6:35 a.m. - 05/25/02
one heartache is more than enough.
I woke up this morning with a lifehouse song and a Ks choice song melded in my head, and neither one of them was playing the correct lyric. I just read something that defined popularity as someone "diseased, anorexic, superficial, a whore who lacks any real long term goals" though, so now I have that line from Jackie's Strength ("you're only popluar with anorexia") in my head. My first response to reading something like that is to jump across the table and strangle someone. Second, is to cry- and third, to question why I care. Does it bother me because it's true? Does it bother me because anorexia is so prominent? Or does it bother me because anorexia in my case has nothing to do with popularity...?
I guess it doesn't make much difference why I'm bothered so long as I am. And now Winnie The Pooh is saying, "Oh Bother" in my head. I have such an interesting concert of voices in my mind.
I've been liking the way I write in this journal minus my readership. I feel more focused on how I'm feeling and the thoughts that cascade through my brain than I have. Now, when I have actual events/ experiences to relate, I don't really want to- whereas normally (lately) discussing experiences has been my only route *into* those feelings. I don't know. Maybe no one else would notice a difference, but I feel something shifted in the words behind the words.
I have an appointment with Tammy today, that I thought was Tuesday, and which I'm really not looking forward to. I don't know why I dread her so much when she's always so wonderful. It just seems so pointless to me- to go talk about food, be weighed, drive two hours round-trip. It irritates me that it's pointless; it pains me that it really isn't. I need to be weighed. It's the only way to fight my body image with facts. To say, "you have not lost/gained twelve pounds; you are stable." So I know I need to go, and I know it will be fine; I just wish I could stay home. And I wish I'd known it was today about a week ago. I have to start writing these things down.
I have a bad habit. When it's hard for me to think about going out, I buy new clothes. I don't necessarily have to *want* anything I see, but if someone takes me shopping within a day or two of my having to go out (sometimes even longer) I seem to turn cartwheels in order to have something. And it's not like this has taken over my life, or as if my parents mind spending (really hardly any) money on me, but I still don't feel great about it. It's an expensive confidence, methinks.
And sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I don't even like what I bought to wear. Do I define the popular sell-out now? Anorexic and obsessed with clothes? Oh, this is not making for a good morning. I need more sleep...
I slept on the couch last night. If my parents had asked, I would have told them it's too hot upstairs, which is true. But in my heart I know it's because lately I've been scared- for no apparent reason, scared. Being home alone (at any time of day) and going to sleep have just been terrifying lately, and I don't really know what to do about it long-term (hopefully it won't *continue* long-term) but last night I just wanted to sleep on the same floor as my parents. Not as if it makes much difference, right?
I need to talk to Tammy about what happened with Harriet, but even thinking about that makes me cancel the appointment in my head. I guess I'll just tell myself that if I don't discuss it with her, I will e-mail her within 24-hrs of my arrival home. E-mail is as good as a med to me. It makes everything easier. Somewhat.
Speaking of, Wellbutrin withdrawal deserves to be drug out into the street and shot (repeatedly.) Were I not so sick and depressed, I would be amused that I've been taken *off* this med and am still managing to blame my mood-state on it. New habits die hard also, apparently.
Sometime (today?) I am going to break down crying. I know this because yesterday I became really, really angry, which always happens right before I'm about to cry. And when I think about those things I was angry about last night, they still make my head throb frustratedly- so I don't think I've sidestepped it. Truthfully, I don't really care. So long as it happens when I'm by myself, I don't mind crying so much. And it's better to be post-sob-session than amid intensely irrational anger such as this. Fortunately, I'm too tired to be angry right now. I guess there's a reason most people sleep in beds.
My dad collapsed on the street the other day. They were at the hospital while I thought they were at the baseball game, while I was having my 'good day.' They were walking to the stadium, and he fainted on the sidewalk. The paramedics rushed him to the ER, where they did every imaginable test and found nothing wrong. He wears this like a badge of honor ("see, I really am healthy") but the truth is it worries me all the more. The good news is that he's taking slightly better care of himself, and Dr. R is going to jump down his throat (in the very gentle, not throat-not-even-slightly-throat-jumping nature of Dr. R) when they next meet. I think they want him to see a dietician, which is basically what I've wanted since birth...
Ok, for a year.
My mom's up now, so I'm going to go see if she'll make pancakes (such a helpless girl)...after all, there's not much else to say. Other than the fact that I'm still obsessing over Mistrandy's "should" comment, ruminating on all the things I should be and am not.
Yeah. No one's surprised.
chord
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