Get your own
 diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry

5:00 p.m. - 02/20/03
oh man, what is this about.
To continue (because I'm falling into I-just-want-to-sleep-for-weeks mode, there's still more to say, and I did enough homework this week to justify procrastinating on my story for Gothic) I don't think it's just about the ed.

I have a real hard time seeing the connection between those topics boggling my mind lately. I feel like we didn't talk about the recent ed-shit (and to clarify for the sake of people who read this care about me, I'm eating healthily) at the latest appointment- which is fine because I didn't feel a need to talk about it. But now all this stuff we did talk about - this relationshit - is bringing up more of the ed-weirdness. And that confuses me because other than the fact that I feel some similarity between the time when I wasn't sure if I had an ed, and the current uncertainty, I don't see how the two correlate. I think now that some of those things that are happening and have happened to me (in relationships) because of having an ed are the same things I'm fearing will happen when I know whatever's left to know. I think I'm scared that it's like another diagnosis, another hole for them to peg me in. Maybe I'm slowly disarming my "'choosing' a sexuality means choosing one identity or another" fears. (Though there are, of course, several to fill its position, should that be the case.)

So, since it's always easier to talk in terms of someone else, I'll tell myself a story. I have a cousin. He's a year older than I am; I know him barely. I saw him the more-often sort of occasionally when we were younger, but in my head, he's still- say- eleven. And since at least that time, there's been this sort of underground whispering about him. Maybe this cousin is gay. It's talked of among the more liberally conservative members of my insanely-conservative extended family. It's not spoken of openly, considering that if he were to come out to the family, he'd risk being disowned. Honestly. I can't be sure what would happen, but I am aware of the risk. So, I find out a few weeks ago (that Sunday I went out to dinner with my parents and John, post-therapy) that this cousin *has* come out to his friends. He's been out nearly a year, I think, though not to most of the family. Among the family, I think only his brother and my brother know. And me now. So John tells me this, and tells me to keep it hush-hush, which of course my mom overhears. Mom proceeds to stick her nose in, and finally ends up saying what she thinks it is, which is of course, what it actually is, and bam! the topic of dinner conversation shifts to my cousin's sexuality. Because this is something really important for four people who never see the kid to discuss over dinner.

The really great part occurred when my mom said that she's known for years. The truth being that she's talked about it, proposed it, reckoned it for years. She's guessed, and my cousin's confirmation- she feels- proves her right. I can't explain it completely, but that seriously pissed me off. I mean, she didn't know, and I told her as much. She didn't know because she's not him. I mean, I supposedly "know" and I still feel like I know nothing of the kid. It's like someone telling me he has a gray sweater now, or he wears Sketchers. Except I'm aware that it's probably more important than those things. I still don't feel like I know about it because I haven't talked with him, or experienced him being comfortable with this, so how can I know what it means? I mean, you can have a race of a million people and if you ask them what it's like to be in that group, what it means, they'll all tell you differently. My definition of what it means to be a woman is probably not the same as the next person's. My definition of what it is to be white will probably clash with someone else's, too. So my mom's perspective that this cousin's action has proved her theory strikes me as entirely insane. I hate that she feels like whatever expectations she placed on his life how-ever-many years ago will now come true. I want to know what else she knows about him. What is implied, in her mind, by the fact that he's gay? Because that's what scares me about my own sexuality (one of the things)- whatever it might be. I don't like the implications, the stereotypes, and I don't trust (yet?) that I'll be able to counter that. Dr. R said something about how in my family differentiation means rejection and similarity means annihilation. There's terrible truth in that. The first one is embodied well by Sarah's "we won't be sisters!" reaction to my request about the name. The second one shows up a lot between John and Dale, who are both musicians, and in the simple fact that other than those two we all identify ourselves differently. Dale, music/ corporate. Sara, theater. Joe, film. John, music/indie. Mary, writing. That's how we stay safe. When I hit middle and high school my dad sometimes said things like, "I think you have the best voice out of everyone. I mean, Sarah's really great, but there's something about your voice that's just better" and my heart would pound out of my chest. Performance was Sarah's territory, which I would stay out of. After all, if I crossed that boundary, I would end up once again in competition/comparison with her. I realize now that's another fear I have about being straight. I wouldn't mind, in some ways, having something so decidedly different than my sister. To say that we're separate, that we're both ok, that I don't have to live up to any of her standards, and she doesn't have to pay attention every move I make. I wouldn't mind that. She did tell me once, however, that she used to question her sexuality. I think she wondered if she was bi, but quit wondering when she met Steve. She fell in love with Steve and that solved the confusion for her. I wonder- because the conversation was so quick- whether it cemented for her that she was straight, or simply kept her from wondering. I can't imagine feeling any better about all this just because I was in a really great relationship. I'd still be looking at everyone around me going, "Do I feel something? Do I just feel something for this gender or this person or both genders or the other gender or or or or." It's an issue of identity to me, and I don't think I could let it be defined by one relationship. I'm not trying to say Sarah did that; we just didn't talk on such clear terms. So, then, there's also this issue of questioning is not different than Sarah, and sameness means annihilation. Sameness means surplus; we erase the extra representatives.

