Judy2

if i get up and try, i'll stumble, i'll be clumsy, i'll fall

i want to be good, and beautiful, and happy i am small i feel tiny

what if i'm bad at trying, what if i do things wrong, what if i mess things up then it's all MY fault

which is what i've been doing all along just sometimes with a tad too much stubbornness a tad too much stubbornness, and perfectionism. wanting to get it all right 100% of the time, because if i don't, i'd be exposed, i'd realise what i just realised, that i can't know and don't know, and that i'm clueless, and that all i can do is try. try my best, based on a hunch. every second of every day. with no clue where any of it is leading. hell, that's scary. but i guess it's more true than pretending i could know, or "figure things out", "decipher where things are supposed to lead". i can't, i don't. all i can do is try, and then live with the consequences. ouch.

i'm here and i don't have a clue what i'm doing or where any of this is leading...and that's okay. guess this is the point where i should still, heavy-heartedly, try and promise to myself to take good care of myself and to *try*, again and again, to act in my own best interest like long-term and stuff ...oh

those past few years, i have created so much anxiety for myself because of this expectation that I. NEED. TO KNOW.. WHAT'S RIGHT. i can't know i don't know there's no way to know there's no way to understand or predict or plan or philosophise, predestine, foresee, forecast all the things that are going to happen and what they mean and what they'll say about me and who i am and who i was and who i'll become and if i'm good, if i was ever destined to be good or appropriate or acceptable all those worries are so pointless, they don't lead anywhere, i'm done Life is chaos Anarchy i accept that. i accept that i am ignorant and alone and helpless, clueless in my decisions, in my actions, in my attempts to "make things right" i'm blind and clueless and small, anything but omniscient, i can't know everything, i don't have the vision or power to control everything can't even control or construct myself or who i'll be, i'm powerless...or at least not all-powerful which is fine

...i wrote the above post almost like i'm grounded and well-reflected, but the truth is i've had one of the messiest days again. pretty stressful especially around noon and in the afternoon... oh well. and apparently i'm expected to make decisions now and what not. i could freak out, but the truth is i don't even care anymore. it's not like any of it makes a difference anyway. i'll come out alive and well, somehow, eventually. things have gotten so chaotic and i have no clue what i'm doing anymore, or what i'm gonna do... so much so that at this point i'm just rolling with it, no longer see the point in expending energy to worry. it's pointless anyway, i never have any clue what i'm doing (or what i should do or where any of this is leading/ is "supposed" or "destined" to lead), so i might as well stop pretending i do, or will, and just decide things on a hunch, there's no planning things anyway, it seems. there's no logicking and rationalising, no knowing....just a bunch of hunches, second after second. it's a lie anyway, a lie they're trying to make me believe, that there could be a point when i would make a true, definitive, official, right decision, and that would be it. it's just a bunch of hunches, second to second, a bunch of instincts, not knowing, a giant mess. i've come to terms with this, i accept this now. there's nothing guiding me anyway, nothing but my own cluelessness. that's okay. there's no knowing what comes next. i'm free, i'm relieved from the stress of trying so hard to know, needing to know, needing to understand or predict, when it's all futile. i accept that it's futile, accept that i can't know, that i'm clueless and ignorant in all those decisions i make, and that's okay. i can't always know what's right or good, i'm giving up on that expectation, i am released.

first of all, i apologise for all the excess. had a bit too much caffeine before all those entries yesterday, in case anyone was wondering. there's another point, another perspective i've been wanting to add to the table because i feel like it nicely rounds off this discussion. in recent weeks i've come to observe that when i witness "problem behaviour" in others nowadays, it no longer spikes my jealousy or makes me triggered in any way. instead, it makes it easier to see the absurdity of all those behaviours (specifically thinking of self-harm and cutting here, and also restrictive eating/being underweight). when i know someone engaged in self-harm, i just want to say i'm sorry you had to do that to yourself. yes, i understand that you were under so much pressure, but girl, it's sad you had to do that to yourself. and when i see someone who's underweight (either in real life or in a photo), my reaction can either be that i see their lack of health (like everybody else) and even think they'd look better being healthy...or sometimes i do see that beauty that i would also find appealing about being underweight myself. what i don't necessarily see is "oh they're so innocent"...it's not the first thing that would occur to me. but yeah, in some cases, from some angles, my brain still thinks looking skinny and sick is beautiful. it's an instantaneous recognition...and i wonder if healthy people would see this too, if you showed them the right picture from the right angle. perhaps yes. anyway, what's progress, too, is that these days i can also look at people who have healthy bmis and envy the stability, the groundedness that comes with being in the "normal" bmi range. might have mentioned this before? 16 year old me would have never thought in those lines....18 year old me would have just envied them for all the food they could eat, but not necessarily for their health and well-being.

