clothes. Oooh but I am going Grocery shopping too! Time to restock the Oikos, Vitamuffins, La Tortillas, Produce... and a bunch of other things that cost to much mula. Hahaha. Another reason why I NEED to move... Youngstown has no Whole Foods OR Trader Joe's. Our idea of "specialty" is the Nature's Basket section at Giant Eagle. Pathetic.

And bratty kids walk around in those T-shirts with big Abercrombie logos, thinking they're making some kind of fashion statement. Becaues it's just THAT original to wear a shirt with some stupid, poorly-scented perfume making company's name on it. Ok, so I totally bought into the "screen T" deal when I was about 12. But I was also completely lost amongst a crowd of heartless "friends". Thus, I was forced to adhere to tasteless fashion! Now, I really don't know what my tastes are, clothing wise. Forever21 is cool... Charlotte Russe at times, and WetSeal, when they don't have all the ghetto-fab stuff. I love Buckle though, and some A&E gear. I wish we had an Urban Outfitters. Or H&M. That would make things much, MUCH better.

I rant too much. Haha.

I'll leave you all with a fab french toast recipe (this happened to be the star of my breakfast today!)

2 Slices Eziekel Cinnamon Raisin Bread
1/3 Cup Eggbeaters (or, alternatively, 1 Egg)
1/3 Cup Silk Eggnog
1 TSP Cinnamon
2 Packets Stevia...

In a shallow dish, mix together Eggbeaters, Eggnog, Cinnamon, and Stevia. Soak bread in mixture until the majority of liquid has been absored. Cook in non-stick skillet until Golden Brown! Top off with a thin layer of Almond Butter. Next, add a scoop of Cottage Cheese. Chop an apple overtop the CC, and then drizzle with cinnamon and honey. Enjoy this! It is nearly impossible not to!!!

Good night (technically, good morning, it's oficially midnight!)

2009-12-09T14:44:00.000-08:00

Alright, so I'm going to stick to it this time... I am vowing to start, and CONTINUE my blog! So many times, I've tried to become a "blogger", if you will, but my perfectionistic side has gotten the best of me. I think "who the hell would want to read about your shit, Julia?" or "Your grammar is off, your words don't make sense, this layout sucks"... stupid stuff like that, mainly characteristics I've dealt with all my life.

So I'm giving myself permission to run with words, to let my thoughts go where they please. That's how good writing is made. I used to write quite often, and was very gifted at it. Although in the past few years, my need fear of flaws have gotten the best of me. I'd overanylize everything so much, I'd just reach a point of giving up on writing altogether. I even went as far as to delete 60 pages I had written, a memoir of my ED struggles. They just weren't good enough for me though I guess.

Damnit, I have too much to say. Too much to get out. And it's going to come out. My blog might suck right now, but I need to stop avoiding things, due to the fear of failure. I'm going to fail unless I stick with a task, even THROUGH THE HARD PARTS, and see it through. I'm so used to just succeeding right off the bat, getting school work naturally, ect. So when I face an obstacle, my doubts tend to get the best of me and just ask "Why even bother?". So why bother with this? Because maybe I'm worth it. Maybe allowing myself to SPEAK UP will open my eyes, and show me I'm worth it. I know I'm worth it, I know I'm worth life. I hope I am. I just don't fully beliueve it.

Because of my sins, because of the past.

Depression to Anorexia to Suicide to breaking my family.

I did that. And I still can't forgive myself.

But maybe I didn't do that. Maybe the things I say about other people with mental troubles apply to me to? If someone else makes a mistake, as a result of a medical complication, I say that they didn't make that mistake themselves. There illness was too strong to overcome, thus, the illness made the mistake. So maybe my depression was the thing that led to the Anorexia. And I couldn't control the Anorexia because I was knocking on deaths door, skeletal hands and all. And I just couldn't live with myself and everything around me.

Now I want to live, but it feels like I just can't... It's that horrible feeling where I'm constantly gasping for air, waiting for something to happen. Constant anitcipation of the unknown... there's really nothing in my future. Yet, I'm always waiting. What's next? I want to change, but I do nothing to act as a catalyst towards it.

It scares me, it scares me that I'm "medically well", and that I've been "medically well" now for over a year. Yet, I still have no sense of self. I still missed out on highschool. Freshmen year was perfect. Sophomore year was a dream, until I got pnuemonia. Junior year just blew. And I'm a homeschooled Senior.

I went to one party, kissed two guys, and went on two dates. Throughout the past four years. I have no friends. I'll admit it... I've know for quite some time. Though, I've always been too afraid to say so. I have no friends, just accquaintances. I've learned that it's easier to isolate, rather than having to constantly explain myself. And answer to all the "how are you feeling" or say thank you when people tell me "you can talk to me if there's anything you need".

I can't talk to anyone... I can't even talk to myself. Becuase I don't know myself.

Dance used to hold my life together. But now, I'm questioning my love for it. I used to be so free when dancing, but now, that feeling jsut isn't there all the time. I still get ti, but often times, it seems more trouble than it's worth. To go to class, to pay the money for competitions, give up weekends and live in hotels. When I loved dance like I used to, it was all worth it. But now, my dancing just remains a big question in my life. I don't really know what I'm going to do, in regards to my future with it, just yet. Because my future in general is so bleak.

It takes so much motivation to leave the house, to get my self together and present this mess to the world. I feel like people are looking right through me, with their stone cold eyes. I stand alone at all times. I speak, yet no words are heard. I'm a muffled shadow, that thing people push in the corner. I just want to be alone. But I can't even do that, because that's when the bad thoughts come back.

The haunting memories. Sight leaving me, as the heart monitor signals a flat line. Crying, SCREAMING, to see my mom. Being locked in the psych ward's safe room... feeling lonlier than ever before... those bright orange pills. The dark nights of situps, winter days where I lived infront of the fireplace. Broken plates, spilled drinks. Everything shatters. And I'm still sitting alone.

Ok, so I have honestly no idea what I just wrote. But I wrote it, so there, I guess I accomplished something.

My day wasn't all that exciting... but I woke up around 9 ish and made me some breakfast. Ate and read up on blogs, idolizing what it would be like to live somewhere else, with people who get me.

I'm still kind of taking a dance break, as are the rest of the girls at my dance school. Nationals are finally over, and Christmas is the only time of year that we're free from competition and shows. So we all (gasp) relax! Well, they do. I just kinda stay my anxious self, sans dancing.

So I did my jumping jacks, strength work, and took a run. Running and working out right now are the only things that make me feel whole... it's the best part of my day (which is why I hate Sundays, since it's my off day :/ but my body needs rest!). So I went for the usual 35 minutes, and managed to get in 4 and a half miles. I didn't really push myself, just felt incredible.

Came home, toweled off, and decided it was time to pick up Angry Management, by Chris Cutcher- the book my British Lituerature teacher selected for book club. So we had some guys over or something working on our sink. Which made me really nervous, because I looked like shit and hate cooking these ginormous freaking meals infront of people.

It's so wierd, because I honestly love the fact that I maintain on 3200. I love eating this, even though I can get a little too full at times. But the scale's staying stable (actually, I'm at the low end of my range, so maybe gonna bump it up a bit?), so I'm shoving the food in.

Well I was really just embarressed though, cause I hate eating loads in the presence of outsiders. So I started with some OCD shit... tearing the edges off my tortillas. 32 tears, OCD likes the number 32 for some reason whilst tearing food. That was a behavior of mine that still pops up from time to time. My mom saw and got really pissed. She said that if it happens again, I have to get weighed twice a week, opposed to once.

So then I was pissed initially, but then relieved. I thanked her for calling me out on it? And threatining an extra weigh in? Wow, I couldn't believe that, but I was happy she caught me. I have some motivation not to do it. It makes me nervous though, none the less. It feels like somthing bad is going to happen if I don't tear 32 little edges off my tortillas... what a stupid and irrational fear... the tears amount to crumbs, make no difference calorically, yet my irrational thoughts blow them out of proportion.

It. Needs. To. Stop.

That was that. I'm jsut kind of chilling right now, gonna get a snack in a few minutes. I want something really, really cold but already had my greek yogurt for the day (too expensive to exceed two containers of Oikos haha I have to limit myself!)

So I'm gonna go and eat :( Eww not really hungry, but it's gotta be done. Don't wanna lose my families trust. i wanna go away to college and be successful. Ok, enough rambling. Time to do some cooking. I hope you erm, enjoyed? my first "official" blog entry, if anyone is actually reading this lol. I'll try to update daily. God knows I have nothing better to do.

Take care everyone!

Shoot me now...

2009-11-07T08:41:00.000-08:00

Ok, well don't shoot me, but please, God, everything is just piling up. So much is happening, and there seems to be no end in sight. I just donnot know what to do. My anxiety is through THE ROOF, heck, it's nearing the atmosphere's end, as I sit here, teeth chattering with nerves.

I missed the SAT this morning. I overslept. My dad came in at 7:30 to wake me up. I had to be there at 7:45... there was NO WAY I would have eaten breakfast in time and made it to the test without being late. I am such a slacker. I said fuck it and went back to bed until 10 O'clock.

Who needs the SAT anyway. I DO! I am settling so much more often than I used to now... my attitude is horrible. At the moment, I keep on telling myself that these tests aren't a big deal, because I know I will get into college. I'm ranked 8th out of a 400 student class with a 3.9 GPA. After teaching myself all these years. While battling this deamon of an Eating Disorder.

But still, I'm not putting fourth my best effort. This is so uncharacteristic of me. I am falling apart. And so is life, (or though it seems...)

My grandma died Thursday morning. Only three weeks after my uncle died. They both suffered long, hard lives with Bi-Polar disorder. My uncle suffered a spontanious heart attack, while my grandma died of dementia related complications. I miss them both dearly, but am happy they are finally free from their minds. They are in peace.

I just don't know where any of this is going. The only thing that I am motivated to do any more is eat and exercise. I have dance is an hour. My dancing is so horrid... and Nationals are in two and a half weeks! I am so far from ready, nearly EMBARRESSED to dance! I'm working so hard, but nothing is coming together with dance.

My thoughts are everywhere... I think I'll try and post a more thourough update later on. Hopefully dance class will allow my head to clear. I just feel like such a failure... I know that's partly ED talking, but partly reality, too. If I wasn't so rigid, I could have made the SAT in time. I could have just grabbed a Muscle Milk and drank that whilst driving. Then finished the remainder of my breakfast upon arriving home. But no, rigidity took over. My stupid perfect breakfast ideals took over. Sure, breakfast this morning was DELICOUS!, but what good is that going to do me when I'm trying to make a successful future for myself?

Ah! Please, dear mind, just slow down. Please slow down and let me breath.

Hate to sound like such a downer, but I hope that you all are having a better day than me. Take care loves, and stay strong. That, I know I can do.

Love,
Julia

MLK

2009-01-19T11:33:00.001-08:00

He knew his life was in danger, but he also knew the danger in lives around him. He knew that his presence would come to an end, but his message would forever live on. His spirit could not be killed, even if his body was. His spirit would remain, forever, in the heart of America. His spirit would pulse throughout those brave enough to hope, those brave enough to dream. This is the spirit of Martin Luther King Jr. This is the spirit that our nation, today, is still thriving on. This is the spirit of a man made of courage. This is the spirit of a man made of strength, this is the spirit of a man who's only fear was not being heard.

His message was that all men are created equal, despite race, despite socioeconomic backround. He preached that we are given equal rights to success, that we are all entitled to equal opportunities. This message was spoken in times of great uproar. But society's discord wasn't enough to stop Mr. King from speaking, from spilling his heart. He marched through violence, he marched through hatred, hoping to put an end to this world's evil; hoping to put an end to this world's judgement.

I still see it today. I still see people exchange glances at different races, different beliefs, even different clothing styles. I'm guilty of it myself. Why must we place so much importance on such a minor quality, appearance? Why do we continuously value someone's look, rather than their actions? What good does it do us in the long run? Why are we too blind to see the true inner beauty of people? Why, today, do we still allow our outerselves to rule us?

I'm unable to provide an answer applicapable to society as a whole, however, I can share my insight in regards to my prejiduce views. I look at people before I speak to them. I see their hair, I see their clothes. I feel that these things provide an idea of what's inside. But they really don't. Judging someone by physical appearance is just as bad as judging someone by their racial backround. You all do it. You look at the gothic kid and snicker. You think he'll go home at night to slit his wrists. You look at the fat girl and picture her eating twinkies. You see the jock going to a keg party, and the pretty girl losing her virginity to him. These are all just people though. I have no right, WE have no right to guess what they think, to guess what they're feeling. But this practice, this judging is so ingrained in us. We must break it. It can't be done all at once, but it is achievable.