There are so many risks that I can't even get into, of attaching to someone that exclusively, and of making the attachment visible to say, my family. And I know those are future risks, but I can't keep them entirely out of my mind right now. After all, the concept of "future" is pretty collapsed. Future work in recovery anyway. I can't think about that because I've created these deadlines, one of which is Monday, and one of which is a few months away, by which I must be stable, strong, well. There's this urgency about everything; I don't feel like I have any time left, and I can't seem to get past that. I think I feel like if I stay with my parents past my eighteenth birthday/ graduation, I'll never leave. I promised myself a very long time ago, that I would be out of here (well, Neverland, actually) the moment I could. And I guess I did manage to get out of Neverland. I even managed to get out of my parent's world- temporarily. And in another sense, permanently. I'm working on making it permanent, so that even when I'm with them, it's not the same planet. I'm not at their disposal anymore. That's the goal.

What's that movie with Natalie Portman and Susan Sarandon; is it Anywhere But Here? I can't remember the title but at one point, Natalie Portman's character is set to run away, and this policeman gives her some of the best advice I've ever heard: Leave when you're ready not to come back. Maybe I can frame it that way, for myself. If I stay, it's to keep from ever having to stay again. I have to get it out of my head that staying is failure. I have to get it out of my head that I'm nailing the lid of my own coffin here. I feel so much that way. Not sure about college? Not out of the house? Eighteen and graduated is the midnight to my Cinderella; it's when all the magic goes away, and I had better be prepared.

Poof!

...I feel like I have five seconds to choose. Choose to stay; choose to go. This will determine my whole life. Choose never to mention my eating disorder; choose to relapse into it. Choose to have a sexuality; choose to stuff that girl down again. (God, you should see the cobwebs on her lanky frame.) I know the "type" of people who stay with their parents. They're the ones who rot away in small towns, working at video stores, and eating Ding-Dongs all day. They are not who I'm willing to become. But how can I not be that person if I break my own rules? I made this deadline long before I had an illness to recover from. I made this deadline long before it was oppressive. When I made it, it was too far away, and it stayed too far away for years. So, what is going on? I won't turn into a pumpkin or a cretin if I don't move out Monday. I won't turn into a field mouse if I still need to be seeing Dr. R in June. Why can't I get it through my head that I don't have to follow the rules I didn't make or the rules that I did? Why can't I get it through my head that what I need still gets to come first, and that doing what I need in the short-term is *not* a surefire way to keep from achieving what I want in the long-term. Do the easy thing now; you'll pay later. I want those words removed from my brain. Doing what I need in this moment puts me in the best place for the next one, remember? That's the way life works. Practicing meeting my needs now will set me up to do so later. I'll be better off for doing what I need to. And if nothing else, Dr. R and probably several of my darling friends, will not let me stay in D!@#$%^ with my parents past whatever point I need to. He/they just won't. I need to quit seeing the present as an illustration of the future. I need to quit believing that just because I'm struggling with something now, I always will. Last week, I thought I would never be a good student again. This weekend, I kicked ass to the point, I have very little work left. Moods change. Circumstances change.