i know these thoughts probably don't make sense to anyone, but they're so utterly, utterly real and true to me me, me, me the me reflected in the mirror who is writing these lines, about her conflict, while looking a certain way, which is part of the conflict....and on and on. Life is so so much, so strangeloopy, and so messy. sorry if this is too chaotic, sorry if this is too much, sorry if i'm too much here.

i want to participate in Life be immersed in it and live and love and connect and show up somehow i always think i'm prettiest when i'm just sat on the sidelines, watching and starving myself if i'm here, if i'm contributing, if i'm eating enough to be healthy...maybe i'll look uglier, and maybe i'm not good enough, maybe what i have to offer is not enough, not enough, never enough.... i want my Beauty to be seen. can it be seen? if i'm alive enough to make it seen, maybe it's already a lesser beauty a nourished beauty lacking that starvation aesthetic?

life is so weird

a few days ago, i sat there during a meditation and thought "i already love myself". and i do. i'm constantly fighting, constantly trying so, so hard to make things right and good for myself. i'd even take a knife from time to time, to cut my own skin, if that's what it takes to keep safe. that's how strong my love for myself is. but that's bad news. i already love myself and still, life is so messy and chaotic and difficult. and colourful and beautiful and vast....admittedly. i love Life. i truly, truly LOVE being alive. it's always just a matter of how i live, and i tend to overcomplicate that, i tend to suck at that. i don't know if it's possible for me to live a good life, or if it's always a lost cause, if there's always just the choice between two evils and none of it will truly lead anywere good. like i said, maybe i can only be well if i become ugly. maybe the healthy me is uglier than the sick, broken, miserable me, and then maybe i am obligated to stay sick and miserable and unwell, forever. i can only do it wrong, it seems. there is no way out, no good way to resolve this. i can only be beautiful and unwell, or well and ugly. i think? somehow that's what i believe.

i want to be well, and feel well and know that i am good, and safe, and loved, and beautiful is that always just a temporary emotion, a delusion? can that never be a stable position to reach, can i never be fully safe, do i always have to be scared? as long as i'm alive. as long as i live, i'll always be vulnerable, susceptible to pain and hurt and suffering. always be anxious, i'll always have something to lose. what good is satisfaction in the now, if none of it is permanent? what good is any of it? does it even matter if i suffer now, if i will suffer tomorrow? can i be well today, or suffer today and be well tomorrow? i'm too scared of being well anyway, so it's not like that would happen any time soon. i want to be well, i guess, and safe but i don't know if that is possible i don't know when, or if, or how don't know if that will happen, if i can be happy and safe and stable in life i don't know what will happen or what comes next, or what i'll do with myself....as usual. but i want to be happy and i want things to be okay♡ can i make that happen? can i make myself feel good, is that possible for me? i don't know. maybe not. maybe i can't, maybe i'm too broken and ugly, too devilish and rotten and cursed for that... ....round and around. enough for now. i apologise if this was excessive.

it's a lot, so much, infinite, all-encompassing always all-encompassing, those conflicts existential they fill this entire bubble my thoughts, sensations, my body my physical environment time ... all-encompassing and it's pretty mean when a conflict is this big, this existential, this inescapable and ever-present, and nothing else exists for me.... there's some relief in writing tonight....i wonder if people will judge me for writing so much, but it feels good and helpful to express all this. i am still scared, under pressure. back to the original topic: i'm always so anxious about what i look like, what i looked like, what i will look like IT MATTERS! my appearance matters, my looks are important....i'll always have to be anxious about this. when i look in the mirror and when i step on the scales, when i look at old pictures on my phone and when i'm around people... and it's anxiety-provoking when i feel pretty, and just as anxiety-provoking when i don't. and it matters what i look like. my appearance is who i am, is what people see of me, of my emotions, of my soul... how can it ever stop mattering? how can i ever stop being scared and anxious around this subject?...

