10:45 a.m. - 11/21/01
ks choice come back to me.
I need to change out of these jeans, but I don't know what to put on. I can tell no one is reading this diary because if anyone was reading this, I'd never let myself ramble about how I look fat in my clothes. Of course, it's perfectly natural for someone with bulimarexia to have distorted body perception, but I still feel shallow when the shame results in unhappiness with the physical component. I'm grateful for my illness and the fact that I've recovered so much of my life from its clutches, but I still wish I could go back to the days when I didn't care if my XS shirts were suddenly a little less happy over my hips...
Having major withdrawal today...I really need to call Red tonight and see if I can hear Brea for the first time since the Saturday I left, but everytime I plan to call Brea I end up putting it off. I think I know how hard I'll bawl if I hear her voice...she was the first one to make my Book...right now, she and Steph are the only ones. I don't know why Steph came second; I wasn't as close to her, really...but she still did so much for me, and she's so *different* than the other energies there. She's direct, I think, is the difference. God, I miss them.
I miss the loops and the shitty tofu entrees. I miss the ropes course and the experiential groups that eveyrone skipped. I miss being dragged into the art room when my SAD got too overwhelming. I miss being kicked out of the RC office. I miss the room at the end of the hall and the green lake. I miss telling people to shut up about calories. I miss getting in trouble for exercising when I played with a balloon. I miss Leah telling me to stop pacing, and Stacy telling me to join the Round World. I miss the lack of light in my bedroom, and the constant stream of pop music deadening my brain.
I miss feeling like I were home while everyone begged for discharge dates. I miss being told I could have a room for life...
I miss being loved short-distance.
chord
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