You know what's weird? I can't handle waiting in my emotions, but I'm struggling to give myself permission to wait in action. I keep whining that I can't wait and do nothing about the pain I'm in, but I'm much more comfortable doing nothing in terms of change. What's that about?

This wasn't what I was talking about, or maybe it was. See how tangled up my thoughts are? No wonder I can't seem to follow a thread through to the source.

There are more fears than those I knew to list previously. I'm scared that romance is superficial and disappointing to those people who had faith in my maturity. Basically, if I think my cousin is eleven, I still think I'm ten. And I can hear the teachers talking about how silly it is for little kids to have relationships, how even in high school it's just *weird*- and I want to be the truly mature kid who never does that. I have this bizarre reasoning (therefore) that romantic attachment is immature. People laugh at you when you have crushes. People make fun of you when you hang around someone potentially date-able. People laugh at the possibility of these things, even if you (like me) have done everything to keep them from having anything real to find comedic. Not that I felt like I was trying too hard. I don't remember keeping everything quiet. I remember fabricating crushes, but not quickly enough to keep from being labeled asexual, and then staying that way for sometime. Unless I didn't notice they were crushes because I wasn't paying attention to my relationships with women. Or because it was too scary considering that I could like a *big-bad-threatening Boy.* I still have no idea how to get past that. I'm working very hard on preparing myself for the truth when it comes, and I can't seem to make any progress on the guy-front. What does that mean? Does that mean that there isn't progress to be made or that I just have very deeply-rooted issues around them? I think it would be easier to dismiss the possibility that I'm straight if I simply didn't feel anything for guys. But since I feel terrified and squirmy and nervous, I'm not sure it's ok to let it go. I mean, what don't I know because I'm squirmy and nervous. (And I really think it's in response to boys, not in response to my response to boys. Which is to say, I don't think that I feel something for them, and that scares me, so I feel afraid instead.) Or is the fact that I feel squirmy and nervous valid and unnecessary to move past? I think I want to move past it even if I'm not straight, but I'm scared to move past it if I am. Because I don't really believe I *can* move past it, so if I start, and discover there are feelings there, I'll be all the more terrified.

Back to my inability to distinguish between healthy sexuality and rape. Back to not wanting to put myself in that position. Ever.

Which you would think would just mean boys, but then, I'm scared that if I'm gay, it means I liked what happened with Chelsie. Which is complete and utter bullshit, except that it feels true.

So, I'm worried that people will define me and peg me and keep from knowing me for having a sexuality the same way that has happened (sometimes) because of the eating disorder. I'm worried about how other people feel in part to keep from paying attention to what I do. The other part of the worry is that I feel like I have to know and share all of this now because I have to move on in my life very soon. But I don't; there's no such thing as the right schedule, damnit, other than the one life happens on. Deadlines are deadly, and I will not let them make things harder than they already are.

Inside myself, I'm still very confused. I accept sexuality in everyone else (except that I'm sometimes scared of it...I guess what I mean is I don't judge people for having it, but I feel like hiding if it comes up) but can't seem to do so in myself. I think that's what I need to talk about next. We need to talk about why I can't let myself know, which is going to be so hellishly goddamn fucking hard. (To be polite about it.) I need to tell someone (and he'd be the prime candidate) about how closely connected my worst-case scenario of rape is to my definition of sexuality. I need to talk to someone- and I like the prospect of it being him- about all that I think regarding Billy and Chelsie and Jenna and teachers.

The one thing though, is that I don't know *why* I need to know this. I mean, I guess the fact that struggling with it is making me crazy would seem like enough, but I feel like if I could just suffocate it again than I wouldn't be struggling. I see the information, not my view of it, as the problem. And I don't know why I can't be perfectly happy not knowing. Why do I want to know this? Why do I need to know this? Why does sexuality matter? What's so great about it, for Christ's sake?

...Maybe my fears of not knowing myself and of not being able to attach can help fuel the conversation, can act as temporary answers to those questions. I need to know if it is and what because it's part of me, and I can't hide that person anymore. And I want to be able to love fully, and maybe this is part of that.

God. That's totally ludicrous at the moment. Sacrilege. Where did I get these crazy ideas, and where can I trade them in, you know?

chord

previous - next

about me - read my profile! read other Diar
yLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get
 your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!