October 4, 2005
Autumn
It's October already and I wonder where the months have gone. It seems only yesterday that Pete and I moved in here. I love autumn. The changing colors, the cool mornings and warm (sort of) days. Curling up on the couch with a pile of blankets and a good (ana) book, feeling small and secure in my little cocoon. Nothing can hurt me. Nothing can touch me. I feel safe, even if it's only in my head. It's oddly triggering for me, if that makes any sense at all. I can't explain why.
Maybe the change of seasons is somewhat of a reminder that even when I feel like my world is slowly crumbling around me, and everything else is moving at a faster pace than I can comprehend, there is still at least SOME continuity to hold onto. No matter what happens, the seasons will still change and life will still go on.
I had an appointment with the dr. on campus yesterday. Turns out the 'yearly cold' is really 'acute bronchitis' and I'm now on super strong antibiotics and an inhaler. $94.00 later. Reminder to self: Never let my health insurance lapse--for whatever reason. I still need to get my effexor or face the horrid consequences of massive withdrawl symptoms. There's another $178. That's for ONE month supply. With the Yasmin, my current prescription cost per month is running well over $200 a month, not counting additional stuff like antibiotics.
Pete says not to worry about it. We argued last night about the cost. I said I don't want to pay $178 for one prescription. Told him I'm not worth that. He disagreed. Said not to think that way, and not to worry about it. Said we'd pay whatever the cost was, cause I needed my meds. I finally went to Walgreen's a little after midnight and picked up the two prescriptions for the bronchitis, but not the Effexor yet. I've got one day to decide what I'm gonna do, cause my last dose is today. Do I just suck it up and deal with the withdrawl (I deserve it anyhow), or do I forget about the cost and just pay for it. Like food-- I wish money didn't exist.
I've been on autopilot the last few days. Pretty much all weekend, in fact. But sometimes I welcome the numbness of thought and emotion. At least I had a fairly good weekend. No thoughts made it easy to get through the days.
Started filling out the application for Mercy (IP). As I fill in the required information, I disconnect. It's not me writing. I fill in my name and don't recognize it as mine. It's just a name, no person behind it. Just black in scratched onto the pure white fibers of the application. It asks my address. My phone number. Asks if I get along with my parents (no) and if I've ever had __________ (circle all that apply). I'm a little concerned about the numerous choices that fit my life. Wonder if this will help or hinder my application.
They ask my height (5'8). They ask my weight (115) and I feel horribly guilty. Horribly fat. Feel like I'm suffocating in my own fatness. Too much, too much, too much. I feel guilty for having to write down three numbers. It should only be two numbers. Not three. Three is far too much. Too heavy, too..... everything. I don't even feel like I'm me anymore. Who was I to begin with? Yes-- I know what I like, such as running, writing, art, etc. But that doesn't encapsulate all that I am. Who is Wendy in the first place? Everything is based on what I do. I don't know myself any other way.
Pete tells me I'm beautiful. That I'm smart, that I'm any one of a number of other (positive) adjectives he can think of. Friends tell me similar things. I listen, but don't hear it. I listen but it's not me that they're talking about. It can't be, as I would think I should know myself better than other people do. After all, I'm the one that has to live in this (fat) body, this life.
Damn.. I need to stop thinking for awhile. I need to get ready for class....
Posted by Wendy on October 4, 2005 5:34 AM