The Ex. Again.

I ran into him again!

I went to a show last night. It was six local bands, a burlesque troupe, and a fashion show. Sounds fun, right? I thought so. I invited Cat and she brought her friend with her, but they aren’t “show” people. They’re more club people. So they didn’t stay that long. In the meantime… I fucking saw my ex again.

It’s baffling, really, the emotion that sweeps over me when I see him. It’s not remorse, or longing, or heartache, or any of the things NORMAL people usually associate with an ex…. It’s a lot of rage and the feeling of being invaded. I haven’t seen him in years, aside from passing him on the street when I went to the museum with Billie, so you’d think that I’d just let it go. No. I can never let it go. All the rage, wrath, injustice, and general loathing that I ever had for him is still there, floating just underneath the skin, ready to boil over at any minute like unwatched ramen noodles set too high. If I look in the mirror long enough I can see the contempt swirling around beneath my face.

I’ve heard of people seeing red and losing themselves in their rage, but that never happens to me. Everything stays quite clear, except that my brain is rushed with thoughts like, DRAG HIM INTO THE STREET AND BEAT HIM TO DEATH WITH ALL THESE PEOPLE AS WITNESS TO HIS EXECUTION. I haven’t done it, yet, but if he keeps popping up at places I’m at, it might be the winning argument. This is my world, those were my bands, my show, my scene, my haunt. If he’s going to invade my territory, eventually we are going to tangle.

I was doing okay with his appearance, as okay as one can when every fiber of your being is screaming for you to murder someone, at least, until Cat and her friend left. I was then left relatively alone. Shows are weird for me that way, because it’s not that I don’t know anyone, but I know the bands… and the bands are there for business, so it feels like I don’t know anyone since they get busy. In poor judgement, as I tend to have under strained thoughts of homicide, I started drinking pretty fast… too fast… somewhere in there I tapped him on the shoulder and said hello and that he looked great (and he did, which pissed me off… I wanted to like kill him while fucking him in that moment, which is weird for me for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that I don’t experience sexual attraction…), and then pretended I had people to go talk to… Now, it seems really pathetic, but honestly I felt better afterward. I showed I didn’t need to avidly ignore him. It might pay off in the long run…. Shortly after that, though, I threw up vodka in a trashcan on the patio and left…. I should have waited, but people saw me, so I got in my car and left. I did stop at an all night diner and eat, though. I know that doesn’t make me less drunk, but it did make me a safer driver, since it gave me something to soak the booze up with and I didn’t feel drunk and disoriented afterward. So… made it home.

I wish I could will myself to let my grudge go. It’s like a poison in my chest. Makes me sick to think about, even. I just can’t, though.He ruined two rooms in my house that I’m JUST NOW getting back, because I couldn’t afford to fix the flooring.He took away my sense of safety in my house when he got attacked by drug dealers and MY address was the one on his license. He wouldn’t fucking get out. He couldn’t pay rent. He cut his thumb off because he went to work high, but then they didn’t test him so he got to keep his job and he walked out on it. Like… It’s just so much offense, and I can’t let it go.

One thing bothers me, though… I know I didn’t love after him…. I liked Grant, and he was a sweet guy, but I had to cut him loose because I didn’t love him. My question is whether I loved before him? Did me make me Aromantic? I don’t know. But if did, if he took my ability to care about people in a romantic way, and a generally platonic way, because I can’t trust anyone… doesn’t that kind of offense deserve a punishment? I mean, I know that drug dealer set him on fire and everything… but… that wasn’t MY punishment.

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My losses and gains

So as of Friday, I am down 10lbs from my heaviest weight. I hope to never see my scale say 280, every again.

It feels like it’s taken forever to lose 10 lbs… and if I were sticking strictly to my diet, but all things considered I’m pretty proud of myself. I’m starting a stricter diet this week… Working toward not just staying within cals, but actually packing really good foods into it. 1200 calories of cake, is still 1200 cals, but it’s not nutritious and it will make you want more food later because you’re not getting the right stuff.

