10:00 p.m. - 02/19/03
..*you're gonna make it,. you're gonna make it,,. you're gonna make it,. girl:!:
I said once, and though a thousand times, that I want to live every day as if it's my first. I want to have that sort of child's wisdom and that awe. I think I'm close these days. Children know how to cry one second and play the next. They know how to hang on beautifully, and that's how I feel right now. One moment, I'm bawling over bruises; the next I'm grateful for all the love. Laura and I have been sharing thoughts and liberal quotations, and I told her the other day to just keep the peace in her own life. I think that's what I'm trying to do. I recognize, of course, that biological warfare or nuclear bombing is not something I can control, and whether or not I want to let that be, sometimes I find myself compelled to just continue pushing peace in my own action. In the way I treat myself and the way I interact with the world. And it's odd, but I don't feel as much like a pawn under Bush's thumb that way. I feel powerful, in a very young, very calm way. I think I want to be a child when I grow up, with the added wisdom of experience. I think I spend most of my days trying to learn what I knew before birth. The good moments come when I don't mind that. It's kind of nice to idolize yourself pre-infancy, to affirm your essential self that way.
Look, hey look; I know now I'm not poison, and I never was...
New nourish entry today. Thank God. I've been neglecting her so badly; I think because I've been struggling. I need to remember that those letters are as much what I need to hear as what I know. I have to quit trying to be a published self-help book, and just let it unfold as it will. Something Anna-the-hippo said in a long-past e-mail comes back to mind: She suggested that writing in Atomgirl wasn't working toward having someone publish it (Anne Frank style) but rather, to teach myself how to tell my own story. I think there needs to be a seed of that in nourish also. Oh, to be given time for all the growth. I hope for that. I hope I have the time.
I'm so tired right now that after a short break, I forgot I'd started this entry. It's good that I have, otherwise I probably wouldn't be writing any of what is to follow. Maybe if I keep up the momentum, I can make it through a small course of the day's events.
There are so many sources of beauty lately, and Dr. R says it's hard to take them in when in so much pain, but the truth is, some of them are amplified. There's such emphasis on kindness and goodness and genuine love when the pain is high. At least, at a time like this, when my self-perception is still somewhat in tact. Simple things like enough sleep and sweet e-mail and being able to journal in nourish ... Simple things are gold right now.
Like, Monday is my birthday, and I *will* have a crown. (I also plan to have my cake and eat it, too- for the first time in years.) Like, the doctor called me "Miss Mary" and my mom let me go to the appointment alone. Like I asked him for another appt this week and he was completely accomodating. Like I'm terrified of my Diversity teacher to the point I can hardly hand things in, and he's terrified of me to the point he can hardly hand them back. He's writing me a letter because he so loved a poem I wasn't sure was good enough to turn in. He told my teacher, "She's the most brilliant person I've ever met, and I've never met her." That's one hell of a compliment, especially from someone with this much intelligence, enthusiasm, good. ...And for the moment, I don't feel like it's a standard. I just feel like it's an affirmation. It helps that the poem (which maybe I should post?) is very much my own style, and if he likes that, I feel more comfortable. Liking the way I write poetry or what I use the medium to say is very close to liking me. Though not entirely.
In other news, the doctor and I broached the subject of relationships, and I planted my boots in the mud and refused to move forward. I was completely defensive, scared, frustrated. He says that this can't come up before I'm ready for it; I ask why it has to come up at all. He asks if I'm not at all curious; I ask why exactly it can't just go away. He promises it will be a good thing; he goes so far as to tell me I have a good core, and that he thinks whatever this is will become yet another strength from that. He says that even if, as I believe, this is something really bad about myself, it will be healed through our work and by my good core. I tell him I'm sorry for fighting with him, but he doesn't see my obstinence the way I do. He tells me again that whatever This is, it's simply one part of me, and I won't be defined by it entirely. He tells me we can face it on my time, and I don't have to worry about facing my parent's response to it until I'm comfortable. It can just be about me (and his take on me) for as long as I need.
The universe has so paid back its Harriet debt. Tenfold.
Weirdness during school, though. I'm still struggling with the ed, though I think my eating is back to healthy now (always uncertain about that when I've been in the ed mindset, don't trust myself right away). Mainly I'm struggling with the idea of the ed. With needing people to keep aware of it without defining me solely by its terms. With needing to believe in its real-ness without forgetting my superior power. With needing to know that pain not expressed through food is equally valid pain. I have a lot of confusion around struggling that I need to work out, and in the meantime, Friday- my teacher talked about "small people like me" - using words like "tiny" that just confused me. I still don't know how to respond to those comments. I'm physically healthy now. I know I'm not too thin. But I get scared when people talk. I get scared of what they mean and of how I might twist it.
Today, she tells me that my Gothic Novels teacher asked why I was out, and that she replied rather vaguely that I've had eating problems. I think that disarmed me in several ways. First off, I'm used to deciding who is told how much. Secondly, though the eating disorder is part of why I became homebound, I don't consider it a large part of why I'm still that way (if it is at all.) Thirdly, the eating disorder is one facet of my illness, and emphasizing it makes the others seem less important, which makes things especially difficult when I'm already struggling. And finally- even if this *were* my main and most active illness and the reason I'm not in school- it's still not me. If you want to know me, you can't listen to the labels one by one. You have to check to overlap. You have to focus and refocus your eyes.
Her daughter has an eating disorder, and she wants me to know I can talk with her anytime. It's so well-intentioned, and so not what I need. I need all those people I already have, and all those people who are ready to let me talk about who I am. I want to be who I am instead of what I have.
In better news, the conversation ended with Mistrandy telling me I'm strong. And I sought a hug from my mom after it was done. It's good of her to provide what I so randomly allow...
Five days until I'm crowned the official atom-empress.
chord
p.s. hey, journal, remind me tomorrow that I wanted to write about my dream.
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