Martin Luther King Jr. did not take all those risks, he didn't give all that effort so we could live today, still judging others. Just for today, try to see past someone. Try to find their innervoice, their innerbeauty. Just try to look past those things that only our eyes can see. Dig deeper, push yourself past this. I just wish that our looks didn't matter. Slowly, but surely, I do believe that we can diminish their importance. Please, let's all try to live MLK's dream. Let us all be free at last.

2009-01-15T18:48:00.000-08:00

I just want this day to be over, I just want this lonliness to come to an end. I can feel the darkness coming back, yet I did nothing to stop it. I want to free myself from this life, I want to start over new. I want so much and need so little. I have no plans to carry out my desires. No one can feel what I am feeling, no one can see what I am seeing. They're not tired like I am, they're not worthless like I am. My life has been reduced to misery, a misery that I've created. I can feel myself dissapearing, the smile coming on as the pain grows near. The chills comfort me, the screams; they silence. I'm numb... I'm pure. This is what I have... this is what's left of me.

Hiding from the world, for I fear the failure. This is what I have.
Translucent presence and an empty soul. This is what's left of me.
Lost love and fleeting hope. This is what I have.
A painful existence with prayer for the end. This is what's left of me.

Lonliness does this, the thinking does this. I must stay occupied, or else my mind will overtake me. My mind is evil and full of power. It can turn on me at any given second, as soon as my thoughts grow idle. It spins out of control and blinds me from the good that's still here. It kills my senses and floods the world with cold. No pausing, no stopping, no freedom to salvish. I just want this to be over, I just want this lonliness to come to an end.

B.J.

2009-01-14T19:59:00.000-08:00

I've missed you and I've hurt you. I only cared about myself and caused you so much pain. Those nights are killing me now, those nights when you would retreat to your room with no way out. I wish that I could go back and take them away, I wish that I could erase those memories. Because I love you. And I hurt you so bad. I couldn't see it happening at the time. I was too trapped amongst my own demons. I only cared about holding onto that evil. And it was so very selfish of me. I love you so much that I'm crying right now. Because all I can think of are the times that you cried, the times that you were in pain. Becaues of me, because of who I was. And because of the struggle that I put you through, the misery that I can never take back.

I was always jelous of you as a child. You were the one who talked so easily, related so easily. You were the athlete, the adorable kid with blonde hair. You were the cute one, the strong one, the pure one. I've always felt as if I were the outcast of this family, the angry one. I wanted what you had. And even back then, I was very mean to you.

I'm still crying right now because you're almost an adult. You've made up your mind about the world and I can only hope that you've chosen a good outlook. But I have no way of knowing what will come. And I certainly didn't help you in becoming who you are today.

I am proud of you. I am scared for you. I am sorry for you, so sorry for what I put you through. I was physcotic, I wasn't there. Physically, I was failing, and mentally, I had already gone. All you wanted was to get buy, all you wanted was a decent life. All you wanted was some peace, all you wanted was some happiness.

I know that you can never get these lost years back, none of us can. I'm just now beginning to realize what's actually happened though, and it's very difficult to accept. I can't honestly describe what I'm feeling right now, but I know that it's necessary. I know that it must be felt, for you must be saved. I want you to come back, I want our lives to come back. I want us to live again, without all the fear, without all the worry. I just want things to be good. And I want you to know that I love you, and that I always will.

Thank you for tolerating me, I can't imagine what it would have been like. Thank you for looking at me, because I know that my face has made you tremble. Thank you for talking with me, even when my voice was full of lies. Thank you for being, thank you for holding on.

2009-01-14T19:53:00.000-08:00

I can't stand how blind people are. How blind we all are to the suffering. Everyone suffers, but so few are able to see it. Everyone is breaking, but everyone is too rightouse to fall apart. I think that we need to fall apart, we all need to crumble. I think that we need to die before we live again, that we must hit rock bottom before we can climb toward the top. You have to get it all out before you can get yourself back, before you can find yourself again.

And while your breaking, while your pleading for a new start, you're blinded too. Those around you who love you, they are part of the few who can see you, and you're killing them slowly. They're wishing, they're hoping, they're praying. They can see the darkness, though they can't feel it. They want to take it away, but you're the only one who can find the light.

I wish I could go back to those nights. When my brother was crying and hurting so bad because of ME. Because of MY actions, my choices, MY demons. He didn't ask for this, my parents didn't ask for this. And I can never take those moments back. They're in my head forever. They're in my families heads forever. And this breaks my heart all over again.

A taste of my own medicine...

2009-01-07T19:19:00.000-08:00

I'm in the city. I'm in a bussiness suite. My hair looks hotter than hell itself. My body is perfect. Thin and svelt, but with the muscle tone of a dancer and runner. And my face. I'm an angel. One of those faces that make you think, that make you wonder, that tell some story. Through gentel blue eyes. I'm away. I'm knew. This is my time now...

The past eight years have been filled with turmoil and stress. The past eight years have been the most worthwhile years of my life. I've cried, I've worried. I've dug myself out of the deepest holes. I've studied, I've partied, I've made mistakes. And I've learned. Not only about the human physcie, but about myself.

My residency is coming to an end. I see that patients. I know that look in there eyes. That fear that they can't admit. I want to tell them that I know. I want to reach out my hand and tell them that it will end someday. That they will live again. But I'm scared at times to admit that I've been there. That I was once in that gown. That I was once filled with nerves as my back faced a scale. As doctors prodded at my body. As the observations took place. I want them to know that you can come out from it. I want them to know that you can run marathons. That you can dance toward your dreams. I want these kids to know the beauty of Ireland, the contentment of center stage. The feeling of love, the feeling of heartbreak. I want them to know that it will come together. And that maybe, just maybe, someday they can help themselves. Then they can help others. I want to tell these poor, innocent children that they're beautiful. But I must see it in myself first...

if you love me, won't you let me know...

2009-01-07T19:03:00.000-08:00

It's everything I've lost. I'll never know if it existed in the first place. Why do they get the fun. Why do they get the breaks. Every chance I have just crumbles. And I can't stop it. I want to, and I try to, but I can't stop it. My heart aches, but I can't stop it. i'm expected to go back with them, reenter their world. I can't do it. I'm too scared. They have so much in this life. I have so little. I want somethings so bad. I want to dance. I want to run. I am at peace when I can do these things. Why would they take it away from me. I had myself back, I felt that serenity. But now it's gone, and I'm just left with myself. My horrible self. I'm fed up, I'm disgusted, I'm dissapointed. I don't know when and if this will ever end. I did nothing to ask for this, I did nothing to recieve this. It just kind of happened and changed my life forever. People always tell me how strong I am, but I have yet to see that strength, I have yet to feel it. All I know is the pressure that I feel when things don't go my way. All I know is how angry I get when I fail. And I fail so much. My standards are so high. I can't even put the effort into rising to them now. I'm too scared to. I'm scared of pushing myself. I'm scared of losing myself again. But I need to push myself to get what I want, to get what I love. I just don't know where to go from here. Every direction is open, and I'm so hesitant to chose a path. This is the hardest part. There's no mission on hand for me, I have to establish a goal. And I'm too scared to even do that. Everything seems so far off right now, so impossible. I don't know how I'm going to go back to school...

I've been out of school for over a year. I don't think I can do it. When I get there and the world keeps on going, my head spins. No one stops for me, everything flies by before I get a chance to open my eyes. And I want to cry. I want to be held. I want to stop it all. But I can't. I'm not in control of myself there. For seven hours a day, they make their commands. And I am so afraid of that. That lonliness. That hopelessness. That anxiety, that discomfort. I've had good times at school before, but those are long in the past. I've succeeded in school before, but that too is in the past. I only have the future ahead, and I'm responsible for making it what I want. Ofcourse I want success. I just don't know how the hell I'm supposed to strive for it in this condition.

And what condition. What the fuck is my problem. I've had all the therapy in the world. I've gotten all the treatment that could possibly be offered. And I'm still sad. I'm happy at times, but right now, I just want to cry my eyes out. But the tears won't come. And I don't even know why, why I want to cry, and why I can't. I remember too much. This moment seems like it's happened before. So I remember that feeling I had before. That pain that I once had. That pain that nearly killed me. And I wonder if I really am here right now, in this moment, or if I'm still lingering on in the horrors of my past. When will it ever go away.

I'm in a fog. This doesn't seem real. This isn't the life I imagained years ago. I'm barely alive. I don't know what I'm doing. I just want to escape this doubt, this terror, this trap. I want to break free from it and never look back. My breath is short. I'm anticipating something, something unknown. My head is flooded with those moments that will never leave. The lights, the screams, the tears. Those will always be a part of who I am, but I want them to be a part of who I was. The hurt, the betrayel, the lies, I don't want it anymore. I really don't want it anymore. But I don't know who I am without it. What do I have without it. I lose everything with it, but can't manage to walk away. I just want to start a new life, free from all the memories. Because I can't move on with them holding me back. Everything reminds me. Everything hurts me. And I can't have it this way anymore. I've wasted enough time, I've wasted enough chances. I've wasted enough ability, I've wasted enough passion. I have gifts that need to be used. I have dreams that need to come to life. And I have demons that must die. Please God, help me kill them. Please God. Please. So I can find who I am again. So I can uncover the joy I once lived. So I can trust again, so I can love again. Please God, just grant me the strength to go on.

2008-08-03T19:45:00.000-07:00

What does not kill can only make me stronger...

Take apart your mind, shut the world around out for just his moment. For just this moment, gaze into the present, gaze into the past, imagine the future. Focus upon the love in your life, and shove aside all the trechery. Find what matters, and grasp it tightly. Nothing else exists right now except for what matters. And right now, that is all you need.

Inspire your soul. Forget about the demons, for they are not a part of you. This is your life, your hope, your dream. No one can take this from you but yourself. This is your day to run with or to tear apart. Let the bad parts in and sift them out. There is more to life. There is more to live.

Seperate your fear from your desires. Feed off of passion and continue to drive forward. Don't allow for any obstacles to block your path. Keep on going. Keep going forward. Don't look back, don't consider other options. Your dreams are the only options that can be truly persued in order to find the happiness that everyone needs.

At all costs, find yourself. Love yourself, and fight for yourself. Don't listen to other opinions or instructions. Only obey your heart, and only follow your aspirations. Nothing else is worth it. Nothing in this life is worth the feeling of true success.

