Trying

ARBBB2

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Wish u were in Minnesota, I went to many many therapists, finally found one that is awesome, knows all about my diapers , everything that happened to me and is so understanding and supportive!!
 

Milianna

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I don't want to go home for Thanksgiving.

I feel like a failure. I just feel like a fucking failure because I've failed to recover. I've just been making myself worse and worse. Not maintaining weight. Losing more weight.

I'll be damned. I just feel like a big fucking failure. A big musical failure for all of this.

I have something I love. I have a purpose. I'm involved in research I love. I'm involved in projects I love. I'm involved in trying to get a paper published. But you know what? I'm flushing that all down the toilet. Literally. My disorder is out of control. It's a parasite feeding off of me and while I get weaker, it just gets stronger. And this time around, I'm alone in fighting it. I don't have someone to say enough is enough. I don't have someone to force me to get better. And this time around, I have to fight for myself.

My mother was counting on me getting better. But you know what? I've failed. I've tried and failed.

For once I want to live. And all I seem to be good at doing is killing myself.
 

ARBBB2

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Why do u feel like a failure, !st,,, most important is u want to live, 2nd,,,,, u have all these project and research u love, don't flush all that other work u have done just put it in the back of a dresser drawer and let it sit for now. Just forget about it,,,, and work on other things u enjoy. ------Sound like u need to be diapered 24/7 and be little for a while, which in reality is really talking care of baby Milianna which has to be done every once in a while, even if it take 2 to 3 weeks of being little! You can do it! I hear a lot of positive in your comments!!!!
 
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ARBBB2

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so where is home, how far from where u are? What freaks u the most about going home?
 

Lightstreak2553

Insanity is the spice of life.
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Hold on to that feeling, and keep looking. If you've made any friends at school you can trust, talk to them. If you have a counselor at school that might be able to help go talk with them. If there is anybody there that you can find that will listen to you and try to understand what you're going through, reach out. Even if it seems unlikely that they'll listen. Either way, fight for the life you now know you want. And know this: you are not a failure. I've watched this blog, as well as your other posts, and I know at least a tiny part of what you have faced. And let me say it is unfathomable to me to imagine facing what you've been facing. And still, after everything you've struggled with even just in this year, you're here. You're alive. Regardless of how others think of it, or how you might want to feel about it, you're alive. You survived and continue to survive something that is trying to kill you. That is not something to be overlooked. Give yourself credit where you deserve it. Best of luck to you.
 

Milianna

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I don't understand why I'm chronically like this.

I didn't expect myself to live to see my 13th birthday. Then my 16th birthday. Then my 18th. Then I'm a little more than halfway to 20.

Now I'm here. And again, I want things to end. I don't know if I'm just destined to be in pain.

The best analogy I've ever heard of my situation and how I feel inside can be described from a book. It was about a nurse who worked in a burn unit in the 1980s. The author described how those units back in those times were scream wards. The only painkiller that they had on hand was morphine. And for some of these people, they would be in so much pain that they'd just constantly give them morphine. When some of these people died, there was an unspoken question of whether they died from their injuries or the morphine.

I feel like those patients. I live with mental health conditions that makes my daily life difficult. Some days, it's just exceedingly painful for me to just exist here. And one of these disorders, well... it sprang up as a coping mechanism for all others. But it's something that is said to be potentially lethal to me at any point in time. I can't predict it.

When and if I die, then it'll be a question of whether I died from my mental health conditions or if I died from the psychological morphine I was medicating myself with for all this time. In case it wasn't clear, the "morphine" in my case is my bulimia.

What's worse is that in these moments, I wish I could take the metaphorical overdose of the morphine in order to stop the pain right now. Just to make things finally stop and give out. But I have no hope for that happening any time soon either. I do everything that is lethal to bulimics. But I am still alive. I continue to be alive. The human body is amazing with how much abuse it can take. But I can't say that my mind is the same way. My mind isn't resilient at all.

I struggle to think of how a future could play out for me. I find it hard to find motivation to write or study. All I want to do is keep engaging with my bulimic behaviors. I don't even care about weight loss necessarily but weight loss is my twisted bonus in a sense.

I don't know if therapy can help me. I feel like so many of them don't know how to handle me. Getting treatment is a no go for me. I hate the idea of being forced back into a healthy weight and given no tools to help cope with my mental illnesses or just... how I'm supposed to cope as an autistic woman in this overwhelming world. I'm sick of the revolving door. I'm sick of throwing money at people and places that don't know what to do with me.

