Showing posts from 2018

I used to be a girl - a poem

used to be a girl
I don't know what happened
But I'm more than that now

I'm half an adult, and half a girl
And half possessed by a demon
I'm often just a walking shell

I used to skip through life
With a smile and sparkly eyes
Eating ice cream and skipping rope

I used to wake up at 7am
And watch morning cartoons
With my bowl of chocolate cereal

I used to dance around my house
Pretending to be a ballerina
I'd fall and burst out in laughter

I used to wear my cutest bathing suit
And run under the sprinklers
Singing songs at the top of my lungs

But now when I skip I'm burning off
The ice cream I ate earlier that day
And I'm smiling but my eyes are empty

But now my alarm jerks me awake
And I reach for black coffee and a pile of pills
And wash off yesterday's mistakes

But now I leap around my house
Wishing I had a ballerina's grace
And collapsing to the floor in tears

But now I wear a dress
To cover the scars
My bathing suit reveals

They say growing up is …

24 hours

Here is another piece I wrote, explaining what my days were like 3 years ago

11pm and I put on pajamas, praying that I won't wake up in the morning
12am and my thoughts are haunting me, I take some gravol hoping to fall asleep
1am and I'm really tired and I just want to sleep for a thousand years
2am and my dreams are torturing me with ideas of failure
3am and I'm awake and panicked telling myself that my dreams were just dreams
4am and I still can't fall back asleep so I go to the kitchen and make a feast
5am and my head's in the toilet regretting what I did just an hour ago
6am and I'm asleep again, this time with dreams of family abandonment
7am and my alarm clock starts beeping and I roll over upset that I'm still alive
8am and I washed down my nine morning pills with a cup of black coffee
9am and I'm trying to focus on the code that I'm writing
10am and I get some fruit because I'm allowed to have fruit
11am and my stomach is rumbling, I ju…

A day in the life - a poem

I wrote this poem three years ago now. It reflects what my life was like at the time. It can be sad reading my old work and realizing how sick I really was. On the other hand, it's nice to know I've improved, and that although I still have my lows, I'm nowhere near how bad I was three years ago.

I wake up in a haze
Partly because my crazy dreams make me lose my sense of reality
Partly because I spent the night with my head in the toilet.
My joints pop and crack as I roll out of bed
Into the bathroom
And undress.
Standing in front of the mirror
I swear I can see the fat that came
From the extra crackers I ate yesterday
Or the binge I didn't completely purge.
Scrutinizing every inch
Of every body part
I close my eyes
Sigh and get on the scale
The number may have gone down,
It may have gone up
It doesn't matter anymore
I still think it's too much.
I put on my robe
And make some coffee
1 cup to wake up,
The other to help me swallow
The 7 pills I take every morning.

Stay - a poem

I need you to know that every time you plan to drink
I fall asleep scared that you'll cut too deep
And every morning when I wake up the first
Thing I do is check to see if you're okay
I need you to know that I would miss you and I
Would forever wonder if I could have stopped you
And I know that you think that I'll get over it because
I think the same way when I want to swallow my bottle of pills
I know you think that if you leave,
The sun will still rise and the stars will still shine because I
Think the same way when I'm staring down from a bridge but
I need you to know that things would be different and
I know I'm being selfish right now but I need you to stay
Because I don't know what I would do without you and
No it's not your responsibility to take care of me but please
I'm begging you, stay. Please, just stay
I know it's not fair that my depression makes me sleep for
Countless hours every day, while you lie awake tormented with
Your thoughts a…

Teeth - a poem

I used to have really nice teeth
I brushed them every day
They were straight
Never needed braces

I went to the dentist the other day
And I have 4 cavities

You see, you aren't supposed to brush your teeth
After throwing up,
The acid rubs unto your teeth
Eating away at the enamel

So, when I started throwing up
I had to stop brushing my teeth

Now this may sound disgusting but
There are way grosser parts to
Bulimia than the lack of tooth brushing

Like the time I had a garbage bag
Full of puke in my closet
For a week waiting
For garbage day

Like the time I woke up in
My own vomit because
I passed out while
Throwing up

But I digress

I had to be perfect,
Be in control
On top of the world,
Not dependent on any need

