Once I wanted to be the greatest
No wind or waterfall could stall me
And then came the rush of the flood
Stars at night turned deep to dust
Melt me down
Into big black armour
Leave no trace of grace
Just in your honor
Lower me down
To culprit south
Make ’em wash a space in town
For the lead
And the dregs of my bed
I’ve been sleeping
Lower me down
Pin me in
Secure the ground
For the later parade
Once I wanted to be the greatest
Two fists of solid rock
With brains that could explain
Any feeling
Lower me down
Pin me in
Secure the grounds
For the lead
And the dregs of my bed
I’ve been sleeping
For the later parade
Once I wanted to be the greatest
No wind or waterfall could stall me
And then came the rush of the flood
The stars at night turned deep to dust
This is such a beautiful song, it is speaking to me so eloquently. I was meant to have a charmed life. I’m smart, I’m imaginative, I’m good at manipulating people into liking me. But I had a lot of adversity. So much childhood trauma – sexual abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse. I never felt safe, and I don’t remember ever feeling happy. I was using food, bingeing and sometimes purging, from 6. I had BDD since primary school, til I was 17. 12 I was cutting myself. 14 the food stuff was a fullblown eating disorder. 16 was my first EDU admission, 9 months, came out almost as sick as I went in in terms of behaviours – but I was happier. Then when I was 18 a few traumatic things happened I blamed myself for, utterly (people had hurt themselves with things I’d not hidden when I knew they were vulnerable). Alcohol and bulimia took over. Then the self-harm kicked in to terrifying levels. Then acute psych admission after I’d lost so much blood. Ended up spending 6 months in hell, another patient, abused me, terrified me, so charming to everybody else. Repeated violent rape and sexual assault. I was scared of him. He plied me with alcohol, which I drank because I knew what I’d have to do anyway, and it created a disconnect, a slight dissociation. It gave me a third-person perspective. He made me drive his truck when I was hammered, and he was plastered.
I wish I’d just killed myself then. I didn’t. I got away, he stalked me. I was terrified of him, living in fear. Pushed it away and refused to let it come out its box. But I got away. And I quit food, any food, that I wasn’t going to thoroughly uneat. Drinking half a bottle of bourbon a night, mind. Weekly self-harm requiring upward of 15 stitches as standard. For a year and a half. The month after I’d got away, my ‘big sister’ committed suicide and the bottom dropped out my world. I dropped to 5st 4 at 5’5, and stayed there. Was at this point in private psychotherapy I was paying for out my savings. Would up in hospital for 16 months, after medical admissions had sorted my bloods out so I wasn’t on the verge of cardiac arrest. Got out of hospitat, to uni, to do Pharmacy – I’d fought so hard, unbelievably hard, to even get in, before my admission. And when I started, PTSD took off insanely. GI issues and re-emerging anorexia too meant I had to suspend. Then my lil’ sis’ died. See ”Little Girl” in Poems. Bipolar diagnosis. A few months after, I lost 2 close friends within 10 days. Lost a few friends too as I coped badly – no shit, Sherlock. Then Jan 18th 2014 I lost my best buddy, Amy. The whole situation was so difficult, so traumatic. My life utterly fell apart. And a few months later, another friend died. I was so, so ill.
But I worked my ass off. I did the hardest thing I could have done, and I got myself in a better place. No-one could stop me, stop me from getting the life I was meant to have. I got myself well enough to return. I weight-restored, I got on top of the self-harm, I got to grips with alcohol. I literally did every last thing I had the power to do. Doing Pharmacy, I had decided in early 2010. Got myself through my Access course, got 4 offers, got into my choice. Had to defer because of hospital. Managed a term before suspending, then had to suspend again. And yet I still got back. I want it so badly, and I’ve worked so hard, and I’m good enough. But it’s my body. I hate my fucking body, with a burning ice-cold intensity. If I killed the body, I’d be free. Maybe there’ll be better things waiting. Maybe not. I don’t know that I care anymore. My body, it’s not strong enough, well enough, and I don’t think I’m strong enough to cope with that. The stars at night turned deep into dust.
Grace's Musings 