#also… i’ve started taking meds that have honestly made me the happiest and most functional i have ever been

[wifesuguru]

sorry i left tumblr for so long my excuse this time is that i became a horse girl

[magnoliadarling]

I took a lot of photos documenting how the stress of this summer affected me, physically, in ways I didn’t know it could affect the body. For me, this photo kind of sums it up. I think I ate 1/2 of a sushi roll that dinner. I was unable to eat. I had absolutely no appetite. I was empty and somehow went days and days with eating nothing and never felt weak. I was content being empty. I was barely 102 pounds in this photo. And this wasn’t my eating disorder. My tongue was affected with probably 300 or more inflamed taste buds for some reason. It was painful to eat. I developed a cold sore that took up almost half of my bottom lip. I get cold sores from time to time, but this thing was impressive to say the least. I didn’t really care. It’s strange for me to look back and while I’m sure my eating disorder did affect me a bit this summer, truly, this time it was driven by stress. There were points in my days where I would stare at the fridge and pantry for hours. I wanted to eat something, but everything would actually make me gag. It’s so strange to think about, looking back. 

I was stuck in a constant state of insomnia. Going days and days without sleeping or feeling tired at all, but spent numbing myself with drugs, alcohol, the business of bars and clubs and meaningless conversations that took my mind off of things up until I couldn’t stay awake anymore. I would sleep for 4 days straight, not knowing it wasn’t still Monday when it was Thursday. And I would repeat that cycle over and over. 

The main thing you can’t see in this photo that still wrecks me is the tremor I developed. It started in my mouth, spread to my hands, my feet, my whole body. I looked like I had Tourette’s or Parkinson’s. It caused to sweat uncontrollably. I tried once to start writing out the just mass amount of emotions I was dealing with, but I was shaking so bad I could only write one sentence. “You have taken too much from me.” I had people asking me at the beginning what drugs I was on, when, at the time, I wasn’t on any. People made fun of me when I was out, they would try and snap chat me. Eventually, I had to go to the ER because my doctor wouldn’t let me go home. All the drugs they gave me in the ER didn’t stop the tremors. I had a doctor come in at one point and he asked me to stand up and walk for him and my left leg shook so bad, I fell over. He had to catch me. I saw the just pain and helplessness in my dad’s eyes as he watched his baby girl literally breaking from the inside so much, my body was shutting down and there was nothing he could do. I did my best to tell him I was okay and I don’t know why I’m shaking, but it just won’t stop. I was trying to stop the pain I knew he was feeling watching me fall apart because I didn’t want him to feel that. It’s a lot of why I separated myself from my family during this past summer. They saw me broken in ways I didn’t know I could be broken and they didn’t know how to fix it. And, truly, there was nothing they could do and I couldn’t stand to see that just worry and sadness in their eyes. So, I just distanced myself. The shaking definitely caused some trauma because I didn’t know stress could affect the body that way. And it still comes back if I haven’t slept or am not okay. It’s so strange to be so unable to control your body in that way. My mom told me once that my dad took a video of me shaking while I was in the ER. I’m building up the courage to ask him to send it to me. 

I was bruised from head to toe because I was so malnourished. I was functioning, but barely. I was politely calling every wedding vendor telling them that my fiancé was ill and we didn’t need them. One by one, erasing the wedding I had always dreamed of. Cleaning up Eric’s mess that all started because he decided he didn’t need to be on medication. I was making jokes just to give people something else to talk about besides my life falling apart. I haven’t really told a lot of people this, but up until the end of July- I still had faith that he could stabilize and yeah, he might be a little manic at our wedding, but I was hoping for the most grandiose of endings to this nightmare. I clung to the tiniest shred of hope that Eric would come back to me in time to meet me at the end of the aisle. I spent countless nights having to get him out of bars because he was scaring people or hitting on girls, politely and very protectively defending him when people called him crazy. Because fuck you, he’s not crazy, he is just very fucking sick right now. I spent the whole summer having people text me and be like what the fuck is wrong with eric- asking me if I had seen some picture with him and this or that girl or if i knew that he was telling people i was a sociopath and generally just embarrassing the hell out of me on social media. And again, I knew (well, I thought I knew) that when he did stabilize he was going to be so embarrassed and feel so much hurt and regret and I didn’t want him to feel that so never once did I talk shit about him. I sent him to the psych ward 2 out of the 3 times he was in there this summer. Once where he tried to fuck a girl in the same unit I was in back in June. That same fucking psych ward where I told myself over and over and over and over again. I know Eric. He wouldn’t cheat on me. He just wouldn’t. I broke myself trying to believe that when this was all over, he would give me the fucking just decency of not even crawling on hands and knees begging me to take him back (which, honestly, he should of) but just letting me fucking yell at him for 30 fucking minutes. Because I understand he was so sick. No one on this planet understands the loss I have felt each time he gets that sick. I lose my best friend. and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. It wrecks me to see him unable to stop the things he does when he’s ill. It’s almost like he’s a child. 