I hate it when people around me beg me to stop doing what I'm doing. I'm sick of hearing the threats, bribes, begs, pleas, and everything. They don't know my everyday life. Begging has never cured me. It's a foolish and aggravating exercise to do that to me, but I still have to hear it. I have to deal with people telling me how much it disappoints, aggravates, and hurts them to see me like this.

I'm tired of hearing a lot of it. It drains me to know that I'm hurting people. It drains me to know that people expect so much from me. I'm tired of living with the expectations that come with people.

I never got a choice to have my mental illnesses. I never got a chance. I did try treatment in the past. Three psych ward visits. 2 psychiatrists. Multiple medications. 6 therapists. I've had a history of self harm, substance abuse... everything honestly.

I get tired of hearing how other people around me hurt because of seeing me. I get that it hurts people. But no one has ever thought about the pain I'm in. They have never lived a night in my life. They have never lived a day in my life. They have never tried to live in a mind that wanted me to die. They don't understand the kind of mind I live in.

I don't know. Maybe I'm selfish. But I've tried for so long. I'm just ready to let things go and let things take it's course. I'm ready for things to just run their course without treatment.
 

Saltedcaramel64

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I don't understand why I'm chronically like this.

I didn't expect myself to live to see my 13th birthday. Then my 16th birthday. Then my 18th. Then I'm a little more than halfway to 20.

Now I'm here. And again, I want things to end. I don't know if I'm just destined to be in pain.

The best analogy I've ever heard of my situation and how I feel inside can be described from a book. It was about a nurse who worked in a burn unit in the 1980s. The author described how those units back in those times were scream wards. The only painkiller that they had on hand was morphine. And for some of these people, they would be in so much pain that they'd just constantly give them morphine. When some of these people died, there was an unspoken question of whether they died from their injuries or the morphine.

I feel like those patients. I live with mental health conditions that makes my daily life difficult. Some days, it's just exceedingly painful for me to just exist here. And one of these disorders, well... it sprang up as a coping mechanism for all others. But it's something that is said to be potentially lethal to me at any point in time. I can't predict it.

When and if I die, then it'll be a question of whether I died from my mental health conditions or if I died from the psychological morphine I was medicating myself with for all this time. In case it wasn't clear, the "morphine" in my case is my bulimia.

What's worse is that in these moments, I wish I could take the metaphorical overdose of the morphine in order to stop the pain right now. Just to make things finally stop and give out. But I have no hope for that happening any time soon either. I do everything that is lethal to bulimics. But I am still alive. I continue to be alive. The human body is amazing with how much abuse it can take. But I can't say that my mind is the same way. My mind isn't resilient at all.

I struggle to think of how a future could play out for me. I find it hard to find motivation to write or study. All I want to do is keep engaging with my bulimic behaviors. I don't even care about weight loss necessarily but weight loss is my twisted bonus in a sense.

I don't know if therapy can help me. I feel like so many of them don't know how to handle me. Getting treatment is a no go for me. I hate the idea of being forced back into a healthy weight and given no tools to help cope with my mental illnesses or just... how I'm supposed to cope as an autistic woman in this overwhelming world. I'm sick of the revolving door. I'm sick of throwing money at people and places that don't know what to do with me.

I hate it when people around me beg me to stop doing what I'm doing. I'm sick of hearing the threats, bribes, begs, pleas, and everything. They don't know my everyday life. Begging has never cured me. It's a foolish and aggravating exercise to do that to me, but I still have to hear it. I have to deal with people telling me how much it disappoints, aggravates, and hurts them to see me like this.

I'm tired of hearing a lot of it. It drains me to know that I'm hurting people. It drains me to know that people expect so much from me. I'm tired of living with the expectations that come with people.

I never got a choice to have my mental illnesses. I never got a chance. I did try treatment in the past. Three psych ward visits. 2 psychiatrists. Multiple medications. 6 therapists. I've had a history of self harm, substance abuse... everything honestly.

I get tired of hearing how other people around me hurt because of seeing me. I get that it hurts people. But no one has ever thought about the pain I'm in. They have never lived a night in my life. They have never lived a day in my life. They have never tried to live in a mind that wanted me to die. They don't understand the kind of mind I live in.

I don't know. Maybe I'm selfish. But I've tried for so long. I'm just ready to let things go and let things take it's course. I'm ready for things to just run their course without treatment.
Has anything anyone has said to you helped?
Reading through some of your messages it seems you are in need of professional medical help. Is college perhaps too difficult for you to manage right now with your psychological issues? Maybe you should look into voluntary commitment at your nearest mental hospital. Having spent many weeks in one, I can tell you I heard a lot if people saying the same sorts of things you are consistently saying.
It appears your anxiety and depression is in steady decline.

If you throw your hands up and give up, your problems will compound.

