Just joining the broken hearts' parade

Hi there,

I feel a bit odd starting a blog, but I have also feeling a bit strange lately because I've been reading a lot of other people's blogs without ever commenting or following. I feel like I get to know you, but you don't know me, and I found this a bit unfair. I think that the whole point of a blog is not just to have anonymous readers, but also to have some kind of exchange between people who think and feel the same way. And, in reading your blogs, I have found some relief in knowing that there are people out there who are going through the exact same things as me. My head is a bit of a mess, but it's nice to realize that other people's heads are a bit messy too (no offense intended, obviously, haha). Frankly, it's a bit relieving. Because I have found that my friends don't understand (or I'm too ashamed to tell them what's going on), I can't really speak to my family about these sorts of things, and my shrinks have all been kind of useless (just admitting, to no one in particular since no one is reading this, that I have and have had shrinks gives me such a rush of anxiety, you have no idea). I spend most of my time pretending to have all my stuff together, but, meanwhile, my head is slowly imploding. I've always loved to write (though I usually prefer to do so in French), so I figured that this might be a good way to get my thoughts out of my skull for at least a bit.

So, now that I have managed to bore you all (haha, all 0 of you) to death, here's a bit about me (though I'd like to remain as anonymous as possible, for reasons which will become obvious shortly). I'm a 20 year old first-year medical student. In the spring of this year, I was "diagnosed" (dunno if it's because I'm in med, but I really don't give psychology much credit...) with major depressive disorder and generalized anxiety disorder for which I have recently been prescribed a fourth kind of medication. I have chronic insomnia (meaning that, if left to my own devices, I sleep, on average, 4 hours per night, though the range is like between 1 and 6), for which the docs have been trying to give me antidepressants that make me drowsy so that my typical night's sleep has now increased from 4 hours to about 6. I have a lot of guilt issues, mild OCD, dermatillomania, cutting... I am currently discussing with the psychiatrist that I am seeing the possibility of me having borderline personality disorder (very likely) and bulimia (meh... that's another story). I have recently started also counting calories obsessively and making lists of things that I eat or will eat. I keep track of that online with a calorie counter, as well as obsessively mapping my runs (I run about 4 times a week, though now that the weather has gotten so awful I will have to find someplace to run indoors). On top of med school, I have recently started working 2 jobs (which is where I am now, very bored, which lead me to start writing), am currently moving out of my parents' home (and what has been my house for 16 years) to share an apartment with a close friend, and recently started "officially" dating someone (meaning that he is my very first boyfriend because, along with all my other problems, I have serious commitment issues).

Anyways, I hope that this hasn't been too boring. I've never really writing this sort of thing. We'll see how it goes, I think that I might like to keep it up.

Oh and my initials are actually E.D. (funny coincidence, I know), but you can call me E. I guess. I would like to remain anonymous because the medical field is a very small and tightly knit one, and I would like to not jeopardize my future career with what I write here. 

If you have read all this, thank you very much for your time and sorry for the long post.

With all my love,

E.

P.S. Oh and about the title of my blog. I have absolutely no illusions: I am far from perfect. But I feel that, if I try hard enough, perfection is not unattainable. I am tired of shrinks telling me that I am setting myself up to fail; what if I am setting myself up to constantly be better? And I have just recently decided that I want this to not only pass through my academic successes, but also through a certain perfecting of my body. I know that it might sound stupid, but I want to be thin. I want that gap between my thighs, I want that perfect collarbone, ribs and ilium. I have always been athletic and I am kind of large-boned, but I don't care; I want them to stick out. I want to be the girl that people look at and think "Wow, look at her." And I want it to be because they think I'm thin, too thin maybe, and a bit tragic. I want the bobble head and the bags under my eyes. Maybe I won't get there, just like I may never achieve perfection, but I sure can try. So that's what my "ideal me" is: Tragic Perfection. Welcome to my head, it's a scary place to be.