My church

Well, after those two posts that can be classified as depressing, I would like to write about something that sustains me and keeps me going. It's my church that I have grown to love so much over the past few months. A place where nobody will judge you for how you look or how you act, a place where I can be myself and be loved for what I am, not what I wish I were. A place where nobody wants to change me.

But the most important thing is, it's the place that helps me draw closer to God. A place where I understand new things, a place where I realize that no matter how lonely, abandoned, wounded and filthy I am, there is always Someone to cling to.

I have made some wonderful friends there as well, friends that keep me smiling. Together we get involved in various fun creative activities and make other people happy. A friend I had met there taught me one of the most valuable lessons in life - that one doesn't have to be rich, or extremely successful in life, or look like a supermodel, or have the best of everything to be loved and valued and special. Too bad I forget about it too often, but I am working on this.

My church is a very special place in my life and in my heart. I am incredibly thankful for everything I have there, for everyone I know there, and I treasure every memory, every moment I spent there.

STUCK.

So, another worthless day. I look in the mirror and realize that I am just gross. My whole body is gross and I hate every tiny piece of it. I am stuck again, and haven't lost a single pound today. I shouldn't have eaten that tomato this morning, and I am not going to give myself any food tomorrow. I do not deserve to eat, I am way too fat for this. I must lose more weight, and I am not sick, I refuse to admit it just because it's noot true. Something inside me is starving for food but I am not giving myself food. I am not even giving myself drinking anymore - nothing but water. I wish I were fucking special, fucking beautiful and lovable. But no, only pretty skinny girls are loved and admired, fat disgusting cows are nothing.

People tell me I am sick, but hey, I am just ugly. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly.

Scales.

You know, the thing I hate the most is scales. You never know what to expect of them, you can look at the number they show you with delight or terrible fear, and nothing will ever change. I hate that feeling I get every morning, when I crawl to my bathroom just to see how much I've lost, and I hate that feeling of worthlessness if they don't show me the number I have expected - when you have anorexia, that magical number on the scales becomes your sweetest dream and yet your greatest nightmare.

This is why I hate scales. They fucking measure if you are of any worth or not. 

I beg you not to get me wrong. Seriously, I am not Pro Ana. I know people who have died of this. I know how hard this endless losing battle is - the battle with yourself, with what you are and what you are scared of becoming. I would never wish this life upon anyone. But what can I write about if I have anorexia? Where else am I supposed to let it all out? I feel like I don't trust anyone, and I can't turn to anyone for help. Only my girls on PT understand what it's all like.


Why can't I just be beautiful? I hate what I am and I hate how I look. I wanna escape from this, I wanna hide, but how are you supposed to escape from yourself? and yeah suicide is not the option.........