i just want everything to be good and right and pretty and i want to be safe feel safe, be well i wonder if that is possible in truth, or only in delusion. people tell me i could just delude myself and stop believing my thoughts, just work on my emotions to make my mean thoughts go away. why the hell should i believe them, why would i have faith in that... thoughts and states and emotions are so messy it's all so messy i want to be well, is all i know all my body knows, all that drives this whole experience i genuinely don't know if well-being is possible. full, total well-being. maybe my soul is cursed and i'm a kind of person who just can't be well maybe something inside me is too twisted and horrific and i'm just not allowed or supposed to be well, maybe i don't deserve it, maybe i'm not made for that, maybe something bad will happen when i am well, and some aspect of my experience will escalate and leave me off much worse, ugly, in literal hell... the horror. and i'll be completely powerless, completely vulnerable to that, when i am well and that's it and there won't be any steps left to take, because "well" isn't something that could evolve or get any better or truer than it is. at least when i am sick, i'm in charge of my own misery. if i am "well" and things are still wrong, ugly, horrific...i'll have to accept that, i'll be naked and vulnerable and powerless to that, and there'll be nothing that can be done about any horrors that come my way...

i just want everything to be Good and Beautiful but things are never quite right and i am scared it's all so much too much, perhaps i love Being and Feeling but it all runs in such messy, chaotic pathways disharmonious, as it seems for now unresolved conflicted, discouraging,

...then again, it still matters and i can't just stop caring about who i am and who i'll be. it'll still have an impact on the kind of experience i'll have. self-image matters even when well-being matters, and sometimes i'm afraid those two are (or appear) antithetical. it seems like an impossible balancing act. i could just try to be emotionally and physically healthy...but will that really work, will that really give me the best experience, if i'll also have to experience hating the self i'll become then? how i look or what character i have. maybe the healthy me is ugly. maybe the healthy me is not good enough. maybe the only way i can like myself (which is one version or aspect necessitated by my desire to "be well") is by compromising on my health, on my well-being....maybe sickness is the only way to sustain an acceptable form or image? maybe i can't have it all, can't be healthy and pretty and comfortable in my own skin. never. never ever. maybe i'll always have to hate a part of myself, or repress a part of myself to be safe....maybe that is the one aspect of well-being i care about, but it can never be reconciled with a complete well-being, so i'll always have to choose and it'll always be partial? maybe that's fact, that's inescapable, and i'll just have to accept that? that i'll never be enough, never feel quite good, never experience harmony, never resolve this, because there is no resolution, resolution is an impossibility...

*wish i could insert Hermann Hesse's whole book "Der Steppenwolf" as an intertext here....it would match the personality theme so well. but again, that aspect is part of the bigger experience to the extent that the connections transcend my ability to explicate them all here. so beyond anything i could say... which is frustrating cause i would want to document it all and explain it all, hold onto it all and lay it out before me....but i am It, it is transcendental, it is before and beyond and after all i could write..., is beyond what could be grasped, or documented, held onto or explained by words...

i suppose as a general insight i should note that my life-long obsession with self-image is somewhat daunting. my image, reflections, concepts of the self will always be but a tiny part within this much greater experience. so perhaps i should just focus on overall well-being, both physical and emotional. simply be, exist, without thinking too much about how i am and who i am, because those thoughts are always just a tiny speck popping up in my existence, will never grasp its entirety, which is so much greater and always prior to self-concepts anyway. plus self-obsession isn't necessarily sympathetic, either. so i could just be, without thinking about what or who i am when i simply am. easier said than done, of course. there's so much fear that i might be wrong or not good enough. how could i ever stop caring about that, or stop spending most of my time and energy on questioning that. ...it seems pretty hopeless. that personality disorder, i do have. apparently. being has always been such a confusing, complicated matter for me. perhaps that's a positive, too. perhaps the suffering this entails has enabled some deep philosophical inquiries into the nature of the self, and the world, and the mind...deeper than what the average person would typically go for. interest inspired by deep existential conflict. perhaps that is the positive here, perhaps that's the higher purpose... or some sort of positive side effect stirring from those deeper questions i've always needed to grapple with. not to glorify this though....existential dilemmas aren't all neat and pretty, are pretty uncomfortable.

