They laid my shame bare. He confided in his dad, which I'd encouraged, but I didn't realise his dad would tell his mom everything, nor that his mom would then confront me. Did she tell anyone else? I've no idea. I'm not even privy to what was said at any point in the exchange. They want me to take part in this 'program' run by the religious organisation that they work for.
I feel like they've wallpapered their house with pages from my diary, like my heart and mind have been stripped naked and hung up to dry like photographs in a developer's darkroom, the last scraps of my identity prepared for scrutiny and alteration.
Never think for a moment that you are entitled to ownership of your thoughts. Someone is always waiting to snatch them from you and toss them to a friend, and you will be the piggy in the middle, stripped naked and condemned to eternally fall short.
I lie in bed, my frenzied frightened thoughts quelled for the moment by a handful of little pills, and imagine a cold, sharp blade on my flesh. I hear the scratch of metal on skin, feel the familiar, calming warmth spread over my body like a balm, the fist around my heart loosening. It's the freedom of a Saturday morning, the reassuring arrival of spring after the tempestuous storms of winter. Perhaps today the fantasy alone will be enough.
Friday, 26 August 2011
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
Monday, 22 August 2011
Midnight and Morning
Midnight, and we're screaming at each other again. He pulls inside himself, draws the covers over his head and turns away. I yank him around to face me, pummel his chest, pull his hair, bite his restraining arms; he pins me to the bed, pushes on my throat to hold me there. I gag, pull away, run to the car, but he's faster than me, pulling the handbrake on as soon as I've started the ignition. I claw at his face, and in so doing, break his glasses that we picked out together - when I relive these events the following day this, inexplicably, will be the moment that pushes fat, silent tears down my cheeks. We're Jack and Piggy; savagery and innocence. I push past him, out of the car, and run out of our driveway, down the hill to the burned-out house at the bottom. Inside, it is dark and cold and empty. Someone has gutted the house of its former contents and I rummage through the smoke-blackened pile for a blanket, but everything save for a jar of pickles has been shredded by the flames. It's too cold to sleep and in any case I'm too frightened to lie down, so I squat down in the darkness.
Later, he comes to bring me home. We talk in the car, about trust, and forgiveness, and resentment. We talk about hope and fear and disappointment. We cry. I feel ashamed. I think, but don't say, "I should die for this". This is one of the Things That Can't Be Said. If you say one of these things, you have to go to the doctor. At the door, you will check in your right to hold or express your own opinions. The doctor will pin the sides of your brain to a board and dissect it like a rat in a high school biology lab. She'll pull things out at random, throw some away (also apparently at random) and put others back in, probably in the wrong place. When you leave, you will not be given back the things you surrendered at entry - these will be divided up between the people who are closest to you - but you will be given a tag that reads "crazy".
We lie in the bed where we've loved and hated each other, sad and spent. On this occasion, he was more sad and I was more wrong. Sometimes the opposite is true. Each time, we grope through our gathering hopelessness and try to comfort one another. Eventually we reach an unsteady truce, then tumble into a few hours of fitful sleep.
In the morning I drop him off at the station. I watch him walk towards the train and, in my mind, run from the car to the morning traffic and sweet oblivion. My body, though, pulls the car smoothly out of the car park and we become one more colourful balloon on the road.
Later, he comes to bring me home. We talk in the car, about trust, and forgiveness, and resentment. We talk about hope and fear and disappointment. We cry. I feel ashamed. I think, but don't say, "I should die for this". This is one of the Things That Can't Be Said. If you say one of these things, you have to go to the doctor. At the door, you will check in your right to hold or express your own opinions. The doctor will pin the sides of your brain to a board and dissect it like a rat in a high school biology lab. She'll pull things out at random, throw some away (also apparently at random) and put others back in, probably in the wrong place. When you leave, you will not be given back the things you surrendered at entry - these will be divided up between the people who are closest to you - but you will be given a tag that reads "crazy".
We lie in the bed where we've loved and hated each other, sad and spent. On this occasion, he was more sad and I was more wrong. Sometimes the opposite is true. Each time, we grope through our gathering hopelessness and try to comfort one another. Eventually we reach an unsteady truce, then tumble into a few hours of fitful sleep.
In the morning I drop him off at the station. I watch him walk towards the train and, in my mind, run from the car to the morning traffic and sweet oblivion. My body, though, pulls the car smoothly out of the car park and we become one more colourful balloon on the road.