I followed the rules in the eating
Disorder handbook
Like drinking coffee when you're hungry
Letting the acidity
Erode my enamel turning
My bright white teeth yellow

I cared more about the space between my
Then the wholes in my

I wish I could say something nice

Relationships and borderline

I tweeted about my relationship the other day, and how it IS possible to be in a healthy, caring long term relationship while suffering from borderline personality disorder. It takes someone who not only loves you, but someone special, and someone who understands.My partner has struggled with depressive and anxiety symptoms for a long time. He struggled with thoughts of self harm and suicide throughout high school and into his first couple years of university. So he understands. He knows what it can be like. He knows that sometimes you have no control over your thoughts.However, my partner does not have BPD. I had to spend some time teaching him about my brain. Teaching him about what dissociation was like, and how I lose control while dissociating. How I may say hurtful things while dissociating but in no way do I mean it.My partner also overcame the majority of his depressive symptoms and no long fights with thoughts of self harm or suicide. This I believe is very important in our r…

Thinspo - a poem

A clever way of combining the words thin
and inspiration.
Using the underweight as

I've seen pictures of girls analyzing
themselves in the mirror. Girls with their
feet together and thighs apart
the collar bones are where we start
feel the hips, count the ribs,
that's what makes us skinny, bitch.

Girls with long hair and thin arms
saying that they skipped
to wake up thinner,
because eating, well, isn't
very Chanel.

Girls asking girls with protruding
spines how they got to be so
thin and being told that hunger
but starvation

Look a little more closely.
Look at the scars
on their knuckles from the continuous purging
Look at the scars
on their arms from the inner self hatred
Look at how they
cry every time they undress.

You'll never see good enough in the mirror
Small enough
Pretty enough
Perfect enough.

You aren't strong for starving, you're strong
for eating
You aren't strong for purging, you're strong
for …


I'm thinking more and more of pursuing a fitness career. If I do get into my masters, I'll definitely do one, but after that I might leave mathematics for a while. But maybe part of me wishes I don't get in. I could be a personal trainer. Train my ass off. Join the circus.

I want to have the qualifications to lecture university or college math courses. I love teaching, but I love teaching adults. Adults who want to learn. I don't think I could stand being a high school teacher. The other problem with being a high school teacher is that I'd be stuck in this province, and my partner and I would love to stay here, but also want the opportunity to travel and move.

If I'm going to spend 2 years in school, I'd rather spend them doing a masters in math and learning more interesting mathematics instead of in teacher's college.

In my ideal world, I think I would lecture university or college math classes, as well as train in some sort of gymnastics/dance/circus …


I didn't write a note, just a simple I love you. What else was there to say?
I fell asleep.
I woke up to sirens and paramedics strapping me to a bed me screaming, crying no "I'll be okay".
I fell asleep.
I woke up to the sharp prick of blood being drawn by a nurse who clearly hated her job.
I fell asleep.
I woke up in a cream coloured room in a building with long bright halls and a doctor telling me that I was safe.
The first thing they ask you when you go to the psychiatric emergency room is "do you feel safe?".
I do not feel safe.
In this building with rooms with nothing sharp and no rapists disguised as my football playing ex boyfriend, I know I am safe.
But my hands still search for a blade at midnight
And my heart still starts to race when my nurse touches me on the arm.
I wonder how long it will be until I can be trusted with a pencil sharpener.
I wonder how long it will be until I can be touched without dissociating.
I wonder how long it will be until …

Opinion/rant: gyms and eating disorders

This is a response to the article linked belowOKAY BUT NO. (Also ED tw)1. Gyms are a company, Not a mental health organization.
2. YOU CAN'T TELL IF SOMEONE HAS AN EATING DISORDER BASED ON SIZE. I personally dealt with a bulimic gym member who was not emaciated. Had she not told me that she was struggling I would not have known. Are we only supposed to stop the emaciated people? Are they the only ones who deserve help? Should I not sell a gym membership to a girl with bulimia when she was trying to develop healthier practices, just because she has an eating disorder? Maybe an emaciated person is using the gym under a drs direction, recovering from a non eating disorder related illness, building muscle. Maybe this person feels very self conscious coming to the gym because they're underweight. Should we ask them if they have an eating disorder? No!
3. Gyms promote healthy active living. At no gym that I've been too have I seen signs encouraging over exercising or under eati…

