8:15 p.m. - 03/10/03
I talk so all the time. so.
I did well for as long as I had to and then I crashed. Again. I studied and I pumped out worksheets, and I quizzed and I tested, and I closed the door and collapsed into a bed. I couldn't sleep, but I still stayed there, in the dark, pretending I couldn't hear my mom on the phone, so maybe if she saw me she'd pretend not to know I was awake...I really can't imagine having ever been this exhausted when I'm taking care of myself. I'm sick (queasy), I'm beyond fatigued, and it's just amazing to me how bad it's gotten so fast. A few days ago I didn't understand why the doctor was talking to me about fatigue; now I feel like a burnt-out executive, the difference being that my job right now is running my own life. Maybe I'll just make it the goal to stay up long enough to feel pride in all that I got done...
Gothic and history and testing, oh my...
I wrote a scathing letter today- again on the catch-more-flies-with-honey end of "scathing" ... this time to whomever answers the letters at quotegarden. Generally, I love it. (It's a quote site.) But the page of "women's" quotes is entirely insane. It's made up solely of women's perspective of men, as if we- as a sex- don't exist in our own right, only in response to the dominant half of the species. Very not cool with this feminist. Add injury to insult with a couple of dieting quotes the pro-ana culture could latch onto no problem, and I was all about a scathing letter. Unfortunately, I'm back to dealing with bureaucratic bullshit, rather than actual people, and that's hard to maintain. It's similar to school. I've turned in a thousand assignments; I keep doing new ones. I've seen almost no graded work. It's not that I want grades (hell, that's one of the - many - reasons I'm not off to the Ivy League) but I wouldn't mind some feedback. I do not like speaking into a void. I told Laura that about the EDAW e-mail, and she told me she is, with my permission, adding them to the resources she gives troupes who want to do work regarding eds. I told myself that, and I received four responses out of eight people. When I finished the letter, I went to the page for that ring and said to myself, "A few days ago, there were ten people in this ring. A few days ago they weren't even thinking about it." I tried to tell myself I made something happen, which is so amazing; I made something happen...and Shan and iwillsurvive have been all supportive-like, and I'm really happy with the way things turned out. (Though I'd like to see a few less names in the ring, still. And a few more in the pro-recovery. I know the real point is thoughts, not numbers, but it's perceptions are markedly harder to measure.)
There are a few things that I've forgotten to tell this journal recently, and they aren't things I want to skip over or not say, so I'm going to try and detail them (as much as I feel like) in this entry. Dr. R and I talked about boundaries again Wednesday. He asked me, once again, how I see boundaries, and I told him once again that I (now) love them, that I see them somewhat, as a line in the sand. I say, "hey. That's too close." And the weird thing (to me) is that generally people say, "Oh, of course! Duh! Whoops; won't do that again" and everything is ok. People usually don't freak out on me the way that I expect. Also, lines in the sand are easily redrawn. Changed. Moved. Redefined.
He liked the idea, and told me for the second time that he's been taught to see boundaries like a hug. You pull someone close, but you still have a chest and a rib cage and all that good stuff to keep them from crushing your heart. He'd told me it before, so I sort of smiled and nodded, and then he said, "and here's the other thing: your arms- your arms that keep them close, are a boundary also. A boundary can also be - I need you to be at least this close. I need this much from you." And I was like, ooh. I've never in my life thought of that. In some ways, it's painful; it's the boundary Billy so often distorted, in his upsettedness when I didn't write right away. But it's also really beautiful. Can I do that? Can I say to someone, "I need you at least this much" the same way I say, "I need you to back off just this little" - with the understanding that they can say no? It feels almost impossible to me, selfish in a way. How could you possibly tell someone to stay close? But then I feel like abandonment is impending at all times, inevitable. I have no concept (ok, I have only a slight concept) of people *wanting* to stay in my life. So. I kind of feel like I'm fencing friends in against their will. But if it wasn't against their will, it could be rather lovely. It makes me think of algebra: of graphing linear equations, and when the areas meet both terms, you color the space between the two lines. This is our space- from here to here. It's really lovely...
Needs and algebra both make me think of Mandy, who I haven't heard from in months. I wonder how she'd respond to a lightly penned line on our little graph? Hey, I need to hear from you more than once a year. Hey, one response for every ten e-mails is not a ratio that works for me. Hey, can you tell me you're alive now and then?
At one point, Britt and I talked about how often I could go onto IM, in order to talk with her more often. It hasn't worked lately, as I haven't gotten on too often, but in the beginning it was good. It was good for me to make this committment about how much I could do, at the same time I made commitments about how little (namely, I won't caretake.) Maybe it could work that way with other people. Ok. I'm pausing this entry temporarily to e-mail Chas and Mandy. Deep breath. This is far harder than a scathing letter...
~
Ok, I wrote one to Mandy. I hear from Chas more often, and I don't have the stamina right now for two in a row. I feel like it's a more serious problem with Mandy, anyway. I almost never hear from her, and that's not good when she's still on my people-to-take-to-the-deserted-island list.
I know there was more than that one thing that I've been meaning to talk about, though I think that was the main one. Boundaries on the other end...I can't think of anything else I meant to say.
I heard from the guy who directed a production of Jesus Christ Superstar I was in at the ripe old age of 12. Actually, Sarah heard from him, and since the e-mail was directed to her, me, and Rachel (from the company) she forwarded it to both of us. Scary shit, that. Kind of offensive, actually; we want off on him a little. For Sarah, it's an issue of- they were in college together; she doesn't need to be labeled "his little girl." For me, it's a youngest child issue. Do you know how often I hear, "The last time I saw you- I think you were about this high!"? Do you really? He was reminiscing, saying- wasn't it just yesterday that we were doing Superstar, and I was like, actually six years have passed. Oh, and you want me to look at your resume? Sure, why don't you look at mine. I'm an award-winning playwright and I have a theater company in NYC, a show coming to Manhatten in April. The preview at a festival was very well-received; we're preparing for possible participation in the Voice and Vision retreat. (They called us.) I'm not quite done with high school... What did you say you were up to again?
Just a little bit defensive. The first year I auditioned for school theater, the established drama queen tried to knock me down a notch with her credits, and I gave a cool nod and rattled off my own. Hers were limited to the same stage we were about to perform on. Mine stretched across the board. I ended up rattling her.
And at any moment, I am innocent, intimidating...
Ok, that e-diets banner about the "love handles" needs to die. And I need to write a letter for iwillsurvive's cause, but I honestly can't write another letter right now. Right now, I need a letter myself. I need a session, actually. Hello, Mr. Doctor Person, could you please explain to me why I'm not ok when things are fine?
Oh, that's right. They're not really fine. Eyes of hurricanes are still eerie as hell. I think I'm a tropical storm.
If I were there right now, I'd be too tired to talk. I'm not sure what I'd need to say. Probably, "Mandy's not the only one too far away." Do I really want to hear that Rogers is home, and I'm allowed to love them, but oh, wait- can't do anything about it, yet again?
In place of relation: obsessiveness.
chord
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