Square peg, round hole
I woke up this morning with a feeling of foreboding. It was gray and gloomy outside; I could hear the occasional raindrop hit the windowpanes. The lack of sunlight filtering in through the blinds made it feel much earlier than nine o'clock. The cat, who had been sleeping beside me, yawned, stretched, and licked my hand in a morning greeting. Brian was still asleep next to me. I lied there in the gray silence of the room, listening to the sound of my breath and Brian's, watching the numbers on the clock slip by and feeling like shit.
I'm beginning to think that I'm just being an idiot for believing that Brian and I can have a good, healthy relationship. It's not a thought that comes easy; it makes my stomach churn and my heart rate accellerate. I've been trying to ignore it for quite some time, denying it was even there, but now it's grown stronger. I don't know what to do.
We went to the city the other day; it was 4:30 in the morning and neither of us could sleep, so we decided to catch the train to Chicago in lieu of our useless tossing and turning. It was such a beautiful day -- everything about it was perfect. We had coffee and breakfast in a diner across the street from the Sears Tower, and afterwards we walked for miles, covering the city on foot. Eventually, we reached the water, and we lied down on the empty path along the shore and napped next to each other. Later, we had a delicious sushi lunch, visited the Art Institute of Chicago, and spent time ducking in and out of all the various little oddball shops you can find in a huge city. We didn't return home until midnight, and we were exhausted but happy.
I keep playing that day in my head, like a film without sound, over and over again. We have the potential to be so happy together, as days like that prove, and that's what makes this whole thing so hard.
He's worried I'm going to get fat again. I understand his concern; it's well warranted. After all, I spent a large portion of my life stuffing my face, and though my eating habits are much more under control now, it takes more than just a few months to erase a lifelong pattern of overeating. I see where he's coming from; all the same, it hurts me more than I can even express to know that if I were to gain ten pounds, our relationship would be over. I'm working out five days a week, running four miles during each session. I'm constantly hungry because I'm not eating enough food. And yet this is what I have to do in order to save my relationship. It didn't used to be this way -- Brian made sure I knew how important it was to him that I look good, but now I feel...I don't know, moderated. Like he's constantly watching, waiting for me to fuck up. Last night, about an hour and a half after dinner, I still felt hungry, so I got a container of yogurt out of the fridge. Before I even opened it, however, Brian saw what I was doing and said incredulously, "You're eating again?" I constantly feel like a heifer around him; I constantly feel fat. But realistically, all I ate yesterday was some granola with blueberries for breakfast and a salad with shrimp, avocado, spinach, broccoli sprouts, and a balsamic vinaigrette for dinner. I didn't even end up eating the yogurt because I didn't want him to be disgusted by me.
I have a vague awareness that this is very, very, very fucked up, and that any person who doesn't love me for who I am, regardless of how I look, doesn't really love me at all. It's not that he doesn't love me, though -- he just says that love isn't enough to keep a relationship going. If he's not physically attracted to somebody, he will not be in a relationship with them. And he's not physically attracted to me unless I starve myself.
I know this sounds ridiculous, and if I was reading this exact post by somebody else, I'd leave a comment with my two cents, telling her to have some self-respect and self-esteem, to not ever let anyone try to change her, to tell her boyfriend to fuck off and let her eat whatever she damn well pleases. I'd tell her that as long as she was happy with the way she looked, no one else's opinion even mattered. I'd say all those things if it was somebody else, but it's me, and I can't seem to feel that my own advice is valid.
I love Brian...so much. So intensely. We've been through so much together; he's my best friend. I hate this feeling so much: the feeling that trying to be the girlfriend he wants me to be is like trying to squash a square peg in a round hole. Sooner or later, it's going to fall apart. I'm going to eat a cheeseburger at a restaurant one day and it will all be over; if it's not that, it'll be because I left my water glass out on the counter and neglected to put it in the dishwasher, or because I spent the afternoon on the internet instead of getting something done. I feel like I'm constantly on this precipice, the very edge, the fine line between having and not having a relationship, and all it's going to take is one little tiny mistake -- something that's hardly a mistake at all -- to push me over the side.