After the purge

It takes all the energy I have to get myself off the cold tiled ground and face the bathroom mirror.
I stare at my red eyes and puffy face, sighing as I grab an antacid from the drawer.
I chew it slowly, making sure to get it all over my teeth while splashing my face with shockingly cold water before rinsing out my mouth.
I brush my teeth. I wipe off my makeup. I walk into the living room with shame.
He knows what I just did. He must know, he's lived with me long enough.
He gets up from his chair and greets me with a silent hug.
He whispers your wonderful while stroking my hair.
Thank you I say on the verge of tears.
He loves me despite this disgusting habit of mine.
He loves me not because I stay small, But despite my obsession to stay small.
I must remember that.
When he says I'm wonderful, it's a reminder that I don't have to do this.
When he says I'm wonderful, he's not thanking me for doing what I must to stay small.
I sit down and he brings me an ice col…

Self care

Self care is important. Sometimes, self care involves forcing yourself out of bed for that cup of coffee and medication so you can at least get through the day if not function. I’ve been functional lately but this past week my self care has been the necessities. Brushing my teeth has been a big one. I don’t know what it is, but I just find it takes so much energy to do. My teeth are so sensitive from the lack of enamel that it hurts as well. Showering also took a lot of effort this week, as did getting changed. The other hard one was convincing myself that I deserved to take my modafinil.
It’s reading week now though and I was able to take a break. I didn’t study Saturday or Sunday and it was fabulous. I went hiking, slept in, worked out and went shopping and picked up some more luxurious self care products.
I got a soap, bubble bar, skin conditioner and face bar from lush which I’m hoping will encourage me to take a few longer showers.  I really feel good after I shower but I just fi…


I had a vivid thought/dissociative episode/dream where a bulimic friend of mine died from a stomach burst while bingeing last week.

Today I had it again and I managed to convince myself that it was real and throw myself into crisis. I missed a lot of class over the past week and told myself it was because this friend of mine died. I even told my professor that my friend died. The thing is, I don't think a friend of mine died. Now, I now that an internet friend of a friend died, so maybe that's what triggered it? But I'm genuinely concerned and going through my twitter friends, making sure that everyone has been tweeting and hence still alive. I'm terrified that I'm forgetting someone and that someone has passed away unnoticed.

I've been having these episodes. They're semi-dissociative episodes where I'm convinced this happened. I can't seem to come out of them long enough to know that it didn't. I think DBT skills are useless. But even if they h…

My 5 cents (ha!) on Bell Lets Talk

There have been many criticisms regarding #BellLetsTalk and I just wanted to throw in my 5 cents.I have no problem with corporations donating to mental health initiatives for corporate/capitalistic reasons. That's how society works right now. What I do have a problem with is seeing all these people who dont understand saying that they're always there to talk. First of all, no one can always be there to talk to everyone, that's not realistic or fair to yourself. Being there for people is great but don't make grand promises you can't keep.
Please use opportunities like this to educate yourself. Listen to what people with mental illness are saying. Don't use the hashtag to make you feel good about yourself when you're part of the problem. A lot of mental health initiatives tend to be focused on depression and anxiety. Let's talk about more than that. Let's talk about all mental illness. Let's talk abput psychosis and personality disorders and bulim…

Letter to Katelyn Ohashi

Gymnast Katelyn Ohashi now has a blog and I just got around to reading some more of her posts. She's a huge inspiration to me. Here's what I sent her:

Hi Katelyn, I just wanted to send you a message saying how much you inspire me to keep on growing every day. To keep fighting. You're poetry is beautiful, and one of my biggest coping skills. I'm glad you've found poetry in your life as well. Your blog has really helped me and watching you compete for UCLA reminds me of why I started this sport, and my reasons for continuing to train and perform. I've struggled with bulimia since the age if 13. The trigger was deeper than gymnastics but gymnastics has played such a large part in both my recovery and relapses. It's easier to fly when you're smaller right? Gymnasts don't get their periods right? These questions haunted me. However, watching collegiate gymnastics and seeing healthy gymnasts perform and have FUN has really reminded me that I need to be s…

January 26

January 25th 2017 was Bell Let's Talk day. So I waited until January 26th 2017. Only my dark twisted mind would think it was funny to kill myself on a mental health awareness day.

