Lazy sunday...

Sunday should be homework day, that would only be applicable if I had homework to do so instead I'm spending it lost inside the endless rambling of my head. I want to be beautiful, non-intrusive, not crude, or laugh to loud, or annoy, or an inconvenience, or just in the way. I don't want to be perfect because I'm not entirely sure what perfect means to me. I want to be thin, I want to be happy, I want to be intelligent, confident, reserved, and allowed to spend my life locked away inside a book. Happy to enjoy my whole life reading and devouring great literary works while slowly sipping coffee and curled up in a chunky knit sweater traveling the world with the love of my life, taking on new adventures, and discovering secret thrills we will remember for the rest of our lives.


Instead I sit in a dorm room in an ativan fog, a drug I apparently can benefit from even though I hate that it makes me cry, takes hours and hours to wear off, and leaves me feeling like a zombie. It still doesn't change the fact that I can't seem to get my thought off the scary number of calories I consumed at breakfast, and pray that tomorrow the scale will be just a little less even though I am consuming what feels like just absurd amounts of calories even though it is less than my recovery meal plan and normal for most people. I hate the fear that dictates my life, the gloomy melancholy feeling that is sitting at the edge of my mind ready to cast its dreary shadow the moment I let my guard down, or the anxiety that is bubbling in my chest.

I am not unhappy please don't be mistaken. I am overwhelmed. And right now I need to vent about the stuff that is negative because who vents about all the wonderful stuff they have going on in their lives.

Sorry if this post feel scattered, and less than overjoyed. I will try to do better tomorrow.

with love,
ell

Breathe 1, 2, 3...breathe

I can't breathe. I know physically I am breathing, but my chest hurts, I feel like I'm drowning, I know I can make it, I will be okay...but it's not like that right now. I feel overwhelmed with nothing and everything. I just need to breathe...keep breathing.
It will be okay...

I hate this. I hate anxiety or feeling down. It makes me feel ungrateful for everything I have going in my life.  Everyone in my life is beyond wonderful to me, I have a loving family, amazing boyfriend that goes beyond any expectations I could have, good friends even if they live too far away. But yet I feel alone, and like I'm walking on cracking glass.

Breathe.
One
Two
Three
Breathe.

I'm safe.

I am okay.

with love,
Ell

Meloncholy at best...late night rambling

I can't really explain it, I never can...it doesn't happen often but when it does words escape me leaving me a heap of useless emotions that I can't quite comprehend or understand let alone express rationally so that anyone else can get a glimpse of endless noise screeching in my head and the weight pressing me down while fighting to tether myself to anything that feels permanent so I don't float away.
This feeling is both something familiar and scary at the same time. I suppose the two are not mutually exclusive from each other, something can be familiar and terrifying at the same time I suppose.

But is it really terrifying? Is it really that scary? Death would be a very big adventure, so yes naturally that would be scary, plus despite the thoughts about it I am far from that level of depression. I just have a more constant feeling of melancholy. I'm an upbeat person so this is hard for me...it makes everything seem off, and I'm afraid of others around me becoming concerned so I try my hardest to be upbeat and positive as much as I can. I have so many blessings in my life and I hate the thought of any of them to  think they have in some way caused me to feel this way or could or should be doing something to change the way I feel.

The truth is no one made me feel this way, no one wasn't there for me, no one hurt me, or let me down in any way. I have pain deep rooted that still hurts that occasionally contributes to my endless pursuit to be enough, but I don't think that's it either. I can't explain it, the way I feel doesn't make any sense and is maddening. I care both to much and not at all about the future. I'm so ready for it to be here but I'm petrified of growing up when I still feel so childish sometimes. I am so passionately in love and so completely loved by the most wonderful man I will ever know but despite the security and comfort he makes me feel, I'm so afraid of making a mistake or driving him away with how dark my head can be. I hate how afraid I am, I hate fearing the darkness around me. I hate knowing it might not be as dark as the inside of my head. When did the monsters under our bed become less scary than the ones that live in our head? When did the fear of not being enough and simultaneously too much start controlling my life? And maybe when or the why is not nearly as important as how to get away...

So melancholy at best, but at least I can take heart knowing this will pass just rather lonely waiting. How can it not be if I can't even understand it myself, but I am ready for sooner rather than later.

Enough late night rambles

With love,
ell