So… Gonna alternate caloric intake… 1200 then 1400 then 1200 again. 1200 is really low, so you don’t want your body to think you’re starving to death… I think the extra 200 every other day, ish, will help me consistently lose more.

My goal this week is 5 lbs. That’s more than twice what you should realistically lose in a week, but I need a confidence boost. So that’s the goal… but any loss, of course, would be amazing.

So what have I gained from this?

Much more respect for ridiculous food… because all I want is to binge eat junk… all the time.

Also, I have gained the realization that I will hate exercise forever.
My brain just kicks into this horrible thing where it loops how fat and useless I am. Over music, over tv, over books on tape… it’s just “YOU ARE A GOD DAMN FAT PIECE OF SHIT AND WHY DON’T YOU JUST FUCKING KILL YOURSELF INSTEAD OF WASTING EVERYONE’S TIME TRYING TO LOSE WEIGHT?! IT’S JUST GONNA COME BACK BECAUSE YOU’RE A BIG FAT ASS THAT SHOULD DIE SO STARVING PEOPLE CAN EAT THE FOOD YOU SHOVEL INTO YOUR FACE.”

So…. that’s just something I’m gonna have to deal with. I don’t like it. I absolutely hate exercising, because it’s awful and I always want to put a gun in my mouth afterwards, but I’m trying to ease into it. Right now my phone tracks my movement. I’m trying to move around at least 30 mins a day. Next week I’m bumping to 45. It’s not dedicated exercise. It’s “you walked to the mail box, then you parked at the back of the parking lot when you went to the store, and then you walked around the block at a leisurely pace with your geriatric dog.” So it’s not me on a treadmill with nothing to think about except what a piece of shit I am… it’s just trying to think of more reasons to expend a little more energy without really thinking about it.

Maybe later I will walk to Chipotle to obtain my salad instead of eating the one that I made myself…. Maybe. I dunno. We’ll see.

I’m not happy, or excited about this. I’m not reveling in my weight loss or feeling OMG SO GREAT. I hate it. I want to binge eat all the time. I don’t feel better about anything. I haven’t stopped craving shitty food. I don’t see any change in my appearance, and I don’t think my clothes fit better. It’s very disappointing. I know that I won’t start feeling any kind of change until 25 or 30 lbs down… And that sucks. It’s so much and so far and I feel really hopeless about it.

I wish I was only 30 lbs overweight. I could do that. If you told me this morning that I needed to lose 30 lbs and I would then be at my ideal weight, I guarantee I could drop that in a month.
But I am now 130 lbs overweight. Even if I could drop that in a month, I’d be left with flaps of skin and digestive problems.

I’m trying really hard not to make this a big thing. I don’t want to get carried away again and start throwing up every time I eat. I don’t want to be left with skin flaps, so I have to lose reasonably slowly. I don’t want to fail, but I don’t quite know how to succeed…

So that’s where I’m at.

Attractionless – Being AroAce & Dealing With It Like An Adult

RELATED: I WANT THIS MUG

It’s been almost a year since I started toying with the idea that I’m asexual. In that time, I’ve thought I was ace, gray-ace (grace), aro, panromantic… It’s been confusing as hell. I think I’ve settled on AroAce, though. I don’t feel romantic attraction, I just get lonely, and apparently that’s not the same thing. I definitely don’t feel sexual attraction. Recently, I’ve noticed that I don’t even really feel aesthetic attraction toward people. I just look around and everyone looks so… not good. It’s like I’m in a Twilight Zone episode.

Twilight Zone

This exact episode, really.

For the sake of clarity, I should specify that there are different kinds of attraction.

  • Sexual Attraction
    • Looking at people and feeling a pull to have sex with them
  • Romantic Attraction
    • Looking at people and wanting to have a romantic relationship with them
  • Aesthetic Attraction
    • Looking at people and seeing they’re attractive
  • Sensual Attraction
    • Sensuality is a pleasure that involves the senses
    • This is often classified as the want to cuddle with people and stuff like that
    • I never really understood what made it different from sexual attraction, myself

So… I’m asexual: no sexual attraction. I’m aromantic: no romantic attraction. Since I feel sensual and sexual attraction are pretty close, I can safely say I don’t feel sensual attraction. Actually, if you give me the option between sex and cuddling, I’d rather just have sex and get it over with. Cuddling is weird. I only do that with my dogs. And then there’s aesthetic attraction, and I’m not really feeling that, either, right now.

