Today's woot.shirt is disorderedly appropriate:

Back at work & slacking.  Ooops.  Guess I'll stay late tonight, hmm?  I have to be finished with this analysis today no matter what.  I'm just having trouble getting down to business today.  Data analysis can be so fucking repetitive.  BORING.  Plus there's no one else in the office and we're out of coffee.  FAIL.

FH & I went to a friend's house for Christmas Eve dinner and I wore a shirt he likes which is just a bit too tight.  And had a little meltdown before we left.  He said things about me not being fat and blah etc.  And then he said, "Anyway, if you really do want to lose weight, and I'm not saying that you need to so stop thinking that right now, then you could."  And I said, "I know, eat less and exercise more."  And then started crying.  I don't know how to explain to him what a slippery slope that is, and how I know how easily eat less in my head turns into not eating at all, and how there is no in-between for me, there never has been.  And how I hate exercise because it makes me so aware of my body and so self-conscious.  I can't bring myself to run anymore because I feel people watching me wherever I go.  I used to be so athletic.  I used to run a 7.30 mile.  And now I can barely even jog a mile and I jiggle and bounce and EW.  I can't stand myself.  I tried to say this to him.  I don't know how much got through.  He sat me down and said, "Don't stop eating, okay?"  But I couldn't promise that to him.  I had eaten much less for the two days prior and it felt so good not to eat.  And so I couldn't promise not to restrict.  I said something silly and changed the subject and he let himself be distracted.

Of course, since then I've been eating again all the time.  I hate it.  First step: stop binging.  Break that goddamned cycle.  Fuck.

Tomorrow I've got a hair appointment.  To talk about highlights.  Blue.  My hair is dark brown.  I don't know.  I've never done anything to my hair before aside from the occasional haircut or trim.  Blue highlights is kind of a big step.  I'm not fully convinced that I want them yet.  Plus, I worry that they'll be seen as unprofessional, that they would hurt my job chances.  Except that theoretically they would be grown out by the time I start looking for proper jobs, since even if I can finish this degree on time and graduate this spring I've already got a research job lined up for the summer and possibly longer.

It's cliche, new year as new start, but I always do it anyway.  So.  2012.  One week away.  New year, new start.  Maybe this year.  Maybe this year will be the one.

Happy Christmas, lovelies.  <3

I signed up for a yoga class today.  Starts next month.  I haven't done yoga since undergrad.

I've been letting FH in a bit more about the depth of the body issues I have.  I don't think he realized the intensity of my dislike/hatred/disgust of myself before.  He says, "I think yoga is a good idea.  And maybe you should think about going back to therapy?"

I still feel exhausted at just the thought of getting back into therapy.  I don't have the time or energy.  (Lame lame lame excuse.)  So for now, yoga.  And if I can ever get some motivation, running.

I'm really really unhappy with myself and with my body lately.  (I'm also really fat lately.  Scale doesn't lie.)  I don't know where to go from here.

(not binging would be a start...)

Disordered brain keeps telling me that if only I would stop eating that things would get better.  But that's so hard nowadays.  I'm weak.  I'm useless.  (I'm being down & disorderly.)

Meh.  Bedtime.  I slept in this morning but I'm still so tired.

I'm tired.

I'm hibernating away from the cold December weather like the fat, honey-loving bear that I am.  This week I'm puppy-sitting for a friend's adorable dogs.  They jump up and run in circles and throw fits of happiness when I come home from work and they snuggle up to me at night.  I miss snuggling with FH this week and the house creaks and startles me because I am not used to its sounds, but those puppies almost make up for it.

I'm busy putting on a happy face for work and being productive! and awesome! and on top of things!  but really I just want a break so bad.  Even when FH & I went to California on our weekend away, we still studied and worried over finals.  And a weekend isn't enough to do me anymore.  I need at least a week of nothing.  But this is impossible, because even when I'm not doing thesis-work now, I'm still thinking about it.  This degree hangs over me like a cloud.  I'm running out of time.  I'm terrified that I'll present my progress report to my committee next month and they'll laugh.  Stupid little girl, to think that she can get this finished by June.  Silly little girl who doesn't know what she's doing.  I'm behind on my departmental milestones because one committee member hasn't reviewed my latest draft yet.  I should have had that approved last month, I should have pushed them, given a hard deadline.  Too late now.  It will have to go in next quarter.


I've been thinking about D entirely too much for my comfort recently.  Today one of my labmates was prying and so I told him the story of D and the story of FH.  It wasn't very good storytelling; I've managed to forget much of the ending of the D story.  I'm good at blocking painful things out, so good that I can't even remember them later.  And probably not eating over 200 cals/day for a month contributed to the fuzziness of those memories.

I had mentioned something in passing to FH about having to sell some of my video games last year in order to not overdraw my bank account.  He brought it up the other day, asking what video games (he knows I'm only a casual gamer.  Almost all the games in our house are his, though the gaming console is mine).  So I told him about the games and selling the game D had given me and selling all the clothes I could (the second-hand shops are picky around here and I mainly wear jeans and t-shirts anyway, so it wasn't that much) and even the DVD one of my best friends gave me before I had no choice, nothing left to sell but the game D gave me.  And how D was so upset when he found out later and how I don't think he ever really forgave me for that.  And it hurt all over again.  I was driving at the time, so I just watched the road.  I didn't cry.  But FH knew I was upset.  "It's in the past," he said.  I nodded.

Yesterday FH suggested we take a trip to NYC this winter/spring to visit the Museum of Modern Art.  I've never been.  And I thought, "D is there."  And then the same desire I always have after a break-up/rejection followed: I want him to see me with FH.  I want him to see that I am happy without him.  I want him to see that I have moved on.  And I want him to regret losing me.  I wondered almost absently how much weight I could lose before then.  I didn't mention any of this to FH though.  I'm not proud of these vengeful impulses of mine.

This video feels apt.  Gotye: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UVNT4wvIGY

We went to the pet store yesterday, FH and I.  We were getting another bag of food for our kitty/monster hybrid who, even though he is still a kitten, has outstripped in weight the adult cat I had as a child.  He is up to 10 lbs at 7 months.  He's not fat either.  It's like having a small dog in the house.  I worry that he will not be able to get into his kitty house if he gets any bigger.

Anyway, we went to the pet store to get cat food.  Only it was kitty adoption day, so we ended up going and visiting the kittens.  There was a tiny black one with green-yellow eyes that I fell completely in love with.  "FH, I want him for me.  He's so cute!  Look at his tiny paws.  I want him so bad."  FH reminded me that our kitty would probably eat him, after biffing him around the house like one of his ball-toys.  So that was the end of that idea.  (But he really was adorable.)  On the ride home, I said, "FH?  If we stay together for a while, and if we stay in the same place for a while...can we do that foster kitten thing?  You know, where you raise them until they're a certain age and then they get adopted by someone else?"  And he pointed out the problems with that plan: "I'm not opposed, but what about Kitty?  He would hate it.  Plus those kittens sometimes have diseases.  And you would get upset every time you had to give one up."  And I saw the validity of these arguments and agreed.  And then I said, "I guess so...but let's stay together for a while anyway, okay?"  And of course he laughed at me ("[Salix]es, [Salix]es, what am I going to do with all these [Salix]es?"  Don't ask me why he thinks its funny to pluralize my name.  I have no idea at all.)  BUT THEN.  An unexpected statement.  He followed up with, "If things keep going the way they are, then we will be together for a long time".

I MEAN WHOA.  WHAT?

