breaking my resolve

There is an uncontrollable bitterness rising in my chest, an unbelievable pettiness laced with sour shots of jealousy and revulsion and hate. I want to vomit it out but I've only had a mini strawberry tart today and that was many hours ago. It took me an hour to eat and everyone was staring at me. Thank God the professor wasn't there. 

If find myself leaving the room when Alex and YW walk in. I can't look at them anymore. I can't deal with that right now. I've got a much more bitter pill to swallow. 

Her name is Izzy. Izzy, baby girl, why did it have to be you? She's older than me, BMI of 17 something. Thin, beautiful, witty, cynical, intelligent, ambitious. She's one of my best friends at work. Together with Steph, we are the dream team. We are sitting at her desk, chatting, laughing, being stupid. 

I wonder what the professor and his wife got me? I don't even understand the question. Not until I see her gesture to a Christmas present. She opens it and peers inside. The rest of that conversation is not something that I recall. 

How can I have been so stupid? How did I not see what I was really doing? How did I get so desperate? How did I break my own resolve?

I presented myself to a doctor. To my boss. To the head of department. To the one person in this whole world who has any power over my future. I said, look at me, poor little me, look at how sick I am, look at how I'm hurting. I asked him to fix me. And now he is going to try. 

How did I not put myself in his shoes? If I was looking at a patient who was exactly like me, I'd do everything I possibly could to try and heal her. To help her. I would work all the extra hours, I would bully all the other departments, I'd do what I could to get her what she needed. It doesn't mean I feel anything for her. She is my patient, I'm doing my job. 

Now I realise I was being stupid. I was ignorant, running away with my daydreams, floating around on clouds of hope and love and all those things that don't really exist. How did I not see that I am a patient? I am a patient and nothing more. I am a patient and I've stupidly checked myself into the hospital that is the mind of the professor and I don't know how to discharge myself. 

I know why I've done it. For a brief moment I felt special. I felt like I mattered to someone. I felt like I made an impact on someone's life. What folly. I'm not usually this dumb. People see what they want to see. And I saw what I have so badly yearned for for so long. 

Izzy loves her Christmas present. It's such a good present, I almost wish I'd thought of it and bought it for her. Am I just jealous that I didn't get one too? Maybe. But the truth hits me like a wrecking ball. I smile weakly at her but I'm not really seeing her. I see reality. 

I see myself standing before my own eyes in a hospital gown, hair disheveled, skin broken and bruised, walking around with a drip in my arm down the hospital corridor. There stands the professor, with my chart in his hand, checking my vitals and my weight. Another patient on a very long list of patients. That's all I am, another person on a long list of people who need help. How could any doctor refuse me? 

I go to say goodbye to the professor. And I say goodbye. It's a word I never use because it sounds so final. But I mean it. He tells me to be good and to contact him when I'm back from my holiday. I nod, but I'm not going to do it. I don't want to see him unless I must for work. I refuse to be another name on a patient list. I don't want help. I know what I want to do, I don't need someone to hold my hand. 

I see 2012 stretch before me. Long work hours, no food and a gym membership. I can see the perfect me. Ribs and spine and hips. Doctor. 

I step on my scale. 119.2lbs. The lowest I've been this year. I leap off, jumping in happiness. A lot has happened but little has changed. Still, nothing compares to the feeling of losing weight. My abdomen hurts from the hunger but I have no appetite. Maybe I will see 118lbs soon. 

On Christmas day I fly to Singapore. To binge on food and clothing. Then I'm back for work, gym, fasting. I will lose the weight. I will lose the weight. I will lose the weight. How could I be so stupid. Nothing can break my resolve. 90lbs. What wouldn't I give to see you now? Still, one step at a time. As long as the scale goes down, that's all that matters.