10:05 p.m. - 11/12/02
crazy for feeling>>
Something is happening to me. I'm not sure what's going on, but it's the same sort of thing that happens when I'm home alone. Maybe I am home alone. Everything seems darker than it is, and noises seem too loud. I've been thinking about earlier this year when I used to do so much thinking about running, leaving- running away. I know I really took it seriously, but I wonder now if it wasn't just my way of turning "something is happening to me" into "I'm making something happen." I know what not being in control can do to me. I see how tired my head is from the lack of food.
Not lack. Not really. I'm fighting so fucking hard it's unbelievable. I look at myself and cannot believe what I'm managing. But there aren't any signs of hunger now. I was worried tonight because my mom had guests over throughout dinner (some workshop she's holding at our house once a month) and I knew I wouldn't be able to prepare food with them there. I thought I'd start to get hungry, and I didn't want to have to wait, didn't want to put myself into a position where I might even consider the decision to restrict. I thought I would start to get hungry, and I didn't. Hours after I should have eaten dinner, I had a headache, and the women were leaving, so I took my dinner and ate it. I ate it. But you can't get rid of a restriction headache so easily as eating. It takes time, to convince your body it's a cycle, it's for real. I've been eating all my meals, but there's no way to convince myself it's going to keep happening, and all systems that remind me I need this are down. Something is happening to me, and I'm scared because this morning I felt good. I'm scared because I took my meds, and I have therapy tomorrow, and school isn't all that stressful. I'm scared because one of these days I am not going to be a shy seventeen-year-old people take pity on and smile at. "One of these days you'll be on your own." That's what a guest of my mom's said to me tonight, trying to be helpful, completely unaware. I nearly cried when she said it, feeling the pain press in at my ribs. One of these days you'll be alone, if you aren't already. If you can even find yourself to know where you are.
If Rogers goes away everything is the same as it was. If I lose this, there's no way to convince myself that anything has changed. I have to keep it alive, but I don't know how that's even possible. I feel so alive one moment, but if this dies, I won't sustain myself the next. Since I came home last year everyone has been saying, "They didn't do this. You did this" but it's a fucking lie. I did this, yes, but I only did this because for the first time in my life I was in a situation where my needs were met, I was safe, I was cared for, I was ok, and who wouldn't get better when there was no reason to be sick? If they take away my reason, I'll be completely lost. I'm already running on low fuel- I'm already fighting against the fact that I don't have them in my life; I can't fight against the possibility I never did. I just can't do this all alone without the memory of what I had.
Please, somehow. There has to be a way to make myself believe that it was real. There has to be a way to get this past year and all the debriefing out of my head. There has to be a way to make them understand and make myself know that no one can take away what happened to me there. I had a family for nearly three months, and I will have it again. I will, I will, I will.
Why the fuck would they take that away?
Dr. R responded to my e-mail, the one I sent a few days back about how his seeing my brother was a good thing except that it terrified me. Except that I can't fathom how my brother and I can both be taken care of, and I know I'm selfish for not wanting to be the one dropped, but I'm just so scared to be alone again. I honestly didn't expect him to respond as he's so busy and e-mail isn't the most efficient way to get a hold of him. So many times when I write he just talks to me about it when we meet, so I figured this would be one of those times. I didn't expect his very kind words. I didn't expect to read that he understands, and see how much he does. But I'm scared, I'm so scared. It isn't fair. It isn't fair that I have to not have it or lose it and that I can't believe in anything else.
Why can't, when I call, they just talk to me and understand, accept, that I am an exception? That I am Mary, Mary, Maarry and I need them to be home? They don't have to talk longer, they don't have to let me return, they don't have to do anything so much as that. Just talk to me on the phone like you would a small child who only has just you. Talk to me like your the teddy bear that survived the fire. You are all I have; just please ACCEPT THAT, and let it be ok.
I can't lose them. They're how I got better and without it, I think I'll die. Emotionally, I feel it happening.
There is so much in the world to love. I want to experience it, don't you understand? I want to stay here, and write e-mail, and reply to posts, and go to school, and fall in love with everything I didn't know existed, but there's more to it than that. It comes down to the fact that without them, I run on empty. I've been trying to take credit for surviving my circumstance, and that's made me realize how bleak it really is. I mean, I do live here, on the outskirts of nowhere, with parents who are either absent or unhelpful, fighting a battle only won with troops. I'm doing the impossible, and I'm able to do that because of what I had, but if they take it away, I don't know how to believe I had it.
God. I could go crazy in oh so little time...
chord
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