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I think the issue that my family is having re: me disowning my father is that they think I’ve done so because he has hurt me. And yeah, he has. He was never really there for me, ignored many health issues and concerns and tried to force good idea of masculinity onto me. But whatever. I have dealt with that.

The reason I told him that he’s fucking dead to me and the reason I won’t tolerate his shit is because isn’t because of how he’s treated me, but rather because of how he treats the world around him. He’s openly racist, disgustingly right-leaning, and a total Trump-head.

So no, mom, I don’t really care if he’s open to “repairing the bridge” with me. I don’t speak to the dead. And unless he becomes a completely different person, it’s going to stay that way.

Besides, I spent almost 30 years without a father, so why would i worry about it now?

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You know, sometimes I catch myself being really bitchy. Not even over like, big things. Sometimes when that happens, I get the urge to be hurtful in some way. Again, not that they did anything bad to warrant it. I love these people, why would I want to hurt them? I physically have to stop myself from crying when I feel like someone I love is hurt or that I hurt them

Then I remember that intrusive thoughts exist and that they’re called intrusive for a reason

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The feeling of having absolutely no drive, ambition, motivation, goals, or purpose.. Just letting the days, weeks, months, and years pass you by as you grow older and all the more wearisome. Being completely and utterly alone. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 is the most torturous and frustrating feeling there is. I live everyday merely existing. Nothing binds me to this Earth.

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But yeah, besides the more immediate nutrition situation as came up in that last venty reply?

I’m also very concerned about my physical state over the longer term, and actually trying to recover from that medical crisis in spite of some of its aftermath. And my partner seems to be the only other person here “IRL” who even seems to have thought about that? Never mind actually caring about my quality of life in the meantime.

I mean, going into the hospital (and fairly major emergency surgery) I was physically a complete mess after SEVERAL WEEKS of The Septic Slump at home. Knowing what I do now about signs, I lay around in some level of DKA for at least two weeks straight. (Without realizing what was going on. At all. More about that later, whenever I can handle it.)

I only made it through that at all through some combination of luck and sheer stubbornness. And surviving that type of experience WILL use up whatever reserves your body had going in.

And my reserves could not have been great starting into that crisis, after years of misdiagnosed/not properly treated diabetes on top of the (also professionally neglected/gaslit/self-treated, totally predictable) existing celiac complications from longterm malabsorption.

I had already lost a lot of my hair over the years before this last big crisis, and did not have the body mass to spare. No matter how some people wanted to act. 🤨

So yeah, between getting diagnosed with malnutrition going into the hospital, the institutional nutritional fuckery there, and the fairly quickly developing swallowing problems as a further complication of the DKA episode? So that I kept losing more weight before even leaving the hospital–after finally getting back on insulin, which should do the opposite?

(It was indeed that same DKA episode which burned out my esophagus, so that it ended up ulcerating/scarring and trying to close completely up. Leading to the current near-crisis situation.)

It’s amazing that I have even managed to physically recover as well as I have so far. It’s really fucking amazing.

Even as frustrated as I’ve been getting lately at feeling weak for obvious reasons and almost like I’m moving backwards in terms of what I can accomplish.

I’ve been having to rest a lot, and put so much of what energy I do have into taking decent basic physical care of myself–and not relapsing on the ED front. When a serious relapse might well kill me under the circumstances. No exaggeration there. I wish it were.

Really DO NOT need to speed up the starvation, as much easier as it might feel to just stop working so hard to get as much nutrition as reasonably possible into my system.

And, as I mentioned before? I don’t dare bring that part up to medical people, now that I seem to have mostly made it out of All In Your Head Land. Lest they throw me straight back into there, with ALL the ongoing health crap. 😬

So yeah, there are multiple ways that complications of that one DKA episode (and, ultimately, the whole longer medical clusterfuck leading up to that even happening) might still get me. And not even necessarily on any particularly longterm scale.

No matter how stubborn and/or tough I ultimately may or may not be? Luck can only stretch so far. And I am seriously starting to worry that it might already be trying to run out.

Even without the Plague Resurgence complicating absolutely everything. Which is another story, which involves so many other disabled people. Which is overwhelming enough that I can’t let myself think about it too much.

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Damn… it’s been four years and I always write about you every night. I’m always thinking about you and what our future could’ve been. Thinking about everything we’ve been through and there’s no telling anyone. I keep your secrets and I could only think about shit over and over again. Getting lost in the fantasy of you being alive still. Waking up in sweat because I have dreams about you,… I call them nightmares tho. Having flashbacks every time I think about death. I blame myself every time. No one can say it wasn’t my fault because it was and there’s no bringing you back. I wonder if you even thought that I’d ever forget about you and it’s been 4 years…. there’s no turning back. There’s no changing the past… there’s two things tho. Killing myself rn or jus let time take its course since something else is going to kill me in my life time anyway

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Day 2 of the stay happy diet


I’m deadass rlly disappointed in myself today was a 500 cal day and i binged 500 cals or more I couldn’t rlly tell.

After I told myself I wasn’t going to.. and luck me it was pie that I binged on and peanut butter also.

Ughh i hate that I have no discipline like I can say no but it doesn’t last forever untill I’m stuffing my fat fat with high calorie foods.

I think im going to work out and then have a really old or really hot shower havent decided yet.

And right now I’m really fighting the urge to cut and like i only get that urge when i binge or eat really/break a fast.

I’m goint to fast tomorrow and hopefully do a 3 day fast so I can try to make up for the calories.

I feel physically sick and the only reason I binged was cause I was feeling dizzy and light headed. Ugh I hate me..

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me and my best friend had a falling out a few months ago and they called me all sorts of names and then blocked me before i could say anything back. i have a vent account i use as a journal kinda on instagram and i just happened to check my notifications on there and i saw “[their name]sketches” of course i was like “huh that sounds familiar..” and when i saw the first post i immediately recognized their tan sketchbook. i didn’t know what else to do so i just blocked them. it’s so dumb that they think it’s cool to just fuckinf follow my vent account… they weren’t following any other accounts like mine so they knew it was me. maybe they’re trying to get me to be upset about it? no. i know them. they want to be friends again. what a dumbass. i hate them so much and i thought they would be gone for good but of course they’re trying to contact me again.. god i hate life.

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I think the more I look back at what we were..I loved every moment of it..the good. The bad. The ugly. The farts and farting around. To the sad..what could’ve happened moments..I’m sorry I’m me and I’m sorry I wasn’t who you thought I was or wanted me to be..but you were the best thing apart of my life, you were my best friend. I’m sorry for not being what you needed in a partner and a friend..

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