the light, the damn light

I just wrote this long post on my tumblr. with no intentions to share any of it here. but what the fuck. I'm just going to bare it all, because A. what do I have to lose? and B. this is me. I am Liv the astrologer artist chick but I am also all of this. All of the pain and anxiety that loops inside my brain. So here it is. Expect more of these "barfing out to the universe" type writings here. 

so. I’m laying here in my bed. i’ve been obsessed with counting calories for quite some time now-what’s crazy is that I REALISE that I’m not even able to be exact. and that scares me, but it’s about FEELING control. I had a much different lunch than usual today-no ripe bananas, so I made a smoothie from apple, coconut sugar, water, and dates. topped with puffins and buckwheat and mixed with peanut butter and PB2. I felt very full after-was it because of the water? or was it more calories than usual? I didn’t do a hard workout today. I am hoping to hike later.  (welcome to the world of an eating disordered mind. it's super glamorous, right?)

But right now, i’m here laying in my bed. exhausted. It makes me so incredibly sad and hopeless that I am this cruel to myself. and i see the little girl in me, confused, tired, upset, not understanding why she is under such scrutiny 24/7. my fear is not being able to live with myself at a higher weight. i don’t know how to keep going with this, eating normally thing. not counting every step I take and pushing until I feel that headache behind my right eye when I exercise. 

but right now, I’m laying here in my bed. probably about to try and nap, aka writhe around with these thoughts. this is worth it. this is worth having my sex drive back. and my sleep-without the help of melatonin. this is worth having my fucking LIFE back. It’s so sad that so much of my energy goes into this. I want to pour more into music, art, and people. but everything gets funnelled into this. into you, anorexia/orthorexia. this is so fucking hard sometimes. but I know that this is the time for me to hold my own hand. To give my aching body what it wants, needs, and desires. to listen to my inner child. to surround myself with softness and comfort. as hard as it is, to question these anxious thoughts and mechanisms. this is my way of coping with pain. avoiding being with myself, in my body. I am a master at disassociating. so what the fuck now? I feel so incredibly alone here. I want to be seen so badly and to be held in this space but I can’t seem to let others in beyond this brick wall that I build up so fucking strong. I’m in a constant state of constriction. 

and right now, I’m laying here in my bed. Eyes are getting more sleepy as the words go on. looking back in the archives of this weird little blog of mine, and finding pictures from a time that scares the living hell out of me. i was at the highest weight i’ve probably ever been at, staying out every night just desperately trying to drown out how I felt. sex with whomever. I would drink whatever you put in front of me. I was fifteen. going at such a fucking fast pace. still feeling shit about my body, but so removed from my bodily experience. that’s what I’m so scared of. becoming so unhappy with how i look in the mirror, body dysmorphic, that i just funnel myself into escaping/controlling something else. but i don’t know. maybe worrying will just make all of this worse. aaaaand looking through these old pictures hurts a lot. i want to know that it is possible to be happy with myself. to be healthy. and strong. and to not have this constant need to control my weight and every morsel that I put into my body. I deserve so much better, the girl inside me (and all of me) does not, never did, and never will, deserve the punishment and harshness that I impose. 

Part of me feels like this should just be easy. I should just “get over it” and stop exercising, eat what I want, and “heal the rest later”. But that feels like fucking death. I keep looking back at my past I guess, those years of extreme dissociation and other ways of being incredibly destructive, and my mind just goes to that file. “Op, it’s not possible. You’re even MORE of a mess, in fact, when you’re at a healthy weight.” so that’s my fucking evidence. which doesn’t help. But this is a time to carve something entirely new. to walk down a brand new branch of this path with myself, not based on any ways that I’ve “tried to do this before.” I’m awake. (getting sleepy, but you know what I mean). Here. Present with myself, committed to health and well being. A little crazy and anxious sometimes, but I’m here regardless. even though that lunch made me freak out, and the fact that I woke up today not ravenous, I’m here. laying in my fucking bed. And even though I still have coping mechanisms, like the exercise and the numbing while I’m eating (youtube, etc) I’m still fucking here. like here I fucking am. alive. 

those old pictures, I have love for that girl. the girl with a  polka dot scrunchie around her arm. my arm. all the money I wasted on cigarettes. pot. she was trying to escape. she was learning. and everything, in all of its chaos and grossness, was absolutely perfect. everything has always been a perfect storm. it’s led me to this path, this exact place that I find myself at today. I’m done banishing all of this into the shadows of myself. that’s why I continue to live inside this hell-i disown the fuck out of it. I go about my day as if it doesn’t exist. but I’m bullshitting myself. (lol mark is so right) I want to welcome it, all of this, into the whole of my being, to own and to fully see the messiness as complete and utter...perfection. Maybe I’m not totally there yet, it’s something to adjust to.but I’m getting to the heart of something here. and i want to fall into this space more, this messy, dense, real, space. where i can feel the blood moving through my veins when i look down at my arms. the music in my ears like an ever-expanding sound scape that pans out like the final scene, (cave shot of some gross chick walking alone into the blackness) of some epic drama-adventure movie. anyways. i think it’s nap time but I swear I could keep going for days with this. 

Liv Phoenixed recovery, raw