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6:50 p.m. - 04/04/02
the girl of many subjects.
I'm descending from a long-run of high anxiety (a few hours of running and twitching and struggling to breathe) so my brain is generally incapable of making sentences. I didn't have a panic attack or anything; I think I just spent too long talking (excitedly) with my Teach today. But I'm glad we talked because I'd been beating myself up all weekend, brooding over the fact that I'm "lying" about my illness again...covering up the mental reality and making it sound purely physical, the way I did when I was in school. I think that's part of the reason for my long-winded post at the-closet; I just needed to be honest again. So today, when she asked something about anxiety, I told her that yes, I had anxiety issues, and depression issues, and an eating disorder.

And I felt several million times returned. To myself. I really have to work to remain brave, to keep telling my truth, and *stop* feeding the stigma - because it's just too painful to think, "Why can't I say this? Why am I ashamed? And you know they know even if they don't know I know they know." Lying, or even being fearfully reticent, is just so *awkward.*

I didn't do a whole lot today. Worked on the layout for my zine, which I haven't even looked at in months. It has far less socio-political commentary than I wanted it to (meaning, there aren't any of my cultural rants), but hopefully, I'll be able to stick a few in the next issue. Mostly it's just weird poetic mumbo-jumbo (even though most of it's prose) talking about grief, and mental illness, and need. The article from the-closet is there, though I'm hoping to revise it, and it's very much lacking in images. But it isn't *awful* for a first issue. I'll post here when it's ready to be courted by a readership, and you must all let me mail you copies.

So yes, worked on the zine, talked with the Teach, did some algae-bruh, and avoided my research paper. I actually don't feel too badly about avoiding it right now because I'm waiting for books to come into our (sad little) library, and there isn't *too* much I could do while I wait for them.

And I got yet another brochure for the college that puts my stomach in knots and makes me want to cry with needing. This is where I have to be; please God, don't let them reject me.

I don't know what I'll do (honestly) if I'm not accepted. I know it's really awful not to have a plan B, but I might very well not go to college for a year. Because I can't bring myself to plan for what I'll do if the please-god-college says, "please get lost."

Urrrrrrrrgle.

I'm still waiting to find out who my next therapist will be. I do feel a bit better about leaving Harriet then I did after she screwed with my head for an hour on Monday. She's been so angry and, in some ways, unprofessional since then that I find it easier to know I did right. One of the things that made the decision so hard was because she wasn't purely evil. And so to discover how poorly she's taking my decision (even though, again, I've seen worse) makes me feel more confident that it was time to move on.

Besides - when I tell people she wanted to commit me (temporarily) for an attachment disorder, they nearly fall out of the chairs. It turns out most of the people in my life have noticed I'm a clingy little cuddlewhore and find the idea of me being "distant" (in anything other than a geographical way) somewhat absurd. On top of which, the *good* doctor - the doctor who I eventually always trust, is Dr. R, and he has never taken a liking to Harriet, nor was he at all in agreement with her new diagnosis.

I think we need to set up a fund for *her* pschiatric care, but that's just the bitterness talking. Somewhat.

The people who run my fund called today and Mom told them how well I'm doing and they were very sweet. I'm glad I can make people so happy with my progress, even though it's scary to think of sometimes. I still have such a long way to go, and though I don't want to deny how far I've come (or start over by any means), I just get scared that we'll get too busy praising my ability to eat etc, and forget that I still struggle with other things. Of course, focusing on my struggles without the praise would suck, too, so I don't mind erring on the side of optimism. And affirmation.

Speaking of, I got such a lovely little note today. I realized for the millionth time that I am completely melted by the one-syllable word: brave. If any of my arch-nemeses get a hold of this information, I'll be in a dire position. Therefore, I'm posting it at a public-access journal...I make such sense.

YPI is going to be on television. I'm muy excited for them, even though I was pissed that Julia (who gets all the publicity) is on the panel and Lucy (the girl who wrote Gorgeous Rapters) isn't. I mean, it's very possible that Lucy was busy that day, or not going to be in NY or something, but it's also very possible that people are dumb and don't realize that Gorgeous Rapters is like Marigolds quality. Is like *gasp.*

It's a good thing the girl doesn't know how much I drool over that play. (Fucking stole my autobiography, she did.) It's also a good thing that the girl playing (another) Julia in my new play doesn't know I was completely enamored with her for most of my sister's college career. Something about her- so young and lanky and jointed together in odd ways, so strong and injured and feminimasculine...she drew me in.

Shh. This is a secret. My love is a weird, many-sided, odd-timed little entity.

Speaking of which, I realized I'm different than Julie. I mean, this may have occurred to me at some point, just as the fact that I am in some ways similar to Julie might have occurred to me at some point, but I realized a particular way that she and I differ. She talks in her journal about how good it is to have a growing world of people, to have Chicago people and New York people, and other people...and I *hate* it. I feel like I'm always finding more people, and even though I honestly love new people and am constantly in search of them, I am not capable of letting people drift away in my life. It simply can't happen. And so I get overwhelmed trying to catch all of the friends I'm juggling, and they try and leave and I hunt them down, and it just turns bad because I need you all, and I need all of you I don't know, and I need to know I'm needed by you because I suck at self-affirmation.

Why isn't it possible to just build a really big room that has everyone I love close enough to cuddle and still manages not to be crowded?

pweeeeeeeese.
chord

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