With somebody who loves me…

I’ve been sick in bed for four days now and I’ve done pretty much nothing but read romantic fanfiction. It’s gotten to the point where I’m dreaming romantic fanfiction, and that sexy Russian figure skaters will come and sweep me off my feet.

But life isn’t a fanfiction, a romance movie, or a novel. And when I wake up from my dreams I’m still alone, and I’m sad.

Yes, this is another post about love and romance and heartbreak and such. I’ve just been thinking about it a lot because I have nothing else to do but read schmoopy stories and feel happy about that and then sad that my life is not a schmoopy story.

I know it’s not all like that, but at this point, I can’t help but feel I’ll be alone forever. I have a hard time meeting people. And maybe I don’t give people enough of a chance, and I’m missing out on something.

For example, I went on a date last week. It was perfectly nice. But…I didn’t feel anything. He was nice, he was cute, but everything about the encounter was awkward. Not in a bad way, and if he asked, I might even go out with him again. But I didn’t feel enough of a connection to want to ask him out again.

And I don’t know if I’m just not taking enough chances. But like. It didn’t feel right. And I don’t know what right feels like. But it wasn’t that.

Maybe I’m too picky. Maybe my standards are too high. For someone who is not very pretty, is an anxious, depressed mess, and is otherwise average in every way, I don’t have a lot to offer. But I’m looking for something special. I don’t want to date just to have someone to date. That’s not me. But who would even like me? 

And then there’s my ex – I miss what we had a lot. I still cry about it. And he’s still really attractive. But I’m finally at a point where I know I don’t want to get back together with him – we both have too much baggage and it’s not a matched set. I’m looking for someone whose baggage complements mine. 
I’m rambling yet again. I don’t know exactly what the point of this was. Maybe I’m just looking for advice.

Readers, how did you meet your SOs, if you have any? What makes it work? Why can’t I find somebody to love me?

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“When everything feels like a movie, yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive” – Goo Goo Dolls

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I’m beginning to feel apathetic to down again, and I don’t know if that means my new mood stabilizer is working or not. I know I haven’t been manic since I started it about two months ago, so that’s a good sign. But I’m feeling more, I don’t know, generically depressed? Like, I’m not suicidal at all right now, so I don’t think I’m having any low-lows, and I’m certainly not having any high-highs. I’m just…tired and sad.

And I wonder, what’s the point? I feel as if I’ve lost control of my life – I’m bulimic, I’m depressed, and I’m just unable to do anything right now. I hang out with my friends, I go to my internship, my job, and my classes, but I don’t feel anything. I can smile and laugh and all that, it’s not like I feel nothing, I don’t feel empty like I used to a long time ago, but I’m not really experiencing anything either.

It’s like I’m…I don’t know. There’s a Welcome to Night Vale quote that says, “Death is only the end if you believe the story is about you” – or something like that. And I love that quote. Because I don’t think the story is about me, even though it’s my life. Everything will go on after my death, not that I want to die right now. I don’t even want to just stop exisiting right now. I’m not in pain like I have been in the past. But I want to be in control. I want to feel good. I want to feel bad. I want to experience the variety of human emotions without letting them control me, as they do when I feel them so deeply.

It’s like, in some ways, bulimia /eating disorders are supposed to be about control. Controlling something when everything else is uncontrollable. But I don’t feel in control. I feel like I can’t stop it. And maybe there’s just part of me that doesn’t want to stop. But I do want to stop.

I feel…contradictory. And again, what’s the point? What’s the point to becoming a social worker, if I can’t even solve my own problems? What’s the point to eating well if I am going to gain weight anyway because of my medication. What’s the point in anything at all.

I may have said this before, but there’s a Papa Roach lyric that goes “I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut. My weakness is that I care too much” And I really identify with that lyric. However, now I feel I don’t even have that. I’ve barely cared about anything recently.If I can’t even care too much, what’s the point?

I’m just tired. I just want to lay on the couch and pet the cat. But she doesn’t want me to pet her and she doesn’t care about me either. She just wants to be fed and then goes off and does her own thing. I know people care about me, and maybe it’s just selfish to want more. But that’s something that I’ve talked about before and differently. That’s certainly not the point.

