Social Media destruction

Nothing like the past knock-knock-knocking on your door.

Knew I should have gotten a louder “fuck off” doorbell.

Thought I burned that bridge long ago and now find that there’s some sort of vine growing out of the wreckage and trying to curl itself around my neck.

I thought that scar was a faint white impression of the wound it once was. But there’s some scab left to be picked.

It’s simple words on a screen that lend power to the climbing foliage. To pick at the surface of skin.

I have only myself to blame.

For many months I’ve debated on deactivating my Facebook account. Honestly, if there was a way I could simply use the messenger and not anything else, I would more likely do it. It’s the messenger I don’t want to part with. The main way I communicate with friends I’m not physically close to (like ones I know through this community!).

Today while updating my profile picture to something a bit more festive, I somehow accidentally caused my timeline to switch to 2006.

I should have immediately closed out.

A sane person would.

This jigsawed brain made the decision to continue scrolling. Scrolling through a smattering of words from a period of my life I’d long tried to purge from my being.

Words include lame jokes with friends. Basic life updates about school and work.

And posts from Her.

I have moved multiple times since my 5 year relationship with Katherine, but it still haunts me. Almost daily. I love my current house. So very much.

And yet at night my dreams are permeated with the rooms I lived in with Her. The house I lived at with Her. There is no rhyme or reason.

I barely dream of my current partner at all. I don’t understand this flawed thinking at all.

And now it isn’t even just my subconscious.

I don’t understand why I scrolled. Why I took that screenshot. Why I saved it. Why I include it in this post.

Social media is a toxin. A dangerously addictive substance beyond heroin, meth, or alcohol. It speaks sweetly and dresses up flawlessly. But behind those honeyed words and slick threads is a sinister hole of festering stink.

And I don’t even mean the vindictive way they use profiles for marketing. Note your interests. Or track “trending” topics.

I mean how it harbors a storage of memories you didn’t even know still remained. Memories to be purged. You recklessly thought you’d never have to see again.

A simple click.

Words across a page.

The Cruel Goddess Ana

Trigger warning for a more in-depth discussion of my eating disorder issues and mentioning of my (stupid) perusal of pro-Ana websites.
I do not want to encourage any eating disorders.  That is not my intent with this post at all.  Please let me know if you find it “pro-eating disorder” because I am not in that mindset, despite my struggle.
_________________________________________________________________

This week is National Eating Disorder Awareness week.  Unfortunately, what it’s done for me is just made me more aware of mine and the fact that I am no where near a stable recovery (though I am trying).

I slipped up today in my perusing of eating disorder blogs.  Usually I’m good and just read the strictly supportive/recovery based ones.  The ones that do not encourage Thinking Thin or Thinspiration or any of that harmful talk.  I found a couple new ones yesterday that were absolutely lovely and gave me all sorts of smiles.

Today I stumbled across a pro-Ana (a term for anorexia) blog.  I didn’t realize it at first because it wasn’t overt like some.  I won’t link it here because that just perpetrates the cycle of harm and I will not be a part of that.

What bothered me was the way the blog talked about the Goddess Ana.  Personifying a disorder into this figure of anti-eating, rib-showing, thigh-gap encouraging “deity” they could pray to for assistance.   I am horrified.  I hate that I immediately got an image of what this goddess would look like.  And she would be cruel.  She would demand constant sacrifice; the blood, sweat, tears, and pounds of her worshipers.

I thought we were past the old days of sacrificing young women to appease the gods.

Apparently not.

We’ve merely moved on to a darker strain of sacrifice.  Instead of a quick knife or even a pyre of flame- it is a slow torture of starvation.  It is giving that little piece of you daily to a tall, impossibly thin and icy eyed woman who says it is never enough.  Just a couple more pounds.  Always just a couple more.  Her mouth is a black hole and it devours your strength, your health, your sanity with gulping force, the sharp teeth glittering in a border of poisoned words.

And words have power.  I give this goddess power merely by encouraging this descriptive personification.  I can’t help it.  But I will not let such a cruel goddess rule me.  I line my personal angels and guardians up around me.  I do not look into her eyes or step anywhere near that gaping mouth.  I will not dedicate myself to a goddess who demands such a high sacrifice.

I will not.

And I can only hope that other women and girls (and men and boys) will find the strength to turn away.  To know that they are beautiful just as they are.  They were beautiful all those weeks ago before they heard the call of the Goddess Ana.  Before the siren’s song started.

We are stronger than we know.

Be gentle, be loving, be strong.  You are worth it.

 

http://nedawareness.org/

____________________________________________________

Note:  I purposely put some tags that may seem slightly “pro-Ana” in hopes that someone will stumble across this post when looking for tips or encouragement.  And I hope this encouragement of a different sort, of a truly positive sort, will start the healing process.
Happy National Eating Disorder Awareness week.