January 25th 2017 was a long day. I spent it alternating between calling crisis lines wondering if they'd make me change my mind, watching friends, and double checking that my pills were still there, in the drawer, lying beside my blades and the bottle of vodka.

The crisis lines did not make me change my mind. I called 3 different anonymous crisis lines. One of them even told me that there was nothing they could do because it seemed like I had made up my mind. I didn't call the one crisis line that wasn't anonymous. They would have sent the cops if they realized how serious I was. Part of me wanted someone to say something magical that would make me stop myself. But a bigger part of me was set on doing this, and I wasn't going to allow the police to break into my house in a frantic effort…

Larry Nassar

I might get into more detail about my thoughts and feelings about the recent USA gymnastics scandal, but it will take some more time for me to process what happened. Although it did not affect me, and I've never been abused in gymnastics, it hit close to home as I've been a gymnast since I was three. For now, I'm just going to share the post I did on Facebook.

This is amazing, I've always loved Miss Val and the attitude the UCLA team seems to have. Although it's hard to know what's going on behind the scenes, This statement and recent vlogs from PengPeng Lee and Stella Savvidou have given some insight on how great this community is. I used to go to their competitions when I lived in LA and the athletes seemed to radiate joy and were always happy to talk to their fans, even after a loss. I remember being sad when Mattie Larson left elite gymnastics, and again when she left the UCLA team. I'm glad she made those decisions and I'm glad she's okay. It u…

Psychiatrist: after


He asked me if I acted like a bitch when I mentioned my rocky relationships and how I tend to push people away.

When I told him my mom had cyclothymia he responded with "Oh is that what they call unpredictivness now?"

He told me my boyfriend must be a saint to put up with me.

I'm so so so so upset. He upped my Lamictol for no reason, but I'm not opposed to upping it since increasing the dose has helped in the past. But his reasoning was well increasing helped so lets increase it more to see if it helps more. Which is logical except for that fact that I'm relatively stable now, and my previous health care team did not think it was necessary to up it.

I'm also going to run into the problem that my new province doesn't allow doctors to dispense abilify unless certain requirements are met. He said he'd make the call and do what needs to be done, but I'm scared the paperwork won't be ready on time …

Psychiatrist: before

There will be two posts today - a before my psychiatry appointment, and an after my psychiatry appointment.


I AM FREAKING OUT. I didn't want a new psychiatrist in the first place, but my new doctor said she wasn't comfortable refilling my prescription unless I'm being followed by a psychiatrist. Fine. I've exhausted most treatment options, and the options I haven't tried aren't good fits for me. I'm stable, I'm in school, I'm working, I'm okay. I'm okay. And I plan on staying okay. And to do that I need my meds!!! I really hope this appointment isn't too long and he doesn't ask for my whole history. I've done full intake appointments over 5 times now and I don't want to do it again. It's not just that it's annoying. It's difficult. Talking about your trauma, your history of suicide attempts and psychosis is emotionally draining. Thinking back to things you try to forget is difficult. I've become better …


Hello bitches.

Guess who's back!

I'm on the West coast now living in a cute one bedroom apartment with my boyfriend. So far things are going very well, and I finally feel settled. Now that I am settled I'm back to blogging!

Classes are going well, but I'm worried about not being perfect in math class. I fucked up my first assignment. I just want to make a good impression on everyone. I have a fresh slate. An opportunity to start anew. My profs don't need to know about my hospitalizations, my tears, my impulsivity, my uncontrollable anxiety.

I got a job doing sales at a gym, which, although I've only had one shift, seems like it's going to be a great fit (ha, see what I did there?) for me. It's right down the street from my house and it's an all women's gym so I won't have to deal with potential sexual harassment that seems to follow me around in the workplace. On that note, with the women's walk and the USAG ordeal, a lot of trauma has p…