Decisions
I’m still not feeling so great, physically or emotionally. In fact, I did something horrible today: I went out and purchased new blades. (I never was able to find the ones I hid under my bed at home, which worries me a little because it means someone else might have found them, although no one said anything.) I’m not having particularly strong urges to use them right now, so I think I should be able to keep myself safe (or at least I hope). Still, I’m feeling kind of guilty for buying them. I know I shouldn’t be cutting; it’s only going to make things worse.
TMI warning: I’ve also been very sick to my stomach. I keep coming so close to having accidents and having to run to the bathroom. I really do fear that I’ve messed up my digestive tract in some way because of years of starving. I mean, I’m twenty-three; I shouldn’t be dealing with incontinence. Ugh, it’s like my intestines are leaking or something. I’m going to bring this up again with the GI doctor when I see her in May.
Sometimes I do wonder why I continue to strive for that perfect weight, continue to starve myself. I mean, what has anorexia really left me with? All I can account for is brittle bones, a nonfunctioning digestive tract, and a shrunken heart that beats twice as fast as it’s supposed to. That’s the legacy anorexia has left me; yet I still continue to starve myself.
Speaking of that stuff, I’ve been having horrible body image today…like, way worse than usual. I don’t know why, but all of the sudden I think my arms look really fat. Obviously my arms aren’t anywhere near as thin as they used to be, but they’ve more or less always been the one part of my body that I’ve continued to feel comfortable with. Today, though, they just looked so fat. Don’t even get me started on my thighs, which are just plain huge. I need to lose weight so badly, but, once again, I seem unable to. Will I ever be skinny again?
I’ve been thinking a lot about my ambivalence towards health. I’m just not sure I want to be healthy. Sure, I don’t want to be depressed anymore (or at least a very large part of me doesn’t want to be), but I still have such mixed feelings about health. Being healthy means having responsibility. Being healthy means people will have expectations of me. Being healthy means that the outside doesn’t match the inside, that people will no longer want to help me.
I went out with a couple of friends and some other people on Saturday night, and the conversation turned to one of the guidance counselors at our old high school, who’s very nice but pretty dumb and not very helpful. One of my friends, who student taught at the school and who keeps in touch with a number of the teachers there, told me that she’s currently seeing two people with anorexia and isn’t being very helpful. According to my friends one of the girls has “done a lot of damage to herself.” That just triggered me so much. It’s like I feel like I haven’t done enough damage to myself yet, like I need to do more. I don’t want some seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl to have done more damage than I have. I hate how eating disorders make a person so competitive, and about the most ridiculous things, too. I mean, really, why do I want to have done the most damage to myself?
We sort of touched upon my own ED a little, but it was mostly in context of how the guidance counselor did such a poor job handling it. I can tell that both my friends think I’m fully recovered. They no longer censor themselves in front of me and act like I’m perfectly normal. It’s because I look normal, and it’s because I try to eat more at home so people don’t get suspicious. They have no idea what’s really going on, how I still limit myself to around 500 calories a day and cut off and on and still have horrible thoughts and am still obsessed with my weight, which disgusts me. I hate how they think everything’s fine and dandy because I’m at a normal weight now.
I guess I just don’t like people making assumptions about how I’m doing or about me in general. If my weight’s OK they assume that I’m OK. If they think I’m OK they assume that they can say whatever they want in front of me, that they can expect certain things from me. It’s like with my advisor; she assumes that I’m better now because I wrote this thesis. I just hate when people make assumptions about me.
Speaking of my advisor and my thesis, I think I’m going to express my concerns to her tomorrow in person. I’m very nervous, but I think I’m ready. My therapist suggested that I maybe write a short piece about my ambivalence about health, which I could maybe end the thesis with and which could maybe help my advisor understand a little better. I’m going to see if I can come up with something tonight.
In other news, my deposit at Sarah Lawrence is due on the twelfth, which means I have to mail it in by either Wednesday or Thursday. I filled out and signed the acceptance form yesterday, so it’s all ready to go; my parents are going to send it and the check for 150 dollars as soon as I give the word. I don’t know why I’m holding back. I think I want to go there, but I still have lingering doubts, which I’ve expressed in previous entries. Plus, I don’t want to upset my mother, because I’m pretty sure she wants me to stay home and go to Vermont. It’s just nerve-racking, because it’s such an important decision. I mean, I could always back out of Sarah Lawrence and lose 150 dollars, but after I send it in I have to decline my offer from Vermont, so if I back out of Sarah Lawrence I won’t be able to go anywhere. It’s a very stressful decision to make.
Well, I guess that’s it. I have to write a paper for Cognitive Psych tomorrow, and I have no idea what to write about. It’s another one of those “create your own experiment” papers, and I hate those. Sometimes I wish he’d just give us tests; I’m just not imaginative enough for these assignments. I guess I’d better get working on it, though.
P.S. If you’re someone who reads my fanfiction, could you please review “Wonderwall?” I don’t mean to sound desperate, but I worked hard on it and would like some feedback.