Again, I have more catching up to do, but my first order of business is this.
I got these photo albums yesterday at Hallmark that I just couldn't leave the store without.
I saw one first for my dad with Snoopy on it, and he loves Snoopy, so that one was sold.
Then I saw one with Disney Princesses on it, so I really wanted it, not to sound selfish or anything, I just have this thing where if I get my family something, I kind of want something myself to match it.
So I got my mom one with Micky Mouse on it because she likes Disney too.
I found a cute one for my aunt, so I had to get my grandma and grandpa one too, as much as they argued about it, it's kind of like a project for me, so I got them each one with patterns on them too.
They're just little flip book things, but they're adorable and I can see them as being special.
So anyway, I looked at my pictures last night from my camera and found some good ones.
I found some for everyone's album, and I found more today from my grandpa's camera.
Well I asked my mom for some pictures tonight for me to look at, and she gave me some really old ones.
These pictures start right after my parents were married up until right before I was born, well at least the album I was looking at.
I saw all these pictures of my mom and dad, and how they looked so happy, so normal, so content.
I saw my grandma and grandpa,and how young they looked, and my other grandma and grandpa, and how they almost seemed, I can't think of a better word to use except human.
I know my grandpa is still doing well, it's just that my grandma has Parkinson's Disease, so it's kind of sad to watch her deteriorate.
Then of course there were pictures of my aunt who I'm close to, and my great grandparents who were alive at the time, and other relatives, like my aunt and uncle and cousin.
I didn't really get to the album of when I was born yet, because I'm not ready to look at that at this moment in time.
It makes me sad sometimes, like I just want to cry, because I was so innocent, so young and had the world in front of me, and I miss those days.
Then you can see things change, and I know things changed, I guess I should talk about that.
My dad has depression, which in some of the pictures you can see him struggling.
I knew he had depression and anxiety when my parents were first married, but it becomes more apparent as time goes on, simply because I know my dad.
It's really sad to see my grandparents age, because I am super close to my mom's parents, and I still care about and love my dad's parents, don't get my wrong.
I've seen my great grandparents, who have all since died.
I was closer to my great grandmas (my grandmas' moms) who died when I was young, so I don't have many memories with them though.
I remember family reunions and holidays with my grandpa's dad and step-mom and how they both recently died.
Those deaths were kind of hard on me for the sole reason of my grandpa.
These were his parents, obviously, and I was staying with them when they each died.
In fact, I knew about my step great grandmother's death before my grandpa did.
I remember I had to get blood tests done, so when my grandma went back with my I told her and we agreed to let my aunt and uncle tell my grandpa.
We went to the gas station next door to get me some breakfast because I was fasting, and his cell rang and my uncle told him.
It was kind of different when my great grandpa died, because that was his real dad.
Even though I wasn't at the house when they got the phone call, my grandma said it wasn't a good situation, which I can believe.
You have to know more about my great grandparents to understand the whole situation, but I don't think it's appropriate for me to go into details on the Internet or anything.
What the pictures really make me think about more than my family is myself.
We don't have many pictures from when I was struggling with my Anorexia really bad, but I did find one in my grandpa's photos.
I was in treatment and had off on weekends, and we were at a family reunion in like August.
Everyone was gathered around the long table getting their food, and I was sitting by myself, waiting for my family to get their food, eating a packed lunch of peanut butter and jelly, with my light brown curly hair and my skinny arms sticking out.
It was kind of shocking to see, because I had totally blocked that out of my mind.
Yet deep in the back of my mind, sometimes I think that I wish it was back to those days of treatment.
Not that I want to be in treatment again especially, but that I want that comfort back.
Back then, I had the comfort of my mom staying with me and my grandma and grandpa coming when my mom had something to do with her school.
I also had all of the support I could ever want, I had my school friends who were actually worried about me.
They would call me from band camp, or text me during breaks or when I was home.
I also had the other girls there who knew what I was feeling like, and just having them be there in groups with me felt good.
I also lived in the Ronald McDonald house at that point during the week.
Every Sunday night my mom and I would drive up north to where my treatment program was, and every Friday afternoon we would drive home for the weekend.
Something about the house was comforting too.
I guess it was just because there were other people there too who were sick, and it made me feel like I was actually sick, and it was kind of like my safe haven to stay in.
I couldn't really sleep at that point from insomnia, so I would go on a lot of walks with my mom, even though I wasn't allowed to exercise.
We would color and play games, and I would write and listen to music, and we would talk, I would struggle through my meals until it was time for me to go to the program.
I'm not going to say things were perfect, because there were a lot of times where I would have panic attacks, be suicidal, and smother myself under the blankets for hours.
The point I'm trying to make is it was just somewhat easier at that time, somehow.
I just feel like things then would swing back and fourth between better and worse and better and worse.
I got worse with my Anorexia, went into treatment, got better, got worse with my Bulimia, got better, got worse with my acid reflux and stomach problems, had a feeding tube, got better, etc.
There was also a dark time in there where I honestly just wanted to die, so I was sent to Crisis Intervention at the emergency room, and then to my fourth hospital.
At this point, I honestly don't know how I feel.
I feel like things have changed so so so much.
I wonder if all of this wouldn't have happened, if things would still be like they are now?
Would my family be smiling if I didn't have to struggle as I do?
Would things be easier on them if I had lived a better life?
Part of the guilt goes back on me, not for being born because that was my parents choice to have a child, but for some of the decisions I've made, the way I've acted, etc.
I think I'm going to have a totally different outlook on life after this post.
I feel myself slipping back into my depression somewhat, and I think this basically confirms it.
Today when my mom came back from work, I barely had the energy to talk to her, and didn't really want to.
When she asked me what was wrong, I basically yelled at her for not leaving me alone when I didn't feel good.
That brought me to, wait, I actually don't feel good, somethings wrong, and I can't put my finger on it.
I guess the answer to that would be: the weather's changing so I'm freezing cold constantly, I have fevers off and on, my stomach is bloated, I'm uncomfortable, and I'm getting depressed.
Part of me is like missing my safe little world where I was extremely sick, but everything seemed ok, because I just had to focus on recovery, on me, and on getting better.
Now it's all about driving, college, starting my life, and all that good stuff.
The thing is, what if I really don't want to do that?
I've learned at this point not to turn to suicide, because I've had numerous lessons in terms of that, and do not wish to take my own life, ever.
All I want, all I really want is that comfort that I had back then, friends, family, love, support.
I by no means want to backslide in terms of my anorexia and/or bulimia.
I just don't know how to find that balance, that balance between having what I had then, but also having my health.
This is honestly breaking my heart right now.
I don't know what to do, or what the heck I'm going to do about this one.
It's almost Thanksgiving, I'm supposed to be thankful, be grateful, be happy.
But I'm not, I can tell myself that I am, but I'm not.
That brings me back to what do I do? Honestly, what do I do?
Call my psychiatrist and ask for an increase in my depression medication?
Tell my therapist next Wednesday how miserable and torturous this is becoming?
But until then, what do I do?
Because honestly all I want to do is lay in bed, not just because I'm sad, but because I don't have the energy to do much of anything.
Tomorrow I'm going with my grandma and grandpa to drop off these boxes for needy kids at this church that's about a half hour away.
I don't want to go, because I hate being crammed in the back seat with a ton of boxes, where I'm getting dizzy and nauseous because of them like last year, but I know this is somehow important to them, so I'm going anyway.
Well, right now I'm drained, so I'm going to do some more intense thinking and go to bed for the night.
I've been trying to put more of my trust in God, so a little prayer might not be a bad idea either.
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