prattle & self loathing

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SO.

that last post was fucking depressing and weird, amiright?

i wrote it and it was genuine and i wrote it and i felt more like myself, somehow.  i think that ‘somehow’ was because it was guilt ridden and full of mostly unreasonable self loathing, which are two of my defining features (heh). but then it sat there for a day and it just started making me feel weird and uncomfortable. though when i actually read it i feel like theres a lot of good in the post, the drive behind writing it was basically that i felt guilty for not being sick, or not properly representing being sick. or some weird fucked up version of that. and i dont feel good about that.

so to be clear: i dont ALWAYS feel bad about doing well. it was a weird combination of holidays, and bad bad bad holiday blog posts by other people talking about how awful happy people are, and my new bambi-learning-to-walk like relationship with a steady emotional life. but i wrote it and part of me meant it, so there it stays.

MOVING ON.

i went to trivia tuesday night with jon and his girlfriend and a friend of hers, as is our tradition. we went weekly when he lived here so we try to go every time hes home, but its not really the same since all of the other team members also moved away.

we did not win, at all, but we did respectably well for four people. also i knew like every song played and  bunch of misc shit so thats always satisfying. then we went to a dessert bar and had an awkward conversation about dating where i learned jons girlfriend has only ever slept with him and no one else and i said nothing but was mentally like WELL YOU NEED TO FIX THAT BEFORE YOU MAKE A LIFELONG COMMITMENT OR IT WILL END BADLY. which is like, a completely unreasonable response to that information. probably. i still definitely think that though.

im going to the mall with brandon tomorrow. ive got to get up at like 930 to meet him at 11. which is like, ungodly early for me. thats basically like telling a normal person they need to get up at 230am and be a functional human. and then ive got to go back out to my parents for the day because my sister is back from visiting people in the valley and its probably? the last night i will see her before she leaves, because im going to a drunken nye party and she is going to play board games with elli.

im slightly stressed because its fancy nye party, where youre supposed to dress up and look nice, because im way too broke to buy a dress and im not sure i actually own a fancy dress that fits me since i gained weight. or more like, failed to lose weight. my old meds made me gain a bunch of weight that i just… never got rid of, so now my entire wardrobe is like a size or so too small, and has been for like a year, but i cant afford new clothes so im just like.. wearing old shit from when i was this size like 5 years ago and things that are stretchy. im like.. not super happy about this situation, but im also not doing anything about it? so i guess im not that unhappy with it?  or at least, not unhappy in any sort of productive fashion.

i never actually mentioned this on here because i wasnt blogging at the time, but i went to florida last february with my family on this disney vacation (wealthy brother paid for it). i came back from that SUPER self conscious and hating my body and i cried every time i had to get on a plane (which was like 6 times in total) because i felt too big for everything. like i spent the first night of the vacation sobbing in my bed, which also broke (not my fault at all but daaaamn did it feel like it), because being on the airplane made me so uncomfortable and awful in a way i couldnt push to the side or ignore. the airplane seats were crammed and awful. the whole vacation was amazing, but was also plagued by my overarching fear of being too fat. i was too afraid to try half the rides because i was afraid i couldnt fit. and it was just like… very very very stressful and awful feeling. which i know no one has any sympathy for because im fat, and thats my fault, and whatever. but it was really awful.

i went on a pretty hardcore calorie counting binge for like 3 or so months after that but i was barely eating (1200 calorie deficit. weighed everything i ate, tracked it in MFP, my dietician sister in law made me meal plans like… it was legit) and i lost like 7 pounds or something, in three months. which seems impossible, but losing weight on my med regime is apparently an extremely uphill battle. plus the pcos. even my sister in law was baffled.

and then i started throwing up all the time. like id just get super nauseated and then start gagging and then throw up… kind of like my now preggo sister in law, only i wasnt pregnant. though it did make me worry i was. but anyway i was barely eating and also throwing up everything i was eating and it became a detriment to my health more than improving it because, as my therapist always says, its amazing someone with my particular personality traits hasnt developed an eating disorder. and then after that i tried going back on a very extreme elimination diet that i was on when they were diagnosing my food problems, and i did that for a little over a month, but that just made me throw up even more, inexplicably, and i was super depressed at the time.. so that ended in october. and since then ive just been “not thinking” about it. and honestly that would be a little liberating if i didnt feel like a substandard human because of my weight. and also if i didnt feel like i had to choose between actually having a real relationship and being fat (not that i want to chose being fat, but i seem to be choosing it anyway, now dont i?).

but, uh, anyway, that was a very tangental way of saying i dont have anything to wear for new years and its spiking my self loathing.

god dammit.

i had this plan to write something banally happy today. like i half wrote a blog post in my head about cooking while i was making quinoa cakes earlier. if nothing else i could have just causally mentioned that i had vertigo for 24 hours, inexplicably, and told the story of me falling sideways into my bathtub (hilarious in retrospect, painful and confusing in the moment. also, wet.).

tomorrow.

tomorrow i will say something fun.

but right now i already wrote this and im sleepy and apparently need to wake up at the equivalent of 230 because “friendship” or something.

things are still good! despite evidence to the contrary.

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