It's Thanksgiving.

But I've retreated so far into myself that I don't care.

The mere thought of having to shower and get dressed/ready for the schedule full of nothing I have to do today, is just completely overwhelming.

I spent Sunday with the boy's very immediate family. They rearrange the days and celebrate early, because boy's brother has to work today. And he might quit his job if he has to work a holiday. He's done it before. So the whole family has to panic and check calendars and make phone calls, because nobody wants drunky drunk to have any excuse whatsoever to quit his job. He will find one, because that's what he does. He's done it before. But if we don't move the holidays around for him, it would be all our fault when he quits, and not his. It didn't feel like Thanksgiving at all, tensions were running high and the Boy's mom didn't want to have it all, but felt obligated to. She cried while cooking and nobody knew what to do. I know what I wanted to do. Run away.

There are no plans in my family, that I know of. But how would I? I got a text this morning from my mom (aunt), that says "Happy Thanksgiving!!" and I'm sure that's all I will hear. I'm still not quite over her telling me I'm not a part of her family, and that I'm selfish in her drug induced craziness. It's getting easier for me to distance myself now. Or at least I tell myself it is. I expect it to happen in all my relationships, so I'm getting better at not getting so attached. This one still really stings though.

I send out the "Have a lovely Thanksgiving" emails and texts, and I do mean it, but I don't feel anything. I know if I let myself, I would just end up being upset and sad that I don't have a family that cares.

I used to love the holidays, especially Christmas. And now that I look back on it, it's not because the holidays were ever good. But it did give me an excuse to pretend things were. I could sit in front of the lights on the tree in the dark, and pretend things were magical. I didn't know at the time I was faking it. But I always was. Now that I'm older, and more "experienced", I know that there is no long, fantastical wait for Christmas. That it comes in the blink of an eye, and it is just an above average time for disappointment. Another great big reminder that I'm more alone than I lie to myself about all the rest of the year. When everyone else is talking about being with family and friends, and I have to deal with it being smashed into my face that I lack all these things. That I lack everything.

I try to tell myself that all the stuff I'm missing is overrated, that the more people I have to care about, the more chances I have to hurt when something happens to them or the relationships I have with them. I try SO hard to detach myself and not care, but it's really not in my nature. I am sensitive. Overly so a lot of the time. I can't really make myself believe that I don't need anyone. I do. I really do.

I will still put up lights and try to enjoy them, and hopefully a tree.

I want to enjoy the next month of the holiday season, I just need to find that thing that gets people out of bed and out into the world.

It just takes so. much. energy.

I hiked up a big rock today. This one: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beacon_Rock_State_Park to be exact. Not a huge feat I suppose, but I didn't really want to do it, and I did. I didn't know if I could do it at first, as it was a lot bigger of a rock than the picture suggests and to look up at it is pretty intimidating. But, I marched my ass up there and took in the view. It was well worth it... That beautiful view in the awesome 77 degree sun, and the fact that I got over wanting to turn around for the first half of the hike. I actually finished something I started.

I feel good today.

I wish I could write. I think I have the potential to write, but whenever I sit down to do it, I think too much and try too hard and then stop before I ever get started.

I just wanted to get that out there.

I'm really in a tough spot right now. I feel like I'm always in a tough spot, or imagine that I am.

I can't take it anymore.

I've been sitting here trying to think of all the things I want to get off my chest.. trying to figure out a way to word everything the right way. It never comes out how I want it to.

I am coming to terms with the fact that I'm not ok. That I'm not a fake at being disordered just because I have an ok day now and then. I'm not trying to be a downer, just realistic. The part of me that feels like I'm not really "sick" has been holding me back from getter better, for 15 years. I've got to stop lying to myself and saying that there isn't really anything wrong with me. I really took a look at myself today, at how I'm living my life, or actually NOT living it and I finally broke down and sobbed about it. Sort of a mix of WTF have I done with all this time I've wasted, and thank fuck i'm finally at least seeing a glimmer of wanting to change.

Mind you, this realization comes because of the current state of my health and the fact that i'm so depressed, I haven't left the house or my bed in two weeks other than going to the doctor. Even as I write this I think well shit, i'm writing about how I'd like to be better, so I can't be THAT BAD. But I am. This isn't a normal life, this isn't living. I don't feel sad all the time, I just don't feel anything, and I honestly feel like I'm just wading around in the water until my times up. No wonder I never follow through on anything or care about anything. I'm just waiting to die. No, I'm not suicidal right now either.. but I just don't care about anything very much. I have little glimpses here and there, like at the beginning of this entry.. and here we are 5 minutes later and my motivation has all but disappeared. That right there tells me something is very wrong.

I know the new drugs won't cure me, but I hope they can at least give me the kick I need to find some discount therapy or something. I want to be fixed. I want to live a normal life.

Thank you to everyone who bothers to read this crap. I know i'm just rambling and it's stupid, but I just need to put it somewhere.

I'll end this with something I like about myself that I noticed today. I care about people. And even when I'm going through things that are completely time and emotionally engulfing, I ask how people are doing and genuinely want to know. I really like that about myself actually.

