What this blog was intended for

What would people think of me if I told them that I wanted to be fat? Say, fatter than I already am?

Would they judge me and shake their heads? Why would I want to do something so harmful to my health?

Fat is bad. Fat is lumpy and unbecoming. It must be true, it’s on the television, and the internet.

Fat bashing is part of the menu, right next to the fried onion rings.

I have had this crazy notion in my mind for awhile now, and today I found a website devoted to gaining weight on purpose. I think that I might give it a try.

This isn’t a funny post, my friends. It runs deeper than just wanting to see my belly jiggle.

The truth is, I have been having passive suicidal thoughts. I feel that I am just going through the motions of living. Each day is a painful reminder of the person I once was. I have limited interest or passion in anything. I awake each day to a blank, bleak canvas. My paint supplies have gone dry.

I admitted this to my husband, that maybe if I reached 300 pounds, I wouldn’t live a very long life. Obviously this upset him greatly, but holding onto this poison in my heart has become far too difficult to bear alone.

I write it down for myself, to release my darkest thoughts. This is what this blog was originally made for.

I try so hard to regain my health, both mental and physical. I don’t think that I want to continue to plug away at redemption. I just want to, as I love to say, let it be.

Just screw it and give in to the inevitable.

I am afraid to publish this post. I don’t want to frighten anyone. I just needed to admit to this rancid garbage, my little plan that I have concocted.

Give in to a body that has given up on me.

mental health thursday

merbear74:

I needed to read this post…we are all essential.

Originally posted on Mental in the Midwest:

mental health bannerI’m going to put a Trigger Warning for Suicide on this one kids.

I’m going to talk some about suicide again and I don’t want to catch anyone off guard. Y’all know me by now – no gore or icky details, but I’d like to speak honestly. I’ve written about this before, and I’ll write about it again, and again, and again until no one ever feels compelled to take their own life.

If you’re fortunate enough to have never felt like taking your life was the only way out, count your blessings. No really, we’ll wait.

begging catYou go say a little prayer of thanks to the higher power of your understanding that you’ve never had to experience the kind of soul searing anguish in your heart that make you honestly believe that never ever breathing again was the best way to remedy the situation.

And then you need…

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Pain ninja!

I went to the dentist yesterday because one of my front bottom teeth became infected. I’m used to toothaches due to having genetically bad teeth, but this one has to be the most painful of the bunch.

I had a ping pong ball sized lump deep down in there, and after giving me 10 days worth of antibiotics, the dentist told me to gently press on it.

You know, to drain it. He said it would make it feel better if I could tolerate the pain.

Ha! I’m a fucking pain ninja, dude.

painningas

So, while I waited for the pharmacy to fill my script, I gently put some pressure on it.

Instantly, my mouth filled up with the most disgusting, vile taste ever. I got up out of my chair and went to the restroom to rinse my mouth out. The pressure I inflicted on this bad boy actually broke through my gum line.

Uh, gross.

This morning, the pain is minimal. It actually itches more than anything, which means I have no idea what.

On August 6th, I go back for two extractions.

Proof that toothaches are a wicked bitch.