10:35 p.m. - 03/18/03
i >wait ::for:: you to take _ my hand.*
[So, we're getting closer; much thanks to my dearling Britt! (I know how to do a text link after all...) Still need help making the images follow all the way to the end of the entry and perhaps making it look more finished...]
That said...
How am I? I am holding onto things with every bit of strength I have. I am holding on by way of my own tenacity, my upbringing at Rogers, my love and those who love me, and it seems to be working as well as one can expect. I'm worried about my food, and at the same time understand that it's probably normal. Part of becoming able to feel safe about food/weight without being weighed and checked every few weeks must be uncertainty. I'm definitely a girl with an eating disorder right now (noticeably, if you're rummaging around inside my head), but I don't see it taking over for the moment. I'm keeping it in check, which is about all I can ask myself to do.
Maybe all, entirely. I did so little schoolwork today, it's unsettling. But then - I worked on the newer of the two current plays and have a whole new scene. It's a terrifying piece, in that, if we choose it to stage it, it will definitely be the most exposing work (for me) presented up to that point. It has a life of its own, but it's undeniably my story, more so than any of the more fictitious work we've done so far. (This is the play I'm writing right now, not the one going up in April. In case that's confusing.) It's possible we'll use this to end the "monster" combination of three or four plays we're set to work on after Fractal opens...And on the one hand I'm terrified, but on the other I feel I owe it to myself. I think of all those girls who wrote their way free from me in middle school, all those tortured souls who found redemption, and if we're going to call this combo the biography of my adolescent struggle, I don't want it to end with anything other than courageous honesty. I can't give them any less. Dana and Greta and Cala and Heidi. The girls who were/weren't me. I want to give myself that much, but I'm afraid of what it means. The play's not even finished yet; I suppose I can postpone panicking about its run. Perhaps? Maybe I'll stick to the trials of this week...things like plane tickets and school and war. I really would have no trouble flying on my own if the current climate weren't so frightful. I felt unsafe enough before...
But. I did something really cool tonight. My dad was home, and he had brought this chocolate-Valentiney-thing from my grandma, which he prefaced with, "And she said to tell you she doesn't mean to be inconsiderate and give you food, and if it's not ok, I'll take it away, but if you want it, it's here." And I was like, "Ok, and how are you? How's life been?" I mean, I haven't seen him in awhile; chocolate was not my first priority. So we talked awhile, and then he went and watched a movie, while I wrote. About a half-hour ago, he came back and told me that Mom had said that the Valentine's-chocolate-thing was not a good idea and should be removed from the house. He was telling me this as he obliged the command, and I told him that although I didn't want it, personally, he didn't need to treat it like toxic waste. I had no problem with its presence on the counter. I asked him if Mom was asleep, he said no, I went to find her. She was poring over two washcloths ruined by my new cleanser, so we talked quickly about chemical reactions and how we'd keep the rest of our rags and things from turning fun blotchy colors. Then I said, "And...deciding and communicating what is and isn't safe can be my job and my responsibility...?" and she got all wide-eyed and nodded, and I nodded like a businesswoman- powerfully, and said, "Gratsi," as I went back to my work. I was real simple and quite about it, but there's a cheering section in my head who's going crazy. It rocks that I can take care of myself, and it rocks that I can set the boundary that allows me to do so. In general, I rock.
And then, a few minutes later, I heard a door slam, and my dad's gone again. I asked the matriarch if she knew why; she said he's mad at her- that's all she knows. I asked if we can buy juice and yogurt tomorrow, as we're out of both. It's not that I don't care; I care hugely, deeply. But I have to be my first priority. I am not the first thing on my dad's mouth when he stalks out the front door and hightails it out of here. I am not the first thing on my mom's mind when she prepares to go to bed alone. I have to be my own watchdog.
Hruf.
Definitely emotional today; things are too stirred up to allow the rudimentary distractions of school. Tomorrow, I stay in the city after my appointment, which will include plenty of time to work, if I so decide. So maybe today's time off was ok. Besides, this sort of pain in my heart (the cardiovascular muscle turned homing pigeon) is a type that helps me even as it hurts. I take better care of myself knowing how desperately I want to be taken care of. I try to be the best meantime-home I can. Gosh knows the world around me won't suffice.
I'm really grateful we exist tonight.
chord
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