2:30 p.m. - 07/12/02
if I walk down this hallway tonight, it's too quiet.
Mom asked me last night how I was feeling about New York, and I told her that as nervous as I am, I'm aware I dreaded the December trip and had a blast. I must have also mentioned that I hadn't talked to Superdoc about that because she asked me, in that case, what we *had* discussed. She gave it one of those "I know I'm not supposed to ask this, but I'm going to anyway" prefaces that always put me on edge, and I didn't know what to tell her. I think she just wanted to know what had me so upset Wednesday, what has me so preoccupied and generally moody. If it's not what's going on with them, and not the scheduled trip, why am I so unsteady all of a sudden? I didn't tell her about what happened with Silje and Sara, though I did mention Dixie being in the hospital. I just felt like she'd start worrying about me and overprotecting me: when I talk with Sara on the phone it'l be, "Are you ok?" and I don't want that. I don't want to turn this into something that's happening to me. For God's sake, it's always back to that. People don't go through pain to torture me; what right do I have to be tortured?
She's pretty beaten down right now, and Dad is pretty explosive, though he has had a couple decent moments the past few days. I asked them if they wanted to go out last night, since they were planning to after the Dr. R appointment, and I pulled the "need" card and asked to just go home. We went out to eat and then wandered through stores for awhile; I felt sick with the need to be spoiled. (My parents ended up buying me a shirt and some envelopes.) My mom said later that she had been compelled to impulse buy, and I told her I always am. I told her how that's related to eating disorders a good portion of the time; people feel deprived so they start shopping compulsively or stealing. I've had it pretty easy in some ways; I have friends who got into trouble for stealing or completely ran up their credit cards... But I still feel it, some. I still feel how desperately my material needs get sometimes. And I know later I'll feel guilty and have little desire to interact with my spoils. It's a great deal like a binge. Everything seems good in the beginning, but later there's no joy in having done it.
I've gotten better at saying to myself, "Do I really want this, or do I just want to know I can get it?" but sometimes the need to *know* isn't fulfilled unless I'm actually seeing it paid for. This confused me for awhile. After all, I'm no longer restricting myself - in terms of food or emotions; I'm taking care of myself, I'm getting what I need. So why this need to have more and more in a way that is to atypically American? Why am I a 'fucking Napoleon'?
The answer, I think, starts with something Harriet said to me once. (Not so surprising, really, though it seems that way.) She was talking about how when I was very small, my dad took care of me, and my dad was in one of his major depressions at the time, so as much as he loved me, it was possible that some of my emotional needs had gone unmet. She said that it made sense (to her, at least) that I might adopt an eating disorder not because of the social pressure but because neglect was familiar to me. I was used to not being nurtured. So my feelings of deprivation are not strictly caused by the eating disorder; it's vice-versa. And the feelings, especially here- with my parents spinning crazy circles and my friends in such terrible need- can grow strong without the eating disorder surfacing. The feelings are deeper than bones...
I want to have enough money that I don't have to manage it myself. Because between how poorly my parents have modeled in this realm, how desperately I "need" pointless things, and how incapable I seem to be of working, it's going to be very difficult for me to scrape by. I'm feeling bad about giving up "writer-dom" again. I'm feeling bad about not wanting to be famous.
Or maybe it's more than that. Maybe somewhere inside me, I do.
John is going to check his insurance and then he's probably going to start seeing the Superdoc, which, although I have some "see, he's never going to be mine again" feelings to deal with, is a very *very* good thing. I'm so glad he's looking into therapy again, and I think Dr. R will be very good for him. Dr. R. is good for everyone (amazingly), and I think that will even extend to John.
I have this memory of Indian Summer, the park, and Lisa on a bench. Crazy wind in the trees and swings making us seasick.
...home...?
chord
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