How Do I Know If It's Right?

I always said I would just know,
I would just know.
But now I don't!

And how is it that giving advice,
is so much easier
than using it when you need to?

I want a rule book,
I want a guide,
someone to tell me it's right.

The problem is I always said,
the only person that can know,
is the person who asks.

And I don't.

Of course i can't turn down a challenge. So when my boyfriend made me promise that i wouldn't move my left hand until he got to my house, and since i gave my word, i treated that promise as if it were a marriage vow. At the time, i didn't realize how inconvenient it would be to have my left hand squeezing my right boob for so long. It wasn't until I started getting ready to see him (let me rephrase that, until I "tried" to get ready) that i realized how someone with a nub arm must feel immediately after they part with their limb. And although it's been nearly an hour, and I shouldn't complain because I have yet to experience phantom limb, it still sucks. It's a good thing I worked retail when I was a teenager, cause folding my boytoy's Valentines gift sans one hand could have been disaster without all the training I have received. I never thought I would be thanking Hollister for anything besides teaching me about unlawful discrimination! Besides the fact that I am, in fact, typing this blog with one hand (and no I am not doing it to honor my Dad or any other person that has yet to get with technology and learn how to type) I am doing this for a much different reason. Throughout this simple yet, painfully annoying exercise of boob grabbing, I have come to realize that I am not doing this to keep my promise. I am doing it because I'm stubborn. So instead of being the loyal-promise keeping-trusting type that I thought I was mere hours ago, I have quickly come to realize I'm actually just a hastoproveit-stubborn-chick!

Well at least I know what needs to be the topic of next weeks therapy session : /

See Me!

I used to hope and dream
to be like those girls
who wake up perfect
from toe to curl.

But why don't you see
the person I am
instead of only wishing
I would be like them?

Every time I open
my eyes from their rest
a tear makes its way
from cheek to chest.

Because what I see
is not what I dreamt
and I know I won't be
even close to that perfect!

Why don't you see
Who I really am
and let me be
the person I can?



January 5th, 2006

A Memory Gladly Forgotten

Just a note that the following is a journal entry that I found. The feelings portrayed in it are now just a distant memory. I have only my friends to thank, for bringing me back to life.

"When I look in the mirror, I don't see myself. It's like I stare but I don't see Lauren staring back. And it hurts. It hurts to know that I can't even see myself. I am empty. My eyes droop, my smile sags, and my skin is colorless. So when someone looks at me I know what they're looking at: a body. They still think it's me. I respond as that girl in the mirror. You may call her Lauren, but Lauren's not home anymore. She left, and I have no idea how to get a hold of her. I miss her. No one else seems to search for her though. And I am afraid that I'm not good enough for her return. I'm scared that if no one starts searching she may never come back."


03/03/06

daMn, All iN a dIAs trabajo

My mind just ran through 16 thoughts at one time. You think I am exaggerating but I am completely serious. It’s not normal to wake up at 6am, dress up in extremely provocative clothes to go to school, clean the entire house, do all the laundry, go to the library, go out for a dinner date, run four miles, go to target, talk to the boy for an hour, study more, have sex, text seven people in the span of three minutes, AND be up still at 4am. I just remembered a reoccurring thought. It is always a fleeting thought, but I am often reminded of it. I think I am going to be the next Virgin Mary. I KNOW it’s not even physically possible because I am not a virgin. And it is by no means logical. Yet somehow I still believe that it will happen. People don’t DO these things. People don’t THINK like I am right now. And even though I should want to be asleep, I am ecstatic that I am….mANic!

pick your poison

For those of you who want to know and even for those of you that do not, I will inform you that I have struggled with an eating disorder for the past five years. Eating disorders are commonly very secretive. Most of these people will do anything to hide their symptoms. It is a very shameful disease, and often talked about in disgraceful terms. I once told my mom I would rather smoke than throw up. She approved and stated that although she would not condone me smoking, she would rather I smoke if it meant I would not throw up. Looking back on this discussion, I ask myself WHY? Why is one coping mechanism more socially acceptable then another? Why does society have more negative associations with purging food then with smoking tobacco?

It boggles my mind that we treat each vice differently, when the consequences of both are obviously unhealthy. Both can cause heart and lung conditions. Smoking can cause cancer of all sorts. Eating disorders can cause ulcers, digestive problems, heart failure, and a variety of medical issues. BOTH can lead to early death. Yet one is treated as only mildly disconcerting (smoking). When a person is seen smoking, people often ignore them. We have been trained to disregard this occurrence. Purging, on the other hand, is rarely ever acceptable. If we catch our friend throwing up after a meal, we automatically want to correct the behavior. We find it WRONG. But why? Why are two similarly unhealthy choices treated so differently?

A vice is, a vice, is a vice! Whether I choose to smoke, gamble, steal, cheat, or barf, I am making an unhealthy lifestyle choice. All scenarios are unlikely a good solution to the problems that they mask. And I hope that no mother, friend, lover, nor society as a whole ever turn their eye to such issues. I make a conscious decision to not treat any of them as acceptable! I wish my mother would have told me the same.

Could it be?

You thought you'd get to me,
With your pretty smile,
And your charming air.

But I can see,
That inner child,
With it's withered hair.

I know you are secretly,
Hiding the devil,
Behind that ugly stare!

But two can play this game
Because I am a female version of evil,
And there are certain people I do not spare!