Hey, man, now you're really living

[the Eels]
Feel like rubbish today. It occurred to me that I have not taken my meds in 6 days, without thinking about it-- it also occurred to me that my fucked up mood swings might have something to do with it, so I'm going to take some tonight and try to make an appointment with a doctor to get my prescription refilled, because I really can't afford to do something to the detriment of myself just because I'm bull-headed. I have enough unhealthy shit going down right now.

Right this moment I feel pretty bad about the SJ thing. I feel like I'm exploiting the attention he gives me, and falling into the same shit I played with CD last year. I feel like I'm holding a horrible double standard, and treating him with the same kind of crap that I am always paranoid people are treating me with when I like them more than they like me. That's not fair, and it's not making me like myself any more. Plus, I really should hunker down and focus more on school for these last few weeks, and then I'm in England, and then this summer's going to pretty much be hell.
Speaking of CD, he wrote me a myspace message today, talking about how he's so sad and misses me but he knows that my feelings for him are no longer there (eek. can't bear to tell him they never really were. CD's one of the bigger mistakes I've made in my large repertoire of fuck-ups) and he can resign himself to his fate and move on, but I have to tell him that. I seem to get myself in this situation quite a bit, where this person that I led on for a little bit because I'm a bitch or attention whore or even because I thought I liked them goes gaga and I feel like the worst person in the world but I cannot conjure up emotion that is not there. I can't stand lying, either... I can do it (not sure how convincingly), but I hate it because it makes me hate myself, and I have enough of that without lying. I also hate to hurt people, though, and that seems like it's just going to happen. Doesn't make it easier, though. Fuck.

I was given a meal plan to help me get back on track. Instead, I have been blatantly ignoring it/deviating from it. I am now afraid to write down the things I have been eating and the way I have been feeling in my food diary as I'm supposed to because I'm afraid of being judged by my therapist. Who I tell a fuck-load, but she couldn't handle everything that goes on in my life (well, what do you know? Neither can I, apparently.) I know she's trained for this shit, but I can hear her tone of voice, I see her little mannerisms shift, I know I've made her uncomfortable before and could easily do it again-- this is why I feel like I could be a good psychiatrist, I can read people pretty well.

Actually, I've been thinking about what I want to do medically, and I feel like I'm leaning more away from psychiatry, more toward family care or something a little more broad... I obviously don't know, though. I still have dreams of marrying cognitive therapy with movement therapy and art therapy. SJ said something about trans folks (or anyone that deviates from the norm, really) being afraid to call an ambulance or go to the doctor when they need to, because of the way that they can be received, which totally fucks me over and makes me so incredibly upset and furious with the myopic world view that so many people have. If I could provide any degree of solace in the medical profession for people who are denied their dignity in the usual health care field, I would be honored. Now how to actually go about it is another matter. I can't exactly put that on my personal statement. :P

Also, on applying to med schools and stuff: I'm reminding myself-- especially when I get freaked out about things-- that this is me attempting to follow my dreams. I've come so far already, and I have agency in deciding how and when it goes down. If I really want it, I can achieve it, and get it done well ("Get 'er done!" hehe.) And in the end, if I don't get in this year? There's always next, and maybe I wasn't meant to rush through it.

Falling down to get back up

I started counting calories again today. Initially, I was going to do it to lose weight again, and I'll admit that's still part of it, but not in the same old keep-myself-under-1200-and-kill-myself-running bullcrap. I don't want to feed into my eating disorder, but I also need to get some balance, and if counting calories helps, I'll do it. I'm approaching it as taking care of myself, though. More of the tone of writing stuff down so that I am holding myself accountable and am aware of what I am eating, so that I am present in that moment and enjoying what it is I'm putting in my mouth. So far today has been very successful, and I'm hopeful for the rest of the week. The plan is to continue like this until I feel stable, and then by then I will have the body trust to not need to count or write anything.

(I drew the picture above today as part of my self-care)


Yesterday I realized another strong fear of mine (as well as rejection): being forgotten. I guess that's why I'm always so honored when friends of mine from Copenhagen or Italy or England are so enthusiastic about the idea of visiting with me, even if we haven't communicated in yonks. And why I used to write--and ideally would still like to be writing (same old theme as all the classic poets, I know.) It's like Shelley (Percy Bysshe)'s Ozymandias, forgotten though he was apparently so powerful:

Ozymandias

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

I don't have an empire or statues or even anything dedicated to me (as far as I know), and I don't need to be publicly remembered. I like attention, but that's far beyond what I want. What I would like is to have a lasting impression on all the people that I have a connection with. I don't need to inspire or change, but just leave a little indentation, a little mental or emotional 'Emma was here'. It's a selfish impulse, but I hardly think it's uncommon. It's like with T in Morton-- I took up the challenge because I wanted to see my effect (that's twisted.)-- and even with A, though in a far broader sense. Or maybe I just want feedback, want to know how I'm read so I can adjust it if it's in disparity with how I want to be? I know sometimes my meaning is interpreted differently than I intend, but is that because the other people are seeing what they want to, or because there's something off with my transmitter? (I just got an image of Batty from Fern Gully, with his little radio wires popping out of his head. I do feel like that sometimes-- though usually in the context of spouting random things because my conversational skills could use some help :P )
"Yo, the name is Batty / The logic is erratic / Potato in a jacket / Toys in the attic / I rock and I ramble / My brain is scrambled / Rap like an animal, but I'm a mammal."
(yep, Batty from Fern Gully, doing his rap.)

I just realized that I quote Batty almost every time I put on my glasses or contacts around somebody: "I can see! It's a miracle!" (I am aware that this may come from something else originally, but knowing how often I watched Fern Gully when I was ickle, I'm fairly certain I picked it up from here.) xD

Bloggosaurus regina

Ok, so maybe not quite queen, but I don't know the Latin for princess, all right? I just like the sound of it anyway, it's got nothing to do with the caliber that I think my blog is at.

For my peace of mind (ha! I just typed 'for my peach of mind') I decided to calculate the calories I have burned this week from all my running (Mon, Wed, Fri, and today-- woot!) and try and roughly see if I was balanced in terms of eating calories (I know, I should be focused on what I eat, not how much it comes up to... I'm working on it.) I have burnt around 2,600 calories on those four runs and the little bits afterwards. More than feeling proud about the number of calories I've burnt, though, is this beautiful blooming sensation of happiness that eschews from my chest and radiates through my body. I knew I liked to run, but I forgot how much I love it. It's kind of like the Osho book I'm reading (Yoga: the science of the soul-- I know, it sound hokey but it's got some interesting points.) He talks about how sex is a glimpse of happiness:
"For a single moment you feel at ease. All the miseries have disappeared, all the mental agony is no more. For a single moment you are here and now, you have forgotten all. For a single moment there is no past and no future. Because of this [...] the energy flows from within you. Your inner self flows in this moment..."
I definitely feel this way while I'm running. (Yes, and during sex, too.) I am just there, my feet pounding pavement or earth, breathing and smelling and seeing and smiling.