Wednesday, 17 August 2011
Friday, 5 August 2011
Finally Friday
(I promise next week I won't be so cheesy and alliterate all my post headings...! Just feeling a little uninspired this week.)
So, this morning I was 121.4 - it's looking unlikely that I'm going to be 120 by tomorrow, but I'll do my best. Last night I went into London to meet some of A's friends with whom he's setting up a business on the side of his "normal" job. I was really nervous about going because one of the people there was this Turkish girl, we'll call her T, whom I'd never met before. She's an interior designer, which to me is probably the most attractive job a woman can have, and combined with my impression of her as really exotic and beautiful and witty and gracious (ok, I may have fabricated parts of this impression - there's only so much you can figure out by Facebook stalking...), I was just dreading it. I thought it was going to be really uncomfortable, that I would feel stupid and ugly and insignificant next to her, that she would blow A away with loads of creative ideas for the business, and he would find himself regretting marrying some dull academic like me. (I know, I know, did someone say paranoid..?)
Anyway, she turned out to be quite nice, and quite normal. She was pretty, but not a Giselle-esque goddess, and she had some good and some bad ideas. She didn't seem to be any more witty or engaging than anyone else I'd met, and A didn't even seem fazed by her. I'd had a bit of a nervous meltdown in the street just before going to the shisha bar where they were meeting, and A was pretty unimpressed by that. After meeting her I was left feeling pretty sheepish about my paranoia, as usual.
She left early so A and I and the other guy, we'll call him Y, and his girlfriend, K (anyone else getting confused..?) went to this *amazing* restaurant in Camden, called Gilgamesh. The whole thing - walls, ceiling, furniture - was elaborately carved wood, and they had this huge spiral staircase... it was just beautiful. Plus the food was amazing. It was kind of Thai/Chinese, and we shared 3 dishes between the 4 of us, so I think I didn't do badly. I did kind of insist on one of the dishes being steamed greens, and then when the waitress suggested we get some fried rice I asked her to bring steamed instead, without really checking that the others were ok with that... but they seemed to be.
It's unbelievably frustrating to me that other women have this effect on me. Well, not all women. When Y unexpectedly invited his girlfriend K that wasn't a problem at all. It's only if I've known for weeks in advance that some other girl is going to be on the scene, then I stew about it all that time and build her up into this paragon of perfection in my mind, and convince myself that I'll be total shit in comparison. It's such a destructive thing to do, but I don't know how to get over it :( I should probably ask the CBT therapist for some help, but I'm so embarrassed about it.
In weight-related news, food and exercise are both going reasonably well. Tonight I'm having dinner at my mom's house - it's my parents' 33rd wedding anniversary but my dad's in Germany on business, so I told mom I'd go have dinner with her so she's not on her own. I'd planned to cook for her, control-freak-style, but she wants to cook, so I'll have to try not to sabotage my efforts too much. I've been really encouraged by some of your blogs, so keep writing :) Thanks for all your lovely comments, and for the tips about making toning exercises more interesting - I'll try some of your suggestions out this weekend and see how they go.
I hope you all have a fun and restful weekend and keep edging closer to your goals!
So, this morning I was 121.4 - it's looking unlikely that I'm going to be 120 by tomorrow, but I'll do my best. Last night I went into London to meet some of A's friends with whom he's setting up a business on the side of his "normal" job. I was really nervous about going because one of the people there was this Turkish girl, we'll call her T, whom I'd never met before. She's an interior designer, which to me is probably the most attractive job a woman can have, and combined with my impression of her as really exotic and beautiful and witty and gracious (ok, I may have fabricated parts of this impression - there's only so much you can figure out by Facebook stalking...), I was just dreading it. I thought it was going to be really uncomfortable, that I would feel stupid and ugly and insignificant next to her, that she would blow A away with loads of creative ideas for the business, and he would find himself regretting marrying some dull academic like me. (I know, I know, did someone say paranoid..?)
Anyway, she turned out to be quite nice, and quite normal. She was pretty, but not a Giselle-esque goddess, and she had some good and some bad ideas. She didn't seem to be any more witty or engaging than anyone else I'd met, and A didn't even seem fazed by her. I'd had a bit of a nervous meltdown in the street just before going to the shisha bar where they were meeting, and A was pretty unimpressed by that. After meeting her I was left feeling pretty sheepish about my paranoia, as usual.
