I'm not depressed because..

I'm not depressed because I spent two days in bed. I got up today, wrote an exam, socialized with three friends, took a train to go home, watched a comedy, knit and played guitar. But at the end of the day, I'm back in bed wanting to die.

I'm not depressed because I don't know what I want to do with my life. I know exactly what I want to do with my life. I have plans upon plans of all the things I want to accomplish. I know which courses I'll take at which grad schools and which condo I'd like to live in in 5, 10 and 15 years. I will have three cats named Ana, Maleficent, and Pixie.

I'm not depressed because it's winter. Yes I am affected by S.A.D. I also attempted suicide in June.

I'm not depressed because school is too much. Yes university courses can trigger my anxiety. But some days the only reason I got out of bed is because I really really like linear algebra class.

I'm not depressed because of a certain reason. There isn't one thing you can change in my life that will make me happy. There are things that give me a reason to not die, until the chemical imbalances in my brain are changed. My meds are still being sorted out. My therapy is still being sorted out. I'm depressed because I am one of the unlucky ones with Major Depressive Disorder. You can't just 'fix' me. Please just stick with me.

-Niqi
xoxo

Fucking mood swings

Everything is great. I'm productive, light restricting, exercising and pretending to be functional. I actually start to think that maybe things are turning around. Just maybe I actually am getting better. Maybe my meds do work. Maybe I can overcome this hell. Then bamn. I run into someone or something that triggers me. My old residence manager, my weigh in was bad, I don't lift as much as I wanted to, I ran out of bananas. Literally anything. It could be the tiniest thing. Sometimes it's nothing. And all of a sudden every thing sucks. My skin is itching to be cut, I just want to see blood drip. I want to scratch away at the skin covering my bones. I want to cut the fat off my stomach. I'm losing control. What I crave so much, and strive for every day but now I'm losing it. I leave my house in a fury and jump on the first bus that will take me to a grocery store. Cookie dough, chocolate, oreos, whipped cream, pizza pops, pretzels, peanut butter, and ice cream all go into my basket. Realizing I probably shouldn't be spending this much money on food I know I'm going to purge, I slip some into my coat pockets and bag before heading to the cash register. I have about 20$ left this week for food, since my shopping trips are so small from restricting during my good days. I spend it all. I start eating on the bus ride home, doing my best to seem in control and not shoving food in my face as fast as I can. I get back to my house hoping to run down to my room before my housemates see me and start a conversation. I'm so fucking inpatient. They've gotten good at noticing when I'm not doing well. I run down to the basement and through the curtains into my room, hoping that no one decides to go play video games in the adjacent room. I sit down and open boxes of cookies and peanut butter and realize I forgot cutlery. Screw it. I dip the cookie in peanut butter, put a piece of chocolate on top and spray out some whipped cream. I take a bite. Finally. Relief. I feel so damn great now. I eat more and more until I am no longer in control. My stomach no longer wants food, but my brain still does. I head to the bathroom and purge a bit so I can shove more food in. This repeats until I get into the shower for my final purge. I purge and purge as burning hot waters sprays onto my back. Drinking water coming out of the shower head to avoid big clumps of food coming out that will clog the drain. When I'm finally empty, the sense of security comes back to me. I'm in control. I can do whatever I want. I get out of the shower, put some clothes on and go back to my homework, or practice as if nothing had happened. This lasts a couple of hours until I start having flashbacks to all the food I ate, how I lost control, how pathetic I am, reach for my blade, lighter or simply start scratching. I then give up. Pop a couple pills and head to bed, so the monster in my head will calm down for a bit. Maybe tomorrow will be better I tell myself as I drift into sleep.

-Niqi
xoxo

Why bother

I don't see why I should bother. I try to get better, and I get knocked down. I binge and feel relief. Purge and feel power. Restrict and feel control. I don't know how to get those addicting feelings without my destructive cycles.
But why bother? I'll live a shorter life filled with emotions caused my ED. But at least those emotions will include relief, power and control instead of sadness, fear and stress.
We are all addicted to something that takes away the pain.
Don't take from me what I use to take away the pain.
Please understand.
I can't recover. I just can't.

-Niqi
xoxo

I'm a mess of contradictions in a dress

I go to bed wishing I had someone to cuddle with, and wake up pushing everyone who cares about me away.

I spend days wearing cute floral dresses, acting adorably innocent, then get tattoos and piercings, shop lift and have sex on total impulse.

I freak out over the calories in gum, then binge on thousands of calories.

I have bubble baths to soothe my sore muscles, then I take a blade to my wrist.

I plan my future with a PhD, then think of ways I could kill myself.

I spend hours cleaning my room, then smash my mirror to bits.

I am sweet and caring, yet turn into a ruthless sarcastic bitch in a matter of seconds.

I hate being lonely, but refuse every invitation I get to be with people.

I talk about poetry like a queen, while using 'fuck' as punctuation.

I want to be myself and ignore what society thinks, but I have no idea who I am.

I love you and I hate you.

I want you, yet I hate wanting you.

I can't describe myself as I am a bunch of opposites.

As Fiona put it in Shrek The Musical;
"I'm a mess of contradictions in a dress"

-Niqi
xoxo