You’d think that feeling nothing toward anyone would un-complicate things. No crushes, no squishes, no weird feelings to hide. I guess that’s true enough, but there’s also the weird feeling of feeling selectively nothing.

I’ve felt, literally, nothing. I’ve hit that place in the void of mental illness where you can’t feel pain, happiness, loneliness, sadness… feeling nothing is a familiar feeling to me. It’s like an old friend that I might not see very often, but I am completely comfortable being with. To¬† feel nothing in only certain parts of my life is not comfortable. It’s the emotional equivalent of your foot falling asleep. It’s totally fine, until you realize it’s asleep. Then it’s all you can notice, and you get that weird tingly feeling than is somewhere just shy of pain.

That’s what it’s like to feel no attraction for anyone in a world that is so reliant on attraction.

I reconciled the sex thing. I can brush off the sexual attraction comments of friends pretty readily. Everything else, though… it’s weird. A friend tells me how hot a person is, and I completely don’t get it. I see a very cute couple, and my stomach falls into my butt because I know I’m never gonna be part of one of those. Someone makes any kind of statement about cuddling, and I want to run for fear they might touch me. It’s weird to not understand, especially when the world assumes you’re familiar with the feeling. It makes me feel so broken.

I don’t like feeling broken. I might be fat. I might be crazy. I might exhibit poor impulse control. I might be asexual. I might be aromantic. I might be all those things and a million more, but I am not BROKEN. And I don’t appreciate a society that makes me feel that way.

We’ve come to a point in history where they try to tell you that nothing you experience makes you broken, but in the same breath people will come back around and treat you like you’re some alien foreign thing if your life experience is different from theirs. The level of hypocrisy is just insane!

So I’m making a promise to myself.
I’m not going to feel broken anymore.
No, I don’t feel attraction of any kind to people.
Yes, I enjoy being alone.
No, I’m not close to people, even in a platonic sense.Yes, all of that is just fine.

And that… is how you adult…
You fake it until you make it.
You operate under the assumption that everything will be okay and that you’re the normal one.
You accept that the present is just something to get through.

I Have Binge Eating Disorder

I’ve always been fat.

Let’s start there.
It’s not new to me. It’s not something that happened after high school and I have no idea how it happened. It’s not something that snuck up on me. It’s not something I’m unfamiliar with.
I was born a 9lb baby. That’s a big ass baby, if you didn’t know.
I was a chubby toddler, then a fat kid, then a fat teenager, and I topped out at a fat adult.

I wasn’t really aware that being fat was a bad thing for a long time. It was a non-issue as a kid, and remained one until I transferred into public school. Lots of thing happened when I transferred to public school:

  • I had problems making new friends
  • I was WAY ahead of the class
  • I had no sense of style, because up till then I had to wear a dress to school everyday, so I was really into jeans
  • I realized that I was kind of a nerd

Also, it was brought to my attention that being fat was something unacceptable. It didn’t get better in middle school, and actually progressed to the point that people hurled rocks at my head. They were also good shots, so I took more than one to the back of the head on my walks home from the bus stop. It was earth-shattering. I don’t think anything, in my whole life, including my shitty ass father, has made me so upset. No one ever did that before. I was just me, and people were just them, and we had all been friends, regardless.

Still, I managed to take those feelings, push them down, purify them into a gooey black substance, and coat my soul with it. I called that my goth phase, because that’s how I chose to show my frustration with the world. I still wasn’t pretty. I still wasn’t thin. I still didn’t seem acceptable. I was, however, scary and Columbine was still a really big thing, so people were wary that any day I might come to school and shoot them all in the face… so the bullying stopped there. I was cold, introverted, confused, hurt, and angry on top of all those other feelings adolescence already throws in your face. I still am, truth be told. I’m just less confused, now.