This is just a rambly little post. I don’t have anything new or unique to say. But I want to try and update more. Maybe this is pointless too.

I’m sorry.

On Eating Disorders

Hey guys, once again it’s been a while.

I’ve been working on my master’s and it’s been very busy. But during this time I developed another mental health condition, an eating disorder. (TW: EMETOPHOBIA)

I’m bulimic.

It’s hard to conceive of. On the one hand it’s like, how can I do this to myself? I see people smoking cigarettes and such, and wonder how anyone could have gotten involved in such a self-destructive behavior that is harmful to my health. Now I think to myself that I’m doing the same thing. I’m throwing up after I eat, almost every day, though it’s not every meal and sometimes I’m able to control it. This is awful for my health – it leads to weight gain, esophageal problems, teeth problems, et cetera.

I’m miserable about it. I hate throwing up, it feels gross, even if I feel better afterwards. But I sit at work after lunch and I can’t stop thinking about throwing up. It’s usually lunchtime, sometimes breakfast or dinner, but almost always lunch. And I don’t know what to do.

My therapist says it’s a decision that I can make. I can decide to stop having an eating disorder, but she can tell there’s part of me that doesn’t want to stop. I think it’s about control and desire. I am stressed and tired and I keep gaining weight. I can’t seem to control my food intake – I want to eat EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME – so I control how I feel afterwards. I don’t know. It allows me to eat whatever I want with the uncomfortable feeling of overeating. It means I can have it both ways.

I don’t want to have an eating disorder. But at the same time I’m afraid I do. I can’t control my weight – now I have another reason (you gain weight when you’re bulimic often because you’re still getting calories, just not nutrition from the food. Or something. I don’t really understand it but this is what I was told). So I gained weight from my depression meds, and now I’m gaining weight because I feel the need to throw up after I eat.

I really don’t know what to do about this. I need help. But I can’t afford inpatient treatment right now.

Catcalling

It’s been forever since I blogged – mostly because the school year started and so I have 24 hours of internship per week, 20 hours of job, and 10+ hours of class depending on how long it takes me to do my homework and study. So I don’t have much time for breathing, let alone writing.

It was my birthday a few days ago and something interesting happened to me: I got catcalled.

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Now I don’t take that as a good thing, it’s just a surprising thing, considering my weight and my general issues with self-esteem and appearance. I barely got catcalled when I was skinny, let alone now. How messed up is it that part of my self worth is driven by the erotic approval of random men on the street? I mean, it’s not, not really. I don’t like being catcalled, it freaks me out. But like, the fact that someone thought I was attractive enough to catcall makes me feel a little bit better, but also weirded out.

Like, how can I think like that? It’s toxic, and it’s patriarchal. I hate that I think like that. But It makes sense in some way based on the way our society is. “Take it as a compliment!” they say. But it’s always creepy, and always scary when it happens, even if it is meant as a genuine compliment. But “Hey sexy, how you doing?” is not generally a compliment.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this. It’s sort of just a life report and a little rant. Everyone who follows me knows I have self-image issues, and those are just getting worse. But regardless of that I don’t want to be catcalled – even when there’s part of me that insists that I do.

We are constantly bombarded with sexual imagery and the idea is pushed into our heads over and over again that our bodies are commodities for male consumption. But men don’t like fat girls like me. So I’m never catcalled. Hooray for that! But also because society has taught me I must be desirable, the fact that no one desires me really hurts. It’s not just the catcalling. It’s the fear that because of my body, no one will ever love me and I’ll be alone forever. And that’s a depression spiral I sink into often – when I don’t get responses on my online dating apps, when I feel like I can’t talk to someone at the bar or the club, when I see just how good my ex looks, and know how terrible I look, and knowing that even he, who once loved me, wouldn’t want me now. It’s terrible. It’s a self-esteem issue. But regardless catcalling does not solve that issue!

The only type of catcalling I want to hear is when a literal cat calls me on the phone. And since that rarely happens, well…no catcalling!

