got a bunch of bad habits, and i wear 'em like a crown.

So just as I thought I was feeling better, a new wave of frustration hit me like a bus.

Firstly, some weird sketch bag was sexually harassing me via Twitter. So I blocked him and moved on. But it left a bad taste in my mouth. Like I'm the first to admit, I'm adventurous in bed, and am probably considered kinky to many. Plus, I'm bisexual, always have been, always will be. Though I've only ever been in relationships with guys. It's so frustrating that men assume that because I'm not straight or 'boring' in bed, that they can say stupid things to me acting like I'll sleep with them if they make a comment. I'm not a slut. I don't sleep around. I share that intimate part of me with a very select few. So although I'm fairly open about it, it doesn't mean I shout it to the world and share that knowledge and part of me with just anyone. Kinky does not equate promiscuity.

So right after that, my mom got a message on Facebook saying, "I need to talk to you right away". So of course I knew it'd be about me. Something I posted, something I said, lyrics I quoted, my recovery, etc. This for some reason struck a nerve, badly. It just enraged me. Partly because I instantly knew exactly what she'd bring up. There is a band called Down With Webster. They're Canadian and have a combination of rap and alternative rock. It's amazing.

One of their songs says, "Addicted to the lights and sounds. Got a bunch of bad habits and you wear em' like a crown. You're royalty around here baby, get down."

So I was listening to their music, and liked that particular line. Now back in my addiction it may have meant something completely different to me, in fact it did. I was proud of my addiction back then.  I thought I was bad ass, tough, cool shit. I wore my track marks like tattoos. But now, I take those lyrics in a much more positive way. There is this quote I love, that says something about a girl looking in the mirror after all the pain, scars, struggles and still is there and alive. So it says, "She straightened her crown, and walked away like a boss." That is how I now view these lyrics. To me it means I had all these habits, disorders, and now I have overcome them. I have no shame in them They are apart of me and my story. So of course I will wear my strength of my struggles like a crown. And my healed scars like a tattoo that shows all I've been through and have ended up on the other side of.

But of course, to this woman, she probably assumes I've done something or am slipping up and feels the need to tell my mom. I'm 23 years old. I'm an adult. You don't tell my mother on me, It's disrespectful. If you have something to say or are concerned, talk to me. 

This all goes back to that horrible pressure we feel to always be 'okay', to always have a smile on our faces because, god forbid, if we have a bad day, we're going to fall apart! This is so unrealistic and silly. Anyone who knows anything about this knows that if you don't have bad days, there's probably something wrong. It's normal to have ups and downs. And it's so fucking annoying that we all have to hide it and put on our happy masks just to reassure other people. We're trying to remove those masks. We're trying to be ourselves. So please, please, just let us do that! Let us frown when we need to, cry when we need to, scream, shout, yell when we need to. We need to feel all of our emotions authentically, not just the positive ones. Otherwise, we may as well be numbing them all again. Which isn't the goal. So I guess I'm just going to have to be myself and try to ignore when people react like that. It's the only way they'll learn that all feelings are okay feelings. And bad days happen. Recovery isn't easy and never will be.

So keep shining everyone. Don't let people's ignorance stop you from being you.

Much love, xx.

'i feel like a super model who just skipped a meal.'

So I don't know if it's the Cymbalta that's making me so fucked in the head, or if it's this stupid break up or what. But everything I've read on the package says it's a possibility, and not to stop taking them until I see a doctor. I won't be able to see him until the 25th. Until then, at least I've got my mom watching me like a hawk...I could fucking punch her.

On the bright side of all this, I can't bring myself to eat anything. It's been days since I've had anything but drugs and booze (to the point of black out), and I've managed to get down to 138. I feel so shaky though, I thought I'd try to eat something, but my appetite is gone, I had a bite of this delicious pasta salad, and couldn't bring myself to eat anymore. Such a weird feeling, considering one bite usually results in a disgusting pig out. But I fucking love it. I'll take the suicidal bullshit to be thin any day of the week. It feels fucking fantastic.

Dying to be thin, how ironic. At least it's not false advertising.

Boys fucking suck, but at least one good thing came from it.