Honestly...

Well...this is it. Or it will be it, anyway. I am creating this journal for a number of reasons (I will list those reasons in a bit). And in this journal...I am going to be honest--brutally honest. Some of it may shock you, some of it may disgust you and some of it may inspire you to do the same. Some of it may do all of the above. You may be wondering, “Why?” Why make public your most guilty habits, deepest secrets and terrible truths? The answer is not so simple. I guess, ultimately, it is for Change. It is a time for change in my life. Secondly: Release. If I am going to be honest, I may as well begin now and say that I have buried the things I will admit here so deep within myself that it’s going to be very difficult to express and even believe them for myself.

A little bit about me:

This is the one area I am going to try to stay vague. But for curiousity’s sake: I am a 23 year old girl. I am considered "attractive" by others and appear normal on the outside. Remember to never judge a book by its cover. And finally, I am not going to reveal my name, but you can think of it as Sparrow.

Confessional:

It’s time to confess things I have let few people know, some of which no body knows, and some even I have barely admitted to myself. One thing I’d like to mention is that I honestly detest labels. I don’t like feeling the confinements and restrictions they set up. I am an intricate creature, sure...but I’ve decided for the purpose of this journal that I need to start with labels to harness my behaviours and shed some light on the whole thing.

1.) I am an alcoholic.

I have had trouble with drinking since 16 years old. I believe it stemmed from my body image issues, which had complete control over my life-social, romantic, scholastic, the works. It gradually got worse after I graduated from high school, and has been at it’s height for the past three years. A series of events (Partying too hard, one night stands, passing out in public places, making a fool of myself in front of friends/relatives, losing friends, pouring my money over alcohol, etc) happened on and off throughout those years. It has only been now, after being on a positive streak where I had my shit together only to come spiralling down once again, that I have decided to seek outside help. I’ve been seeing a counsellor and am going into Rehab on August 17^th. Alcohol is only a factor of my many dark days and experiences, and this particular centre claims to address “It all”. I’m typing this with hopes to get a head start on the change I’ve been waiting for, for over seven years.

2.) I am eating disordered.

This began before the alcohol, and plays a major part to why I am an alcoholic. I was chubby all throughout my younger years, was made fun of to no end. I was known to the boys as the Fat Girl, and to the girls, relatives and friends as the Chubby Girl with the Pretty Face. I'm still not sure which felt worse.

During the summer of the year before high school, I went on a diet dropped 35lbs. When I went to school that fall, I was instantly the “Hot Girl”. Popular girls wanted to befriend me. Popular guys wanted to date me. I was in complete culture shock and wasn’t prepared for any of it because my mind hadn’t caught up with my reflection. And so the story goes...I dated the “It” boy...fell in lust (Not love) and my emotional growth pretty much stopped there. When our relationship hit the rocks, I turned to food for consolation and gained most of the weight back. Since then I’ve had an extremely unhealthy relationship with food. I have been anorexic, bulimic...and now I consider myself to have something they call “EDNOS” or Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified. A buffet of food issues, if you will...no pun intended.

My rollercoaster ride of an affair with an eating disorder has taken a toll on my body. I have stretch marks. My boobs are probably lower than they should be for my age. And I hate myself for it. I could look in the mirror naked for hours, silently putting myself down. Hating myself and blaming myself for all of my bad choices in life. People have showered me with compliments at my lower weight and even at my higher one...and I would think “Yeah, you haven’t seen me naked”...and then when I was intimate with someone and they would compliment my body in some way, I would think they were lying for some reason, or something was wrong with them!

I have always suppressed these feelings from others and myself. Needless to say, the self destructive thoughts are still with me, and the eating disorder is definitely still with me.

3.) I have Dermatillomania.

For those who don’t know about this, you can find information about it here: http://www.skinpick.com/dermatillomania. This is something I’ve only recently looked into online, simply because I’ve been so grossed out about my habits that I didn’t even want to admit that I had this kind of problem. But it is a SERIOUS problem. I am always picking. When I read, before I go to bed, while I am just sitting and thinking...I am picking. Sometimes I can’t concentrate without picking; sometimes I do it to slow my mind down. I don’t know all of the reasons why yet, but I just came upon the site I mentioned above (skinpick.com), womanned up and read into the disorder, and people’s questions and comments on the forum on the site. Yes, I found myself utterly disgusted by some of the posts-but I realize that’s because I am so disgusted of doing it myself. I stuck it out and read many, many posts. I felt wonderful, comforted and stronger after reading them. I’m scared shitless about still having this problem years from now. I don’t want it to follow me in life. To be honest, that site was the spark that inspired me to create this journal. It seemed only natural to attempt to kick this problem in the process of eliminating my other problems. I do like to consider this a habit and not a disorder, however. It seems a lot more attainable to me to overcome seeing it as such.

4.) And last confession, but not least:

I am bisexual. This is one label I have ALWAYS hated. I hate the bisexual stereotype in both the straight and gay community; I hate the stigma that surrounds it. I feel as though I may suffocate beneath it. I have slowly hinted/confessed to people in my world around me about the fact that I like girls. Nobody in my family knows, however, or anyone in my world from high school and before high school. And frankly, even I don’t know how much I like girls. Probably because I am so damn suppressed about the whole thing. All I know is...I think about girls a lot. Boys aren't in the picture right now whatsoever. I’m obsessed with the idea of being involved within the LBGT community and it’s pathetic because I’ve dipped my toe in numerous times and have run (run, mind you, to things like food and/or alcohol) away like a scared chickenshit. I’ve had a handful of “relations” with girls but they were all discreet, and I was pretty much drunk the entire time. I’ve also had two “relationships”. One with an older woman, and the other with a pre-op FTM guy. They were both amazing people, but of course, as you may see if you have read this far, I am pretty messed up. I screwed up both situations royally. I’m not ready for any kind of relationship. I lie about things to avoid being honest about myself and to myself and it hurts others as much as it hurts me. But the crazy thing is, is that I am aching to be seen! I yearn for human contact and obsess over it...yet when given the opportunity I duck into my shell and hibernate until they leave. Perhaps it’s sadistic...I work for peoples attention and affection, hurt them to make them leave and get to feel sorry for myself, remind myself of my fuck-ups and wallow in my loneliness once again.

I should have put a note at the top of this page to not read this if you are depressed. I am sure this first entry didn’t help you much.

Well...to summarize my intentions...I will be updating here as frequently as possible, confessing urges and/or bad decisions made, to vent, to seek emotional comfort and support. I hope that somewhere, within all of my unravelling, that you have found some comfort as well.

Signed,

Sparrow.