So, I understand he was still. but goddamnit. It doesn’t make his actions hurt any fucking less. I’m angry that he has this fucking disorder that causes him to get so fucking sick. I would take it from him in a heartbeat if I could. No one truly gets how devastating his illness is except me at this point. Because no little girl grows up thinking the happiest time of her life is going to wrecked in the catastrophic way mine was. And I’ll never know why, this time, his illness was negatively focused on me because he doesn’t even know. I’m also just so angry at the girls who slept with him. I don’t even fucking sleep with him when he’s that ill. I feel like I would be taking advantage at him and when he slept with them- he was OBVIOUSLY fucking ill. You’re disgusting for sleeping with someone that ill. Fucking trash. I’m angry that, now, you will never see the most perfect wedding dress there ever was. I’m angry that I didn’t get to spend my birthday with you. I’m angry you couldn’t be there for me when I was suicidal in the hospital. I’m angry you didn’t listen to me about staying on your medication. There’s so much I’m angry about. And yeah, there is a piece of me that is just fucking pissed you slept with 3 ugly ass fucking whores. Sue me. But you didn’t even give me that. You didn’t give the validation that yeah, I may have fucked shit up in the past, but this....this was your fucking fault. You didn’t just let me have 30 goddamn minutes where my best friend, previous fiancé, husband that was supposed to be, understood that he wasn’t able to pick me up when I was in shattered pieces and the pain I felt and where that person didn’t blame me or didn’t use my illnesses as a reason not to be with me, but the love of my life who I haven’t even kissed or been in the same room with for almost 4 months just let me yell at you. And just absorb some of unbearable and enormous amount of pain that I had to bear alone. And at the end of it, just hold me and let me weep for all that we lost. Maybe you would’ve wept too. And then given me the true validation that yeah this was your fault and a just real apology and maybe even a thank you for still wanting to be here and never giving up that yeah you go away sometimes, but you always come back. 

No, you told me I had no reason to be  mad that you came inside an ugly fat redhead because you were sick. 

Fuck you asshole. Stop playing the fucking victim. Be a man. Maybe just, if anything, understand you have literally no fucking clue the PTSD I now suffer from and the literal trauma I went through and am still going through because of you. Maybe you could of loved me enough to just show me some empathy at the one fucking time I needed it most. You weren’t there. You were sick. Because you chose to go off meds. Even though I begged, sobbed, and pleaded on the bathroom floor for you not to. And you promised me you wouldn’t get sick and ruin our wedding. 

I don’t why I wasn’t enough for you. But I hope you truly fucking know, you’re not find better than me. No fucking woman would stay with through what your illness put me through. 

Love wasn’t enough for you this time. I hope you remember all those times we played the I love you more, no I love you more game. I win. I have always loved you more. 

I shouldn’t have to go to sleep wondering if my significant other is in love with me. You have absolutely taken too much from me. Because I’ve let you. 

And I can’t say that it’ll happen because you know. We were really happy. And that’s what’s hardest to let go of. The love I had in you will stay with me forever. But you, you will always have in the back of your head that I’m the one that got away.

Holy cow. I am not even going to read over this. It uh, I’m sure is a mess. I haven’t been able to write more than 2 sentences about this summer. So, I’m just going to leave it as it is.