Unhinged

I'm drowning in a sea of doubt, feeling like I can't get out.

I've forgotten my old ways. I've forgotten that this is how I cope when things aren't so pretty, when I feel the slightest bit insecure. When I was with H, I could rationalize this behavior because he was just as fucked up as I am. But B is different. In fact, he's perfect. There's nothing wrong with him. He's the nicest, funniest, most loving guy that I've been with (not that my track record is long, but hey). And here I am, reverting back to feeling like shit, in a perpetual tunnel of shit. And B put me here.

We went out of town together for a day over the weekend, and during the trip, I left my phone behind. Sunday when we made plans to see each other again, actually coordinating a day rather than on the whim it usually is, we planned for today after I got out of my classes. I got back to my car, drove home to make sure he wasn't there waiting for me, and decided that I should go pick up my new phone. I told the roommate to keep an eye out for him. I get back home 30 minutes later, still no sign of him. Turn on my service, give him a call to tell him "hey! We can talk again! What a miracle!", but no answer, and not straight to voicemail. So I sent him a text just to let him know. This is at 6:30 ish. 8:00 rolls around, and I've got shit to do. Errands and what not. So I send him yet another text, should he decide to swing by, informing him I wouldn't be home. No response still. I decide after I'm done running around town, I'll go visit Mom. So we hang out for another hour and a half. Still no response. I wait until 10:00, give him another call, no answer. Nothing. Left out in most deserted recesses of his mind and virtually forgotten about. Like the shitty girlfriend I am.

Now, here I sit, 12:30 am, wallowing in my self-pity, splashing around in this huge, but lonely pity pool. Once again, I feel like I'm not good enough. I must've done something wrong, but how is that even possible? Is our sex life lacking? Is he getting off somewhere else with SOMEONE else? I'm awful. I'm shit. I should just be alone. Maybe I won't eat tomorrow.

Changes

A few new things:

My lovely ladies and I moved into our house, finally. It was a long time coming. B and I are dating exclusively, once again FINALLY. It's not like we haven't been talking for a proper year or anything. So he's my boyfriend...thing. We're seeing each other and all that jazz. And last, but most importantly, in honor of a new month, new things, and a fresh start, I'm going to try to do the ABC diet. I can never last through the whole thing, but I'm going to go as long as possible. I'm desperate to break through 120 already. I just want the skinny. Skinny for B, skinny for the clothes, skinny for me.

A song for inspiration:

Los Campesinos! - The Sea is a Good Place To Think Of the Future
I grabbed hold of her wrist and my hand closed from tip to tip I said “you’ve taken the diet too far, you have got to let it slip” But she’s not eating again, she’s not eating again, she’s not eating again, she’s not eating again.

These are(n't) a few of my Favorite Things

Is it possible to feel THIS apathetic right now? Sweet Jebus, I have no soul left. It's black like the coffee I drink and the tar I smoke.

I don't give two shits about anything right now.

Enjoy this soulless video I just made. Whoop-dee-fucking-do.

(Therapy Isn't) For the Birds

I'm an adult now. I've got my own full-time job, I live on my own, got my own car (complete with monthly payments). I'm an adult now. I'm an adult seeing a therapist for repressed childhood problems. I've decided to acknowledge the fact that I'm really not that okay. (I'm not okay.)

In all honesty, I'm an all-around together person on the surface, but the inside stuff, more like crap, is peeking out every so often. More often than it was before. So, I'm going every two weeks and unloading this motherlode of a problem, or problems, because let's be honest. There's more than one.

Today was the first appointment, establishing a foundation of the struggles I'm about to unleash on this poor little man. He's in for a story. And he likes to talk and ask questions, which may prove to be difficult for my initial plan to just word vomit everything for him.

We talked about how I repress things, how I used to be a deep-in-depression kind of child, suicidal even. "What caused that? Was it your mother's drinking?" I think so, Doc. I had it rough y'know. My only parental role model, we'll call him PJ, divorced my mom when I was 10, so that was hard. And then my actual blood-relative of a father had a transparent existence my entire life, now very much non-existant.

It's a confusing relationship with Mother. She was not there when I was younger, kicked me out at the ripe age of 17 and 18 (twice). Good thing I was going to college, I guess. She was and currently still loves the bottle, which left me to care for my brother. When was I even a kid? A true honest-to-god kid. I couldn't tell you. Now I'm her living diary; she calls me to vent about financial frustrations and how she's dirt poor broke, how she's dating a new what's-his-name every other month, how my brother is an ungrateful bastard who takes advantage of her, and how dare PJ plan to take us on a family vacation months in advance without telling her. Joint-custody, Mother. He's got the right. It's his weekend anyway. Not to mention, Mother is needy. Since she kicked out my brother at an even more ripe age of 16, she wants to talk to me all the time. "Pleeeeease come over, I miss you." Or my personal favorite, "You're the GREATEST DAUGHTER in the world. I love you! Please come visit!" No Mother, I will not. I'm seeing a therapist because of you, don'cha know. Leave me alone, please. Stop calling me. Stop texting me. I'm tired. Jesus.

And on top of all this newly awakened frustration from repressed emotions and causing a shitty day, my pants just ripped. Sweet deal.

I'll be writing more, I promise. I think I need to. I have no one to tell any of this shit to because nobody even gives a shit, "I've had it worse." Oh yeah? Oh-fucking-kay, my bad for wanting to share an actual emotion with another human being, and for hoping to connect to another living being on a deeper level. Shit. My bad.

Okay, now I'm done. (Also, I'm still fat. That hasn't changed either.)

Ooh La La, La Perle

I've found my place in life. My calling, if you will. The answer to my starving artist problems.

I just started my new job at {intimacy}, a high-end lingerie boutique. Bras are over $200 easily, but I feel like I can stay at this company for the rest of my working life. The owner has been on the Oprah Winfrey show five times, and I had dinner with her. I had dinner with her. How nuts does that sound?? Not to mention, I get a 401k...at 20. I mean seriously. Life just got a little but easier.

Speaking of easier, I'm here to do one thing, I created this blog for one main focus: dealing with my illogical ways of losing weight, obsessive calorie counting, weighing in every single morning. I have found my ana mojo again, and can I just say she is here in full swing. In less than one week, I've lost about three pounds, solely for the fact that all I do, literally, is sleep, go to school, go to work, repeat. I may eat something here or there so I don't completely crash, but I'm eating Lean Cuisines, >400 a pop. I love this job, I love this job, I love this job. Three more pounds and I'll be at 115. Three more after that and I'll be at 112, then 109, then 106...let's see how far I can take it this time. Ana, I welcome you and accept your challenges.

Oh, we also rescued a kitty. Mew mew!

The only good thing about getting your wisdom teeth removed is that you can't really eat.

I've been in bed all day. Stalking facebook, updating my Netflix queue, talking to old boyfriends...yeah. I'm so glad I have an infinite amount of time on my hands to just sit around and think about the meaning behind H's quizzical statements. I suppose I'll spend tomorrow the same; watching the tv shows I missed on Hulu this week and continuing to avoid food like the pure poison it is.

Stay golden, girls.