For a while things were really, kinda, sorta looking up. Today I actually had a wonderful day, I felt good, it was a beautiful day…but tonight I’m bloated, ugly, stupid and miserable. All in a matter of a few hours, my zest for life is gone and it’s definitely because of food, because of my disgusting body and all the ways it makes me feel out of control and horrid.
I haven’t been on Tumblr hardly at all because first, a few weeks ago I got laid off, and then last week I got a new job. I promised myself I wouldn’t just “take the first job I got handed” but I got handed a salaried position with benefits doing something quiet and contemplative so I just went, “Okay, fine” — and away I went.
I’ve been training this last week and tomorrow is my official orientation at the hospital. I’m working in “health information” which is basically MEDICAL RECORDS. It’s actually something I’ve always thought I’d enjoy. Pretty solitary, a lot of reading and organizing. It’s like OCD Paradise: organizing, filing, color coding and everyone’s germaphobic (it’s a hospital, you wash your hands 1,000 times a day if you’re NORMAL.)
It’s not exactly easy, but it isn’t overwhelming and humiliating like retail. It’s busy and my eyes get tired and the rest of me gets tired but it’s not high anxiety. I think, for now, it’s a genuinely good fit for me.
It’s been interesting because I’m the youngest one in the office by far. We all take our lunch together in the hospital cafeteria and of course I judge the shit everyone eats. I started eating peanut butter again because I was terrified that without the fat and protein I would literally just pass out. I can’t think anymore and I have no stamina. I was afraid I’d behave like an idiot if I didn’t TRY to make my lunch somewhat nutritious. It’s not even about calories anymore: my brain is fried and it needs a jump.
I haven’t been counting consistently. To some degree, I don’t have to actively count because I just know. Some days I do to “calm myself down” but most days it’s too much effort because I’ve spent all day keeping mental tabs on it anyway. But adding peanut butter back into my diet has made me feel like the fattest, laziest failure ever. I’m trying not to let it get me down.
Meanwhile, my friend who is in treatment is miserable and probably kind-of-maybe not taking it that seriously. I wish I’d never opened up to her about my own struggle with this illness because for the first time, I’m feeling competitive with her. I don’t want to talk to her anymore when she calls or texts because I’m ashamed. I’m not the thinner winner, I’m not even the sicker winner. I’m nothing. And she confides in me because she feels like I’m the only person who isn’t annoying and “really gets it” — and that’s probably true, and on my end, it’s the whole fucking problem.
The look on Ian’s mum face when she found out I was “eating again” was almost enough to think it was the right decision. But I want to take it to the next level. I want to get sicker, I really do. It’s crazy because I should be totally satisfied and happy and I’m not, really, or at least if I am I’m too afraid to actually let it sink in. I think I’m using this as an excuse to not “give in” to any happiness that I might be allowed.
I don’t know, I think it’s fear. Maybe I am a lazy nothing. But the hate for myself is so real, so tangible. I just want to feel like I’m suffering enough to warrant the good. That’s the only way to have it.
Everything sucks. I tried to start eating peanut butter and butter again and it’s making me want to stab myself. I also have this new job and I’m going crazy.
I don’t want to be fat. I don’t want responsibilities because in order to perform, I must eat. Eating will make me fat. Therefore, I should do nothing.
Sorry I don’t post much. I look at the computer and my eyes glaze over.
An article I wrote about my first car that was published on Yahoo!
I’ve sold them two articles in addition to this one so far. I just started last week but, you know, being unemployed I’ve got some time on my hands to crank out a few 400-700 word articles. If you read it, I get paid, so read that shit. <3
A still from the film shoot I did this weekend! :)
I’m having a really hard time.
Wherein I bitch about employment/unemployment and any other variation.
Weight Stereotyping: The Secret Way People Are Judging You Based on Your Body Health & Fitness: glamour.com
And this is precisely why I’m so terrified of becoming overweight and why I ruthlessly pursue thinness.
Up at the ass crack of dawn to get ready for a film shoot today at the media workshops across town. They call me up from time to time when they’ve got a short film or something that they think I’d be interested in. This is the first time I’ve been able to commit to one of their eight hour shoot schedules. Reading through the script now. I’m one half of a couple that’s sitting watching the last sunrise that will occur naturally, as earth prepares to turn away from the said and travel (via man-made accelerant) to another star, since, you know…our own sun is gonna esssplode.
So, my character Isabella is kind of hung up on how Monet and Matisse and Picasso have all had their artwork destroyed in the last ten centuries (it’s a futuristic/post apocalyptic thing) but that it doesn’t really matter because Monet wouldn’t want to pain anyway; it’s not like anyone remembers who he, or anyone else, is.
The idea is that since humankind has come together to build the “earth engine” necessary to move the planet into another galaxy, there is no war, no poverty and there exists a functional government that everyone can actually trust and rely on—so they do.
They discuss how it was ever even possible that there were wars, and they wonde if once they’ve displaced themselves to a safer galaxy and are no longer working together toward the common good if those feelings of war and mistrust will return.
I believe it was written by an international student. I kinda like.
Anyway, it’s a short so at least I’ll have my lines down by the umpteenth take.