Do or die

2008-07-26T19:43:00.002-07:00

They've told me here before

Under that bright white light

That all chance was gone

But this was far from my last fight

I've hear those words before

The doubt, the fear, and even regret

Though passion can get me through this

The consequences and danger

I must not forget

Driving forward isn't easy

Especially when you're on your own

But as I travel this horrid path

I know I'm not alone

Say what you will

I won't let go

For within my heart

There's hope to show

Love exceeds

All that's wrong

For I must surpass

And remain strong

Something to prove

2008-07-26T19:43:00.001-07:00

Today was terrible. This past week has been terrible. The ultimatum of weight gain was enforced. It was heartbreaking, and this past week has been extremely difficult to endure with the absence of Cross Country in my life. I want to gain the weight, because logistically, I want to and need to run so badly. My parents did permit me to continue cross training daily and continue my attendance at daily dance classes. I did increase my intake, at first, I simply added a milkshake onto my daily diet. That gave me a bit of cushion, but it didn't last for long. By Thursday morning, my weight was only a pound heavier. I then increased my caloric intake once again, bringing myself up to a daily total of 3000 calories through the assistance of milkshakes, strawberry sundaes, and an abundance of peanutbutter. But even Friday brough pain, simply from sleeping in. Yes, I said it- it was painful to sleep in. It hurt so bad knowing that my team was out there doing a fartlek, when all I had to wake up to was my jump rope. My anorexia. It's still there. I wish it wasn't, but it's still grasping the ends of me. Each time I get so close to my dreams, it comes on in and robs me of happiness. It desires my misery. The worst part of this whole hell is that it's my decision, it's my price to pay. I could very well miss my entire season over a few pounds. That scares me to death. Something so very close to my heart could be taken away by something that wants to rip me to pieces. I've been having extreme conflict, epiphanies, all these moments of clarity and confusion alike. This morning brought on some more challenges, ones which I was not expecting. We made a trip to Clelveland today, to see my physcaitrist. My mother was origionally set to take me. I woke up at 6:00 am to cross train, and my mom informed me that she was ill with a fever. Thus, my dad would have to take me. And they really do mean it when they say everything happens for a reason. On the journey up to CCED (cleveland center for eating disorders), I bought a margionally dense second breakfast (I had already eaten once at home). This consisted of a South Beach Living meal replacement bar, yogurt, and an apple. It was delicous, but my nerves prevented full pleasure of anything. We entered the cold and heartless building as my physcaitrist greated me with a psuedo-warm wave. Then the surprises came. Apparently, he wanted to get my weight on their scale, for whatever reason. This was far from routine, for we took weights independently on a weekly basis at home. And the verdict came about, before I could voice my major thinking shifts. Before I could state that I had entered an extinction burst, before I could express the trigger I was so close to pulling. I am ready to kill this. I am so ready. But Dr. Warren usually has his mind made up before you enter his office, before you voice your past few months. He stratigically plans out his whopping 10 minuts with you so that it consists of conversation upon his terms. And then it all began. "Your weight is down, Julia. You are in a very bad place. I am very concerned. You need therapy, your family needs therapy. No more food choices, no more exercise. Take care." And that was that. Within ten minuts, my world was flipped upsidedown and spun in several directions. My father and I talked in the car. The CCED scale has always ben significantly lower then ours, and I am willingly eating as much as it will take to gain this weight. I know that I need to gain, because I know that I have another life to live. This other life is the happiness I had felt prior to the anorexia. I cross over to this other side when I run. I retrun to that side also when I dance. This side is where I'm meant to be, this side is where I want to and need to stay. So I took in 4,000 calories today. I need to start running again, but I know that I need to earn that privilage. I must prove the doctor wrong. He says that I can never recover on my own, but he doesn't know how far I've come. I love to prove people wrong. I've been told so many times that I "couldn't do it". I've heard that I couldn't come back to dance after a medical leave. And I returned stronger and stronger three seperate times, loving the art even more. I've been told that I couldn't keep up with the Varsity team. But I did and beat many of the most talented girls on the team. Hardwork beats everything. I've been told that I could never come back. I've been told that my life could not be saved. Where would I be today if I would have listened to all of the doctors who said that I would die? Where would I be if my family and I would have given up on life altogether? So now I'm being told that I can't escape this. I know the falicy in this statement. I feel the angst burning within. I will escape this. It will be grueling, but worth it, for I have passion that lies ahead, I have success waiting to be sought. I have a life to live. But if anyone actually reads these things, please, I ask that you keep or add me to your prayers. I'm usually not all needy like this, but I am very frightened. I want more than anything to sustain and improve in athletics, for I desire running and dance so very much. So please, just pray that I can earn the right to achieve new heights in my athletic endevours. Thank you.

Suicide

2008-07-10T17:54:00.000-07:00

You cry for mercy, and beg God for another chance. Your wish is granted, and your eyes open the next morning. The world is a fog, and the ringing of last night's mistake lingers on in your ears. How to live. How do I live?

You beg for forgiveness, in what seems to be hell. Your mother cries and your father cries. They wonder what was so terrible, what horrors brought you here. This confession is hell, just like the world. But I yet have so much to see.

I'm sorry. I didn't think. It was dumb. But stupidity can't change what's done. You drive away with packed bags. No turning back. Life never turns back. But I wish I could have another chance...

It's too late. They're asking you questions... the room's all to bright. No more home, but there's still a hell. A needle comes, but the pain is soothing. They're saving me. Water drips into my destrought body, as regret pours out from my soul. She holds my hand during the tears. She cries for me and I cry for my mistake. I want this moment to last forever, because I'm safe in her arms. It brings me back to those days of my childhood. The bad would always go away in your mothers arms.

But this moment can't last. The toxidity has gone, and now I must go. Why didn't I realize this would happen? Why can't I go back and change this? But I have no choice any longer, I've surrendured to insanity. I lie down onto the gurney and travel into another hell. She leaves me. I cry even harder this time. I'm so sorry.

The ambulance is silent and somber. I would give anything to be back in her arms, back in my childhood; back in my happiness. Please, God, please let me wake up this time, please, let me have another second chance. I'll take back what I once hated.

This ride ends, as a new ride begins. I'm escorted into a building. I can see my mom! We sit at a table for hours. These are my consequences. I sign a few forms. I can feel the pain to come. They take my bags, and I give my mom the remaining pills. They fall gently from my hand. How could I be so foolish.

Her arms leave my body. She leaves my life. I am now held captive. Maybe I will survive this new hell, maybe I'll reach some clarity. I am now locked up. Time for more needles, time for more tests. More forms and more bright lights.

It's nearly morning, and I'm brought to a room. Sensors line the halls, and guards are on watch. I feel like a prisoner. My mind grows weary as my soul continues to burn. I don't sleep, but anticipate the morning. I want out. I want out. But I can't leave.

These days are hard. They are in control of you. Your every move is watched and judged. Yo ulearn to live by a shceduel, not by your own instincts. I am with other kids. They scare me. I'm not bad like them, so why am I hear? Please, God, get me home.

My heart literally aches. Tears are constantly gathering. I anxiously await for noon. Noon is phone calls. My mothers voice will be hear soon. I cannot see her but her voice can keep me holding on. Everything seems so precious, the life I tried to escape just two days ago. But now I can't have it, so naturally, I want it more than ever.

Please, mom, get me out of hear. I can't do this. I can't be without you. I need you. Don't you love me? I can't get through this. But she hangs up, she has to. I am stuck here until my time is up. Back to misery. Actions are one thing, but emotions are another.

Just hold on until five o'clock. Visting hours. My parents will come, they can surely take me home. I can be free. I see them! Mom! Dad! I missed you.

I struggle to speak as sorrow gathers in my throat. They are hear and I am here. I might not be here right now, if it wasn't for them. I wouldn't have them if I would have shut down. But they are here. For thirty minuts they are hear. Please, don't leave. Please, I need you.

The door shuts and I begin to cry again. My heart is literally burning. And now, for another sleepless night.

Why did you do it?

I don't know.

Yes, you do.

No, I don't. I was stressed. I was tired. I want to go home.

But you can't be trusted at home.

This place is worse.

Why did I do it? Was it that bad? I am alone, even when surrounded by life. I am dead as I awake each morning. I am living now though. That was then and this is now. All I want now is life, the thing I tried to escape.

I can't eat. Concern arises.

Old problems create new friction. But I just can't do it. My body won't stop shaking. This world just keeps on moving while I'm trapped behind. More phonecalls, more hopeless visits. 48 hours down, 24 to go. If I could only go back...

It's five o'clock again. I am pacing and cannot stop. She was supposed to be here an hour ago. My bags are packed. My body is drained. They gave me more pills to numb this pain. But now I can barely feel at all, until I see her, and the light beyond this door.

The air is cold as uncertainty lingers. I cry and thank God for getting me out. The insane hours of worry seem to be in the past. But worry will always be here. Hurt will always get me. It's the same life through a new light.

My lips touch the living room floor. I have never been so happy to see this carpet, this chair, this home. My brother won't speak to me, he won't look at me. But I am here, and I can do as I please. I feel safe again, even though new boundaries have been unleased.

I go to bed that night in the same bed as my mother. I am to be watched at all hours. But I ge tto sleep in my own home. I call relatives who are sad. I am still sad, and grow less satisfied with each passing moment. Nothing is different. But I can't go back, because atleast I have this life, if nothing at all. It might be cruel, but it's something to hold onto.

Permanent

2008-07-10T17:44:00.001-07:00

If I could only go back
And live a second time
My eyes would open clearly
The world would grow sublime

If I could go back
And throw away regret
I would not look down
On love I'll now forget

You hope so much for things uncertain
But then once they come
Pain becomes superior
As your wishes now grow numb

If I could go back
I wouldn't mind the day
I'd wake to embrace the light
And toss the dark away

My sun has set
Though it's too late
I'll pray for dawn
Not broken fate

Still so far

2008-07-03T16:54:00.000-07:00

I'm still so far from recovery. My mind and soul are still held extremley captive to this hideous disorder. I wish that I had the freedom to do as I please. In reality, I do posess this privilage, but I allow my doubts to rob me of my own rights. I seriously want to die at times, and that's far from an exaggeration. I'll stare at the ceiling and invision ways in which I could suspend a rope. But then I stop this sick fantasy as the real world breaks in. A bottle of Aspririn did me no good, why would a rope. It wouldn't. But last night was rough. This week has been rough. I've been constantly falling from the highest of adrenaline rushes that I've ever expirienced.

This past weekend was the Celtic Fling Feis. My family and I along with my brother's friend traveled four hours so I could compete in an Irish Dance competition. I love competiting. Sure, the days leading to competition are a load of stress and anxiety, but once I hit the stage, I feel such assuring presence. I get a surge of confidence and peace while performing infront of subjective spectators. This is my absolute love.

I trained intently the week leading up to the feis. My usual hour-a-day dance practices, untop of my usual 45 minuts jumprope sessions. Cross Country was slowly starting, so I added twice a week pilates to my physical regimine. My addiciton was fed even further. And my weight continued to drop. I love the feeling of shedding, it really does provide me with a false sense of control. The same goes for training. I'm allowed to be insane- I'm an athlete.

But enough of my sick perspective and onto the good stuff. I got all of my food packed, and chopped off a cardio and dance session before 10 am on Friday morning. We left around noon, luggage and all, to arrive in Lancaster, Pennsylvania around 5 pm. Naturally, my first destination was the gym in order to log another cardio workout on the ellipticall. After that, I just felt so free with another workout conquered and complete. I returned to our lovely hotel room in order to clean up for dinner.

My family and I headed out in search of an Applebee's, because what can I say, I love the fact that they have a Weight Watcher's menue. Unfortunaly, the dusch bag of a conceirge gave us the shittiest of directions, which lead us to dine at a Chili's instead. Thankfully, Chili's still had a "Guitless Grill" menue which, too, specialized in low-cal (or their definition of low-cal) fare. I ordered the Salmon with black beans and parmesean topped veggies for a mere total of 480 calories- which was perfect.

Ofcourse, my brother and his friend ordered entree's which weighed in at over 1500 calories! But they're 13 year old boys with twice the metabolism of mine, so what did it matter?! My meal was delicous. My mom got some pasta crap (I never order pasta at a resturaunt, that's an over-abundant nightmare of simple carbs!), and my dad leaned toward the saturated fat realm with the baby back ribs. But, it's what they wanted, so who cares. Dinner was delicous, and we all got along surprisingly.

When we got back to the hotel, I bought an ice cold Diet Coke from the vending machine, to be followed up by a ragining caffiene high. What a night! To my surprise again, me, my brother, and his best frined John had a blast. And for once, I managed to get a DECEANT NIGHT'S SLEEP IN A HOTEL! I feel asleep at 11:00 pm, and woke up refreshed and ready to dance around 6:00 am. I wanted to arrive at the feis before 8 am, so I could warm up and get all of my steps in.

Aside from the hotel coffee resembling cow piss, the morning went fairly smooth, until we got to the feis. The first person that I managed to spot was Jen, who I love to death, granted. However, I HATE talking about dance with Jen, because she tends to become very opinionated with anything in the dance world, and I just can't stand it. Her dancing style is also very different from mine, so I really don't enjoy practicing with her, since the pointers she'll give me are to no benifit for my dancing. The same goes with the pointers I'll give her, they just don't mix with her style. But nontheless, I held my breath and smiled. Then, I sprinted toward my stage to begin warming up.

Fuck. The stage whas literally a piece of plywood shit. Spots of it were soaked wet with rain (the competition was outdoors), and ofcourse I managed to dance right toward these areas, landing me flat on my ass during the second step of my hornpipe. My fall just set the tone for the next half hour or so. Once I recovered and carried back on with my practice, I was only interrupted again by my falling wig. The damned thing wouldn't stay on my head! So I had to stop dancing, yet again, so my mom could practically nail the thing to my head. After several attempts to secure the stupid wig, it held, and I ran through my Reel a few times. Then my mom came over and yelled at me for practicing so much, irregardless of the fact I couldn't control my impulse. But, I was scolded to come and sit down. I really didn't want to waste all my energy on a compulsion, so went and stretched. I watched Jen dance while doing so. She looked decent, but I envied her in some ways. Jen's someone who NEVER and I mean NEVER practices. Yet, she can go up on stage and parade around like a fairy. It really is my jelously, because I wish that I could manage the same stellar performance on such little effort. Oh well, that's just not the way it works.

So, Jen's group finished up, only for my group of dancers to follow. The usual people were there, and I was just trying to shoe off any last minute nerves by laughing it up with my fellow competitiors. While it feels SO GREAT to be complete with my competition rounds, I really do value the time before I dance, too, for during the month I've been dancing in Prelims, I've met some fabulous dancers while waiting to perform.