...

...thinking of Lana del Ray and this song "It's innocence lost..." and thinking of this most recent quote "Der Weg in die Unschuld, ins Unerschaffene, zu Gott führt nicht zurück, sondern vorwärts, nicht zum Wolf oder Kind, sondern immer weiter in die Schuld, immer tiefer in die Menschwerdung hinein." (the path to innocence, to the Uncreated, to God, doesn't lead backwards, but forward, not to the wolf or the child, but further and further toward guilt, deeper and deeper into the experience of becoming fully human.) ...and i am thinking of Lady Audley, one of the fictional characters i am writing my BA thesis about. maybe i'll explain more about the ways in which i can relate to her in the future.

...don't know if the pictures are still following or not, for the time being. but maybe these thoughts are interesting to read. or maybe not, maybe they're annoying and ugly and cruel. in which case i apologise. and i apologise if any of this seems crazy, or mean, or harmful, or like i've lost my mind.

i'm a mess and i'm no angel i'm but an imposter pretending and worrying for a lifetime how i can make myself look the most innocent don't be fooled, it's all a game, all by design, carefully crafted what an actress i am

maybe it is justified though that i want these pictures to be seen they are my pictures after all they show me at my most vulnerable they show me at my strongest, at the peak success of a lifetime, as screwed-up as that is they're my pictures and i have a right to share them but still it's probably inappropriate and still, it saddens me every time i look at them and know i can't share them all, can't rub them in everybody's faces, from every angle every shot that still couldn't quite capture just how skinny i was imagine skinny, and i was just skinnier than any skinny you would think of i remember what it was like to have that body to meet every sight of my own legs and arms with surprise, at how unreal they were skinnier than any kind of skinny you'd normally imagine if the narcissism comes through now, i apologise like i said, i have no idea if or how harmful this expression is but it's the most honest reflection i can offer of my thoughts regarding this subject matter i think there's this implicit assumption that technically people are only allowed to talk about death (or suicide, for that matter) after it was too late. if they didn't do it, it couldn't have been close enough, they're exaggerating, they're overdoing it. it's been five years, i should suck it up, it couldn't have been that bad if i made it out alive, if i gained back all the weight on my own....yada yada yada. i know these thoughts, and i know they used to be a big trigger point that kept me going, kept me sick for longer, for months and months and years on end, disallowed me to even attempt recovery, disallowed me to dare and let go, to dare and stop hurting myself, to dare and live. these thoughts are a mess, they're not pretty, they're narcissistic. everything's wrong with me. i can only do it wrong, i'm always too much, always exaggerating. i don't care anymore. i'm so sick of holding back, sick of censoring myself. you want honesty? here you go. enjoy the mess, the chaos, enjoy all the selfishness and impurity of my thoughts. it wouldn't do any good pretending like it's not there anyway.

i feel a desire to share some old pictures. i feel this every year during this time, sometimes in the months inbetween as well, and it may not be the wisest thing to do, i don't know if this nostalgia is healthy, i don't know if i have the right to share these pictures, if this is harmful in any way ...but i feel the desire to share, and maybe this is the wrong place...if so, please let me know, and i'll delete, but i don't know where else i could share them. so these pictures are five years old, and i survived, i "got better" soon afterwards, but when i look at these pictures, my brain still goes she was beautiful maybe more beautiful than i'll ever be, moving forward ( - sadness arises.... desperation) i don't think i want to go back, back down there....but yes, i do still feel some nostalgia from time to time, looking at these images. i was sick back then, i was tired, i was dying hurting myself to the degree that i had to dissociate away, had to leave the body be for a second, to "let the body live", while i refused to identify with it any longer it's messy, it's complicated, it was intense existential impersonal but yeah, i feel like words aren't enough and i want to share these pictures with someone. not sure if it's harmful though. it feels heavy having them on my phone and knowing i'm the only one who's ever looked at most of them. i was pretty alone during these hours when i was, as it felt, at my most beautiful - hours which could have been my last. they aren't instagrammable. most of these shots are pretty ostensibly disordered, aren't the product of photo shoots, but disordered rituals and body checking ceremonies.