This is the same man who doesn't believe in love except that between a mother & child.  In fact, he never even uses the word love, not the English nor the Spanish equivalent (although I should note that Spanish has amar and querer and as far as I can tell this belief only applies to amar.  The meanings are a bit different between the two).  He thinks marriage is a completely silly construct.  He is okay with the idea of open relationships, of me sleeping with other guys/girls.  He gets upset if he thinks that I doubt that he cares about me, but he never tells me he cares about me.  If I ask, he laughs, and if I push, he says, "Of course I care about you.  Stop being silly."  He isn't good with words and by that I don't mean that he's not fluent in English.  He is.  And he is perfectly good at talking about other subjects.  But mention anything about love or feelings etc. and he changes the subject, laughing at me ("Silly [Salix]") or getting annoyed (he feels sometimes I'm pushing, artificially imposing either/or constraints).

It's not that I'm dissatisfied with any of that, nor am I trying to change him.  (Though it does sometimes make the insecurity attacks worse, and he is completely hopeless at comforting me.  That's unfortunate.)  But this sudden statement took me completely by surprise.  I had to ask him to repeat it because I didn't believe he'd said it.

(Of course, after that I got the usual "stop worrying about the future, live in the present, be happy now" lecture.)

But yeah.  Wow.

One final to go.  Ohhh one final to go.  This time tomorrow (plus three hours) it will all be over and then I can focus on thesis work.  So much more to do to meet my Dec. 30 deadline...

I took a mini-break with FH & we went down the coast for the weekend.  It was mostly lovely.  Though I didn't study at all so I have only begun studying for the final tomorrow today.  This is not enough time.  Oh well.

Actually, I haven't even started studying yet because we slept in and now FH is brushing his hair (which takes forever because he has very long hair) and then we go to pick my car up from the auto-fixey place and THEN off to school.  And then study group (which I am not prepared for oops) and then freaking lab meeting (which will be fun but will also take a lot of time out of my day) and then more more more study + caffeine + study.  WHEEEEE (not).

Apparently FH weighs 20 lbs less than me.  And he's taller.  Dratted skinny boys.  I'm irrationally cranky about this.

Up and down and up and down and up and up and down.  It's exhausting.  My head is spinning.

Some good things and some bad things and some thing things.

Car is still sad and banged-up.  Dude responsible is being annoying.  I just want to get the damn thing fixed and move on with my life.

Something is screwed up with my health insurance and suddenly they say they won't cover my HPV.  WTF??  I got it specifically because the docs at student health told me the student insurance covered it.  I need to call and make a fuss at insurance company.  Grrrrrrr.

Still too much food.  Still too much work.  Still too heavy.

Okay, bad things over!  Now good things:

FH comes home tonight.  And (poor thing) he will be tired and jetlagged because his flight gets in late (factor in time difference and it makes it very late) and because conferences are always exhausting.  But there will be hugs and cuddles at least.

I met with advisor and I am still (he thinks) on track with thesis & timeline, etc.  Which means that I will have a degree in about 6 months.  YIKES.  I freaked out to labmate over this.  "But I haven't learned anything!  I'm stupider than when I started here!  They can't give me a degree!"  He just looked at me.  Then one of our lab workers came to get me to answer a fish dissection question.  So I guess I have learned something after all.  I can poke at the insides of fish.  Useful.

It's kind of like how I don't feel like an adult ever.  I always thought it would feel different to be an adult and I keep thinking that it will feel different to have a graduate degree.  But apparently not.

I sort of got offered a job after I graduate (assuming that I can keep to my timeline).  Advisor also says he'd be happy to have me stick around for a PhD (assuming there's funding).  Things are falling into place.  It's nice to have plans and back-up plans.

I've almost finished all my coursework for this semester.  And I will have no courses next semester.  YES.

Tomorrow I am going to sleep in with FH.  Then office.  So much more work to be done.  So little time.

Oh my fuck I hate this goddamn program.  Seriously.  I just want to go home.

RARGLEBARGLEBARGLE

I'm very tired today and everything is fuzzy.  It feels like a huge effort just to remain upright.  I has a confused.  I have eaten today--I gave a tutorial to this other scientist dude and he bought me lunch (+ dinner, since I had half lunch leftover) and also I found some sour gummy worms in my desk today.  And I didn't sleep as much as I wanted to last night but I did get a good 5-6 hours, so I shouldn't be so very fuzzy.  Blah I don't know.

I got in a car accident last week.  Wasn't my fault and the damage is minimal, I think.  No-one was hurt and the other car was fine but mine has a dent in it.  I am taking it in tomorrow for a cost estimate for dude-man who either needs to cough up the money to fix it or give me his insurance info.  Just another thing.

I'm procrastinating because I'm overwhelmed right now.  This week was going to be saner (so I thought), but all of a sudden I'm meeting with advisor on Thursday and I need more more more analysis to show him and my stupid program keeps crashing my computer and blahhh I don't know how to fix it.  So now there is lots lots lots to do yesterday and I am behind again.

Two of my friends visited for Tgiving break.  They're both engaged.  They spent a lot of time talking about weddings & dresses & weight while I tried to ignore them.  Fun times.

FH is gone this week for a conference.  He's texted me a lot today.  Awww, sweet.  Plus I sort of maybe got offered a job after I graduate, assuming I manage to graduate on time (hahahahahaha).

I forgot my ipod this morning on the walk to work so I made up a song to sing to myself.  The chorus went, "And if you ever worry/ what they see when they see you/ it's time you realized that/ they're all fucked-up too."  This is something I should remember because I don't usually.  (and yes, partially inspired by kazehana's comment that I should stop worrying about other people's judgments of me)

Maybe I should stop procrastinating and run this program one more time so that I can mix lab chemicals and then get to go home and work from there.  Let's do that.

Here.  Has a cute:

The truth is that everything is chaotic.  Life.  Thesis.  Relationships.  Food.  Too much and too little of everything.

And I'm still eating but eating far too much and not normally and not healthily.  I can't stand to look at myself.  I'm avoiding the mirror.  I'm avoiding the scale.  I'm not fully comfortable being naked in front of FH anymore.

FH got upset and I got upset and we fought.  "You're being so negative," he says.  "You think like you're not good enough.  But you ARE good enough.  And I wouldn't be dating you if I didn't want you.  Let me make up my own mind.  Stop telling me what I'm thinking.  Stop telling me what I should do.  Life isn't about shoulds."

And it just feels like everything would be better if only I could just stop eating again.  If I didn't have to handle food anymore.  I told FH that, with the caveat, "Of course I won't.  (I don't have enough control anymore.)" and he didn't like it much.  Says it's not a solution.  No, it's not, of course it's not.  It's a coping mechanism.

I've been feeling like this for a while now and that's one of the reasons I haven't been posting anything.  I feel like I'm letting you down.  I mean, I'm supposed to be recovering.  I'm supposed to want to recover.  And right now I just.  I just don't want to eat.  I want to be empty.  I want to feel pretty.  I want to feel confident again.  My self-esteem goes up when I don't eat.  I like the look of me more.  I like the feel of me.

It's only temporary, but that's all I need right now.  I just need a little time.  Right?

I sat on FH's lap today and told him, "Don't worry.  [Salix] isn't being crazy anymore, remember?  Happy, not crazy."

Now I just need to figure out how to be happy.

(P.S.  Please please guys...I know that not eating is not healthy and not a solution and not a coping mechanism that I should turn to.  I know that.  I already feel guilty for letting everyone (including me & therapist who has moved away and thus wouldn't even know that I am backsliding horribly in terms of emotions and wishing that I would in terms of food.  So don't make it worse, okay?)

Life is bad right now.  I just want to cry and cry and hide in my blankets forever.  But I have to get up at 6am tomorrow, so bed now and crying later.

TGIF.  3 big things over with.  3 to go.  Then Tgiving.  Kind of panicking over that one.

FH & Y are cooking dinner, I'm cuddled in a blanket on the couch, and kitty is biting my toes.  It's cozy in my house tonight.

I'm not doing any work tonight, starting now.  And I'm sleeping in tomorrow morning.