But the conversation had to come to an end, for lucky me, I was the first group to go. I was paired with some other dancer wearing a teal solo dress and matching eyeshadow. She was a blonde and very quiet which gave off a vibe of intimidation. But it wasn't time to anylize, it was time to dance. I strutted up to the stage and looked the three judges in the eye. This was my time. I worked my ass off to make it here, and they'd better atleast watch the wonders that I can do with my strength. The music began, I pointed. The last bar approached, and I took off.

I can think back to my first time competing at a Championship level, which was only a month ago. I was so scared and felt like the weakling of the group instinaniously, simply because I was the newcomer. I allowed my dancing partner to overtake me and rush ahead, while I remained in the back, simply dancing in hopes of completion.

This time though, I forgot the other girl. It was my show, my time. I had now or never to display my ability and to take on the peace that awaited. My feet and legs floated across that once-shitty plywood, which now felt like heaven beneath my body. The front of the stage- directly infront of the judges- had become my territory. I wasn't going to let my fellow competitor come ahead and steal the spotlight. The fatigue began to creep up around my left foot second step. But I fought it off, completing my third step with a very high click in the perfect position for the judges to see. My heavy round was complete. I took my bow, and exited the stage to prepare for my Reel.

The girl that I danced with fell into a state of tears shortly after we had finished the Hornpipe. I went over on common courtisey to see what the matter was, and apparently, she was coming off an injury which provoked frustration. I tried my best to condol her, and went about to spectate my fellow competitors during their heavy rounds. I saw some really fast and fancy footwork, which gave me a forboding fear. But, once again, my time to dance approached in conjunction with the bad weather.

I took the stage during the time of a terrential downpour. But the world outside had very little importance, for I was within my own world at the moment. The stage was all that mattered. My energy was all that mattered. My passion overuled any existing fear. That lovely music started up once again, taking away my soul as my feet brushed the stage. I rushed toward the front again, having the time of my life, as I always do while dancing! My Reel slipped my mind as I seemed to float through the round. The music ceased, and I came back down. My bow was taken, and my dancing was complete.

I couldn't remember a thing from either round! My parents said the routine "you look good", but nothing that gave off a vibe of reinsurrance. Jen did the same, but your friends and family are pretty much required to compliment your performance. I didn't care though, my dance was over. I wished the rest of my competitors good luck as I headed off to complete my ritual dance compulsions. My mom questioned where I was headed, and I replied back to "cool down". As I dreaded, she followed me, frequently sighing at the length of my "cool down". I told her I was almost done, and that I'd soon be back.

I was a few more steps away from completing my sweat session when I hear the 16&over (Jen's group) being announced via the loudspeaker. I continued dancing until I heard Jen's number being called. I had some pretty mixed emotions. While I was happy for my friend in having finished in the top half (that's what happens when you place, you have to be in the top 50% of dancers to recieve an award and qualify for Mid-American Championships), I was nervous that I wouldn't place, and still envious that she did so well without the shit that I went through. But, they always do say to never judge a book by its cover... and oh boy, was this saying true.

I am so selfish. I ignore the past and focus to much on the present emotions that I am feeling. Jen has had one hell of a year. She was hosptialized in February with a high fever and low white blood count. She missed alot of school and the entire show dancing season. Her stamina was shattered, and she looked so fragile, like I porcelain ghost. Ofcourse, I've had my shit come about this past year too, but I'm used to it. Hospital stays have become an accetped reality, and setbacks, I'm learning, are routine to my life. But this was a startle for Jen and her family both. And her mother also encountered smoe health problems after taking a nasty fall one day.

But aside from the past circumstances that Jen and her family were faced with, there was a more present and dangerous issue on hand. After Jen's awards were complete, her mother was talking with my mom. I overheard there conversation, to learn that Jen was losing her hair. Those words, that thought, it sank into my heart. It brought back pain that I hadn't felt in a long time, and worry that I had never had for my friend before. I looked over to see Jen, happy with her accomplishment, but bearinng a burden. In the ninety degree heat, she was dressed in a sweat suit, and her once naturally fair skin appeared to be translucent. I was worried, and still am. She is in my prayers, as well as her family. That thought, that image, of her beautiful hair and her precious health in danger, it really hit home. However, my results were about to be announced.

So the big deal of this competition was the main act of qualifying me to compete in the Mid-American Irish Dance Championships (Oireachtas), an event which I had never before made it to. In years past, I had came extremly close, but always lost my chances to the Anorexia. Whether or not it was a broken bone or a weak heart, I constantly fell short of qualifying. The process to make it this far is extremely involved, one which I will try my best to explain.

In Irish Dance, there are various levels in which dancers compete. Logically, the first level is Beginner. Each dancer remains in Beginner for one year, to automatically advance to Advanced Beginner. In order to move out of Advanced Beginner, a dancer must win a 1st, 2nd, or 3rd in the particular dance. Typically in competitions, dancers will compete against 10-30 other competitors, in hopes of achieving a medal for 1st, 2nd, or 3rd. Once this is achieved, a dancers moves onto Novice.

This level is what I like to call the "bottleneck of Irish Dance". Novice weeds SO many hopeful champions out of this sport, yet drives so many toward success. The level following Novice is Open/Prizewinner. To go onto that level, a dancer must win 1st place in that dance, no exceptions. Once a dancer is into Open/Prizewinner, they must win TWO 1st place awards in EACH OF THE FOUR DANCES, within a TWO YEAR COMPETITION PERIOD. In lamens terms, the dancer must do something nearly impossible, and slave over intricate steps while dodging the frustrations of 2nd place. But, some make it out of Open/Prizewinner, onto the Championship level.

There are two levels of Championship competition, Preliminary Championship, and Open Championship. A dancer in Prelims has made it out of Open/Prizewinner. In order to get out of Prelims, however, one must again win two first places in Prelim, while competiting against the best of the best. Then, once the two firsts are achieved, a dancer has hit the highest level, Open Championship.

And to qualify for the Oireachtas, a dancer needs to first off, be in Prelim, and secondly, place in the top 50% at a competition. It doesn't sound that bad, but trust me, it' not easy! The competition has to be withing the states of Ohio, Pennsylvania, Indiana, Michigan, or Illinois, and there's only so many feises in those states. I have placed before in Virginia (7th/24), but that placing couldn't count toward a qualification, since it was out of region.

But today was the day. My last chance to qualify until August. They began announcing the results, as the 8th place finisher was called up, followed by 7th, 6th, and then 5th. Once these competitors were announced, I doubted that I had placed today, since anything ABOVE 5th would a bit too good for someone new to Prelim. And it seemed that I was right with this doubt, as the 4th place winner was called up, someone who evidently wasn't me. I could feel the heartbrake coming on, something I had grown quite accustomed to. My hopes faded out as a lovely sound came over the microphone.

"And in third place, competitor number 142, from the Burke school of Irish Dance, Julia Beck." 142. That was me. I looked down at my number. That was my number. I screamed. That was me! I could touch it, I could feel it, I had victory! It was here, no one could take it away. I was ontop of the world, let alone, standing on a PODIUM! My trembling hands grasped a crystal trophy. I had placed, I had done better than placed, I had come in the top three! I was going to Oireachtas, I had broken the barrier! I was at peace, although only for a few seconds, with the world and its surroundings. God was making sense and the atmosphere seemed lighter. My lips were trapped in a smile. This was what it felt like to have prayers answered, this is what it felt like to be happy. This was the life that I had wanted to live for so long. Though only for a split second I held onto that fait, I must learn to never let go of that feeling.

Even when my world grows dark, I can't let go. Even when my fingers are slipping, I cannot let go. For I've gotten a taste, I've had a glimpse into the new world ahead. It can become a life, I just know it. With incredible moments like that, I just know that I can surcome this. I am still very ill and living inside the horrors of my Eating Disorder. But that's not the life I want. I want the life of a dancer, and I will strive to live the life of a dancer, one who is successful and at ease. This day, while just a day, served as so much more than a glimmer of hope, but a preview of what wonders lie ahead in this ever changing world.

So I can breath now

2008-06-11T18:54:00.000-07:00

My lungs are working better. That weight has been lifted from my chest. Sure, I can still feel the remnants, but the main source has dissapeared. It's summer, and school has concluded for this year. This year of hell has officially found an end. All of the doubt, the catching up, the panick, that's over. I am new and starting over. For the first time in months, I truly feel at peace. Almost.

Yesterday was just incredible. Nothing significant to the naked eye, but much value to the deprived soul. I completed my last two final exams yesterday. The first three were taken on Sunday, all of which I aced. The last two, I'm not so sure about, but they're done, and no needn't worry. It's all over. And ending something has never felt this good.

After I filled in my last answer on my Geometry Exam, I said good bye and thankyou to Mr. Weimer. He will be retiring this year, and helped my family and I greatly during my period of absence and transition out of school. I donnot know if I would have been capable of surviving this year's hurdles without his assistance. And after thanking him, I walked out of those doors. Sure, I'll walk through them again within a few weeks for Cross Country, but I will be walking into a different enviroment, a different person. I will be williningly in attendance and at ease.

I recieved some very good news as well, during my doctor's appointment. I had taken a few tests two weeks ago to read the levels of my nuerologic chemicals. The results came back, indicating that my RX medication (seroquel), was disrupting my levels of Dopamine. In addition, it was causing my Liver to encounter problems, too. This news was enough for my parents to FINALLY see how much harm this drug had been doing to my health. I couldn't believe it. What I had been trying to express for months was finally printed on paper- I had proof of my agony.

No one is to blame except for my Physcaitrist, who we called today with a "fuck off" attitude. My parents were simply listening to his orders, and that's what they were supposed to do. It's not their fault that his demands contained extreme fallicies. I will be free soon. My parents have both agreed that it's time to start cutting back on the Seroquel, in a reduction of 25 mg weekly to bi-weekly. I cannot wait. I have prayed for this day to come for so long, and it's finally here. I will have MY mind, my thoughts, and MY OWN actions back.

Within three to six weeks, God willingly, I will be free of prescription phsyciatric drugs. This is a hard joy to get across to anybody else, because they donnot know the side effects that come with taking phsyciatric medications. You gain a sense of helplessness, and begin to question your own judgement. Your actions become those of a single pill. And your anxiety only increases. I feel that I truly lost myself through this single pill.

And the possible side effects only make things worse. Suicidality is the number one side effect. Weight gain is the second. You'd think, that with my medical history, an EATING DISORDER SPECIALIST wouldn't prescribe a drug containing such risks. Well, apparently, I thought wrong. For the past two years, I have been dealing with a slowed metabolism and bought with suicidal thoughts/attempts. This is the hell that I speak of. When I told people that I was not myself, this is what I was referring too. But I am so relieved, I will come back with each decrease in the medication. God, please give me my sanity again. Please.

But asdie from those two occurances, nothing major happened yesterday. But yesterday represented an end to so many complications that I've dealt with. I danced and ran. What else is new. But I went about my day knowing that a new path lies ahead, a path that I will be alking down every single day to come. May it lead me to happiness.

burning

2008-05-26T08:07:00.000-07:00

I didn't think when I reached for them
But it was an intrisic sorrow that made the decision
All I could feel was the pain of the moment,
But not the pain that was to come

I should have moved on and waited
For better days to come
But my impatience drove me
To such mistakes and such regret

And now I'm suffering
Alone in this burning world
With fire in my eyes
And ice by my heart

numb

2008-05-26T08:03:00.001-07:00

You can touch me all you want
And say every word that you've ever known
But I won't feel you, I won't hear you
I'll always be alone

There's no use in holding on
To such a day that brings this dark
I don't want your sympathy
Dim the lights and don't remark

My decisions were neccisary
I didn't chose
To fall and wither
But it's no use

I'm too far gone
Just let me be
Insane in my own sanity

Mistakes

2008-05-26T07:56:00.000-07:00

Just one more chance for I regret
The horrible mistake that I've made
I feel the trouble as it lurks
But just numb my body and soul
This pain is too much for me right now
And I don't want the peace
If it's at this price
For I can tolerate the life I fear
I promise now
I'll persevere

Hesitation

2008-05-26T07:49:00.000-07:00

Poison lingers on my tongue, I hesitate to swallow
Taking gulps with full regret as my heart remians hollow
Open eyes can hide the pain
Just this last time never again
My legs grow heavy falling to the floor
I promise I won't ask for anything more

This moment

2008-05-12T08:47:00.000-07:00

Please just let me have

This one moments to spare

The price I pay does not matter

For now I cannot spare

To lack the love

To lack the pleasure

Please just surrendur

At any measure

For this moment will keep my sanity

This moment will keep me able

Please just this one moment

So I can remain stable

Yesterday's gone and tomarrow's not here

Just this moment, no regrets or fear

Just lurking desire that won't stop burning

Please give me this moment that I am yearning

You

2008-05-12T08:42:00.000-07:00

You will never see the pain my eyes can't hide
You will never imagine the horrors I must confide
You will never know the weakness inside of strength
You will never tire from going to such great length
You will never touch such low defining points
You will never marvel at the sight of bony joints
You can never find emactiation's grace
You can never see the troubles I must face
You can never know the struggles I've been through
You can never know the things I'm forced to do
You can never live a day inside my mind
For you can never hear the answeres I can't find

Holding on

2008-04-30T19:16:00.000-07:00

It's so rough to hold on without garuntee. I just know that I have to keep going, that there's this force inside me that won't quit, no matter how hard I want to back down. I came to a very big realization today, it was so difficult to accept. I know that I am still very sick. Before, I would allow the fact that I was physically healthy to overide the fact that I struggle mentally every moment. So from now on, I'm going to stop living in this denial. I am a prisoner of my disease. I donnot want to live in this mindset anymore. Right now, recovery is not about weight for me. It's about learning to live and escape the rigidity that I've grown compelled to throughout the years.

