Dear All of You,
I’m having one of those moments of clarity when I awake from my day to day and see my entire life laid out crystal clear.
I can’t breathe. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I think this all started after my family moved someplace new. I went from having friends and liking everything to slowly not liking people and myself and my home and my family.
I started staying inside, not making friends, disappearing into video games and books, bingeing and dieting and failing and hating myself.
I figured out how to throw up and that’s when the trouble started. I tried to be someone I wasn’t as well as stay the person I was. Then I was just swinging back and forth between being this other person and then back to myself when I couldn’t do it anymore because I was so tired.
But that tired person unable to get out of bed is not me.
This is not me. I like people and I like to go outside and I love my family and I love my friends and I like climbing trees and dogs.
But now I wake up and so much time has gone by. All those things seem like they happened yesterday, but they happened three years ago, or seven years ago, or thirteen years ago.
It’s like coming out of a deep sleep and realizing I’m not allowed to be myself anymore or have my old life because everyone has moved on and gotten some sort of memo that I didn’t.
I can’t act like a kid and need things because I am an adult and adults get things for themselves. I can’t call up friends and expect them to forgive me or remember me because they have a new life that I didn’t share and we don’t know each other more.
I just want to scream because I don’t know where all the time went.
Staying in bed and eating and throwing up and drinking and being in treatment and having to live at home all made time go by so quickly without me realizing it.
I don’t feel like I’m 25.
I feel 23 or 22 or 20 or 18 or 16 or 14 or 12 or 11 or 8. I’m so upset because I didn’t get to be any of those ages. I was inside, not outside living.
And it’s still happening. I’m still losing time.
I’m going to be 25.5 in a few months. I just lost some more time to bingeing and hiding and lying in bed.
I met people in treatment in their 40s 50s and 60s who still acted like children because they never learned how to be adults.
I don’t want to be like that, but I see that happening as time goes by and I don’t feel any older. I see people my own age or younger doing things I can’t do and I feel like they are so much older than me.
I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this.
Every time I try to make things different, though, it’s not sustainable and I just crawl back in bed and pull the covers over my head.
I don’t want to keep waking up in the morning and wishing it was over already.
I want to live.
At least I’m not eating today. I can’t go outside because I don’t want to get out of this bed. I don’t want people to see me buy food.
I’m going to run out of meds soon. I’ve already cut everything in half so I don’t have to go until the day after tomorrow. I keep telling myself that maybe I don’t need meds. I already know that I do, but I can’t get out of bed and hospitals terrify me.
Why can’t everything just be ok? Why can’t I just be a normal person who just lives and doesn’t give it a second thought?
Someone told me that being depressed and anxious is self-centered because I only dwell on myself and my life and take everything for granted.
I want someone to help, but there is no one left and people helping me means I never learn how to take care of myself.
I am just so tired.
Whoever this is.