(not my kitty)

Three more days until the weekend.  Three more days.  1. 2. 3.  The same number as the hours of sleep I had last night.  I can make it three more days, right?  Easy-peasy.

Less than 1 month until the end of this semester.  Oh winter break, how I long for you.  So much time to catch up on my thesis work!

I bought some lovely wool a couple days ago.  7 different colors.  Stripey hats for everyone for Christmas!

I yelled at FH yesterday and then cried.  Poor man.  He hugged me and then proceeded to stay up past his bedtime helping me get through the presentation I needed done for this morning's meeting.  Such a lovely lovely man.

I'm very tired today.

Still.  So.  Much.  Fricken'.  Work.

I can't handle it.

Still eating lots.  I made a food plan but haven't stuck to it.  One thing at a time, yeah?  So maybe I'll get through the last few weeks of this godawful semester and then I can focus more on me.

My motivation towards this thesis flags.  My motivation in general flags.  I just want to hide under my covers forever.

Yesterday I spent 6 hours debugging a program.  It works now.

and oh, and oh, and oh the work

and it is november already too quickly

it's cold outside

today i have eaten a lot of chocolate and cried to fh about my crazy brain of late and written more more more essay drafts and done not much else that i needed to do

Recently my words don't flow as easily.  It isn't that things aren't going on.  More things go on than I know what to do with.  I have so much packed into every day that they all are blurring together.  But I haven't been able to write about anything, not here, not in my notebook, nowhere.

Lately (as in yesterday and today), the idea of writing has not been so unbearable.  I have hope.  It sucks not being able to put words to paper.  It's hard to keep my thoughts straight.

I binged tonight.

I've been eating 3 meals a day for two months now and I'm still binging.  I'm almost at my high weight.  I'm at a weight which is objectively unhealthy.  I'm objectively fat.  I'm subjectively grotesque.  My loose loose jeans are tight.

I'm not dealing well.

Everything is very stressful lately.  I have too much work.  Things with FH are complicated (not necessarily bad, just complicated).  I haven't slept properly in weeks.  I feel anxious all the time.  I haven't had a full-on panic attack yet but there have been several instances of almost-panic which luckily I got under control in time.  My chest has been tight.

When I said I needed something to change, I meant it.

fat.  selfish.  buried in work.  i need something to change soon.  please.

still alive.  feel like i haven't slept in a month.  still anxious.  still fat.  still eating.

I'm having medical issues, blah.  On a 3-month course of antibiotics that make my stomach hurt like crazy.

FH bought me a cute shirt.  It made me smile all day.  :)  I tried to find a picture of it online for you guys but I couldn't (the shop's website didn't have it).  It's purple and has a monster.  It's more clingy than what I normally wear.  FH says it looks good on me.  He said, "At the risk of being one of those horrible guys who try to tell their women what to wear...you should wear more clothing like that sometimes.  It looks really good."  He's sweet.

2 weeks of boat starting tomorrow.  Not sure whether I am excited or dreading it.

Food remains blah.  I eat too much.

Miss you guys muchly.

Love,

Salix

I don't have words again lately.  Not that things have been terrible, really.  Just.  I don't know.  My brain doesn't work.

I have a cold.  Or something.  FH is all "RAWR you need to eat!" and I'm all "No!  Just let me drink orange juice and sleep!"  Only then I went to the office anyway because I feel lazy not doing so.  And because I needed to take my bike to the repair shop to get the spokes fixed (the tension's all wonky in the ones on the rear wheel).  Eating seems like a lot of work & effort and I suspect anything heavy would make me nauseated.  Maybe some soup would be okay.  Maybe I'll have some soup later.

The scale says that I have not gained any weight (though I'm very much less-than-happy about the number it's showing) but I feel about 10x larger than normal.  I've been eating lots and lots lately, trying to re-feed, trying to get myself back to some sort of normal cycle instead of the starve-binge-starve one I so frequently fall into.  It's really not fun.

I finally had a full-on talk with FH re: the ed.  I mean, he knew I was disordered before, but I'd never really given him details.  Now I have.  It hasn't seemed to change anything.

It's very grey outside.  I feel down.  Maybe that's just because I'm sick.  Blah.  I don't know.

We got a couch for the apartment.  A love seat, actually, because we didn't have room for a full-size couch.  It's blue and very squishy.  Kitty loves it.

I'm missing pieces today.

I haven't eaten dinner tonight.  I don't want to eat dinner tonight.

Disappeared for a week from oh-so-much work and conference.  Didn't even respond to emails.  Today I still haven't made it in to the office so I will stay late tonight...then try to catch up on blogs...then SLEEP FOREVER.  So exhausted.

Here.  Has a Potter-alopod.

(Squidditch by Meg Lyman)

Things are okay.  Too tired to post more, but...we talked yesterday.  Things are okay.

In possibly related news, fricken' period blah.  Hate it.  :(

*edited to add:  2.5 hours of sleep later, I'm still ashamed of how horribly immature I am.
:(

It's 3:30 am and I cannot sleep.

A backwards story, in that I copy here what I wrote in my journal to FH then give you backstory possibly not in strict time sequence.

Because of course I must ruin everything.  Why can't I just fucking be happy, for once in my goddamn life?

 And you are closed in your room, and I in mine.  I listen to the sound of your horrible music and the occasional coughs and nose-blowing of someone who is allergic to cats and yet encouraged me when I said I wanted one.

And every time the music stops my heart skips a beat.  Because  maybe you will open my door, slide into my bed, hold me and make everything all right again.  But the next song always starts and you do not come to me.

I opened up to you and you rejected me.  FH is angry.  Salix is stupid.  Why must I always, ALWAYS ruin things?

And now the backstory.  In which I am horribly irrational and insecure.  Feel free to judge me; we all know that I am terrible at any sort of relationship stuff anyway.  This is just further example of that.

So FH has an ex-girlfriend who we'll call C.  They dated a year then broke up when he moved here and she went home to South America before moving (apparently today?) to Europe for her grad schooling.  They didn't want to deal with the hassles of long-distance.  But they are still very close.  Pet names and all.

Tonight, emboldened by the 1.5 beers I had at the potluck (Salix is a lightweight and also these beers were higher alcohol content than normal beer), I nerved up and spilled my guts.  While riding a bike.

"FH?  I am a little fuzzy right now and maybe I will not be fuzzy by the time we get home, so while I am still fuzzy and brave I am going to tell you what has been bothering me for a little bit now.  I am feeling...insecure, I guess, over your C.  I feel I am a very poor replacement.  And that if she were here you would want her, choose her...you would be dating her instead of just something-ing me."

And then I pulled my usual trick employed when sudden overwhelming anxiety hits:  I ran.  Or, in this case, pedaled furiously.  My bike is much lighter and faster than his.  He had no chance.  I called over my shoulder the last part of my confession.  "And that feeling upsets me.  And makes me feel bad.  And I don't like it."  And then sped off.

He caught me up at the stoplight at the end of the trail.  Neither of us said anything.  Got home and put the bikes away and he went to his room.  And I finished doing the laundry and went to mine.  Not a word from either of us.

On the one hand: I realize I'm being stupid and probably irrational with these insecure feelings.  On the other hand: I can't help feeling how I feel and at least I managed to communicate that feeling to him (which, let's face it, is a rare occurrence for me).  And it was really bothering me lately.  On the mutant third hand: I think probably some of this is me displacing anxiety over other things.  Such as work.  And food.  Now that I'm eating semi-regularly (re-feeding, ugh, but that's a whole 'nother post) I have more energy to be angsty and emo and anxious about other things besides food.  And so maybe I'm stirring up trouble completely unnecessarily.

