today is a bad day. i feel fat. i worked out at school. fifteen minutes before spinning class, then spinning class, the ten minutes after spinning. i could hardly walk. it was rough. i feel my energy slowly eke out of my body as i cut back what i eat. i feel sad. i don’t know what to do.
feeling depressed after exercise happens to me when i exert myself. initially i feel good, get that runner’s high going. but then i crash, like coming off a sweet high, and plunge into depression.
i have nothing to write about tonight. The Woman with the Words is on holiday and I can’t write without her. The assignment due for our writing class tomorrow is suffering. She has the gift of language and words and without her our writing is flat and sufferable. We aren’t sure what’s going on with the music. we know The Woman with the Words and the Music Maiden are closely linked.
Our professor says to write before you write. What the hell kind of sense does that make? We opted to work on our remembrance piece first. It stinks.
Tina fought with our therapist, Randy.
Someone e-mailed us the most thoughtful comment. It made our moment. For whatever reason, we are more motivated to get better and work together when people recognize the pain that just shovel what Tina calls crap about getting better and being talented. The stuff Randy, our therapist, gives us.
Last night in therapy they fought over why he delayed in giving out the whole diagnosis of us. she felt it was like pulling teeth.
i’m out of words. but i know there is more time to go. There isn’t much motivation right now to get anything done class-wise. We aren’t motivated to read our assigned readings or motivated to work on projects or study for a test we have tomorrow. We aren’t motivated to work on the remembrance writing. we feel stuck in a routine, but routine is good for us. some of us hate change, hate it with a passion. there’s safety in things staying the same. you know what to expect.
we felt many shift today. especially in Brit Lit class. Why that class i don’t know. Probably because we were lectured to mostly today and the mind wondered and we were thinking. i wish i had something pertinent to say, but i’m empty, blank, numb, exanimate. i really do feel sad but i have nothing to say about the sadness.
in the spinning class we felt so out of place. so many of the girls were wearing shorts and we had on yoga pants. their skin was tan and perfect. my skin is white, fair, and blinding to the eyes. made me insecure. they are all beautiful. i’m old and ugly.
in class on tuesday we had to give out thank you notes to those we wanted for sharing in the feather circle on the previous thursday. i was surprised by some of the thank you notes i received. some guy who is in other classes of mine this semester and has shared classes with me before wrote to me that he could always tell a sadness in me. that upset me. if we ever do teach in a middle school classroom, is that what students will pick up on, that we’re sad? made me wonder what he saw. i feel we do a pretty good job of blending in, looking normal, acting happy. most people know me as a chatty cathy, extroverted and gregarious.
we have all the materials to go skydiving. it is complete. we’ve thought about it for a while.
we took our teddy bear to our last therapy session. pathetic. when we left for the session, it was thought generally that they might appear. one of the kids did appear, but not the littles. we kept the teddy bear hidden from the therapist, even though those that came out stroked it for comfort. tina keeps it for the kids. whenever she’s around, the kids aren’t far behind. i hate tina. i hate everyone. i just don’t feel good right now. everything feels wrong.
we bought a scale. probably shouldn’t have but we did anyway. i don’t know if it’s accurate. it’s off from what is on the scale at the gym. either way, at least it will indicate if we are gaining or losing. thirty pounds would be nice. the clothes already feel a little bigger and this feeling is so comforting. it tastes so sweet. i hate being fat. and having my clothes loosened and being hungry feels triumphant. it feels victorious and like i’m powerful.
i hate this posting. it’s full of crap but i’m by myself tonight.
my nerves are getting to me. i’m all itchy. when i’m anxious or upset i get itchy all over. even my head get itchy. sometimes it wakes me up at night. i will wake up itching all over and scratching till it hurts.
can’t wait for tomorrow to be over. we haven’t been taking our meds like we’re supposed to. it’s so hard to remember to take them. some we take in the morning and some at night. i don’t want to carry them around in the purse. there’s too much other crap in there already but that’s what we’ll have to do. we need to be consistent when taking them otherwise they won’t do us any good.
anywhere but home. wont’ be there again. why is death such a comfort. i remember when we were in the hospital our first time, we carried around for probably nine out of the eleven mos we were there a suicide note we had written just before we were incarcerated in the mental hospital. death is what makes living possible: knowing you always have that option. i can hear randy’s words at that statement right now. get him out of my head.
this is the most worthless post that was ever typed.