As I was watching X-Factor this evening and totally becoming more obsessed with Demi Lovato, I couldn't help but envy those who can sing. I don't envy them because they have the ability to open there mouth and produce beauty but because they are going after their dreams with ambition and it is noticeable and a tangible dream. You watch the TV and hear their stories with dramatic music playing in the background with an off centered shot of their face with tears streaming down and I can't help but want that. I already have the tears but I want to get to a point where I can say, "I did it. I am here because I fought hard to be here and I'm going after my dreams and everyone here today can see that." I catch myself day dreaming about what type of background music would go with my story, my tears and my heart felt emotions and love for my dreams. Just as my fantasy feels even more real it is interrupted with the voice of Addiction, Failure and Self Doubt. Soon my moment is just a shattered dream with little hope for it becoming a reality. My tears then fall silently, while the sound of Pandora drowns out in the background.
I had a post written a few days ago, Sunday to be exact. It was a "women power hear me roar" kinda post. I never actually published it to my blog because it wasn't going to mean anything until my conversation with my parents happened and was as successful as I had hoped. You can probably guess what happened since the post never appeared and I am in the process of creating a new blog. The support that I was so desperately wanting and needing was shot down. Deep down I think I knew that this was going to be their response and yet it burned just as badly as every other time I have come to them for support. We view treatment differently. We view recovery different and because of this we will never see eye to eye on certain things. My parents say they know what is best for me, rather me knowing what is best for me. They call the shots, which is fair I guess, considering it's their insurance and money. But when your support says no to something you feel you need the knife digs in deep in your heart.
My drafted post was a positive one, one saying how I was ready to recover and take that next step. My next step was squashed, leaving me even more alone then before. I will no longer try to seek out my parents help when considering treatment options because it only proves the eating disorder voice is right and my rational voice is wrong. So the new next step is for me to move out. I have looked at an apartment complex and will continue searching with the goal of moving out early November. My heart is heavy tonight because my dreams have turned into a jumble of a mess and I can't picture my background song and story being shared with an off centered camera shot. I can't picture anything outside of my own little prison I have created for myself.
So until next time. I will keep moving forward, me myself and I. I will smile at work, during the day, to strangers and make it through the day, no matter the weight on my shoulders. And I will continue to seek out my dreams, my God and my want for recovery.
