// mom, etc.
| 06/20/2003 - 6:22 p.m. |

5:45pm--Just got off the phone with my mom. *sigh*

Called her because a--wanted to hear if she'd looked at the pics and what she thought (she was a little, uh, skeptical--"what in the world made you do that?", lol) and b--I guess I was generally kind of missing her.

But talking to her always leaves me feeling worse, more anxious, and oh yeah, *guilty*. Not really her fault, obviously she's worried about how I'm doing and what the fuck I'm going to do. And I feel that I can only tell her so much, because it's hard for ME, and what good is it going to do anyway, only make her feel more anxious and helpless. I do try not to allow her to get too, I dunno, denial-ish, but being that its her major coping mechanism, its a fine line. I probably DO "sound better," as I've said, affect-wise, I feel "ok." I don't know if she really gets how dark and screwy my *thinking* continues to be...not to mention my *behavior*.

Oy. I tried to drop hints--how I've had so many "appointments" lately, that I've been to the doc, even the "team" talk of "more intensive tx." Her response was just that that was good, help me to "get better," etc. No comments or questions at all about why exactly, or where I'm at in terms of weight and eating. And come on--that I went to the physician is a dead giveaway--when do I ever go unless I'm told I "have to" and when does that ever happen besides when there is "concern" about my physical health due to eating/not stuff??

And of course, the whole issue of what I'm going to do in terms of school and/or working, being able to stay out here. And I don't know. Or do I? School just doesn't seem feasible, work maybe but ack, it feels overwhelming still. But I clearly have to do SOMETHING to continue living here. And all I'm doing is making myself WORSE. At the rate I'm going, I will have no choice but to move back east in the not-all-that-distant future. I may be frustrated and feeling "bratty" about this whole team thing, but its also my only real support system right now. And yes, its true, I very much/especially do not want to have to say good-bye to D.

Going "home" represents to me giving up the last little shred of hope I still possess (somewhere). Going "home" to die, with my family having to watch no less. And yet its day 4 on my latest fast, fucking myself (and everyone else) over more and more and so much of me doesn't even care, certainly not enough to stop all this bullshit... :( :(