School, Beauty and Anxiety.

I didn't go to the University yesterday. Just as I was heading out the door, I decided to pop upstairs and see if Richard needed anything before I went. (Richard broke his collarbone on Tuesday, so he's home until he regains movement in his arm.) He was just about to come downstairs to visit with me, so we sat and talked for a while, after which I decided that I *really* didn't want to leave him home alone and hurting.

So, we cracked the plastic on my new copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's, munched on snacks and mellowed. We have a date to go tomorrow to the University together and wander around. Plus we'll probably kidnap Mike for lunch as well. It's all good.

I'm still really nervous about going to the university. It's almost terrifying to be even considering life beyond the confines of the past several years, and my 'disorders'. *shrugs* But on the other hand, I don't want to be disabled my entire life. I've worked to damn hard to give up when I'm just getting started.

I just finished speed reading through The Beauty Myth, and it's a timely read. I've been very quietly struggling with my weight the past several weeks. I feel very *fat*, and by extension, unattractive. I worry about how I'm walking. I fixate on just how big my tummy is. It's one of the worst feelings in the world. Especially since most of the time I'm very opinionated and vocal about Body Image, Dieting, and *fat*.

One of the things I've seen proven in my own life is the basic fact of a balanced natural weight for each person. My body will regulate itself to a healthy weight if I eat and exercise in a balanced manner. I think dieting is not only *stupid* but unhealthy and harmful. I *know* that for me to be my ideal BMI, I would basically have to kill myself. The people around me don't give a flying fuck about my weight. To quote Richard from just this morning "You're not fat! You're healthy and pretty."

But that doesn't matter. Not to the voice inside my head that has been whispering "you're fat, god you're ugly, people will look at you and mock you." That started when I put on a pair of jeans that a year ago were falling off of me. Now, they're to tight to wear comfortably. My logical brain reminds me that a year ago I couldn't eat anything without severe nausea, I was having blackouts from stress and walking myself into exhaustion daily. No shit I lost weight.

*sighs* I don't know. It's a war inside my head right now. One part knows better, the other, christ, is ripping me apart every single time I see myself naked, get dressed, go out the door.

Finally, Anxiety. Heh. I've been drowning in the quiet kind. I'm starting to think I really prefer the big, overblown panic attacks. At least then I know what to do with it. Ground, breathe, work my way out of it and then figure out where it came from.

The quiet kind is the one that has me in my room for weeks at a time, lurking online but not interacting. It's a weight that sits on my back and slows me down. The quiet fear. I don't even notice what's happening until someone else points out. I end up hiding from the world, and worst of all myself.

I haven't written anything in weeks. That means online and off. I haven't put pen to paper, and that's one of my 'signposts' of me slipping into my little glass box, caged in by fear of unseen monsters. I've been in my box, and I haven't noticed. *sighs*

I forget about it, you know. I forget that there *is* a reason I'm considered disabled. I forget about what happens to me when I'm not doing ok. That's why I can understand the friends that can't understand what's 'wrong' with me. Heh, if I can forget occasionally, how can I expect anyone who doesn't know to know?

Anyways, this is long enough.