Come on Prozac. Help me.

Nutritionist....

I'm thinking of telling my nutritionist about my eating disorder. The funniest thing is that it's all in my chart.. I went to treatment in 2001, and my chart is about a foot thick with all the stuff I've had wrong. But, after treatment, I think everyone just thought I was "cured". Really, nobody really even asked me anything else about my eating disorder ever again. Maybe they thought bringing it up would bring it back? I don't know, but it baffles me that even my doctors never really brought it up. I guess I was ok with that for a long time, knowing that treatment didn't work for me pretty much at all. It was geared toward the "regular" eds.. not diabulimia whatsoever. And though I'm bulimic as well, they didn't address my diabetes at all and it was a huge part of my problem. Anyway... I'm really thinking of telling her, though I don't really know what it would do. I don't have insurance, and she can't cure me with a new meal plan. But at least I'll feel like I'm doing something to actively better myself. I don't want to lose my vision, a kidney, a foot... I wish I could just go to treatment again now that i'm ready, I really want to beat this before it beats me. But money is everything apparently. And I cannot stop it on my own, I have 14 years under my belt to prove that.

This isn't crazy, it's just me.

Do we ever actually know ourselves?
It really seems like each time I've ever thought I figured myself out, or part of myself at least, I find out I have no idea again. As usual.
It's like happiness (whatever that means to anyone) is always elusive. And when I find what I thought was it.. it turns out to be something else that is out of reach. I know it's good to have goals, but really? Is happiness something I'll never actually achieve? Is it always going to be the carrot being dangled in front of my face? Or is it all just in my mind.. do I want to be just "almost" happy forever? It is already getting old, I can't imagine just chasing happiness for the rest of my life. That's damn depressing. I have all the basics to be quite content (almost) and should just be ok with it. But I'm always looking for a better opportunity. WHY!?!?!

I hate that I won't let myself be happy. I just don't think I'm capable and I don't know how to fix that.

Friends are hard to come by.

It's really an eye opener when you don't like any of your friends... I am finally feeling like going out and doing something after a week and a half of being sicker than sick.. and I find myself not really wanting to go with anyone who wants to go with me. I would really love for my cat to not be so deathly afraid of the wind blowing.. I would put him in my bag and take him out with me. Yes, I have become a sad cat lady.

I tend to surround myself with the people mentioned in the previous entry.. ones who incessantly talk about themselves, sort of nod when I try to mention something, then continue on with more of their boring drama.. that really isn't drama at all. Stories of how they had to work 7 hours this week or the 100 dollars they pay in rent is just so much money.. UGH. I wish it wasn't so fucking hard to make friends that are worthwhile.. and to be honest I don't really have the patience to make friends at all. It's like dating. Can we just get past the whole "get to know each other" phase and get to the "i'm getting a beer out of your fridge without asking" phase? Please?

I'm going fucking stir crazy, I've only been out of the house to go to school in the past week and not out of my room at all for the last two days, with the blinds drawn of course. I need to feel alive again, and it's not going to happen in this apartment.

I'm putting an ad up on Craigslist for friends. I'm fucking pathetic.

Out of control

When in this life will everything be clear and honest and appear just as it is. I'm tired of everything being foggy and feeling shaky and unsure. When will I look at something and just KNOW that is is toxic to me, without that little voice in the back of my head whispering that it might not be just this once. That I should try it because life is about taking risks and if I don't give everything at least a chance (or 50) I will regret it.

Why do I give more of myself to others than I do to myself? When will I stop feeling like I need to help EVERYONE, and drain all of my energy, thinking I might get some love and care in return, when that never happens. I know you aren't supposed to give anyone anything and expect something in return, but sometimes my tank just runs out when nobody even attempts to fill it. And at the end of the day, I'm just too exhausted to do that for myself.

This is sort of a realization post. I wish I could trust in things.. just have faith, but I don't know if that will ever happen. I don't want to be taken advantage of.
I don't even trust myself.. and that's probably where the problem begins.

Lots of work ahead.. and I'm okay with that.

I just realized I started this blog back in 2005, and well... my entries from then are a little scarce and vague. I remember what was going on then though, and am so thankful I've narrowed down my crazy a bit.

That's the thing about journaling, you can't really be 100% honest unless you are prepared for everyone ever to know everything about yourself. Online is one thing, but especially if you actually have a journal in book form. There is something so special about actually writing your thoughts, then coming back later to see that you put all that effort into spilling your heart onto those pages. However, Somebody always finds it and reads it, knowing they should have never touched the one thing that is most precious to you. I've had to throw out all the thousands of pages I wrote, after being read by somebody who shouldn't have and then almost ruining my life. Yes, pretty much lovely.

I've told myself I would write about my life and what-have-you for, well, pretty much my whole existence.. so maybe I should start. I probably won't, but I want to, so I guess that's a step in the right direction. I tell myself that every January first. Wow, I've had the same New Year's resolution forever and I've never followed through. That's not really a surprise.

So, here goes...it might be a stress relief to write about something that doesn't have to do with a research paper for once.

Cheers.