Absent, But by No Means Gone

The title of today’s entry refers to two different people: ED and me. Let me be egocentric and start with me, because doesn’t it all start, and end with me, right? I haven’t blogged in quite a while. Sorry, readers. Things have been crazy–yeah, like always.

Even though I am on summer vacation.
Even though Margaret is at overnight summer camp.
Even though Beth is at day camp.
Even though Ann is at preschool camp.

So what the hell can be crazy?

Um, me? OK, stop laughing.

So what my mind is still getting pulled into 150 different directions and my thoughts are bumping into each other. So what I can’t get out of my own way. So what I can’t sleep even though I am really sleepy all the time. So what I am bitchy as hell. So what I am sore and still and cranky and I can’t even get out of my own way. So what I am pissed off at myself for doing nothing constructive with my time and I keep telling myself to channel that frustration and anger into a mass session of productivity and then I sit on my *ss in extreme laziness and become more and more pissed.

I feel more and more absent from everything. I am barely going through the motions. Laundry is piling up. The mess is more than piling up. Meals have been reduced to pathetic affairs; cooking is a thing of a past, but just whatever foodstuff can be gathered quickly and tossed on the table. The only thing I manage to do that is remotely responsible is taking Beth and Ann to and from camp.

As I said absent–just like my daily blog entries–entries.

And ED.
The other person referred to in the title of this blog entry. He has been absent, but not gone. Absent from my thoughts? Hardly. He is never absent from my thoughts. ED is ALWAYS with me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, “You’re fat. You’re disgusting. You’ll never be skinny because you are always stuffing your face with food. Stop lying to yourself.”

But ED has not really been with me to help me become skinny and happy. He has kept skinniness absent from my life. He’s been absent with his help.

But not gone. Over the past week or so, ED has peeked through the curtains. He guided me to my knees (you can guess why) I think twice. That’s it. Just twice. Just enough to say, “I’m not gone for good, just absent.”

ED, prove to me that you are really, really back. Stop being absent. Be present. Be present. Every day.

And I will try to be present. Not sure if, not sure how, but I will try. Both in my life and in my blog.

Restless

Today I feel restless.

Could be the lack of sleep. Ok, I did get some, but the little pocket of z’s I got isn’t worth measuring and I feel tired and anxious and jumpy.

Could be the zillion of thoughts running through my head. Running, pole-vaulting, eel-throwing (yes, believe it or not, that is a celebration is some random whatever place according to Wikipedia and how I know this, don’t ask), colliding and slamming into each other. I am bombarded by disjointed problems and situations and issues–yeah, yeah, blog readers, go ahead and say it–as always. *Sigh.*

ED. Dear old Mags (and I’m sure by now you have figured out that I am talking about Margaret). Seth. Bobbie and Double. Work. Me. Being in control of my own life.

My life is a mess. Has been. Is. Will Be. It is what it is. How to make the best of it. Clearly I am suffocated and bombarded by things that I am powerless to stop and manage. I have no strength. My my efforts are nonexistent and laziness is the skill at which I excel.

Pathetic doesn’t even cut it.

No wonder my problems force me down.

Before I could handle things. People could view my convictions and dedication and hard work and drive. I was skinny. That is an accomplishment. I still had work to do, but I was on the path.

My life was still a monumental disaster; some things never change, but at least I was pleased with the way I looked. I felt good about myself. I liked shopping and buying clothes where the “X” was not followed by “large,” but by “small.” I liked going into a store and finding that they didn’t have things that fit because the size started at a larger number. it was a thrill. A rush. A joy.

Now it is a reverse experience. A letdown. An embarassment. Degrading. Something to be avoided at all costs.

I do not want to see people who have not seen me since I was skinny. I do not want to see people who knew I was in treatment because now I am obese.

Seth told me that he didn’t like to look at me before. He hated the way I looked. He didn’t want to touch me. Well he isn’t beating down my door now. He’s not gushing with the compliments now. He didn’t when I started to gain the weight back.

He didn’t at any point.

So if I am unattractive when I am skinny and have some semblance of control over my life, and I am more confident and self-assured, and I am unattractive when i am fat as a cow and feel like a miserable failure and a slowly unraveling old patch of cloth that is being ripped apart by many different hands, why not be skinny?

I was told that being skinny didn’t solve anything. In terms of my problems, no. In terms of me, yes.

I started off talking off about feeling restless, and then I went off topic. I really do feel restless. Anxious. Not eager. A lot of people confuse those two emotions. Eager implies excitement and looking forward to something that will happen in the future. Anxiety involves trepidation and fear and worry and dread and doubt. Nervous.

I am not sure. I really do feel like something is going to happen.

I am not enjoying this feeling of foreboding.