Monday, 13 May 2013

This Day Is Going To Call For Chocolate

I'm not relishing today at all. I'll be glad to see it behind me. I don't cope well with nerves and unknowns, it makes me see how my routine loving, insular, self protecting (although paradoxically self destructive) behaviours started and became so engrained.

As soon as I woke up my day was kind of thrown off kilter. My mum has been called into work this afternoon. I will ritualistically plan my days ahead of them happening into the minutest detail, so a change like this really rocks my boat. It means I'll have to spend the afternoon and evening alone and although I've got better at this I still don't enjoy it one bit.  

Today starts with no breakfast because I'm too nervous to appreciate food. (one of my many foibles) Then at 10 30 I have an interview at a Homeless Charity in Derby. It's only for voluntary work but I'm taking it extremely seriously. After that I'm having a coffee with mum in town. After that I'm meeting a friend of mine who I met in the first hospital I was in. A lot of us there vowed to keep in touch but only we did. I'm happy I'm seeing her, I love her company, but every social meeting comes with strings. I get so stressed that I will bore people or that time (another one of my obsessions) will somehow be doused in metaphorical treacle and will stretch on and on, and all this time I feel pressure to be interesting, enjoyable company with initiative  conversation. I long to be someone who can meet people on the spur of the moment with no pre-prepared dialogue, no 'safety deadline' that I have to 'rush away' for so that I don't have to face the daunting scenario of boundriless nuggets of time in my day, that is to everyone else just fine, and that deadly word; normal.

I will have to face coming home to an empty house and fighting loneliness, I know I've done it countless times but by the time comes to do it again I always doubt my abilities. At 8pm I have to be in town for a friends surprise birthday meal. This is riddled with complications I'd rather not deal with. Obviously there's the food. Luckily the restaurant has an online menu and my eagle eyes took about a nano second to spot the salad section. Just a plain one for me. I'll order the chicken one to appear less weird but I'll leave it buried under a few leaves. No dressing of course. Quandary number two; I hardly know any of them. The girl whose birthday it is is one of my best friends but the rest of them I don't know from Adam (and I don't know him either). I hate the whole process of these kind of events. The fake façade I'll apply along with my make-up. A façade I have no real faith in; to me it seems so transparent. In my eyes it wont take long for people to notice I'm awkward, a fake laugher, aloof. This could all be paranoia, but the nature of paranoia means you can never say 'I'm being paranoid' and really be paranoid at the same time.

I will go. I know I'll go. Even if it means ordering a taxi which I cant really afford to eliminate the extra stress I experience from catching buses. I go because I want to say FUCK YOU ANOREXIA. I want to prove my shell can be broken and I can deny my insular, hideaway habits. The fucking anorexia bit isn't really the food, it is about breaking the routine anorexia wants me to stay in. If I do things I'm not comfortable with or are new to me then I have taken away a little bit of control from her. She wants me all to herself you see. She doesn't want you to go out and have new and, god forbid, enjoyable experiences because then you stand the chance of seeing how good life can be without her. That's her worse fear. I've always strongly felt that the most dangerous thing for an anorexic to do is to stop making a social effort. No matter how tired, how awfully fatigued and exhausted anorexia makes you, you still have to make the effort. You have to bear the bone piercing cold and get out of the house. You have to smile, you have to stop being selfish and think about other people. You have to make conversation that doesn't revolve around your problems however overwhelming they feel. Even the best of friends need to feel you're interested in them and not just what they can say about you. This doesn't mean you have to treat your anorexia as a secret, but you have to moderate it. You can't expect people to understand the complete helplessness you're experiencing unless they have, it isn't fair on them. You can expect them to listen to your problems with sympathy, offer a shoulder and support, but you have to know it's not a bottomless supply. No matter how awful your life gets, other people will continue to have theirs, and with that they will have other fish to fry. You have to appreciate that.

Anyway, I've written this post in two halves. Right now I'm sat at my laptop and its 5 40 and I really must go and have that bath I've promised myself and more importantly do the thing I'm ashamed to say I'v put off for a good month- shave my legs! They really are hideous. I mean what if someone storms little Frankies while I'm there and demands we strip!? Perfectly plausible I know. Well I wouldn't want to be stark naked AND have legs the Forestry Protection Agency would be proud of. Slightly more note worthy; I've had my interview. It went well I suppose. Next week will be a trial and a half A taster session in the Day centre on tuesday at 8am, then a taster session at the Development centre at 9am on wednesday, THEN a feedback and meeting to see if I was any good and if they want me (worse bit!) Oh and I had my chocolate pick me up earlier, a Galaxy Ripple as always. God they are divine.

Weigh day tomorrow. No rest for the wicked.

No comments:

Post a Comment