An Intro

What do I do when everything I know is impossible?

I am trapped. I am forced to exist in a world where the only ways I know to make myself feel okay, feel real, feel in any way like myself are taken away from me.

4.5 months ago, I was hospitalized for my anorexia. I was 5'8", 87 lbs with a BMI of 13.3 and damn proud of it. I was also a walking zombie, my brain virtually unable to process anything more than how many calories I had eaten that day. I was crying every day and my loved ones, so used to the ebullient, happy, successful, gracious Rose they knew, didn’t know what to do with me. My world was tiny, but it was known. I felt safe. But I also knew that was just an illusion. I was trapped and I knew only death (or close to it) would make me willing and able to get myself out of that hole. But, for some reason unbeknownst to me, people loved me too much to let me get to that place.

I don’t know why I feel the need to tell my story, or to even think about all of this shit. I guess I’m just not strong enough to not think about it. In a way, I know that this will be with me for the rest of my life, in some way, shape or form. And I’m not upset about it. I am upset when I feel like I’m not the one that controls the way in which this—this life, this disorder, this friend, anything in between—is with me. THAT, more than anything else, is what I cannot stand.

And that is where I am right now. Out of control. And I am going fucking insane.

And perhaps this will help me to get things sorted out in this brain of mine. Or maybe just give me something to do, or people to listen who understand what I’m going through and won’t yell at me for it.

Welcome to my maze of roses.