And maybe a tiny bit of this is that it's now been three months and I'm STILL freaking the fuck out about being in a "relationship".  And worrying that I've got in too deep and that I'm more serious about him than he is about me and completely panicking over the "caring for him" feelings.

Really, why can't I just be happy?  Where did my non-anxious, go-with-the-flow, zen-ness from June go?  Would like that back, plzkthx.

Options here to explain the not-talking:  1) FH is angry at me.  Unsure why he would be, except perhaps that I am being ridiculous and frustrating.  I thought he seemed a bit angry/irritated, but I am pretty horrible at reading people.  2) I have inadvertently hit closer to the truth of his feelings than I knew and now he is having to consider them and think about what exactly he feels for me.  3) (and rational brain says probably the most likely) he's waiting for me to make the first move.  That's usually FH's modus operandi--he never pushes, never even asks, just waits until I want to talk about something.  This is not altogether helpful, since I have difficulty talking about anything serious without at least a little prodding/encouragement.  I also have a very unfortunate tendency to misinterpret his non-active-encouragement (passive encouragement such as listening he does very well) as non-interest.

Anyway.  Now it's 4 am and I will try for the millionth time to go to sleep.

Go ahead, tell me I am stupid.

This has been a not-so-great birthday.

OOH almost forgot!  We got a kitty!  He is tiny and fluffy and adorable.  Here is a picture:

This is his "stop taking pictures of me!" face.

It's hard to get a good picture because he's super active and won't hold still.  Most of the pictures I have are blurry paws because he keeps trying to bat at the camera.  Silly kitty.  :)

FINALLY got internets in the new apartment!  I don't know how we three managed to survive without it so long, haha.

Today is my birthday.  It's meh.  Birthdays often are, aren't they?  It isn't even an exciting age...23.  Boring.

FH gave me a present...lots of books about fish and fluffy things with little magnetic penguin bookmarks and a squid button for my bag.  It was sweet.  Also apparently there's a card in the mail from my parents.  Also also there have been several "happy birthday!" posts on my fb wall.  Other than that, business as usual.

I'm going to a potluck tonight for a friend's going-away party.  FH & Y said it was up to me, since it's my birthday.  And I said that her going away possibly forever back to her home country and our saying goodbye is probably more important than my birthday and besides, it isn't like we'd made any other special plans or anything.  So we're going.

On the bike ride to school today I was cranky with myself.  You are so selfish, my brain said, why do you think you deserve special attention today?  But then I told myself that I am not selfish to want to be spoiled sometimes and I am not selfish to want to be appreciated and it is okay to feel upset and/or sad.  So I guess at least I learned something in therapy...

Speaking of bike rides...the new apartment is farther away from school than my old one.  So now it is an 8-mile bike ride (4 there, 4 back) every day instead of a 2-mile walk.  That plus whatever else exercise I do, which usually isn't much (except on boat days).  I'm a lazy panda.  So I'm glad of the extra distance because it forces me to bike more.

I've been eating.  I don't like it much.  I guess I'll get into that later maybe.  Right now it's time to bike back to school to meet FH and go to potluck...

Love you guys.

(written yesterday, after I gave up on being productive at all)

Today I lay in the grass and read Appetite by Caroline Knapp.  And then I cried for a little bit.

What is it about wanting things that feels so taboo?  What makes it wrong to want, wrong to need?

(because wanting, needing makes one vulnerable)

Why do I feel I’m not entitled to have what I want, to ask for what I need?

(because I want too much, I need too much)

And furthermore, what exactly do I want?  I feel this great emptiness, loneliness, a void that exists inside me that I fear will never (can never) be satisfied.

(because I want too much, I need too much.  It is a state of uncontrollable excess, of shameful raw desire, a state which leaves me weak and helpless.  And I feel somewhere deep inside me that no matter how much I have it will never be enough)

I want so badly oh so badly to be loved (to be worthy?  To be special?  To be important?  All of those roll into love for me) but at the same time I don’t believe that I am lovable at all.  I don’t believe that I am worthy of love.  I don’t believe that I deserve to be loved. 

I am cynical and think “true love” is mainly a load of crap.  There’s no one-true-soulmate.  There’s no love-at-first-sight (though certainly there is lust.  But how could someone feel anything more than that simply based on a glance?  Looks tell you next-to-nothing about a person beyond how attractive they are to you).  There’s no happily-ever-after, at least not without tons of effort and pain and tears.  There’s no guarantee of forever, not ever.  Feelings are too impermanent and malleable to rely upon.  And yet.  And yet I still want that kind of love you read about in fairy tales and romance novels, the kind that doesn’t exist.

I didn’t feel loved as a child.  I tried and tried to please, mainly adults in my life—teachers, coaches, authority figures—probably seeking parental love that I wasn’t getting at home.  My parents are not bad people.  They are not cruel.  My father is preoccupied with his medical issues.  My mother is preoccupied with my father and resentful of the life she could have had.  Neither of them are demonstrative at all, either verbally or physically.  I didn’t get hugs growing up.  I didn’t get “I love you”s.  I suppose they both do love me, in their own ways.  But I didn’t/don’t feel it.

What I did feel was abandoned.  Overlooked.  Unimportant.  Ignored.

And then I dated E and he cheated on me.  And then I dated M and turned myself into everything he ever even hinted that he wanted me to be.  And got rejected.  And then I dated D and let him in, let him see all of me that I am and was, even the parts that I had never shown anyone and the parts which I still cannot talk much about.  And got rejected.  And each of these boy-men said they loved me and that I was special and then none of them did and I was not.

I learned that I shouldn’t want things because I wouldn’t get them—what’s the point in wanting what you can’t have?  Better to suppress and pretend you didn’t need it anyway.

Now I’m learning to acknowledge my wants again and it’s terrifying because it’s too much too much too much.  And I feel I will never be satisfied.  I will be always alone and wanting.

[A thing that’s odd here and that I haven’t managed to tease out of my brain yet: why is it that I want so badly the romantic love?  I have friend-love.  I know that L will be there for me no matter what.  She loves me.  I know the same to a lesser extent for a couple other friends.  But somehow that’s not enough.  Part of it is probably because I am here and they are all in various other places around the globe.  But that’s definitely not the only thing.  Maybe it’s because I have this tendency to mix physical desire in with emotional desire?  Don’t ask; I don’t understand it well myself.  I just know that it’s very difficult for me to separate out the two.  As Cheap Trick put it, “I want you to want me.  I need you to need me.”  (This is the song that came on my ipod when I left my grassy spot.  Ohhh the lovely little coincidences in life.)  I want so badly to be loved.  I want so desperately to be wanted.]

Mostly moved in to the new apartment.  Still sleeping at the old one, since we've not assembled my new bed yet.  Hopefully that will happen today.

Yesterday was my last session with Therapist.  It was sad.  She said a great many nice things about me and gave me a hug.  I'm bad at good-byes.

I've been cranky lately.  Everything feels blah and awful.  I'm anxious.  Food is bad and work is bad and moving is awful.  The new place is nice; I just really hate the hassle of moving.

We have a lab meeting next week minus all the crew that's out in the field.  I feel like I need to have something concrete to show...after all, I have been working all summer right?  Why don't I feel like I've accomplished anything?

I fail as a grad student.  :/

Maybe tomorrow I'll get some more work done.  Maybe tomorrow I'll have results.

Yay, Salix is back!

Boat = good.  Road trip = eventful.  Car now needs a new bumper and Salix needs monies.  Blurg.  

But I had a long talk with FH and felt a bit better about things.  Friend L reminded me that I freaked out when I started having feelings for D too.  She's right; I'd forgotten.  So at least it's a pattern.  It's not that feelings for FH specifically scare me...it's that feelings in general (particularly ones that make me vulnerable to other people) that freak me the fuck out.

In other news, I'm really fucking fat.  Food craziness needs to STOP.  I have had enough of this.

