My mom got furious because I left a mess in the guest room after a double bing/purge session, and she threatened to kick me out knowing that I’m in risk of getting hospitalised for my suicidal impulses and that I’m staying at their house as I’m scared of being by myself due to those impulses. I know I’m selfish but she makes me feel like if I don’t behave right people will hate me and stop caring if I live or die, like I’m such a bad person that if I act out of line she won’t be there for me, like she doesn’t love me and secretly hopes I’m erased from this earth. I know I’m a horrible daughter for twisting things like this.
My home support (C) removed all my pills and my alcohol from my apartment and we agreed to inform my parents about my current situation hoping this could keep me from needing inpatient. Now I’m going to pack a bag in case I get worse and need to text my parents and leave for the psych ward. I don’t know how I feel, it was so hard to give up both pills and alcohol and as it’s hitting me right now I really feel like I’m about to cry. I tried to hide some of my pills and said I didn’t know where they were, he saw through my lies though. They took away my escape-plan and something that made me feel safe, I know it’s for my own good but it doesn’t feel that way. I know they’re taking care of me but I feel betrayed, a part of me wish they’d just let me do whatever I want. But what do I want? I don’t want to die, I don’t want to live, my emotions are utter painful and I’m desperate not to feel this way and also, I’m frightened to my bones of going back to the psychiatric ward.
If you have to choose between me and someone else, pick them. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone who is going to question if they made the right choice.
Unknown (via stevenbong)
school isn’t even about learning anymore, it’s about passing
The only important thing in a book is the meaning that it has for you.
W. Somerset Maugham (via beckisbookshelf)
We hate [our bodies] because we are used to think of it as something to sell, something that has become almost independent of us and that is always on a counter. We hate it because we know that so much depends on it.
sex and work, silvia federeci and laura agustin (via allslost)