Hammers and strings

The whole prayer room was amazing. It's somewhat hard to pick a favorite part but I know mine is the strings. You would write your prayer request, what you sat to pray for, on a card and then tie it on a string and tape it to the ledge. And when people prayed for you they would tie a ribbon around your string. I think one of the most wonderful moments Challenge was just looking at the ribbons on my string. I didn't write about myself. It just felt great to think of someone else praying for what I was praying for. I think that's one of the most brilliant ideas the people who organized challenge had.

The panel of mirrors.

The last side of the kiosk was covered in mirrors. It's different from writing down a prayer request or what your dream is, at least for me, because it's a meditative thing. Everyone there was so supportive and I got the feeling I could stand there as long as I needed and no one would mind.

But I didn't.

I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle looking myself in the eyes that long. I didn't want to look at myself and read what God  thought of me. I didn't know what I wanted to do but that surely wouldn't make the list. I looked for a few seconds and went back to my seat. I comforted all these girls and it was an amazing thing to be there from them and cry for their pain and not mine but then i felt close to them and i wanted to talk about what's wrong with me and i was about to but we had to stop and i started crying so hard and everytime adam turned around i turned around too. It was a silly thing and i'm glad i got to get the emotion out but i don't know i wanted my friends to be there for me too and i know they would've been and all week i talked to D about my past and his and our mutual depression and self injury and i found out one of my friends has zoloft too and it made me so happy it's what finally made me want to talk about my eating but i didn't get to and that's okay it was still an amazing time but it was like, what am i going to do now because all week i had been thinking man i have nothing wrong with me only as the week went along it got harder and harder to eat and i wanted to run down to the gym more and more and i was like shoot maybe i do have a problem and i didn't know what to do.

with strawberry gashes all over, all over

It's incredible how things like self-injury are so misinterpreted by the media. It's funny in its way, until you realize that they're training people to approach it this way. I've seen cutting on a lot of tv shows and stories and it always completely awes me. How do you get it so wrong?

as Alicia reached for the doorknob, her arm peeked out from underneath her sweater sleeve. a million pink lines. every one its own story.

Cutting is an action of desperation and while I can tell some points in my life by where on my body i cut, there's no significance for every individual scar. Not every cut involves sneaking off to a bathroom and sobbing while you cut yourself and try to clean up the blood. Sometimes you do it out of addiction more than upset, and I never bled that much, I don't know why. A few cuts on my leg had some drops of blood and one time i saw a red line on my pants on top of a particularly intense cut. In that instance for whatever reason i wanted to cut really deep so i went over that one place over and over. It was actually sensational. I guess that's why I did it. I need to not be reliving that memory I think.

4-8-10

I'm so confused because I feel sick and I don't want to eat and everyone thinks I'm okay but this doesn't feel okay I thought okay was supposed to be liking food. I don't want to be okay and I don't know if I am. I don't know if I'm fine and being dramatic. I don't know if the people judging this just don't understand the extent of my feelings about it all. I've been locked away in my room all day and been down and so tired and maybe this is why. I'm going to lock myself away again. I am so tired.

From a journal from a while ago.

I'm pretty frustrated at myself. I'm not going to say why, I know why.

I don't know that frustrated is the right word. I feel shaky from

being undernourished. I guess hungry is a better word, even though I

don't feel hungry in my stomach. I don't want to eat, to punish

myself. But does that even apply when you enjoy the punishment? Maybe

it's like cutting - feels like punishment and reinforces the behavior.

And I feel like that would be okay, because I deserve to suffer. But

Jesus suffered for me. I want to turn back but I am afraid. That I've

run out of chances. I have a million things to confess and it makes me

sick. And I can't think and it's hurting my arm to write because

moving sucks when all your calories are gone.




This is no way to live.




I feel terrible.




I want to feel good again.




I want to be good again.




______________________________________________________




I'm listening to pocketful of sunshine and as I had this breakthrough,

"The sun is on my side"




The Son is on my side.




He'll fix me. He can make me good.




He somehow forgives me.