Saturday, December 17, 2011
pro ana tinted glasses
Thank you my darling Fat Piggy, Christina, Jackie and Zapfire for your lovely comments and words of support. Especially to Fat Piggy for your advice. I love you girls!
The thing is, I've been on a rollercoaster ride of tumultuous emotions about what I've done. I know you've all been congratulating me for being so brave in telling the professor. And I do know that I am extraordinarily lucky to have someone like the professor in my life. But the following is a diary entry and all I've changed is I've taken out the names. I think it shows how I feel about all this.
December 16th 2011 23:21
So I talked to the professor. It felt great at first. I felt so cared for. He seemed to care about the weight loss attempts and the purging and the depression. He said he thought I was attractive and smart and caring and a host of other things that I can’t remember and he said he thought I was too thin. Ha. There’s no such thing as too thin.
I don’t know what to do. It’s not that I don’t believe him. I want to trust him, I really do. But I don’t trust anybody. I don’t know how to trust people. I don’t know what it’s like to be able to rely on someone and know for sure that they will come through.
When someone tells me I’m beautiful, I can’t stop myself thinking that they are crazy. It makes me sad because I’d love to take it as a compliment and have it make my day.
Now the professor wants to monitor me. I hope he’s too busy to remember that. I hope he’s too busy to remember our conversation. It was great to feel cared for for a few hours but now I regret it. I have to lose weight. I’m a big, ugly, disgusting, incompetent, idiotic slob that is a sad, sad excuse for a human being. The only one of those things that I can change is the weight. I want to be thin. I want to feel beautiful and I want to really believe it. I want to be able to feel proud of myself. I want to be able to be in front of people and not be ashamed of how I look. I want so many things.
My weight hasn’t shifted in 6 months. This fact makes me want to crawl into a corner and die. This is how useless I am. I can’t even work at the one thing I really want. How pathetic am I.
I hate reading the pro-ana blogs. Everyone else is so much better at losing weight than me. Everyone else is so close to size 0. Everyone else is so much stronger than me. I feel so useless.
YW is now the research fellow. I’m thanking my lucky stars that I am in Waikato because I think being around YW as the research fellow would drive me into suicide within a few months. She’s gorgeous. I still rate Alex higher, but YW is wonderful. She’s tiny thin. She’s perky all the time. And she’s amazingly intelligent. I know the professor likes her. And just typing that has made me cry again. I don’t understand why I don’t want to share.
I feel like he can’t possibly like all these other people and still like me. I think so highly of him, but that is so incongruous with my opinion of him that I can’t accept it. If he knows these people at all, he’ll see that I could never even hope to be a quarter of the people that they are and that he is simply wasting his time on me.
Even if he wants to help me, he’s spending a lot of time on a hugely disordered girl who is beyond any help and knows she will kill herself one day. I can’t believe what he says, I can’t believe that he likes me. Except, when he’s there, in front of me, and I see that look in his eyes and I feel his arms around me and his beard rubbing on my face, I can’t help but to believe every word he says.
They are such precious moments. For a fleeting moment, a moment I wish I could freeze and remain in forever, a moment I wish I could bottle and revisit, I feel cared for, I feel like I matter, I feel like I’m not a waste of space and oxygen, I feel like I’m beautiful. But then the moment is gone and I’m staring at myself in front of the mirror and the fat and ugliness is too much to bear.
I want to tell the professor everything. Just sit him down and tell him about all the torment, about crying myself to sleep each night, about the cutting and the suicidal thoughts. I want to somehow make him understand how much it hurts and how worthless I am. I don’t even want him to fix it. I want him to reject me so that I can go ahead and kill myself without any regrets.
Yet I want him to think well of me. I don’t know why he is so important to me. Maybe it’s because for some reason I feel like he is the father I wish my real father could be and so right now I have a second chance to get the approval and love of a father. I might not have done so well the first time, but now I have a second chance and I don’t want to screw up.
Ironically, I screwed up before I even started. I don’t have a hope of holding a special place in his heart. My chances were dead before the idea even formed in my head. But when I see him, I want to give him all of me. Maybe then he’ll love me. Maybe then I won’t feel so alone and I’ll have someone I can trust and rely on.
But these are all rose tinted dreams. That’s all they are. And now I want to cut again.