Therapist in 45 minutes.  This will be the second-to-last session before she leaves.  She's got a new job at a different university in a different state.

I don't think I'm going to continue therapy.  I feel exhausted just thinking about going over everything with a new person.  Instead I'm going to keep working on the stuff I've done with therapist.  And work through this Appetite Awareness Training book she got me.

Recovery efforts are stalled and I know why.  I'm pulling myself in different directions.  I want to recover but I don't want to eat but I know I'm supposed to be following my schedule and food plan but food is so fucking complicated and at the same time I'm not dealing well with life at the moment because I don't know what the fuck I want or need and so I binge to close my feelings down.

I feel like half the time I'm pulling FH closer and the other half I'm pushing him away.  Literally and figuratively both.  I don't think it's anything he's doing.  It's me being confused.  I don't know what I want, I don't know how I feel, I don't know what I can/can't handle.  I'm starting to forget that my intention upon entering this "something" was to put me first always.  To for once just relax and let myself be spoiled.  To not have to care so much.  But now I'm starting to maybe have more serious feelings for him.  This is a fucking problem.  It terrifies me.

I can't even call the damn thing a relationship because it freaks me out.  Even though we are explicitly exclusive and we hang out all the time and from any observer's viewpoint it would look like we are dating seriously.

I'm very fucking frustrated with myself lately.

Boats this week and then road trip to friend's and no FH for a while.  Maybe that'll get my head on a bit straighter.

Sometimes when he hugs me I feel suddenly anxious and claustrophobic and can't handle being touched.  And sometimes I cry still over D.  Saturday morning I woke up in FH's bed and couldn't get back to sleep.  So I finished the rest of my book (Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood) and then felt sad.  And D's voice popped into my head, "[Salix], honey, what's wrong?  I love you, and that means I am here for you."  That first sentence is something D said whenever I felt upset.  The second one is what he said when I told him about ED.  What the fuck.  Not cool.  Not something I need.  Get the fuck out of my head, D.  I went and cried in the shower and when I got out FH had made me coffee and cantaloupe for breakfast.

FH doesn't call me pet names.  (Except sometimes "pretty girl" or "pretty [Salix]", if that counts.)  FH hasn't said he loves me.  (And I don't think he will, because he is cynical like me about love and marriage and such.) FH spoils me rotten and looks and acts like he cares for me.  FH doesn't push me to talk about anything I don't want to.

My head's a mess.  I'm going to therapy now.

I disappeared.  Lo siento.  :(

I'm drowning lately in work and food.  And my laptop crashed so now all I've got is my lab computer.  Must get over paranoia of using Blogger in the lab.  Feels very exposed, but what else can I do?

Someday I'll have less work maybe?  This thesis has taken over everything.  I wake up shower run to lab work work work go home sleep wake up and do it again.  Weekends I spend with FH and we are lazy together.

I am whale-like.  I can feel it, I can see it, and the scale confirms it.  Ugh.

I have 45 minutes of freedom now.  Time to go read blogs.

<3

I am reading:

I avoid looking down at my body, not so much because it's shameful or immodest but because I don't want to see it.  I don't want to look at something that determines me so completely.

--The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

Obviously this quote is not in the context of ED, but I find it hits a chord with me.  I separate my mind and my body but body wins.  I don't want my me-ness to be influenced by my body, but my body houses me and so it always determines.  I define my days by my body.  And in that response, I become less sure of my mind.  It is a vicious circle of insecurity.

The book is about sexism, not ED, but you should read it anyway.

Have returned alive from boat.  Also have horrendous cold.  Yuck.

Here is a pretty picture for you:

Degas

I feel bittersweet and illusory.

The doctor's scale told me Friday that I am fat.  (Somehow that makes it more official than my scale.)

I went to a concert with FH last night and jumped the entire time.  Today my legs are not sore but they are tired.  We went to the library and walked around downtown for a couple hours and then came back to his apartment and watched Princess Mononoke.

It's sad that FH is not really mine, but then again I suppose I am not his either.

All of next week I am on boat, which is exciting since I've never actually over-nighted on a boat before.

I want to write more, I want to let all the words in my head out, but I cannot because FH has just finished making me dinner.  So my brain will remain full.

Sorry I haven't been around much lately...I miss you guys muchly.

Love,

Salix

Life is busy and I am tired.  Data entry and data analysis and organizing next week's boat trips.  And trying to find a place to live in 2 months.

Therapist gave me a book to read called Eating in the Light of the Moon.

I went to the doctor's today to talk about birth control options (in addition to condoms, which I consider a must), now that I am apparently sexually active again.  Thinking about an IUD.  Gyno appointment tomorrow.  Blugggghhhh.

Okay, I'm boring.  I'll stop now.

Sooo I owe you guys an FH story.  From like a month ago.  (Seriously, a month.  He told me he liked me on May 27--which I actually only remember because my friends and I had an inside joke about the number 27 way back in high school and it remains one of my favorite numbers.)

Things about FH: he is from South America (which means that he has both a wonderful accent and a wonderful way of phrasing things).  He is tri-lingual (he got his M.Sc. in Japan).  He loves cute and fuzzy things (we watched My Neighbor Totoro together and I nearly died of CUTE) and also cephalopods.  He likes to cuddle and to spoil me.  He is 5 years older than me (I call him "asalta cunas"--cradle robber).  He loves books as I do; we have been trading our favorites back and forth.  His taste in music is reprehensible.  He makes delicious coffee.  He is very laid-back about things (though admittedly I am not sure how much of that is actually FH's character and how much of that is just due to cultural differences between the U.S. and South America).

And he likes me.  Very much so, according to him.

Watch it!  It's adorable!

Here is a copy/paste of the message I wrote to wonderful friend back when all this happened (because I have been analyzing data all day and I am tired.  Also I'm lazy):

He'd asked me if I wanted to move in with him and Y, since their other housemate is leaving. We were pretty good friends at this point, and he assures me now that he had no other intentions besides friends then (yes, I asked). I was, at the time, going through all the uncertain shit with D. FH knew this; I'd talked about it with him a bit. And so I asked him and Y to give me some time, I'd let them know in June (remember, the original plan was for Dl and I to take a 2 month break and then talk in June to figure out what we wanted. I figured that if D and I were still together that I would live on my own just so that I wouldn't have to commit to a full year's lease here). And they were both fine with that. 

After the official "I am no longer interested in you" from D, I went to FH and Y and told them that I would move in with them.

FH and I had been hanging out before then too, but the frequency escalated--partly because I have been making an effort to socialize more (immediately after the D thing, being on my own was horrible because I could not distract myself from being sad. So I spent a lot of time in the office doing work and in coffee shops with friend H and playing board games with FH & Y & A (Y's girlfriend)).

And last Friday we watched American Astronaut together and sometime during the movie he put his arm around my shoulders. And I told him he was being very confusing and I wanted some clarification. "I like you," he said, "and um yes, so. I like you." (Text doesn't actually get across how this sounded, and I don't actually think I can describe it--it was just very very classic FH. He is awkward just like me sometimes, and a little shy.)


And I said, "Wow. I... You like me?" And he said yes. And I said, "Okay. What are you going to do about that?" And this is when he kissed me.

In retrospect, I sort of walked into that one. It was horribly a stereotypical mushy romance sort of question. But I swear I did not intend it that way! My brain had already skipped to the "Oh that is not possible at all--we work in the same department, we are planning on living together, the D-thing--there is no possibility of a relationship" and so my question was intended more sort of as an "oh dear, well...how are you going to deal with your feelings?" (Gah that still sounds weird. But I think you will understand what I meant.)

Anyway. So then we had a very long talk and I tried to be as transparent as possible about my worries and concerns and everything. And his response is that he is patient. And so for now we are FH and Salix. And that is that.