I cannot believe how blind I am to think that I was all better. This horrid disease came into my life far before it showed up on my body. Far before my bones pretruded from fragile skin, I was still struggling. At the age of ten, I set expectations that would never be reached.

At age 11, I confessed those expectations, yet backed down from the truth that these expectations were real, and would some day, nearly kill me.

Age 13 brought hell to my life. At this age, I transformed into a walking skeleton. At this age, I watched my life slip away. At this age, I died but was given a second chance. And at that moment of near death, I vowed to take that second chance and run with it, to run with it as far as possible.

Ofcourse, when you're in a hospital bed being force fed copius amounts of calories, you'll gain weight. And I did, I gained many needed pounds, within a matter of three months. This weight freed me from a hospital bed, this extra weight allowed me to dance again. This extra weight granted me the privilage to run again, too. But this extra weight could only do so much, for the boundaries ended at my exterior. Even though I had achieved physical health, my mind was still drifting around in unreal expectations.

So I'm aware now. I'm going to push through these problems, rather than pull them away. I will live again. I will come back to a happy life. I will smile again and open my eyes to the beautiful gift of life, itself. One day, I will stand strong, and immune to evil. This day will come; my day will come, it's just a matter of time, faith, and strength.

slipping

2008-04-28T19:17:00.000-07:00

I really don't want to slip again. It's happened to many times. I feel so concealed and forced to remain this way. There's still too much inside of me that needs to get out. But I don't want to hurt anyone in the process. My brother told me the other day that he's going to be really happy once I move out and go to college. He thinks I'm going to be dead before I graduate. I don't blame him. I cause all of the trouble in the house, and serve as a great deal of trouble to myself. I want to be independent, but I'm really codepedent upon the people I want to break free from most; my family.

So Saturday was terrible. I went to dance class and my hip hurt horribly. I hadn't taken painkillers to ease it prior, which was a really bad mistake on my part. I never give into pain, but could not help it this time. Ten minutes before the end of class, I had to stop while doing my Reel. It hurt so bad that I was blacking out, so my mom took me to the Emergency Room for X-Rays.

We waited for three hours. I got the X-Rays done and saw a narrow-minded doctor. Apparently he was more concerned with my physical stature then my hip injury. He repeadidly commented on how thin I was and how I had no fat on my body. The man couldn't get off the topic of how I should gain weight. I look fine, really. I've gained weight, really. And I for once am satisfied with my appearance. Almost, I'm better than I've been in the past, which is certain. At the conclusion of his health speech, which basically entered one ear and came out the other, I was informed that my hip was sprained. They reccomended NO EXERCISE at all for a minumum of two days, three if needed. My prognosis was complete torture.

Exercise holds me together. I'm constantly falling apart, but it takes me different places. It sets goals of fitness and teaches me to respect my body, not to abuse it. It shows me that I am capable of doing wonderful things. It keeps me happy. My mom was forgiving and allowed me to count Saturday as my first "rest day", even though I had made it through the majority of dance class.

Another problem arose ofcourse, my caloric intake. I currently ingest 2,400 calories to maintain my weight. One third of those calories comes from my daily running and dancing. So I was placed in a position to remove 800 calories. Delightful. Though, my hip felt fine throughout the day, my body did not. I realized that I am physically ADDICTED to physical activity.

When I woke up that morning, I felt fine, with the exception of "rest" looming in my head. As the day proceeded, however, I grew ill. Around noon, when I usually go for my run, I developed a headache, that shortly progressed into a fever of 101 degrees. After I ate my lunch, I was ready to vomit, for my sotmach wouldn't cease its tossing and turning. Then I took some lovely medicine to clear things up. Much better. I worry that I'm becoming far to reliant upon painkillers. Just what I need.

At percisley 4 pm, the time that my dance practice begins at, I began shaking. I could not stop myself, for my body took control of my mentality. This lasted for roughly a half an hour and ended with a cold sweat. I was literally going through withdrawl. This is insane. Life is insane.

So I read a bit and did additional schoolwork. The anxiety dissepated, and soon enough, the House marathon began. I love House becuase it's a show that causes you to question and keeps you occupied. The day then finally ended. Thank God.

And I awoke this morning, it had been two days! My hip was still in slight pain, but deffinetly not the type of pain I encountered at dance on Saturday. So I was permitted my exercise. The weather was not suited for running today, so I jumproped instead, along with a bit of ab work. Then the best part of the day approached, and I went to dance! Even though my joints are in turn MUCH improved, I still took some Excedrin throughout the day for insurance. Amazing stuff, amazing stuff. And I completed the dance practice, with lots of things to improve on, in regards to my personal preference, but overall good reviews from my teacher.

The best part is how thankful I am for dance. It is a privilage and the love of my life. I know how looney I sound to declare something inanimate as my passion, but dancing truly is. The sense of accomplishment and pride I recieve from flying across the stage is amazing, and having to do without it altogether is a plain devastation.

Other highlites for the day consisted of my incredible dinner. Taco Bell now markets TV dinners that you microwave for 90 seconds, producing a bowl filled with rice, beans, steak, and cheese. Yes, it may be preservative laden, but it was my dinner tonight (well I had a sandwhich and some fruit, too), and an incredible dinner it was. These Ghetto-Fabulous bowls can be purchased at a grocery store near you for $1.00. I would highly reccomend you try one. Lastly, I have concluded that I am in desperate need of a life. Good night to anyone who was kind enough to survive the boring aspects of Julia Beck's daily living.

The full story; ridicule in review. Strength will see us through.