I fucking hate this.
I'm beginning to think that I'm just being an idiot for believing that Brian and I can have a good, healthy relationship. It's not a thought that comes easy; it makes my stomach churn and my heart rate accellerate. I've been trying to ignore it for quite some time, denying it was even there, but now it's grown stronger. I don't know what to do.
We went to the city the other day; it was 4:30 in the morning and neither of us could sleep, so we decided to catch the train to Chicago in lieu of our useless tossing and turning. It was such a beautiful day -- everything about it was perfect. We had coffee and breakfast in a diner across the street from the Sears Tower, and afterwards we walked for miles, covering the city on foot. Eventually, we reached the water, and we lied down on the empty path along the shore and napped next to each other. Later, we had a delicious sushi lunch, visited the Art Institute of Chicago, and spent time ducking in and out of all the various little oddball shops you can find in a huge city. We didn't return home until midnight, and we were exhausted but happy.
I keep playing that day in my head, like a film without sound, over and over again. We have the potential to be so happy together, as days like that prove, and that's what makes this whole thing so hard.
He's worried I'm going to get fat again. I understand his concern; it's well warranted. After all, I spent a large portion of my life stuffing my face, and though my eating habits are much more under control now, it takes more than just a few months to erase a lifelong pattern of overeating. I see where he's coming from; all the same, it hurts me more than I can even express to know that if I were to gain ten pounds, our relationship would be over. I'm working out five days a week, running four miles during each session. I'm constantly hungry because I'm not eating enough food. And yet this is what I have to do in order to save my relationship. It didn't used to be this way -- Brian made sure I knew how important it was to him that I look good, but now I feel...I don't know, moderated. Like he's constantly watching, waiting for me to fuck up. Last night, about an hour and a half after dinner, I still felt hungry, so I got a container of yogurt out of the fridge. Before I even opened it, however, Brian saw what I was doing and said incredulously, "You're eating again?" I constantly feel like a heifer around him; I constantly feel fat. But realistically, all I ate yesterday was some granola with blueberries for breakfast and a salad with shrimp, avocado, spinach, broccoli sprouts, and a balsamic vinaigrette for dinner. I didn't even end up eating the yogurt because I didn't want him to be disgusted by me.
I have a vague awareness that this is very, very, very fucked up, and that any person who doesn't love me for who I am, regardless of how I look, doesn't really love me at all. It's not that he doesn't love me, though -- he just says that love isn't enough to keep a relationship going. If he's not physically attracted to somebody, he will not be in a relationship with them. And he's not physically attracted to me unless I starve myself.
I know this sounds ridiculous, and if I was reading this exact post by somebody else, I'd leave a comment with my two cents, telling her to have some self-respect and self-esteem, to not ever let anyone try to change her, to tell her boyfriend to fuck off and let her eat whatever she damn well pleases. I'd tell her that as long as she was happy with the way she looked, no one else's opinion even mattered. I'd say all those things if it was somebody else, but it's me, and I can't seem to feel that my own advice is valid.
I love Brian...so much. So intensely. We've been through so much together; he's my best friend. I hate this feeling so much: the feeling that trying to be the girlfriend he wants me to be is like trying to squash a square peg in a round hole. Sooner or later, it's going to fall apart. I'm going to eat a cheeseburger at a restaurant one day and it will all be over; if it's not that, it'll be because I left my water glass out on the counter and neglected to put it in the dishwasher, or because I spent the afternoon on the internet instead of getting something done. I feel like I'm constantly on this precipice, the very edge, the fine line between having and not having a relationship, and all it's going to take is one little tiny mistake -- something that's hardly a mistake at all -- to push me over the side.
I fucking hate this.