He gave me a makkuro kurosuke for my office window.

Back at school, back to work.  Lovely lovely weather today, which makes me happy even though I'll be in the lab forever and miss all the sunshine.

Parents' house...ohhh not fun.  Triggers like crazy.  Bingeybingeybingeypants.  I weighed myself when I got home from the airport Sunday night and was very surprised that the number was not 10 lbs higher.

So of course I get back here and proceed to not-eat yesterday (this is not exactly true.  I did have a salad + mandarin orange for lunch with FH and then 5 strawberries + 2 small tastes of raspberry ice cream at his house later.  But not quite a food plan appropriate for recovery).  And now today I am GRAR FOOD because of not-eating and because GRAR PMS.  Ohai there, MonsterSalix.

Whenever I visit my father I get heartsick.  Somehow I always forget what it's like when I am away...and then I am taken aback at how much smaller, how much more fragile he looks when I see him again.  He shakes all the time now.  He cannot speak above a whisper.  Against all odds, he's holding on.  My mother is sarcastic and resentful and not supportive in the slightest and every time she makes one of those comments I just want to yell and scream and throw things.

FH cuddled me without being asked.  (He cuddles a lot.)  I said, "I'm not going back there again.  I'm not."  He didn't say anything, just held me tighter.

I haven't been able to cry over this, even though I feel that it would help.  Instead I wrote some random angst.

I need a million paper cranes, a googolplex of wishes.  I need a magic wand, a potion, an elixir of life and love and happiness festooned with silvery forty-twos.  What is six nines?The lump in my throat does not swallow away and my eyes burn like the desert sands of far-away lands where I have never been.  I will not cry I will not I will not I will not and if I say it enough then it becomes true.
Fragility steals into the unexpected cracks and multiplies itself with the speed of an accident, the sickening moment between the catch of a bike tire on a rock and the crack of a chin on the ground.  The dragging interminable nanosecond when you know all has gone horribly awry and you can do nothing, nothing, to stem the breach of the dam.  The little Dutch boy has not the requisite number of fingers.  Nine, perhaps, instead of ten.  Almost almost but never quite enough.  And mortality becomes a haunting spectre in your mind; Death cheerfully pulls back his hood and lets you stare into the empty eyesockets of the abyss, made all the more desolate because you know it is not for you, no, this is about someone much more important and you can only stand frozen and watch as he slides ever further into that gaze, sliding, slipping, falling, as you beg silently and grasp desperately to pull him back only to find that his limbs become smoke that dissipates at your touch, until blink—and there is nothing left.And you are hurtling out of control, rushing into destruction, driving and imagining here, right here, I could do it, there are trees, just swerve swerve swerve goddammit but your arms don’t obey and the wheel keeps straight and you make it to your destination still rebelliously alive and no one ever knows.  And you are sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor with a reed knife in your hand, the one you diligently keep sharper than a newly opened razor because reeds are delicate business and one stroke of the knife can be the difference between discordance and perfection.  But you are not strong enough to release the tears and so the knife kisses your skin, leaves kitten scratches, but never bites never scars you and so no one ever knows.  And you are spilling the pills out of the bottles you’ve stashed away, calculating the milligrams of oblivion contained therein.  You don’t know whether you’ve enough to remove the uncertainty of death, but it doesn’t matter because your brain and spinal cord are somehow disconnected and the muscles in your hands are flagrantly disrespecting your cognitive authority.  So you arrange your freedom in neat little rows and then put them all back, hide them away, because it helps just to know they are there (just in case, the small voice in the back of your mind whispers, just in case) even though you know with equal clarity that this is a safety net into which you will never fall.  And so no one ever knows.
You hear his voice and it is a whisper and you flicker the lights because with the lights on then surely you will hear clearly.   The shadows stopping your ears, muffling his voice, those will be chased away.  Only now it is bright and yet he still cannot speak and you still cannot hear and everything dims in your mind and you move automatically to adjust the pillows and ask mechanically if it is okay.  “It will have to do,” he says, and you say, “I’ll turn out the lights then?” and he slurs agreement and there is so much unsaid in this exchange and you open your mouth to try to bring meaning but nothing comes out and the shadows won’t allow you to be heard anyway.
He is so small, wrapped in blankets.  He cannot sit up now without assistance.  He is skeletal and balding and his sporadic tremors have become a constant tremble, though not of fear, because he possesses otherworldly strength.  It cannot last forever; Atlas eventually must lose his grip, but let us leave that thought unspoken.

I went out to lunch with a friend (one of D's close friends, actually) yesterday and we ran into D and his mother.  They were seated at the booth behind us in the restaurant, but neither of us realized it until they came over to say hi.

It was awkward.

D's mom asked how I was doing and how long I was in town and gave me a hug.  D stood to the side and didn't bother to say anything.  I swear it was like he didn't even recognize me.

How can someone change their feelings so dramatically?  I don't understand.

The interaction threw me for a bit of a loop.  I spent the rest of the day feeling odd and more nostalgic than ever.

Day before yesterday I randomly hung out with ex-M.  It was in a group of people--I went around to my friend A's birthday get-together and ex-M happened to come by with a friend.  It was surprisingly only a little awkward.  We chatted and caught up with each others' lives.  I am still very very glad we broke up.  But I didn't feel any of the angry or resentful emotions anymore.  I was ambivalent.  I doubt we'll ever really be friends again, simply because we have nothing in common anymore.  But seeing him and talking to him didn't hurt at all.  I felt very mature to realize that I could indeed handle being friends with an ex (something which I have not done before, having had very few exes.  E, M, and D are the only ones and E does not really count as it wasn't really a relationship--I was 14 and he was my next-door neighbor and we kissed a couple times and "dated" as young teens do).  It made me hopeful.  I started feeling that maybe I could even handle being friends with D.  However, after yesterday, it has become clear that I am not ready for that yet.  And even if I were, he obviously has no interest in my friendship.

Oh well.

Going back to parental's house today.  Fun fun fun.  :/

I have gotten a little more sleep now.  I am also in the South again.  Family visit Wednesday; keep your fingers crossed for not-too-disastrous times.  I forgot my phone charger and phone is dead, so there will be no way to call for rescue.  I don't know any of my friends' numbers by heart anymore, the way I used to in the era before cell phones.

I feel so nostalgic this visit.  This is the first time I've returned home (not home as in family, home as in my undergrad city) without firm plans of returning.  I know I'll be back at some point.  But somehow this goodbye feels more final than all the rest.  I have been taking pictures like mad, trying to preserve the shadows of all my favorite places.

I also slept with hot boy M.

I am completely out-of-character.

Digitalis purpura (foxglove)

Oh wow.

I feel that's an appropriate way to start this post because oh wow is how I feel right now.  All floaty 'n' shit.  This is not due to lack of food, because I have been eating like a starving velociraptor in a herd of concussed hadrosaurs.  It might, however, be due to sleep deprivation.

Oh wow.

I just turned in my last final (YES YES YES A MILLION TIMES YES FUCKING FINALLY THE QUARTER IS OVER!!!).  3 essays.  I did not sleep much last night.  They may not be entirely coherent, but they are hilarious as hell.  I hope the prof has fun grading them.  I suppose I should be worried, but come on.  I'm in grad school.  Grades do not matter anymore (because all my future employers will care about is whether I have the degree) except in that I need to maintain a B average.  And I only needed a 66% on this final to have a B in the class.  So yeah.  Also, I'm just so fucking relieved to have everything over.

Oh wow.

I spent the last 3 days in a different state, doing boat training certification.  It was fun.  That's another reason I'm sleep-depped...boat classes all day, finals all night.  (One research essay due Wednesday, 3 general essays due today.)  I'm also slightly sunburnt.

I'm fucking awesome at tying knots, did you know?  And trailering.  I'm a motherfucking badass with a trailer.

