January 4, 2006

Down to the Final Days

The last week has flown by so incredibly fast. I question myself on a near-hourly basis as to whether or not making the decision to go inpatient was the right decision. Part of me knows it is... but at the same time--- there's this other side that's so damn convincing and so much louder, so much stronger than i am. i've been on an emotional rollercoaster this entire last week. If I'm not completely numb-- no thoughts, no feelings in either direction-- then i'm in a state of anxiety and overwhelmed by even the simplest of tasks.

i have barely started packing and I leave Friday morning. This Friday. Like in two-days-Friday. The only thing i have even semi-ready to pack up in the car is my art stuff... my paints and brushes, canvases and clay. Sketchbooks and pencils and watercolors and paper. Other than downloading some new songs onto my MP3, that's as far as i've gotten. Problem is, i don't even know where to start. i'll attempt to get going with it-- and the idea of it is overwhelming. it's not so much the idea of packing, but the fact that it's for 2 months. or 3- depending how things go. So far, i've avoided cutting the last two days--- but the desire has been there like crazy. And it always increases the moment i allow myself to start thinking about leaving.

Pete and i don't talk much about it. It's too hard. It hurts too much. And we're both excellent at avoidance. I laid awake last night for several hours after Pete fell asleep, trying to keep from crying. Trying to stop the thoughts long enough to fall into some state of semi-sleep. At least long enough to escape reality for a bit. So i laid there, staring at the patterns the moonlight made on the ceiling as it dodged the branches of the barren trees outside. Little fingers, little bones, reaching towards the Heavens, pleading for it to offer some sanctity from the bitter chill... the darkness outside, as though the Heavens had ears. I guess if it does-- I don't speak the language.

As hard as it is for me to admit it out loud-- yeah, i DO want to go to Westwind. i DO want this. i know that i can't keep living like this anymore. i look at other people and can only wonder what it's like to be "normal". To not have thoughts of cutting or starving or losing weight or running on my mind 24/7-- even when I sleep. My dreams aren't even immune to those thoughts these days. And there are moments I can actually say I HATE myself for all of this. For everything i've given up or missed out on or avoided over the years. I think of the friends who've walked away, or the one's that I have walked away from-- all because of my neurotic behavior that no one ever understood-- even myself, most of the time.

i'm still in a bit of disbelief over just how many people are supportive of me in this. It's always been one of those unspoken things--- like everyone knew what was going on.... they saw it. They knew. And no one said a thing. And now-- it seems that's all anyone wants to talk about..... but it's not necessarily in a negative sort of way. My old therapist from Lincoln sent me a card---- said something about making this the greatest journey of my life.. Riss's email saying how much she hated watching me deal with it all through high school... college.... how she's proud of what i'm doing and that she's always there for me... even if we have drifted apart a bit over the last few years. Birdie's phone calls lately.... Nic, Kelli, Alyssa. My supervisors at work. i told them Monday that i was leaving for awhile. Told them where i was going and why. Surprisingly, one of my supervisors was all for it. Said she's struggled with the same thing for years.....though she's past it for the most part, even though it does creep up now and again. At least i know one of them 'gets it' in a first-hand experience sort of way. They offered to hold my job for me until i get back-- if i wanted it. Said i'm (supposedly) one of their best employees and they'd hate to lose me, and to just give them a call when i get back and i'm ready to return to work. Gave me FMLA papers to fill out-- even though-- by law-- they don't have to hold my position, since i haven't yet been there a year.

Everyone on my xanga journal (www.xanga.com/anarunner) has been incredibly supportive. Former co-workers.... it's mind-boggling. ..... even my parents... and grandparents are all for it. My grandma knows how much my art means to me.... bought me a whole art set in this awesome wooden box thing with trays of paints and pencils, charcoals and watercolors, colored pencils, canvas, sketchbooks...... to take with me to Canada. Offered to pay for Pete to come up to Manitoba and visit a couple of times while I'm gone. Is paying for our gas and hotel costs getting up there and back. Where is all this coming from??? Half of me says just to accept it all and be grateful for it (which i am), but the other half is quite overwhelmed by everything.

Pete and i spent the evening down in Lincoln at my grandparents' house. My grandma and i talked a bit about Westwind (general, nothing specific) and downed a bottle and a half of Korbel Champagne. Goes down rather well on an empty stomach, if ya ask me. hehehehe. Pete helped my grandpa install a new microwave. Odd. Very Odd. It was a good evening.... just odd. Ok.. not odd.. .just out of the ordinary.

My only relief right now in all of this came today in my email inbox. It's from this girl in Michigan, Caitlin, who ran across a post i'd made on Westwinds' group message board. She apparently is going to be there when I am. She arrives on the 20th. Said she's talked to two other girls rather frequently, who are residents there now. Amanda and Kath-- i think were the names. It's somewhat of a relief to know that she'll be going as well, that she's just as terrified as i am, and that she too-- is freaking out about the whole 'not sick enough to be there' thing. Sick enough.... small enough.... same thing. Whatever. She said the other two are closer to 'normal' weight.... and that she's about 5'11 and in the 140's. And I'm sitting here trying to figure out the height/weight ratio in comparison to my own, to see if she is smaller than me. (and invariably--- the answer is always yes.... no matter how much convincing one tries to do. ugh. i suck.

Went to the DMV today to get my driver's license changed... new last name.... Saw this incredibly tall, incredibly anorexic girl walking down the hallway. Turned to Alyssa and said-- "yup... she's definitely anorexic." Alyssa asked if we had little radars for that sort of thing. "yeah... something like that." You could see perfect definition of her hipbones at the top of her jeans (she had a shirt on that hit right at the waist, so when she walked you could see it). My first and instant reaction was undeniable jealousy. I sooooooooo would LOVE to look like she did. I really would. Bones. Nothing but bones.

I find it interesting how over the last couple of years, my idea of what is thin has drastically changed. I look back at pictures or images or whatever that *used to* be "triggering" and wonder what the hell I was thinking. I wonder why I would have thought of a given person/model/actress/whoever as thin. What used to be thin is now fat, and what is now considered thin is emaciation. Bones. Nothing more. And somewhere along the way--- that became the goal. Emaciation became my (twisted/warped/sick) idea of beauty. That became my idea of "good enough".
And this is gonna sound fucking psycho, but i can actually look at pictures of holocaust victims, knowing the torture and devestation they endured, the pure agony... the HELL they went through... and be jealous of many of them for how emaciated they became. How fucking sick is that?

It's 3:40 a.m. and i'm still wide awake. I need to stop thinking right now.......

Posted by Wendy on January 4, 2006 3:40 AM

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Posted by: hannah at January 6, 2006 2:56 PM

Posted by: suzanne at January 8, 2006 5:02 PM

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