Somewhere in high school I started trying to diet. I wasn’t good at it. My friend’s mother also consistently fed us a diet of Gushers and French Bread Pizza every single time we came over, so that made dieting hard. Still, I was back in a circle of friends, and we varied in size and shape from “naturally meth-addict thin” to “whatever, I-love-cake fat” and I didn’t mind myself so much.

After high school I tried some other kinds of diets. The most effective was “don’t eat, smoke a lot, drink ridiculous quantities of espresso, and spend any and all free time at the gym so you don’t eat.” You might recognize that as an eating disorder. It definitely was. I lost a substantial amount of weight, but being a fat girl, people congratulated me. Eventually, though, I reached a point in my life that was hard. I have no coping mechanisms for hard… except eating. Thus ended my streak.

I didn’t used to binge eat like I do now. I can’t say when eating transitioned into something I could use to cope with unpleasant emotions. It’s just something I noticed I did. So, when my life got hard, and I got upset, and I realized I was binging, I did the natural thing… I purged.
Seemed logical: If you eat too much, just pull some back out.

I couldn’t keep up with that. It freaked me out when every single time I ate I became violently ill involuntarily. That’s when it dawned on me that normal people don’t pack themselves to capacity and then throw up to feel semi-normal again.

I’ve tried really hard to be normal since then. Reasonable diets, and reasonable exercise… but reasonable doesn’t show any results, and I still binge when I’m upset. I’m upset A LOT. I’m crazy, unmedicated, and have an excess of free time by myself. It seems to me that unless I totally stop eating and workout 4+ hours a day, I’m never going to lose any weight, just because that’s how I’m wired, now.

I’ve tried Paleo, Vegan, Vegetarian, Pescatarian, Weight Watchers, Adkins, HCG… You name it, I tried it and it failed me… or I failed it… None of those programs are designed to deal with someone that is incapable of dealing with themselves without using food to shove down all the bad feelings. You’d think vegan would work, because you’re eating just veg, so maybe you could binge on veg and not feel bad about it, but here’s the thing… veg is not a satisfying food unless it’s deep fried. When you’re attempting to push something like self hatred down into your stomach and you’re packing it down with carrots… it doesn’t work. I have eaten so many god damn carrots, just to get fed up, get in my car, go to whatever drive thru was closest, and then further pack grease on top of carrots… to the point I made myself physically ill. It was obscene, and I’m glad no one I know witnessed me eating… prolly close to 7 lbs of food… 5lbs of which were totally unsatisfying carrots. It was miserable and not at all good.

So how do normal people cope with feelings? Seriously, I’d love to know. As an unmedicated bipolar with a myriad of co-morbid traits from EVERY personality disorder, all I do is wade through the shit of the emotional lottery. Will going to work make me want to brutally murder and dismember everyone I see because they’re morons and worthless sacks of flesh that just contribute to the overpopulation of the earth? Am I going to have that feeling where I want to crawl under my desk and die, today? Am I going to start crying because I can’t add up a ticket correctly? Maybe my pants don’t fit right today. Maybe I keep dropping things. Maybe it’s one of those days that the boss asks me a bunch of questions I can’t even begin to answer and then gets frustrated when I need some time to investigate answers. Maybe absolutely nothing is wrong, but I just burst out into rage and tears, and have to figure out what to do instead of hurling things at people and windows.

How the fuck am I supposed to cope with that?

Know what triggered today? Know why I’m angry and frustrated and sad and want to either binge eat Mexican food or smash things into little bitty pieces or possibly even smash someone’s face in until they’re just unrecognizable wet bone? Want to know? I was supposed to go have my Well Woman physical today. Quite the unpleasant day, but then the doctor’s office moved my appointment to tomorrow and didn’t tell me. So I took time from work, got my mother to drive me to my appointment (it snowed… I can’t fuck with certain levels of snow) only to find out we’d been waiting for 15 mins for no reason, and that I have to get back out there to BFE tomorrow.

So I’m mad. And I want to eat or hurt someone. I can do neither. I’m freaking out. I hate everything. Part of me wants to die.