The instructor gave us each pieces of rope on which to practice our knots.  I made mine into a bunny rabbit using my mad knot skillz.  I'm pretty sure that I am the reason the old-school guys think work boats are no place for females.  (One fun thing about working with boats is that its a very male-dominated field.  I'm used to being the only or one of few females.)

I'm also now covered in bruises.

Oh wow.

Today is/was supposed to be a boat day, but technical difficulties.  So now I don't know.  Might be tomorrow.  Kinda hope so, because as fun as it is to be sleep-deprived on a boat, it's not very safe.

Oh wow.

I owe you guys an FH story.  I don't really know where to start with that one.

Maybe it will have to wait.  I need to go look up tide charts now.

Someone is puking in the bathroom next to my bedroom.

I have eaten half a packet of Sour Patch Kids and my stomach hates me.  (This is probably also due to yesterday's binge.)

I am gigantic and taking up far too much space.

I have barely even started writing the essays for my finals.

My therapist is leaving in August.

I cannot find my phone.

Apparently, gobies have shitty lives too.

One day later and things are not too much clearer than before.  I am still confused as all hell about how I feel and what I should do and what I want to do.

I'm pushing everything into the background for a few days.  I know that won't fix anything, but I have a big presentation on Tuesday for which I am nowhere near ready...and personal drama is distracting.  School is more important to my future right now.

I can't decide whether this is a healthy coping strategy or not.

But at least I only have to get through 11 more days of this quarter.  Surely it's okay to push my introspection away for a bit to get through finals etc.  Right?  It's not unhealthy to ignore my conflicts now as long as I make sure to think through them later.  Right?

We'll see what Therapist thinks on Wednesday about all this.  I feel as though I haven't much perspective at the moment.

HOLY FUCK, YOU GUYS.

FH wants to date me.

What do I do?

AAAAUUUUGHHHH

This is a bad bad bad idea.  We work in the same department.  We were planning on being housemates next year.  My heart is still raw over D.

He kissed me.

HELP!!!

According to FB today, D and F are in a relationship.  I wish that didn't hurt like it does.  But maybe now I can move on.

I still don't have many words.  What is there to say?

Oh well, back to work.  Too much to do that's due to think about silly things like D.

Survived this week and so even though I still have intense amounts of work to do, stress levels have decreased exponentially.  It helps that the weather has been warm and sunshine-y and that today is Day #4 of no binging.

Right now I am food-stressing because I need to go to the store and get some brown-bag lunch items for boat days this weekend + Monday.  And I am not feeling 100% non-binge-y.  But I have to go, because all I have in the fridge right now is an apple, a bag of baby carrots, and some Powerade Zero.  And all I have in my cupboard is tea and oatmeal and several different varieties of soup, both canned and in packets (and as I have mentioned before, soup + boats = disaster).  So yes.  Must go to store and get normal-people-lunch-foods.  Wrap or sandwich fixin's.  (That's the southern girl in me coming out.  Fixin's, y'all!)

I am gonna take tonight off.  Watch some Hulu.  Write M a long-overdue email.  Maybe start on the book FH lent me.  Go to sleep early.

It's going to be wonderful.  :)

This song makes me cry.  (Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri)

And I wish I were strong like her, strong enough to say no if D wanted me back.  I don't think I am.  So I guess it's a good thing he doesn't.

Still here.  Tired and lots of work.  Advisor wants 1.5 yrs of data analyzed by this Friday plus classwork.

Got an A on my midterms though.

Going to go listen to music in the lab now.

Treble Tentacle by Meg Lyman

It has been one week and I still feel very broken.

And I still haven't really got any words.  I spent yesterday crying and sleeping instead of working.  Everything just seems very pointless and I have difficulty with motivating myself.  I just don't care.  I've been binging too.

I know that as long as I keep going that things will get better eventually.  That seems so very far away. I wish I wish I wish I could feel better right now.  I am impatient to be happy again.

I think things would be easier if D were having trouble getting over me.  But I know he's not.  It is like I never existed.  After a year and a half together, I left no impact on his life.  How depressing is that?

Whatever.  I have people who love me.  I have trouble reaching out but I'm trying.

Right now I am sitting in a coffee shop with H doing homework together because I did not want to be alone and because H is wonderful.

I am struggling to care about these midterm essays and my upcoming committee meeting.  Boat week next week.  Maybe that will help me begin caring again.

It's over and I'm just ow.  Don't worry if I disappear for a bit.  It's just that I have no words left in me anymore.

Also, was pondering while half-asleep last night and came to the conclusion that at least some of my aversion to doctors comes from my mother.

When I was little, I never went to the doctor's.  Seriously, never.  I never got really sick or anything either, but I don't even remember going to the doctor's when I got chicken pox in eighth grade.  I can only remember 2 doctor's visits, and they were both for standard physicals (for intense gymnastics training camps, they require that you've had a physical within the past two years).

And whenever I did get sick, my mom would get angry and call me her "little sickie" and say that we already had one sick person in the family (my dad has a chronic illness) and we didn't need another.

I think this sort of thing also contributes to my intense negative reaction to perceived condescension.  Her other favorite phrase was when I cried--she'd go, "Ohhh, let's all throw a pity-party for [salix]".

My mom was really fantastic at invalidating and/or belittling my feelings.

Okay, rant over.  Brushing hair and leaving for bus stop now.

Feeling much better and less sick this morning.  Throat still hurts a tiny bit, but that's it.  Yay nyquil and copious amounts of sleep!

In one hour I get on a bus to get on a plane to fly back to D's side of the world.

Here is the plan:

Spend Saturday doing things that make me happy.  Non-stressful things.  Go to the beach and be happy.

That night is the wedding.  Will see D there (and for the long car ride the next day).  Plan: be happy.  Be smile-y, be vivacious, be carefree, have my walls up high and sealed so tight that not even hydrofluoric acid could eat its way through.

I've never been able to block D before.  But then again, I've never actually tried.  Even from the very beginning he had access, which is very very extremely odd and out-of-character for me.  I don't know why D has always been such an exception to all of my rules.

Let it be a challenge, I suppose.  The car ride will be even more so, I'm sure.

But he's too dangerous to let in again.  He must be kept out.  I must keep him out.

With regards to food, the plan is: pretend to be normal.  Eat when/what others do/are (with obvious exceptions due to veganism, of course).

It is time to stop being stupid about this.  No more of this whiny "But food is so complicated!  It's too much effort!" bullshit.  It is time to put on my big girl panties and just fucking eat something.

Wish me luck.

Fuck, guys.  Just.  FUCK.

Therapist called.  She spoke to her supervisor and they want me to go see a doctor.  She has the name of one who specializes in disordered eating.

THIS is why I never tell people things.  Because they always fucking betray you.  I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.  She wasn't going to ask; I shouldn't have volunteered.

I am not going to a doctor.  I cannot risk having them commit me.  I cannot risk anyone in the department finding out about this.  I cannot have my family finding out, and thanks to the whole fucking stupid insurance thing with the vaccinations, I now know that any doctors visits WILL be showing up on my parents' insurance plan and most likely with a notification in the mail.

FUCK THIS SHIT.

I said I would consider it.  Therapist said we would talk about it next Tuesday when I go in.

If she tries to force this, then I am quitting therapy.

Also, can I note how BULLSHIT it is that she wasn't concerned enough about the binging to make me see a doctor but all of a sudden she's worried about my electrolyte and vitamin levels?  Like I don't know enough to make sure my electrolytes are stable and to take my multivitamin every day.  I'm not stupid.

**edit**

Okay, yes, I know, professional responsibility and all that.  It's not really a betrayal.  And if I weren't worried about it myself, I wouldn't have said anything.  I'm just sick and cranky and really don't want to go see a doctor.