2008-04-26T19:28:00.000-07:00

It started up as a release from the evil world. I hated the way that people ignored me and talked behind my back. I couldnt take the failure and losses that were laying infront of me. I needed control, so I started my own little world, where I set the limits. Exercise, exercise, exercise, a new hell's created.I began a a thin, yet healthy 5'4" and 97 lbs. My body was the only thing I felt I had. Sure I had just done fabulouse at Mid-America's Irish Dance Competition, but I got zero recognition for my accomplishments. The horror eveloved as a few simply sit-ups, leg-lifts here and thier, to maintain my figure. Then, it evolved into a form of Bulimia, excessive exercise ontop of large quantities of food. In only two weeks, the numbers on the scale had dropped 4 lbs, but my happiness had dropped, as well.The exercises increased as depression set in. Through my eyes I was worthless, and this was the only thing that I had. I felt successful as I was slowly dying. Everyday grew ever so miserable. Even the most joyus day of the year, Christmas, provoked tears. I observed as my family and friends indulged in deluctiable dishes and desserts, which I had forbidden myslef of. It pained me greatly once I added restriction into the mix. Although, I kept on going, for I had already reached 85lbs. I wanted to go somewhere, I wanted to achieve 77lbs, the weight I was at 11 when my Doctor told me I needed to gain more wiehgt, due to a low BMI.Exercise became the focal point of my life, as well as plans of suicide and fantasies of death. I was so fargone that my mind was going aswell. the only thing that it was familiar with was Anorexia. And, an anorexic'a ultimate goal is death. I had to keep shooting for it. I was expririencing so much sorrow, due to my poor physical state. Little did I know, death was closer than predicted.I became fed-up with the exercises. Once I had began making a routine of waking up at 3:30 am to work-out in secrecy, it became unbearable. I viewed multiple bruises throughout my body, simply from when my joints would come in contact, due to my lack of body fat. I decided to take one day off from exercising. Although, if I wasn't going to exercise, I would be unable to eat. Period. That day was horrendouse. I had a head-ache the entire time, I think that I even spiked a fever. I played it off with a foe stomache-ache, to eliminate suspicion of my family. That plan turned out successful. Although, the emotions consumed me. I was trapped and wanted to escape. I went on the next day, dreading to wake up, for I new that the first thing I had to do was exercise. That night, I had an epiffiney.Tears stroked down my face as I prayed to God to send my mother back, so I could tell her of my troubles and plead for help. God answered my prayers with a long and hard conversation, explaining what the last month had consisted of. Although, I was still in a horrible state.I continued excessivley exercision, going back to school, aslo. People remarked on how thin I had gotten. I simply said that I had had the stomache-flu over Winter break. I ate breakfast, but skipped lunch. I ahd to take advatage of the ease of not eating at school. It was awful, though. I remember nearly fainting at my locker, praying the entire time for the day to end. It was becoming a challenge for me to attend school. My heart was shrinking, so my circulation had gone. I failed to maintain a body tempurature above 94 degrees. This also led to fall-outs and fainting spells. The depression was worse than ever. I wanted to die, and that's the honest truth. I felt as if I could never escape this wrath.I was unable to go to school the next few days, due to how ill I was. This led to a trip to the ER. My body was in such poor condition, that they couldn't even get a pulse read on me. They simply said that they could just skip it. My weight was well below 87 lbs., the weight were deaths become propable. Hospitalization is also required once you reach this state. Although, we failed to get admitted. My mother and I both cried, because we kne it was what I needed, and we were unable to get it.The ER's plea was that my electrolytes were still functioning. This theory was totally bull-shit, because your electrolytes give out a few hours before you dye. The only plan of action was to admit me into Discovery House, a place for "troubled teens". I would sue them for every penny they're worth if I had the chance.I entered the program hopeful, at a frail 5'4" and 83 lbs. My exercising were still being continued, and my state was growing in danger every day. They told me to try to eat lunch. I had a whoppin 205 calories worth of cereal and milk. They also told me to attempt a few less exercises, but they never told me to stop. They didn't even tell my mom that I was still exercising!The next day I came in, wanting everything to end, including my life. They finally enrolled me into an Out Patient program which was terrible, as well. The only plud was that they got me to stop exercising. It was also arranged for me to see a dietician, who put me on a 1,600 calorie diet. i followed it dilligently, making shure to consume not one over 1,500 calories. What difference would an extra 100 make? 1,600 calories was a diet of a person striving to lose weight. I followed the diet, and was released from the program six days later, at 82 lbs. They said that the weight would come, but the plus was that I was atleast eating. I went back to school, which was harder than ever. My thoughts frequently jumped. I was unable to grasp one bit of information. I was constantly purple, due to the worsening of my heart. When I would stand up from my desk, I was forced to hold onto it for a minut, as my vision and senses blacked out.We made freqeuent trips to the Doctor, watching my weight decrease a little each time. Not once did he take my vitals, not once did he reccomend hospitalizaton. He simply commend with the following word that I could give a fuck to hear. " This is a process, don't worry that the weights dropping." The prblem was, my life was dropping, as well. I was slowly dying every day. My mother withdrew from school, for the only thing I was able to due was sit infron of the heater, shivering my ass (lack ther of) off. The only joy of my day was looking in the mirror. I was a skeleton, and I loved it. School work was sent home, but my mind was far to brittle to complete it. Besides, most of my time was occupied with attending lame ass counseling sessions and seeing my rent-a-phsyciatrist. I informed them EACH visit on my falling weight. All they would ever due was pat me on the head and tell me what a "good girl" I was. I had hit 80lbs. We had seen my dietician, and she said that I was making progress, eating every day. Although, my mom's thoughts differed. She began forcing more food on me, as I had not much longer to go. She sensed that. I battled eating the food, and continued with my deathly diet.Finally, my mom began to search for REAL help. We came across the Laurelwood Center for Eating Disoreders in Cleveland. Sure, the drive was of a great distance, but the help was of great quality. We drove up for an assessment. They took my weight of 78 lbs. My vitals were recoreded as the following: blood pressure sitting- 70/45, pulse sitting-34, blood pressure standing- 133/72, pulse standing, 157.The numbers were eratic. We had schedueled an appointment with a physician, Dr. Rome. Due to her popularity, the earliest available was April 13. Once again, I wasn't admitted into Laurelwood. but, this time, it was due to my severity. They said that I was too ill to even be in partial hospitalization. So, miraculasly, Laurelwood notified Dr. Rome of my condition. Our appointment was schedueled for two days late, Febuary 22, 2006.The same insane vitals and weights were taken. I had reached my goal of 77lbs. Dr. Rome hospitalized me immeadiatly. I was even put on bed rest. She alerted me that I would get calories into my system, wheather it was thorugh a feeding tube, or regular food. I decided that I mine as well enjoy those evil calories through food. They told me that I would begin on a 1,500 calorie diet, and then transtioion to a 2,000 calorie diet. theses numbers were pure lies, but they had to tell them. There was no way that I would have aten if I knew the real caloric numbers, which were 3,000 and 3,500. They had to act this fast though, for I will never forget the words that Dr. Rome spoke before my admittance, "You're lucky you came in when you did, becuase if you would have waited even a week longer, it would have been too late." And yes, she was referring to THE "too late."There was no feeling lonelier then being on bedrest, in the hospital. I wasn't even this lonely when I first began this disaster, withdrawn from everyone. I cried tears of fear and regret, as tightly grasped my Rosary. I glance over at the family portrait that my Mom, Dad, and Brother had left me before taking off. I dozed off into the most dangerouse sleep of my life.I woke up, but I was unable to move or breath. I couldn't even open my eyes. All I could view was a white light. Then, I woke up to a beeping noise and a nurse standing buy me. I peered over to identify the racet, it was my heart monitor. My pulse was currently at 5, but climbing up. I really can't go into any more detail, for this expirience still feels my head with too many thoughts to comprehend. One hint though, I had achieved my rediculouse goal. Although, God decided it wasn't time.Nothing, to be honest, improved over the next rew days. I got a sitter who watched me constantly, named Spring Porch. She was a plus to the expireienced. We arriend on variouse conversations throughout the entire day. Even when I wasn't her aptitent, she would still come to visit me. Although, my body was in shock. My weight continued to drop. 76lbs, 75 lbs, 72 lbs. Then, they finally got me to gain weight. This was when the new hell, recovery, had officially began.Bedrest lasted for eight days. I had to take numorouse tests, along with speaking to theses pain-in-the-ass phsycaiatrist. They would ask me why I was in a such a horrible mood and I woudl state "because you're still here bothering me" I know it was rude, but they were the most irritating people, with thier little notes, constantly observing my every action. I felt like I was an animal, being held captive. Now, I had lost the control, and it wa in thier possession.So finally, day eight came. I longed to see my family, take a shower, and WALK! The meanest nurse was one one to bearrer the news of my release into Partial Hospitalization (PHP). I actually hugged her, due to my emmense joy. Of course , I couldn't get out easy, the phsyciatrists had come to pester once my mother arrived.We acted as if we cared what they were saying, grabbed my paper work, and drove home! I examined my diagnosis forms. I had entered the Cleveland Clinic with the following: Malnutrition, Severly low BMI, Severly low weight, Secondary Pulmanary Blockage (Heart Condition), Orthostsis (Heart Condition), Osteoporosis, ELECTROLYTE FAILURE, Acid Reflux, Shrunken Heart, and severe circulation. It was alot to take in.My first day at Laurelwood came at 5:00 am. It was prior to a joyful evening of discovering cards, gifts, and my family. Altough, the evening evolved into constant fighting, over dinner ofcourse. I felt as if I could go back to my "normal" eating habits. My parents thought differently. Once again, I fell asleep in tears. This night was just the first of many, for I was entering the big part of recovery- MAJOR refeeding.I grew used to the whole hospital situation. Vitals and weight every day, and blood work twice a week. Although, the massive amounts of food were very difficult. They had adjusted my diet to 4,000 calories daily, because my weight was barely moving. Laurelwood was very scareed to have me in thier program, because I was sill so sickly. They made arrangements to send me to Oregon for inpatient phacility treatment.My parents battled constantly. Although, I wanted to go. I simply wanted to get away. Spite the feelings of lonliness I would expiririence, I wanted to escape everything thta I was dealing with. But, my parents ended up winning. Laurelwood was a bit angry, they really didn't want one of thier patients to die... and I was still very close.Once again, the weight gain began. I starteed to feel slightly better each day, but my mind was still greatly adjetated. I was socially withdrawn from everyone. People were constantly sending me gifts and cards, byut I failed to call any of them. It was such a challenge to talk to others, because of my sever depression. It was difficult just to function.I had to gain two to four pounds a week. Yes, it was insanity, but it was what I needed. I began to hate my home. My family and I would fight for hours on end to get me to eat. When I was at the hospital, I knew that there was no way around the food. However, when I was at home, there were possiblities of escaping it. I never ventured into those possiblities. Well, atleast not successfully.A few high-points arose. I began making friends in my PHP prgram, many that I will never forget. We were all alike; pefectionists, insightful people, and most of all- stubborn. We did help eachother. It was just so hard to take our own advice. Even though I was gaining weight, I was sitll in a far too dangerouse state. An inpatient bed was arranged for me at University Pittsburgh Medical Center. My parents also mingled me out of that. They were determined to have me sleeping at home, even if that was the only time I could be there.Slowly, I weaved my way back into things socially. The first event I attended was the school play. I had left school feeling so neglected and un-cared for. When I arrived back, it was a totally different story. People were absolutley estatic when they saw me. This actually made me miss school- slightly.Recovery carried on. My parents were doing everything in there power to bring me back. It was very difficult, seeing as my energy dided down around 8:00 pm. I was basically like the ederly, restricted to no activity. But, one nessecary activity consisted of me seeing a dance show. In oreder to attend, I had to complete a small french fry order from McDonald's. I struggled greatly, but succeeded. The show made me cry. I watched the girls frolick freely, as I ONCE could. I could top what they were doing. It angered me, yet gave hope, as well. This was deffinetly a huge barrier broken down. I had motivation, I wanted to dance. In order to dance, my heart had to be completley healed, which meant good vitals. And my vitals were still terrible.I battled more thoughts, more physical pain, as I began to heal. I had run into some large complictions- actual attempts of suicide, cutting (only a few times), and dessinegration of the realtionship between my family and I. I felt worthless, cuasing them so much trouble. All of my actions wre pointless, but I couldn't control, atleast without work.Although, my suiceide attempt was sort of a last hurrah. After that, things were on a steady incline. Two weekes later, on May 8, 2006, after more than three months of hospitalization, I WAS RELEASED! I went back to school, with a smile on my face. I woke up in the morning, excluding my fatigue. The end of this misery was near-After being discharged of the hospital, I began to assume a somewhat "normal" life. It ws a bit embarressing to pull out my feast for lunch at school, and my focus still hadn't come back. I was also anxiously awaiting my exercise privliages back. The weight gain was still neccessary, although, I was getting healthier, further and further asway from death. I would get my vitals taken every day periodically at the nurse's office. She was a miracle with tending to my medical needs. I also had to leave class frequently to eat snacks, but otherwise that, things were on the mend.Finally, on Career day, my vitals came out clear! I called my mother from school, trying not to scream or react to emphatically, informing her that I could exercise, once agian. When I arrived home, I danced, I danced, I cried (of joy) and I couldn't stop smiling. Sure, it wasn't perfect, but the feeling in my heart was. I also played some football and basketball.The exericise thing grew into a routine, as my vitals remained stable. The school year was coming to a close, which greatly relieved me. Focusing was still a challenge, and a summer's time to heal would do me great wonders. I worked my ass off the last week of school, nailing my final material. I finished my fourth quater missing 30 days of school out of 45. Finally, my HONOR ROLL report card arrived in the mail. I was coming back.Summer was a time of joy, along with a time of raised anxiety. I had two pounds left to gain. Although, Cross Country season was beginning. The agreement wa that I was unable to participate in any organized sports, unless I was in my required weight range of 103-106 lbs. I also had to pass a physical.The day for my physical was quite nerve-racking, I wanted so badly to run again. My mind just realeases all the tension when I 'm out there doing miles. My doctor passesd me. No, let me rephrase that, MY DOCTOR PASSED ME! She said that as long as things continue to remain well, that I had permission to run.We began with pilates, followed by practices. I ran 4.5 miles on my first day without stopping once. My coach was extremely impressed. I had also reached my weight rang, somewaht satisfied with my body. the best part of it all was my ability to resume Step Dance. My life was forming, once again.My body was still adjusting to the high-impact of physical stress. I was able to carry out the tasks successfully, but not without an injury or two. I was even able to dance at a few shows. Although, the stress led to much off-time. I wasn't able to run much, probalbly only half of the season, mybe two-thirds, but off and on. Although, when I was able to run, I made it count.Low and behold, my mother had also signed me up for two dance competitions. This was recently after beginning highschool, a huge transition which brought back many unpleasant emotions. I was going to attempt the competitions, with great, great fear.the first two weeks of highschool were terrible. I was unfamiliar with the enviroment, people, teachers, scheduel, everything. I felt out of control once again. This was a bad sign, and I wanted the control back, somehow. I decided to ski9p breakfast one day, btu ended up fessing up and realizing that I didn't wnt to go back, sure, I wasn't too happy at tghe moment, but I could surley turn things around.And I did so. I joined numorouse clubs consisting of Latin, Key, BSTN Update, Debate Team, and CEC, along with Cross Country and the future sports of Winter and Spring Track. I was acclamating. Although, time was coming for the dancie competitions, they were in two weeks, and I could barely survive through my dance steps. Major practice needed to be done.I began practicing. Difficult, yes, rewarding, yes. This went on for almost two days. On the second day, my dancing was improving. My jumps had the heigth, my mother