The Most Terrifying Room!

After the long Shower early this morning, I realize more about my phobic response to the bathroom. I never feel good when I come out of there. Whether it’s for a bath, wash hands, unmentionables or even cleaning it. I’ve tried dressing it up, and making it sterile, and ignoring it all together but nonetheless the nightmare stand watching and waiting to devour my self esteem.

With a mirror that stretches from counter to ceiling and from doorway to the shower, there’s no such thing as eyes following you. There’s one gigantic microscope on everything wrong with me.

1 My hair
2 My face
3 My skin
4 My gigantic upper arms
5 My fat fingers
6 My pendulous breasts
7 My globular stomach
8 My ever expanding Michelin
9 My thunderous thighs
10 My cavernous calves
11 My reptilian feet!
12 My hideous seemingly insurmountable result of neglecting self, hating the world and turning it on myself product.
13 Me.

I used to think I hated taking showers because of how long it takes with an ever-expanding physic, but it was obviously deeper and more heinous. It was just me.

Last night when I couldn’t sleep I took a long shower and sat in the bathroom staring at everything. There’s no escaping anything with a mirror like that the whole wall of exposure! Most bathroom trips are quick with a sharp focus on the only safe spot in there, the “Pooped Pups” calendar. Then I make a quick hand washing hands still soapy exit to lick the wounds inflicted with any possible glimpse caught in the mirror. How can I hate anything so much as to do this kind of damage to anything? It’s horrifying.

I’m aware that I’m in some kind of “funk” but it feels really bad right now. Maybe it’s just a couple of hours’ sleep talking, but let’s be real, these thoughts and feelings are hanging around like Demons all about my head and spirit. One of the things I pray this fast will help to heal is my attitude the days I let my guard down and super focus on all that’s wrong.

I post the number of hours of this fast, wish seems ridiculous in the face of “ME” I feel ashamed that I’m not on a permanent Fast. It’s been 59 hours and I’ve 109 to go. It doesn’t seem like much now that I think of it. 5 more down and 375 to go, still I continue on and I hope that I’ll like where I end up. I pray that my thoughts will be healed about me physically. Why can’t I ever see what other people see in me? I just don’t get it.

I forgot to take the blood pressure at the beginning but took it today: 144/80 with a pulse of 71.

My blood pressure presented high sporadically when I had gone to the doctor regularly so they couldn’t ascertain whether it was truly high or I was stressed, since everything frightened me at that time. My sweetie bought me a blood pressure monitor, there’s love for you. Why he’d love a Fuck-up like me I’ll never know!

I still haven’t had any water. My lips are getting chapped and the acetone of my mouth is starting to burn a little. My skin is peeling all over now, not just where I had the cellulitis infection a couple weeks ago. The skin underneath is really soft and smooth. It could be that started not from the infection but from something else; who knows. The skin on my face is really smooth on the left and rougher and peeling on the right.

More mucus is coming out and bile. Well sad to say this isn’t one of my best moments of the fast. There’s time progression and weight loss (which is probably water weight for now) and I pray constantly but, I don’t know what but. Sigh. Can’t write right now, maybe later.

Posted by ijellorca on February 1, 2006 11:09 AM | DIGG | del.icio.us | furl