I think I tend to do that a lot in life. I even miss parts of myself sometimes that I know could be harmful.
I should get rid of what's hidden. I should empty out that box, and clear my desk, take out the contents of that dresser drawer.
I don't know how to get rid of what's always been there. There's a box inside of me filled with sentences and pictures and memories.
I miss you, and I want to go home.
But we all have our problems. We all cry ourselves to sleep at some point. I'm just not sure why.
Most of my clothes aren't fitting right again, I keep getting bigger and bigger. I know I could be imagining it, but I swear I'm not. This is to be expected with being healthy, I get it. I understand. I don't have to be happy about it, I don't have to be excited about it. I definitely don't like it. It feels like people around me stay the same or lose...I get grateful when I hear someone who is gaining also, when someone is going through the scary event that is having to throw out old clothing that used to fit.
I saw a movie the other night with a friend and in it the main character loses a lot of weight to the point where she looks very unhealthy, pale and just sickly. I realize now that my mindset is still in the gutter and hasn't progressed as much because the first emotion that came over me was jealousy when I saw her. She was exactly like what my old "goal" used to be to become. I understand that I won't be happy that thin, I won't be able to do the things that make me happy...I won't be able to do belly dancing or anything like that. And when I got there, I probably wouldn't be able to recognize how small I was anyway. But it still made me think. It is not that my perception of beauty is off. I see women of natural, healthy size and feel admiration and a sense of affection towards them. I don't think people should look unhealthy or even skinny. I don't like what it looks like. But even so, I feel I have to look that way so badly sometimes, so badly that it feels like an ocd thing, like it's this manic need to be that way or something bad will happen to me.
I never questioned myself "why?" before. But I am now and I'm realizing I have no idea and that sometimes I'm afraid to know.
I won't act on it, and I'm just going to try harder to get better mentally, you know? But it's so hard to explain and to not feel like a hypocrite all the time because of it. I realize now that it's not a weight thing to me anymore, it's not totally about looks. It's something that runs so much deeper and that makes it hard to change.
My period only lasted two days again this month. That's okay, I guess. I don't know if that's normal or not. Different people are saying different things. Maybe that's all it can ever be again, I don't know. I feel like it's my fault, like I did something to it to where it's never going to be normal again.
So as is tradition with any American holiday, I stuffed my face yesterday. But I had a really good time doing it. I don't know how to explain the extreme discomfort that is to feel the "need" to purge and to force yourself not to. It is almost impossible to distract yourself even slightly from this gnawing feeling in your gut and throat. I pace a lot. A mouthful doesn't count, I wanted to tell myself. I want to say that today went purge free, but a mouthful does count.
But it's one step closer to nothing, right?
If things go as planned in a month or two I should be a belly dance teacher. I think I want to do this right so badly that it may be my downfall because I want it so much.
So how do you re-teach yourself what good and bad is? How do you teach yourself that good is filling out and being healthy and bad is losing weight when it used to make you so incredibly happy...or full. It used to make me full, more complete than anything else...until the affect wore off and I would go back to nothing, empty. I have a few things to teach myself. Each day I am reminded by the clothing I wear and the scale my family insists on keeping the bathroom of the choice I have made to live. I am very grateful for all that I have. So who cares if some screwed up part of me is angry and terrified because I am healthy?
Monday I should be getting an e-mail from Tabitha, the lady who ran the audtions last monday in Lafayette. She should be sending me scene from the film for me to read for them on Thursday. I figure if I just go in and do what feels right, what is supposed to happen will happen. And I am desperately trying to not get my hopes up. I know it's a process, I've been doing this for way too long. So I'm trying not to hold my breath since I'm already busy pacing.
I'm not going into work today, I'm trying to get out of class, I don't want to be around people, it's too exhausting. I got a call back for the movie I went to audition for on Monday. I wrote Claire and told her what's been going on with me, I told her everything I could think of that I'd been keeping from her for fear that she would be disgusted. She hasn't written me back. I'm going to get into bed and tell myself it makes me feel better to lay there.
I wouldn't have any problems if I could learn to count my blessings. I looked at myself in the mirror last night and it all fell to pieces. I can stop counting calories and close my eyes when the doctor weighs me, but I can't get away from myself.
I'm extremely busy all the time, and experiencing a lot of guilt towards the acts of sleeping and eating. I let myself do them but that is the key word here: "let" myself. I should be doing what I need to do when I want to without feeling like it's this great, big painful deal. I feel like someone is watching me all the time and shaking their head when I do things, and it makes me feel embarassed and ashamed and it's really getting on my nerves.
I have yoga tonight, and I've been on the internet all day looking at ideas for choreographies.
I guess Markus got married. I also have discovered that I need a job soon because I have no idea how long the shop is going to stay open. We went to half days but soon we may have to close. Which is embarassing because I don't want people to think that we're sad about it, we're poor, or that we couldn't do it. It's stressing my mom out way too much and she's wondering if maybe she needs a break.
Claire has cut off all contact with me and I think she may have even blocked me.
Uh, and I have been listening to the ablbum "We Don't Need to Whisper" all day. It's pretty good.
I don't know, this is a very boring post. There's nothing to eat here, and I'm glad because I don't want to conflict right now. I don't.