had even phtographed my dancing, which appeared skilled. I was on my last dance, landing one of my jumps. I landed right on my toe, rolling it, hearing a crack, and falinng on the ground, observing the black and blue lump upon my foot and ankle.My dream had been curshed. Another set back. Another excuse. I was sick of things preventing my success. I wanted to make something of myself. Although, that chance was fargone. We voyaged to the Soctor's office the following day. I couldn't even walk. The diagnosis came out to a double srian on the ankle and foot. An air-cast was given to be worn. But, the Doctor said that the competitions weren't probable, but still possible.Time passed as I lugged around my large cast. The first week, I was resricted from all owrkout forms, but the second week, I began ab and arm work. The end of the week was the competitions. Saturday came, and we didn't even bother driving to Pittsburgh for the first one. However, we were required to help out with our home-town competition, at YSU.I arrived there in complete regret. I was still limping, but the magic came over me. The feeling of Irsh Dance musice blaring, thousands of people enclosed and crowded, nerve and excitment- they all combined. I wanted to dance. I didn't care about the apin, I WANTED TO DANCE! I was signed up for five dances. I pranced around the arena, as my friend spectated, suggesting that I should compete, spite my pain. I took there advice, and entered the stage for my fisrt dance, the Reel.I went up fromt he sea of overly-made-up divas, starring the Judge straight in the face. As our eyes met, I felt as if I was spilling out my sotry, pleading for her to listen, to listen through my dancing. I began. I drifted off, ot noticing a thing, accept for my steps, they weren't my best, but I was dancing, on stage, once agian. My Doctors had said that the possiblitlities of this were next to none. Silly me, I believed there words! When I was comlete, I cried of joy, right there on stage, peering out into the applauding audience, watching my mom do the same. I decided to try two more dances, as well, just for the heck of it. Everything amounted to a success. The scoring works the following was. In each group, there's 25 dancers. The top five best dancers recieve a medal, also known as a placement. And, I had placed in all of my dances, coming out with a 3rd, a 4th, and another 3rd. I had recieved more and higher placements, but this was an exceptional day. Risks no longer scared me.I thanked God, and I forever will for that day. without practice for nearly a year, I had conquered. that week, I went back to Cross Country for the last week of the season. I enjoyed and missed it. I worked out almost everyday, leglifts, running, and practicing dance. A few push ups- even some jump-roping was thrown in. I had an opportunity for success, and I was going to run with it. I could come back stronger than ecveer buy my next Dance competition, my next Cross Counrty season./ I simply had to work hard.I wanted to run a bit more, though. So, my mother signed me up for the 2006 Peace Race. Seeing as I ahd only ran a 10k once before, I entered the 2 mile race instead. I hadn't run consistantly (for more tha two weeks straight) in about a year. But, I had maintained my exercising. The race began. I set my pace, and approached the first mile. My usual long-distance mile is 7:30, which was from my peak in last year. My mile pace for the Peace Race came out to 7:12. I finished with pride for having taken another risk.The results were finished, with the anxiety rising. Even though it was childish, I wanted to get a trophy! But, only the top three runners in each age group could revieve one. I didn't know where I had finished yet. Atlast,the results were posted. I FINISHED THIRD! I was jumping up and down, resembling a total freak, but a happy freak. I accepted my trophy very graciously, taking back home to show my proud family. Another doubt was defeated.And yet, my life was only getting better. I joined the school's debate team, and began allowing myself to enjoy what i really loved. i started to get straight a's in school, and really began to like learning. every club that i could join, well, i joined it. call me a nerd, but i was having fun with life. my dancing got better, too, and i made the indoor track team! that winter was a far cry from the previous one. I ran at numerous track meets and began to make my way onto the Varsity team. Although, the girls still weren't very kind I guess, and I was ofcourse shy. But I stuck it out. My times dropped drastically- I ran a 5:45 mile even! I started to win alot of dance competitions, too, and win my teacher over. She was very impressed with my talent, and I was developing an excellent work ethic. This was all displayed through my progress and wins at competitions.Ofcourse though, I had to find a way to fuck everything up, because that's just what always happens. My entire family watched a movie one night, "Running with Scissors", which reflected upon an overly-medicated mother ruining the life of her son while battling drug-induced insanity. I internalized everything, and began to ponder my current medication.So that night, I googled Seroquel, the anti-phsycotic medication that I was taking. I found an entire list of lowsy side effects, including weight gain! My irrational thinking set in, and I stopped taking my medication.I didn't lose weight or anything, I just lost touch with reality. I grew back into a deep depression and entered the realm of self-injury. School and track, even dance grew miserable, for that was my overall mood. After slashing my wrists a few times, I started taking my medication again. But this was after some serious consequences. I felt so much pressure from Track; my coach wanted me to compete at the District's meet. I was scared, truth be told, and faked an ankle sprain. That injury costed me a Varsity Letter, even though my times were indicative of one; participation played a key role in the status. I saw a failure in myself.But I picked up the pieces angrily and moved on. I still had dance to salvage, and Cross Country season approaching with the near summer season. Things would get better, they had too!The school year finally ended, and I finished at the top of my class for my Freshman year. Highschool had been a completly fresh start, I transformed myself into an avid student, one who was filled with ambition and involvement. The school had become my second home with all of the orginizations I was involved with, and I was proud of myself.Then came Cross Country. I looked back on my Track season with great anger and regret. I had thrown away a gift from God as a result of my fear. That moment, I made the decision to give Cross Country full effort. So, I began running with the top girls everyday at practice, and running on my own like the coach reccomended. Sure, I could've been Varsity still even if I were to have slacked, but like I said, this was a full commitment. 40 Miles per week I ran. And I danced every single day. I loved my life. But my metabolism didn't. I began dropping weight involuntarily, but none the less, it wasn't good. I ate everything in sight, and my father decided to let me slide, do to my athletic success and nutritional efforts of consuming 4,000 calories per day. Still, I couldn't maintain above 97lbs.!But everything continued on. And school started again. I had everything going for me, I was one of the top runners at school, and one of the top students. I remained in many clubs and continued to win and both Cross Country meets and Dance competitions. I had even developed a circle of true friends. I was beginning to find myself.This required much work though. To juggle everything took ALOT of effort. I would wake up at 6 am for school, and have Cross Country practice afterwards. Then once that ened at 5, I would go to dance until 9 pm. Dance was proceeded by dinner and excess calories, which was followed by homework. Then finally, I would hit the sack around 2 am. But I was a star athlete, prima dancer, and an honor student. It was worth it, until...I crashed. I went to the doctor's for a rutine checkup, and had been feeling a little drained latley. But I had to work hard. I was blocking out all the pain, for I had the Mid-WEstern Dance championships coming up, along with Regionals for Cross Country. My teams needed me, and I needed success.But the chest X-Rays my doctor took thought differently. I had pneumonia in my lungs! I was forbidden from ALL EXERCISE! FOR THREE WEEKS! I COULDN'T GO TO SCHOOL! WHAT WAS I GOING TO DO?!Those three weeks sent me onto a downward spiral. My negative thougths set back in, because I had no clue how to feed myself without exercise involved. I reduced my caloric intake appropriatly though, with the hopes that I would be running and dancing again soon. I could heal fast enough, faith would get me through.Although, fear would hold me back. I had the opportunity to run at Regionals, but I was scared that my illness had ripped my talents away. I was out of my perfect routine, and school had become a daunting task. But I still held on for dance, because my teacher thought I could win the Championships, and I thought so, too.The next months was a mixture of struggle and depression. Debate team was starting up again, but my mentality was getting weaker every day. I was staying up later and later everynight to catch up on my school work, because nothing less than straight A's would meet my standards. I debated poorly though, and quit the team. My isolationist ways were officially back. But I regained contact with an old friend. This friend of mine informed me that one of her friends was interested in me...One who I had only met once before. I was very inexpirienced with dating, never having a serious boyfriend in my entire life. This guy was 18; a three year difference. He drove and smoked a bit, but was overall very nice. There wasn't a particular connection, I just liked the fact that someone considered me appealing. So we saw eachother a few times.I lied to my parents a few times. This person wanted me to go to his house. The usual scenario was the four of us, him, my old friend, her boyfriend, and I. But he wanted it to be just me and him. I reluctantly played along with this plan. I went to his house and we were all alone. My heart wouldn't stop pounding... I had no clue how to do anything. He told me to kiss him, so I did. It was very awkward and really rattled me. I felt so stupid. Then we just sat there in the dark. He held me, but nothing more. Then drove me home. I was still very nervous, but he played mellow music and held my hand. And then I kissed him goodbye before getting out of his car.And it was even more awkward. And I walked into the house with my head down, trying to cheer myself up and think of a cover story to tell my parents. I regretted everything, and felt so dumb. Even though it was a weekend, I went downstairs to work on a school project; until 2 am. We still talked after that, and tried to plan another meeting. But it didn't work out and time eventually moved on. And he found another girlfriend. And I felt more stupid than ever.As November ended, I was still achieving everything and beyond, but hanging by a thread to say the least. That thread would budge until I danced at Championships. I danced. I danced good. I recalled (place in the top third which qualifies you for Nationals and gets you a medal at the award's ceremony). I got 35th. What? I got 35th? I was SO PISSED BECAUSE EVERYONE AROUND ME WAS SHOCKED. THEY SAW ME DANCE AND SAW MY TALENT. My dissapointment was far from errogant, I was simply heart broken. I danced better than every girl in my competition, even my teacher knew it. So we drove home from Chicago. I had nothing left. I held on for nothing. And I still had to go to a friend's party. I was in no mood to socialize, but my parents insisted. I looked back on the Championships every minute of the party. I felt alone again and confused, along with frustrated and broken. I went home that night, and I couldn't sleep. I had again, fallen apart. Aspirin would sooth me. Lots of Aspirin. At that time, I couldn't tolerate living. 24 Aspirin would solve it all. I was ready for whatever was in store. I was so fed up.I awoke that next morning, miraculosly. My ears were ringing and my head buzzed with toxidity. No one could know this. I failed again! And I had to help out at a spaghetti dinner for track that afternoon. For a local athlete competing in the Olympics, to be exact. She had beaten Cancer and was a contender for a spot in the 2008 Olympics. I went to the dinner in a daze. I got back home in a daze, crying in my room for an end. I had to pull everything off though; my family couldn't find out! I had broken thier hearts far too many times. But nothing got better. I pulled everything off though, and stayed home from school "sick" the next day. Luckily, I ahd a therapy session, where I came clean.My mom cried very hard. I cried too, as we sped to the Emergency Room. I was in a fragile state and completly erratic. I remember getting weighed at the ER. The nurse called out 5'5", 100lbs. For some reason, I felt fat, even though I should have been happy for gaining a bit of weight back. I needed to be withing my weight range of 103-106, but I was still very irrational, allowing ED to work its way into things.Some tests were ran, and I got several IV's. My level of poison was dangerously high, and I was foreced to stay at the hosptial for observation a few hours longer. Than, after 5 IV's, they declared me stable; only to be taken to hell.I entered an ambulance, oblivious to what was happening. I just wanted my mother. I JUST WANTED MY MOM TO HOLD ME IN HER ARMS AND ERASE MY MISTAKES! They were taking me to a physciatric hosptial! I was required to stay there for three days! Only this time, I was thown into a house full of juvenile deliquents, uneducated staff, and disgusting cafeteria food. To say the least, the physc ward did ALOT more harm than good.For the next three days, I was in constant panick. Kids around me were talking about thier sexual promiscuity, drug usage, things that I wasn't associated with and quite scared of. I felt even more alone, and resorted to my only coping skill. I lived off of salad and fat free dressing with a small variety of skim milk, apples, bannanas, and boost shakes. A mere 1200 calories. While there was no option for any of us patients to exercise, this caloric intake still effected me greatly. Upon my dicharge, I had dropped five pounds in one week. My mom found out, too, and pulled everything; dance and running, away from me. She declared all control of food, and deamed me in a state of refeeding. FUCK.So the next month was spent sedentary and miserable. Nothing was improving my depression, and school was too much at the time, so my work was sent home. My mom made me consume 4,000 calories, except, I couldn't even exercise! I was gaining inconsistently, too- Some weeks I would be up four pounds, when others, I would be down four. There was alot of fighting going on at my house, too, and to say the least, Christmas brought no "peace on earth".But by January, I had gained back the ten pounds, putting me back into my healthy weight range of 103-106 lbs. I could dance again! I could run again! But I still wasn't happy. I struggled to attend school, but the depression still had a hold on me. This would linger, too.My grades still stayed at A's, and I made the Indoor Track team again. My performance wasn't were it was in the fall, but I knew that I had lost some as a result of the time off. Track was enough to get me through school, and dance was enough to get me through living. I jumped right back into my physically fit state, but remained trapped in a dark and cruel mental state.St. Patick's day came though, and it couldn't have come sooner! I had numerous dance shows, which were literally the most fun I had expirienced since the year prior. The crowd seemed to always cheer extra for me. Performing lifted my soul. Dance was medicine. St. Patrick's day was one of the best days of my life, because I was allowed to do the one thing I love most ALL. DAY. LONG.The next day, after dancing incredibly, I came down like a heroin junkie off an incredible high. I was slipping back into depression, and screaming that I wanted to die. Because at that moment; I really did. I didn't go to school. I couldn't go to school. I had reached my limit of faking this tolerance. I needed a change. My mom called a mental hospital, but there were no beds available. I had to ride this one out.I crashed and fell asleep. My mom was worried. She called numerous doctors, and there only answeres were to increase my medications. That was done, and that failed. We then began to seek natural health specialists. Everything else was counterproductive, so this was worth a shot.They gave me tests to see where my brain chemicals were at, but we wouldn't have the results back for a few days. I refused to go to school, simply because my mind refused to tolerate anything beyond daily living and dance/running training. It took everything I had to emerge from bed. I was suicidle again, for my life was no way to live.A few days later, I officially hit rock bottom. I remember waking up, and dozing back off to sleep. This continued until noon, when I remembered that I had a dance competition in one week. This required effort on my part to remain commited. Despite how hard this pain was. I got out of bed and just needed an escape. I thought that a nice run might help, but it didn't.And when a run didn't make me feel any better, I knew that somehting was drastically wrong. That entire run failed to clear my troubles, like it usually did. I wanted to actually be put away, for I could no longer stand the thought of continuing to live.I arrived home livid. My parents were prepared to hospitalize me. I begged to simply dance one last time before my life was taken away. I danced. And something kept me together. They didn't take me to the hosptial, because the test results were called back in a few moments later. My levels of Serotonin and Dopamine were completly depleated, ever since I had pneumonia. These were the chemicals responsible for regulating moods, and providing one's body with adequate funcitoning.I had been walking a fine line for months, and miraculously survived the journey. I was started on a supplement regimine to restore my brain levels the next day. My parents finally realized how severe my situation was and withdrew me from school.I continue to run on my own, and dance avidly. I will return to school next year, but must heal mentally first. I won first place at my dance competiton last week, and am regaining more awareness of myself again.My ambitition is returning. My hope is returning, in conjunction with my energy, life, and spirtit. I will continue to hope every day that I will reach a point of happiness in all areas of my life; academically, physically, athletically, and emotionally. Until then, this is my story, and may I continue to gain strength from it with every passing moment.