Healing

(Trigger warning for talk of suicidal thoughts and sex. Not at the same time…)

We’re doing better now.  Kit’s not hanging around much anymore, but I’m not really surprised by that.
I never thought I’d be the one running the show for longer than an evening, but everyone seems to have decided I should indefinitely, especially after this weekend.

Let me explain a bit.

We got a surprising amount of support after Friday.
Partly from my mother and Texas, who sweetly made sure I wasn’t left to my own devices for long after the Friday night disaster.
Texas was mad at me for not calling or texting her, but when I explained that though I was technically suicidal, my true goal of that night was just getting drugged enough to not feel emotions.  Which is what happened. She wasn’t happy, but she forgave me.  She doesn’t normally do that, so I was floored.  And much nicer to her than I usually am, not usually being a “girl’s girl” myself.

However, due to the fact that it’s been a long time since I’ve taken that many narcotics, I was extremely sick/hungover most of Saturday morning and fought nausea, shaking, and dizziness for most of the day.  I managed though, and by the evening was completely fine.
Well enough, in fact, to help run a Halloween-related booth at a local downtown Halloween store event.  It was fun and healing to enjoy my favorite holiday.

Then Sunday I went to lunch with my mother and Texas and just talked about life, men, friends, careers, and girly crap.  It was great.  Strange that I enjoyed it.  Rika and Roms think I’m evolving or something.  Fuck if I know.

________________________________________________________________________________

I also got constant texts from Army throughout the weekend.  Starting Friday night, actually.  I didn’t reply until Saturday due to my state-of-mind, but we chatted amicably Saturday morning.  Then in a rare moment of emotional-mental-semi-psychic/understanding, he figured out something was bothering me Saturday afternoon.

Being that Army and Jeff are very good friends, I didn’t elaborate.  That wouldn’t be fair.  And despite being told otherwise, I do care about and respect Jeff enough to not fuck-up friendships.
Army was a bit upset that I wouldn’t talk to him about it, but when I explained vaguely that it had to do with Jeff and I didn’t want to be unfair to their friendship, he understood.

Then he started pestering me Sunday to hang out.  After Monday night, I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, but when I said I was going to see “Hotel Transylvania” with Texas and her boyfriend, he said he’d love to join us.

I was surprised, to say the least.

First of all, Army is not really into hanging out with other people, especially couples.  Secondly, he isn’t a big fan of animated movies.

I pressed him on why he was so insistent, and he said he just wanted to spend time with me.  This again, surprised me.  This weekend was just Surprise Central, obviously.

The movie was good.  A father-daughter movie, which made me a bit uncomfortable, but still enjoyable.  I had ridden to the theatre with Texas, so as we were leaving, I mentioned this to Army and he said he’d be happy to take me home.

We ended up making a detour to my mother’s law firm….because…ahem, despite my “evolving”, I’m still Charlotte.  And there wasn’t really anywhere else private for Army and I at 10pm on a Sunday. And I have keys to the small office and knew no one was going to be there.

I learned a couple things.

First of all, desk-sex is not as easy as porn and erotica would have you believe.
And floor sex is effin’ painful.  My back is killing me and I have rugburns in places a woman should not have rugburns.
And Army did this thing that…normally would have me uber-triggered (I won’t elaborate), but actually didn’t bother me at all.  If anything, I enjoyed it.

I never thought time with Army would be healing.  We actually spent most of the time just talking.

He was kind about the recent cuts on my thigh, which in the past he’s flipped out about.  I talked about some of my insecurities and all the ways I’m obviously a fuck-up and not a normal woman.  I talked a bit about James The Stranger.

He spent way more time that I thought he ever would in reassuring me that there’s nothing wrong with me not being able to do a lot of normal emotional things, and certainly nothing wrong with me physically (see Victoria??).
He only lectured me on driving into the middle of nowhere unsafely when it came to James.  When I joked about wishing he’d just murdered me in his creepy house in the middle of nowhere, Army got angry.  But then…he actually read my body language and emotional distress, and comforted me instead.  It’s like he’s possessed by an alien.

Afterwards, we went to Shadow Dragon’s.  He was supposed to just drop me off, but he said he really wanted to see Zoe if he could.  I hesitated, as I don’t like being a rude roommate and having people over without warning.

But Zoe is our weakness, so I caved and let him in, making him promise to be quiet.  Zoe was ecstatic to see him, which made me smile.  They played outside and then we sat on the couch together and talked a little bit more.

It’s been such a long time since I’ve actually just talked to Army.  Since before…yeah.  I even mentioned the whole miscarriage thing being part of what had me so depressed lately and he showed a surprisingly caring side.  I don’t want to talk about it in too much detail.  It was private and my moment and I don’t want to share it with the others.
The moment it’s written about in this blog, all the others have access to it.

I dunno why I feel possessive about Army.  I suppose to be fair, he’s always been mostly “my relationship”.  Kit and Audrey handled him for moments at a time, but it was usually me that spent time with him.

I just never thought I’d get so touchy-feely that I’d need some sort of healing.  And I never, ever thought he’d be the best one to provide it.