1:00 p.m. - 12/22/01
(-and I'm -somewhere-> ||in between|| what is real? and just a dream...>
On Monday, if I do indeed attend the IOP on Christmas Eve, they will ask me how I kept myself from purging last night when I got "*so* close." And I'll feel completely pressured to give a brilliant answer because Shaun obviously gets "so close" daily, and ends up going through with it, and surely there's some magic I know that could enlighten all of them so that he, too, manages not to go through with it. Unfortunately, my tactics are less and less clear, and even today, a good fifteen hours after the fact, I still wonder if I made the right decision. I *wonder* if abstaining was the right thing to do.
Close is a relative term. Six months ago, close meant that I only purged half my food. Three months ago it meant that I was bent over the toilet with my finger in my mouth. One month ago, longing looks in the direction of a restroom signified cloesness. Now, the thoughts alone, if I don't throw them out as instantly preposterous, mean I've come close. The farther I pull myself from this illness, the less I have to do in order to feel close to it.
Yesterday, close was me curled into a relative ball of body and blankets upon my bed. It's the type of moment when nailbiters shred their nails, smokers find themselves one pack closer to major financial debt (not to mention cancer), and cutters create new artistic masterpieces from their scar tissue.
Earlier in the week, I had all these plans for what yesterday could be. Or at least, I planned to have plans, it being my four-month purging-abstinence mark. And really, I *should* do something for that...four months is a *big deal* after all. How many days, how many meals, how many times did I white-knuckle my way through *without* giving in?
Unfortunately, the universe thought it would mean more if I earned the anniversary, like my own little bulimic cub-scout badge. So every time I caught my reflection in the window after dark, it seemed stretched even further along its horizon, every time I took another bite of whatever the hell I ate yesterday, my stomach turned another ten degrees...until I ended up on my bed at just past six o'clock, wishing I could fall asleep so that purging would just stop being a possibility. Actually, I was also wishing I'd fall asleep so that I would *just stop eating* which shows how far gone I really was. Am. How far gone I really am.
Not that I'm as close to purging today. But I feel completely shitty about myself, not just the shell that houses her. I was thinking again yesterday about how, despite the fact that I disregard this pain because romance isn't one of my priorities, it really does suck that I believe no one could ever think I'm beautiful. I don't know. I'm thinking about a lot of shit like that...like the information for "Hogwarts" that came yesterday. I'm looking at it and thinking about how I have to apply for this place, and I do *want* to go here (or at least, I want the *option* of going here) so I really must apply...but then, I don't *want* to go this semester, so it's really good that I can't...only, will I want to go next semester? Because I want to go somewhere where I'm wanted and loved. I think the application is just making me feel shitty because I feel like I'm writing up all the reasons I deserve to be given a second look instead of all the reasons I deserve to be accepted to an arts school, and I really just want someone to love me without a r�sum�.
I need to make that clear to Harriet: that I feel like I'm applying for affection instead of education. Because she's all supportive about Hogwarts; she keeps saying she wants that to happen for me. And I need her to understand that I feel mixed about it right now, not because I don't think it's a good idea, but because I want it to be more than it is, and that isn't healthy. I want it to be family. I want it to be the perfect solution. I don't want to be alone.
That's the other reason I'm struggling. I got a letter from Silje the other night (which of course made me grin from ear to ear.) And she might be getting out in February, which is just such a fabulous thing to hear...but it's so hard at the same time. It's so hard to hear from her, to hear her talk about that place. She said that Chelsea was just discharged, which just makes my stomach hurt. I don't know how to explain why - I think partly it's because I feel like they can't have changed much from the time I knew them, I feel like they must be getting discharged the way that they were, which is a completely unfair, unsupported belief. More than that, though, I don't like to think of Red changing. I don't like to think of the people I know there not being there anymore, even though I hate to think of them being sick. I want to know that there is somewhere safe and stable that I can go back to. I don't want to think that, were I to return to Red for any reason, it would start out as awful as it did my first weeks there.
I want a fucking family...that's all. I want to be held the way Chas held me in my dream last night, held me as I was purging in my dream...
I promised Harriet I'd contact the people in my life who are sane and safe...I need to get on that before I fall apart completely.
I need to join their ranks again.
love-
chord
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