Are you sure college is the appropriate place for you right now? I feel like a hospital would be better suited.
 
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Milianna

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Has anything anyone has said to you helped?
Reading through some of your messages it seems you are in need of professional medical help. Is college perhaps too difficult for you to manage right now with your psychological issues? Maybe you should look into voluntary commitment at your nearest mental hospital. Having spent many weeks in one, I can tell you I heard a lot if people saying the same sorts of things you are consistently saying.
It appears your anxiety and depression is in steady decline.

If you throw your hands up and give up, your problems will compound.

Are you sure college is the appropriate place for you right now? I feel like a hospital would be better suited.
I've been in hospital for a long time and I don't know if I should go back. It was traumatizing to say the least.

There's a chance I consider short term residential care that my school talked about but it's so close to finals that I'm wary of it right now.

I think I have to push through finals and then consider treatment. I can't see another way
 

Kittyinpink

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I've been in hospital for a long time and I don't know if I should go back. It was traumatizing to say the least.

There's a chance I consider short term residential care that my school talked about but it's so close to finals that I'm wary of it right now.

I think I have to push through finals and then consider treatment. I can't see another way
I really feel for you milianna . I really do! I'm sorry you are struggling with life at the moment.. I just wanted to send you my love and best wishes and I really hope you can feel happier with yourself! You sound lovely and I'm sure you are! I really appreciate your posts and I like you!
 

Lightstreak2553

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I don't know. Maybe I'm selfish. But I've tried for so long. I'm just ready to let things go and let things take it's course. I'm ready for things to just run their course without treatment.
You're not selfish. To me, you're all too familiar in your struggles with people. I'm sorry people are trying to guilt you into overcoming your bulimia. That, in my own experience and understanding, is not only horribly damaging in its effect but to me reeks of a self-centeredness I can't stand. No one will look at the pain you're going through and empathize with it, try to understand that these issues are causing the very behaviors they seek to fix. No one is trying to meet you where you are, and I speak from experience when I say that is the most alienating thing the people around you can do. It's not your fault, I'll say that. Just as you've said, these behaviors are the things helping you cope with your problems, not the problem in and of itself. One of the few artists I've ever heard so succinctly put those words and the struggles you're facing in such a clear context was Citizen Soldier in their newest album. If you don't mind a bit of light rock, I'd suggest looking them up. They have a lot to say about stuff like this in their songs in a way that hit at the center of what the struggle with mental illness is. And in my own struggles they've helped me feel understood and not as alone when everyone around me was only trying to fix me, not see me for what I was struggling with. I hope it at least can do that for you, to make you feel heard. I hope you're able to find someone someday who can properly help you, and won't just try to stick you in that revolving door. Just keep trying different doctors, if you're able. Anywhere there is a chance to try someone different, to change what isn't working right now, is a chance you might get to turn it all around at last. I wish you the best in that endeavor. Stay safe.
 

Milianna

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I finally broke down and told my mother what was actually going on in my life. That I was stressed about schoolwork. That I was recommended for medication treatment. That I needed to get something like medication administered by injection because I can't be trusted with pills on my own.

She was worried. She was worried about a lot. She asked me if I was still eating and vomiting. I told her no. But I still am. I don't see the point about being honest about that. I need that kind of coping mechanism for myself. I need to be bulimic in a sense. I don't have a life outside of it.

I cant worry her too much. She has enough to worry about. My dad's health is failing. I need to be ok... but they know I'm not ok now.

Right now, I'm just sitting here feeling like a weight is lifted that I finally told someone I'm not doing well. But on the other hand, I'm feeling poorly in my own health. Heart palpitations are getting worse. Physical stamina is shot. Had to give up running. I just can't run without feeling like my heart is going insane.

I met up with an old friend over the break. We had a lot of fun bantering with each other. At one point, we kind of talked about mental health. He told me that I looked like I was "too skinny. Like you'd lost a lot of muscle." I told him that I was trying to keep my illness under control. That was a lie. But I need to save him the worry of him knowing that I was falling fast and I wasn't sure who or what was at the bottom to catch me when I land.

I wonder sometimes how much time I have left like this. But I've decided I'm not going to bother worrying about it. None of my health anxieties have ever stopped my behavior. Not for one second.
 
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NinjaPizza

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Sorry you're going through all this mess. Keep trucking on, and eventually things will balance out.

I do disagree with you lying to your mother, however. Now I don't know what your relationship with your mom is like. Maybe it's important you keep some secrets. But while you work through your own problems, I would be wary of who you lie to and why you lie to them. It might be better in the long run just to be honest with what you're dealing with. That doesn't mean everyone around you has to help. But it could help them understand you.

Take care though. Mental and physical health are important!
 
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