But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Falling Apart But you lost thirty pounds in three and a half months? Can you not be happy with that? No, no, no, because I hit a plateau... It is not enough. I must lose more, I must be thinner... And so the inner struggle goes. I frustrate myself so much, knowing that my goal has no logic, that it is killing me because of the way I achieve it, and that in reality it really isn't that important. (That was very difficult to admit) But even as I sit here, knowing all of this, I have consumed a whole tray of brownies and skipped my insulin. I can feel my heart racing, thumping oddly, for I have also quit taking my beta blockers due to the weight gain they caused. All in the name of a few pounds... And yes, I want to stop. I pray to God to help me, I avoid the kitchen for hours, pace around, read, talk on the phone, but eventually I find myself doing something detrimental to my health. I talked to UCLA Tuesday. They have no idea how long the waiting list is, or when I will get in. (sigh) This bit is funny. My mom called my therapist and complained, saying I needed more diclipine and what not. My therapist refuses to speak to my mom, afraid she will tell her exactly what she thinks of her. She tells me to tell her that she is proud of me for actually doing something good for myself for once. My mom is pissed. And I have an IEP meeting Tuesday. No one really wants her there. So I asked her not to come. She said she has to know what is going on with me. That if I don't let her come I can move into a homeless shelter. So she is coming. I hate being eighteen. It means that I have no priveledges but no right to be here. And because I started kindergarden when I was six I am still in high school. So it is like I am 17 with the threat of being kicked out. Hopefully my new meal plan from a dear friend will help... Until then, I am headed back to the kitchen, to drown myself in food, Stuff down my emotions, perhaphs purge them up, perhaphs let the high sugars do their work, I no longer know.... And I am losing my vision from this, literally... Falling apart like a rag doll, Rageddy Gwen, stuffing all out, seams of red open, little heart broken... Someone grab a needle, someone fetch a thread, sew up the patient, or is the patient too dead? 5:17 a.m. - 2004-03-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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