mentally confined

2008-04-03T16:59:00.000-07:00

I'm ruled by my thoughts constantly. You can give me all of the chemicals in this world- they won't free me. Only I can free myself, and I don't think that I posess that ability, which creates major mental conflict.

Because I do posess the desire to escape. I envy everyone, for they have the control. I've tried grasping control through every way imaginable- even if it eneded up hurting me in the end. But what is the end, when is the end? Sometimes, I wish it would hurry up and get here. Because this world is fucked, and I'm insane as it is.

I observe people alot. I feel what they feel, and I see what they see. I see what they pass up, and I see thier desires and hopes. I see thier dreams for the future, and I see thier hesistation arise. I see walk away from a better life, and I see myself sitting a great distance back from that oportunity. I see myself so far back, that taking a step away would make no difference. How will I ever make myself move.

Compared to other people, I have the same wants, I have the same needs. It's just based mainly upon personal preference. I hide my wants and needs, selectivly embracing. Regular people act upon intentions, without any forethough. This is both good and bad, for you can always get a positive or a negetive reaction. I always anticipate the negative one, but then shudder when a positive outcome is witnessed. So what does this signal? A pity party.

Anyone's invited, but I like to keep them mostly to the VIP's, or VIP, that being myself. VIP should stand for Vulnerably Impulsive Person. There you go. The activities consist of self loathing, and as things pick up, I tend to move onto self hatred. Attire is usually casual, what's the point of looking nice if you're just there to criticize?

And the gifts at this party, well, they're more like morals, lessons if you will. The way that you get these gifts is by taking a long hard look in the mirror, and locate every imperfection lying on your fucked up soul. You hurt. And then you give reason to hurt.

What would a party be without stupid decesions? Sure, everyone makes some dumb moves at gatherings. Well, my dumb move doesn't contain any alcohol or illegal substances. No, no, no. Much more potent. Much more painful. The result is permanent. But you know what? I have yet to act upon this dumb decision. I guess that I'm "above the influence". No peer pressure here. Only self evoked pressure. Maybe if I had some "peers" in the first place, things would turn out differently.

I also forgot to mention. These pity parties usually take place to celebrate regret, on the ocassion of depression. Bring your doubt, and bring your life. Hopefully, you'll leave the party with neither. I usually exit with both, in addition to a nice party favor of regret. Fuck.

I really do wish that I had the balls to act my own age. I sit here typing away like an old man, caught in the throws of a mid-life crisis. Type, type, type, so much drama. Type, type, type, woe is me. Type, type, type, I'm all alone. And I always will be, as I continue to fear each day that lies ahead.

reach away

2008-04-03T16:55:00.000-07:00

longing for an ending
to this misery i face
hault the current failure
create no more disgrace
shut your eyes to hopes
once broken, yet now whole
release the doubt and drift
far from your troubled soul
nothing is to come
of unfufilled dreams
so exit negetivity
act deaf toward all the screams
at your own disgression
this time is now the best
ignore all other comments
for you're destined eternal rest

over the counter

2008-04-03T16:54:00.001-07:00

Sleep and excluedeyour contemplative mindthis is all the promise you'll ever findDrift away to never come backErase from your pastThe love you lack Temptation's lurkingEnialating willShattered hopesand dreams to killFall and cryto the deadly floorBeg for new lifeThis one no moreTry to escapeGrasp your breathHeartache's dismissedAs I enter deathDream permanent dreams,Hear a lullabyeThere's no waking up,for this is good-bye

memories...

2008-04-03T16:53:00.000-07:00

WV competition results Current mood: nostalgic Category: Sports
..>
(131) Beck, Julia
Burke Ohio401A: Open/Prizewinner Reel U15 A13 Competitors Danced
..>
Overall
Mark
1st
2nd
3rd
1
80.00
131 - 80.00
858 - 79.50
970 - 79.00
..>
..>
Event
Adjudicator
Mark
Rank
Points
1st
2nd
3rd
Comments
Reel
Maureen Baake
80.00
1

80.00
79.50
79.00

..> 403: Open/Prizewinner Slip Jig U1519 Competitors Danced
..>
Overall
Mark
1st
2nd
3rd
2
86.00
301 - 88.00
131 - 86.00
822 - 80.00
..>
..>
Event
Adjudicator
Mark
Rank
Points
1st
2nd
3rd
Comments
Slip-Jig
P.J. McCafferty
86.00
2

88.00
86.00
80.00T
bit smoother, nice style
..> 405A: Open/Prizewinner Treble Jig U15 A13 Competitors Danced
..>
Overall
Mark
1st
2nd
3rd
1
90.00
131 - 90.00
635 - 88.00
858 - 85.00
..>
..>
Event
Adjudicator
Mark
Rank
Points
1st
2nd
3rd
Comments
Treble-Jig
Una Ellis
90.00
1

90.00
88.00
85.00

..> 406A: Open/Prizewinner Hornpipe U15 A14 Competitors Danced
..>
Overall
Points
1st
2nd
3rd
3
62.50
466 - 100.00
878 - 75.00
131 - 62.50
..>
..>
Event
Adjudicator
Mark
Rank
Points
1st
2nd
3rd
Comments
Hornpipe
Anne-Marie Leonard
86.00
3

88.00
87.00
86.00T
turn out ankle
..>
All toll, I was four points away from sweeping the Feis! I had a great time though, and danced amazing. Apparently the judges agreed :) I worked extremely hard for this day, and I plan on continuing to do so. In addtition, I had a chance to see Becca (who danced very well, too)! We had a blast. Hopefully, this is the start to a wonderful season!
*Julia

manifesting...

2008-04-03T16:52:00.000-07:00

Once i get my hands on something good in life, i go ahead and fuck it up. im selfish and basically a waste of life. i work my ass off for nothng. im all alone in this world with no friends. my depression's the only company i've ever known. i know i sound like a drama queen, exaggerating every complication. this just shows what a loser i truley am.

God blessed me with a good life and i ruined it. it's too late to escape. i want to get away from this shit, but i have no support. i have no one to tell this too because im alone. i try to be nice, but nothing works. i show compassion, but i cant relate. no one will ever like me. they just talk out of pity and then laugh behind my face. im so pissed off just at everything.

this whole damn summer has been a fucking waste of time. i have done nothing with not one single person. i thought that i actually made a friend, but she found other people too. although, she has a right to have more than one friend. i guess im just jelous, which once again, represents my selfishness. hell, all i did this summer was sit my ass down infront of the computer and look at pictures of parties, wishing i was those kids. wishing i actually had a fucking life. wishing that i just had something, or could atleast find something i have.

i wasted all of my time dancing. i was crazy enough to think that practicing two hours a day would actually make me good at something. silly me, the rich people just get all the breaks in life. im sorry that i cant afford a damn 3000 dollar dress to dance in . im sorry that my mother isnt the head of the school. i cant change that, im only working with what i have. it's still not good enough. nothings ever good enough. oh yeah, i went running alot too. once again, i just thought that doing 35 miles a week could earn me a fucking letter, or atleast some damn respect. i guess not. people are so immature, that they actually stay back and make up excuses just so they dont have to run with me. i hate it. i didnt do anything wrong, except for exist. i guess thats just what a big loser i am. my very presence disgusts them so much, people cant even be around me.

the sad thing is, i actually enjoy dance and running. i enjoy them until the people get in the way. fuck people. fuck the world. maybe this is why im such a loner. i cant control them; only myself. but they just always go ahead and give me hell.

in my free time, i watched america's next top model. looking at those girls, gosh it breks my heart. i can never be that preatty. i can never be that thin, atleast with my parent's guard as high as it is. i cant escape it; im just trapped in this monitored world of hell. shandi was 5'10" and 116lbs. she was georgous. i used to be preatty when i was 70lbs. but then people took away that victory from me.

i loved that time. for once i had a goal that was all to myself, no people to interfere. isolation was my best friend, next to ana. misery made me happy, because atleast i was the one creating it. so what, i was dying. maybe that's what the fuck i wanted. but people, once again, are too fucking dumb to realize that.

they dont really want me, they just wanna do the right thing for damn attention. well fuck them. i was so close too. i could have surpassed it all, and been content with my death. thats the ultimate goal. my bones were so beautiful, but now my fat ruins the beauty. just like the world is actually a wonderful place, but the people create the hell.

if i could have just had my wish, things would have been better today. you wouldnt have to be reading this damn pethetic paragraph from some loser son of a bitch like myself. i would be gone, and you would be happy. admit it. i dont care if your surprised and never saw this side of me. this is me. welcome to julia. the smiles fake, my face mine as well be plastic. im ugly inside and out. im rotten and dont deserve anything. i didn't deserve anyones sympathy, even if it was fake. i a fucking waste. a waste of life. give someone who deserves it everything, for im just fucking it up.

i have nothing left to say, i have no one left to go to; since i had no one in the first place. i have no dreams left to hope for, becuase people will always destroy all potential. i guess i can dream for sheer solitude. fuck it all, i dont even know what to with my rediculous self. im sorry that you had to read this. im sorry that im such a failure. im sorry that you have to cope with such a bitch as myself. i really am sorry. for everything. im just lost. this is so done, everythings done...

you can run, but you can't hide

2008-04-03T16:51:00.000-07:00

..>
.*Eating Disorder Survey*.
General
Age?:
15
Height?:
64-65 inches
Weight?:
92
Lowest Weight?:
70
Highest Weight?:
106
What weight do you want to weigh?:
62
What eating disorder do you have?:
ana
In Depth
How many calories do you eat in a day, on average?:
too many beacause of dance and running. around 2,700-3,000. my parents watch me
Do you throw up your food on occasion?:
no
Do you want to look like a supermodel/actress?:
yes, yes, yes!
Are you in some sort of extracurricular sport, ie soccer or track?:
im an irish dance, track, cross country, biking, any form of high-impact and extremly fat burning exercise :)
Has anyone ever teased you about your weight?:
yes
Have you ever fasted? If so, for how long?:
no, i've always eaten to lose weight. i dont want metabolic failure
Do you take laxatives to get rid of food/calories?:
no
Are you 'inspired' by models/actresses?:
yes
Have you ever been hospitalised for your ED?:
yes, for three fucking months of weight-gaining hell
Have you ever ingested Ipecac to induce vomiting?:
no
Have you ever tried to recover from your eating disorder?:
yes, after i almost died. my body's better, but i'm still attempting to fix my mind. yet, part of me just CANT let go of ana.
Body Image Q's
Do you constantly see yourself as fat, even though others say you are not?:
not fat, but i know that i could and NEED TO BE thinner. i need to be better. i need to be perfect, and perfect is emmaciated, bottom line.
What part of your body would you change?:
i would make myself like six inches taller, but weigh less than i do now
On a scale of 1-10, how happy are you with your body?:
about a 2
Do you judge your value/merit solely on your weight/body?:
yes
Because of your body apperance/weight, have you become severely depressed?:
yes, to the point of suicide attempts
Do you constantly compare your bodies to supermodels/actresses?:
not constantly, but i deffinetly do my share of comparrisons
Health/Food
Do you think you eat healthy enough?:
yeah, for someone with my activity level to maintain a healthy weight. but i wanna be thinner
Are you morbidly afraid to eat carbs?:
no, they're low fat and i need them to exercise!
Fat grams?:
yeah, i try to have low/fat free foods
Calories?:
yeah, even though im ingested those fuckers left and right
Are you often tired/fatigued?:
nope, i have a friend named caffine :))
Do you feel more energised after eating food?:
no!!!!!!!!
Do you eat meat?:
yeah, but i'm working on going vegitarian. if only my parents would allow it.
Do you eat your food in a certain way? ie cut it up into small pieces, etc.:
yes
Do people tell you you look sick or famished?:
they used to.
Have you ever thrown up blood?:
no
Is your heart bpm above 49?:
my heart bpm is 72, but used to be 28. it's been 0 a few times too....
Do you have fainting spells from lack of eating?:
i used to. my heart shrunk, which brought those into my life.
Other Stuff
Do you think the media is at fault for the prevalence of eating disorders?:
no. i thik that it's a mental thing, more so. my brain contains a certain flaw that leads me to critique myself in times of stress/crisis.
What's your opinion of Pro-Ana?:
i think that it's not effective. you dont get taught an ed, you develope it yourself. its somehting you've always had, but decides to appear when ever it feels like it.
Do you have any other mental disorders? ie Bipolar, BDD, etc.:
i believe i'm bi-polar. it's genetic :/
What's your favourite food to eat?:
i like brocolli and cottage cheese
Favourite drink?:
i love love love anything diet. or coffee with splena. anything 0 calories!
Do you often wish you didn't have an ED?:
eh, sometimes. but i just have to accept that it's a part of me

life vs. living

2008-04-03T16:50:00.000-07:00

We fly down the road
The smoke runs through my eyes
Your stereo blares;
Forget my childish cries
The world around me melts
I look into the mirror
Our eyes meet and
I feel the presence here
The winds picking up
There's fire in my veins
But just keep speeding now
And let me go insane

2008-04-03T16:49:00.000-07:00