If the whole lack of appetite and not-eating continues after this weekend, I will go see a doctor though, okay?  Just in case.

Ugh.  I have a cold.  My throat is killing me.  Hurts to swallow.  :(

Really really hope this goes away by Saturday.

Life is so much less complicated without D in it.  It's stressful dating him.  But it's also stressful not dating him.  And I think I prefer the former stress over the latter.

The best situation would be for us to date not-long-distance.  But obviously that isn't possible.  So second best is to date long-distance.

I hope he's reached the same conclusion.

Blah.  Don't wanna think anymore.  Just wanna go home and sleep.

sad panda

I came clean to therapist today about how much weight I have lost.  Fudged a bit on the intakes though--told her they were higher than they actually have been.

She says she's not too worried at this point, since I'm not showing any signs of malnutrition.  (My hair is not falling out, my nails are not turning blue, no dizziness, no weakness, no fainting, no insomnia.)  But that the amount of weight I have lost is definitely not healthy and that she would advise me to eat more.  She also says the sad and the lack of appetite are signs of depression, which I knew already.

I'm having soup for dinner tonight again, but it's a soup with higher amounts of calories than normal (cream-based not broth-based).

Meh.  I had more to say, but I need to go prep for the two discussion sessions tomorrow and maybe finish this essay.  And I want to go to bed early tonight because I have to get up an hour and a half earlier than usual tomorrow to finish up compiling the discussion (because some people don't freaking post their contributions until midnight or later, even though the deadline is TECHNICALLY 5 pm today) and to change out the car pass for E's car so that he won't get ticketed.

Tomorrow I have that stuff in the morning, then straight to 3 hours of class, then straight to a 3.5 hour lab meeting, then set-up for the dept social, then the social, then pick up my dress for the wedding from the alteration people (had to have it taken in a bit under the arms because it was all gaping and showed my bra), then find some pretty earrings to wear for wedding and art show, then pack.  YIKES.  I think I will skip out on setting-up for the social and attending the social.  After all, I was the one who had to pick up all the food for it.  I have done my part.  The other lab guys can take care of it.  I feel kind of slacker for saying that, but hey.  I have shit going on.

Ok.  Work time.

I am beyond exhausted right now.  Today has been a very very long day.  And it's only 9 pm.  Gonna try to finish one last paper before sleep.

I think probably the most likely explanation is that D just didn't realize that picture was still up.  There's probably no more meaning beyond the gesture than that.  This is what I'm trying to convince myself anyway.

I'm still anxious about how this weekend is going to go.  He's officially still driving me to L's show, so that's a 4 hour car ride with him.  Gonna be AWKWARD!  Especially if he doesn't have feelings for me anymore.  :/

I don't know.  I feel like I've changed a lot since we stopped talking.  I'm feeling more self-confident, I'm being more assertive, I've been thinking more about me and what I want in life and shit (though goodness knows I am still confused on many of those things), I've been making an effort to be social and hang out with people and I think I'm getting better at that (might also be a factor of me being more self-confident).  I'm liking my body a little more.  (Mostly because I've lost weight.  I am currently a socially acceptable weight for my height.)  Aside from the bouts of crushing sad and the worrisome lack of appetite, I'm actually liking the new Salix quite a bit.  (And to be honest, I don't really mind the lack of appetite, because it takes away most of my food anxiety.  However, not eating = bad Salix.  Planning out meals and then forgetting or not bothering to actually make and eat them is not sustainable or healthy.  I need to work on that.)

And I wonder if he'll be totally different as well.

And I wonder if he still loves me.  And if he'll love the new Salix.

Here are two things that worry me:
1.  D will notice how much weight I've lost.  It's kind of quite a bit.  I still can't really see much change, except in my face and collarbone.  I think my shoulder blades might be sticking out a little more too.  No one here has noticed (or if they have, they haven't commented), but they see me everyday and anyway, I'm always wearing bulky sweaters and such because it is still winter here.  Also, D is more observant than your average person and is/was very familiar with my body.

Anyway, I'm worried that he will notice the weightloss and feel that he is responsible for it (lovely arrogant man).  I don't want him to get back together with me because he feels guilty or responsible or because he thinks I will harm myself if he doesn't.  D has a bit of a white knight complex.  But he is NOT responsible for me or my actions; what I choose to put or not put in my mouth is not his business.  I do not need a saviour.  I do not need to be rescued.  I do not want him to date me out of guilt or pity.  I want him to date me because he wants me.

2.  I worry that this trip will be a trigger and I will stumble back into the awful binging cycle.  I really really really times a million do not want that to happen.  I cannot gain back to where I was before.  I cannot handle daily binges again.  I feel very in-control of food and eating right now and I am loathe to give that up.

BLAH.  I suppose we'll see what happens soon.  Back to work now.

It's Not Magic by Meg Lyman

FUCK.  He finally took the picture of us off of his skype profile pic.  WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???

Too much work, too much stress, not enough time.

Jaw is feeling a bit better, so that's good at least.  Woke up this morning and I was clenching my teeth, so I am now pretty sure that's why it's been sore lately.

4 days until the wedding and D.  I can't handle this.  He's online again and not talking to me still.

I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt today that I have not worn since high school.  Jeans are a little tight in the thighs but otherwise fit, maybe even a bit better in the waist than they did back then.

Somehow I managed to end up as discussion leader for both my classes on Thursday.  I guess I'd better go prep for that.

I wish I could stop my brain for awhile.

Annnndd no sooner do I post that then the bad things all come back in force.

Cried in the office today for the first time in a while.

PMS-y week, I think, which sucks because a) I feel shitty and b) much harder to keep emotional control, so seeing D will be even harder.

I have felt nauseous all day.

Stupid J keeps texting me; I don't know why; wasn't one awful date enough?  I don't want you, I want D!

The lack of appetite and/or binge-urges is starting to scare me.  Office lady brought in left-over Easter carrot cake and I took a slice to be normal.  No urge to even taste it.  It sat on my desk all day.  And it smelled great, but it was like smelling a candle.  No urge to eat.  Eventually I cut it in half and threw half away and then gave the rest to E.

I'm having soup for dinner tonight because I planned it.  I have no urge to eat it but it was planned so I will anyway.

I'm worrying myself.

I don't belong here and I am overwhelmed and I cannot deal and I don't know what to do.  I don't know how to fix anything.  I cannot handle this sad.  It is crushing me.

Last night I stayed up way too late and consequently I am exhausted this morning.  But it was TOTALLY WORTH IT.

We played Catan and I won (despite never having played before, only watching M and his friends play in high school.  In retrospect, there were a lot of games I watched them play but never got to join in).  The rules are quite simple and once I figured out that I only needed 2 more points to win, I just kept my mouth shut until my next turn.  Beginner's luck, I suppose.

Then after, FH and his housemates made curry and we just hung out for a while.  And guys, I actually felt like I was contributing by being there for once.  Normally I feel as though I am the awkward extra in a group, like no one really wants me there.  But this time it wasn't really like that.  Still a little bit--I don't know if I'll ever fully be able to get rid of that feeling.  But we talked, we joked, Russian girl who is not actually Russian kept saying, "Why haven't you brought her around before?" to FH.  And every so often I'd make a joke and everyone would laugh and then FH or one of the housemates would look at each other and go, "She has to live with us."  It was awesome.  I felt so wanted.  Also they have agreed: if I do end up living with them, I get to name our kitty.

I am so torn.  I want to live with them.  Food will be stressful, but it always is anyway.  I like it here.  But I also really really really want to stay together with D.  I want to live with D.  I want to be able to come home and just be with him, like a proper couple.  To cook dinner together, watch movies cuddled up on the couch, read/write/grade papers in companionable silence, etc.  WHYYYY can't this school have a good phil mind program????

GAH LIFE.