 

 

Not Good Enough – Thoughts on what I can do to combat facism and white supremacy in the United States – based on the Charlottesville march that occurred this past week

I’m outraged. I’m not surprised. And I’m scared.  But here’s the thing – I don’t know what to do, or what I can do.

With the exception of the occasional post on this blog, I don’t share news articles or anything to my other social media sites because I like them to be safe spaces for me. And yes I know it’s a privilege to ignore things that upset me and make me uncomfortable. But I also find that in some ways, simply sharing and doing nothing else is “slacktivism” and I know I’m preaching to the choir of my Facebook friends (I have carefully cultivated my friends list as such), I have only friends as followers on Twitter, and I guess I don’t know anything about my followers on Tumblr, but I still don’t have a large enough platform to make a difference there.

I would donate money if I had any I could spare – but I barely make enough to live on without support from my parents and I’m personally fighting a shopping addiction and hypomania-induced impulse control issues that leave me with less than I need, let alone any disposable income.

I would go to rallies – and I’ve gone to one or two – but the big ones in my city this week are all happening during the first couple of trainings for my new internship at the suicide prevention hotline – which I can’t miss.

So I have all these things and all that’s running through my mind is EXCUSES EXCUSES EXCUSES.

I’m queer and Jewish and have a mental illness. I am a woman. I am not the pinnacle of white European-ness or whatever these Nazis and white supremacists want me to be. But I am white. And for all intents and purposes, regardless of the intersection of my other identities, that gives me a great deal of privilege. But I don’t know how to use it.

And I can’t deny that I’m scared. Even as a bisexual female Jew, I haven’t been personally discriminated against in my own life, nor have I ever been in any danger. And I’m really afraid to put myself into danger. But I am sub-human to these fucks, even if my general whiteness allows me to “pass”

I saw a post this morning that said something like, “If you ever wondered what you would do during slavery, the Holocaust, or apartheid, STOP. Because you’re doing it right now.” And that made me wonder what I was doing.

In practice I am doing nothing. And that’s not what I want to do. I want to do something, but I want to do something meaningful. I don’t want to be a “slacktivist”.

What I’m doing now is Not Good Enough. It’s not good period because I’m essentially doing nothing except trying to start conversations with friends and family members who mostly agree with me already, but are also not doing anything.

So I’m looking for advice, here. What can I do?

Doctor WHO? An Opinion on the Announcement of Jodie Whittaker as the 13th Doctor

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Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor

Yesterday it was announced that the 13th Doctor in the popular British television show Doctor Who would be Jodie Whittaker. Up until now, the 12 ½ Doctors, including Steven Moffat’s controversial War Doctor regeneration (that’s the ½), have been arguably straight, cisgender, white men. I say arguably straight because all of actual romances, primarily from New Who, have been with women, though the New Who Doctors have occasionally flirted with men – that could easily have been joking or queer baiting. As for Classic Who, I don’t know much about it, but the First Doctor had a granddaughter (implying a son or daughter of some kind), and wasn’t involved in much romance as far as I know. So for all intents and purposes, he was likely assumed straight, though he may have been asexual as well, from what I’ve heard. But again – I don’t know much about Classic Who.

Continue reading “Doctor WHO? An Opinion on the Announcement of Jodie Whittaker as the 13th Doctor”

More on Dating and Realizations

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I’ve actually internalized recently a realization about my ex and my past relationship. I’ve realized that I don’t want to get back together with him, but I do wish we were still in a relationship. What I mean to say is, I miss what we had, and I wish that was a thing that was still happening, but since it’s not, I don’t want to actually get back together. He hurt me really badly. Really, really badly. But I’m okay with being friends with him for the most part. I still feel jealous and hurt when he’s affectionate with literally everybody else but me. I’m jealous when my friends hang out with him, and not me. (They’re MY friends, my brain tells me. I introduced them to him. Why do they choose him over me?) And I still have a lot of baggage regarding the relationship. But I don’t want it back. I wish it was still happening, but I don’t want it back.

Continue reading “More on Dating and Realizations”