She left early so A and I and the other guy, we'll call him Y, and his girlfriend, K (anyone else getting confused..?) went to this *amazing* restaurant in Camden, called Gilgamesh. The whole thing - walls, ceiling, furniture - was elaborately carved wood, and they had this huge spiral staircase... it was just beautiful. Plus the food was amazing. It was kind of Thai/Chinese, and we shared 3 dishes between the 4 of us, so I think I didn't do badly. I did kind of insist on one of the dishes being steamed greens, and then when the waitress suggested we get some fried rice I asked her to bring steamed instead, without really checking that the others were ok with that... but they seemed to be.
It's unbelievably frustrating to me that other women have this effect on me. Well, not all women. When Y unexpectedly invited his girlfriend K that wasn't a problem at all. It's only if I've known for weeks in advance that some other girl is going to be on the scene, then I stew about it all that time and build her up into this paragon of perfection in my mind, and convince myself that I'll be total shit in comparison. It's such a destructive thing to do, but I don't know how to get over it :( I should probably ask the CBT therapist for some help, but I'm so embarrassed about it.
In weight-related news, food and exercise are both going reasonably well. Tonight I'm having dinner at my mom's house - it's my parents' 33rd wedding anniversary but my dad's in Germany on business, so I told mom I'd go have dinner with her so she's not on her own. I'd planned to cook for her, control-freak-style, but she wants to cook, so I'll have to try not to sabotage my efforts too much. I've been really encouraged by some of your blogs, so keep writing :) Thanks for all your lovely comments, and for the tips about making toning exercises more interesting - I'll try some of your suggestions out this weekend and see how they go.
I hope you all have a fun and restful weekend and keep edging closer to your goals!
Wednesday, 3 August 2011
Wednesday Walking
This morning I was down to 122.6, which is a 5lb loss in 2 weeks, 2 days. This is just above target for my 2lbs per week loss, so I'm feeling good about that. It's pretty difficult though. As I mentioned when I started this wager, one of the requirements is that it doesn't interfere with the healthy running of our home life. This means no disturbing A by getting up at 5a.m. to walk to work, no heavy restricting that stops us eating our meals together, no massive blood sugar dips that turn me into an evil, screeching witch, and no lying about what I've eaten or what exercise I've done.
Currently I'm trying to do, per week:
3 or 4 x 30 minute run
5 x 45-60 minute walk
I'm still sadly lacking in any kind of strength training / toning. I just can't deal with the boredom of endless reps... zzz... Anyone have any tricks making weights / crunches less excruciatingly dull??
So, I thought I'd post some pictures today - I'm very fortunate to work in a really beautiful, rural location close to Oxford. My office is on a compound that was used in WWII as an evacuation site for kids from London, so it's an interesting mix of old wooden army barrack/dorm-style buildings, and more recent brick offices. Every lunchtime I go for a walk in the local area and am always struck by how beautiful the English countryside is - no matter if I've had a stressful morning, or am feeling grumpy, or my stats are depressing, somehow being out in the woods and the fields is so calming. Yesterday I took my camera along for the ride...
I love, love, LOVE this junky old army truck; it's been here for years and almost seems like part of the woods now. From the road you wouldn't even see it unless you knew it was there. This is also where A proposed about a year and a half ago (how time flies!) so the place has special significance because of that, too. That was in May, so the ground was completely carpeted with bluebells, and the sun was just coming up... it was all very romantic *blush*
Ok, Saturday I'm going to the beach. A 2.6lb loss in 3 days is upping the ante a little from the original 2lbs per week goal, I know, but I'd really love to be 120 or below by then. Wish me luck! I'm wishing a wonderful and successful second half of this week for you all, too <3
Currently I'm trying to do, per week:
3 or 4 x 30 minute run
5 x 45-60 minute walk
I'm still sadly lacking in any kind of strength training / toning. I just can't deal with the boredom of endless reps... zzz... Anyone have any tricks making weights / crunches less excruciatingly dull??
So, I thought I'd post some pictures today - I'm very fortunate to work in a really beautiful, rural location close to Oxford. My office is on a compound that was used in WWII as an evacuation site for kids from London, so it's an interesting mix of old wooden army barrack/dorm-style buildings, and more recent brick offices. Every lunchtime I go for a walk in the local area and am always struck by how beautiful the English countryside is - no matter if I've had a stressful morning, or am feeling grumpy, or my stats are depressing, somehow being out in the woods and the fields is so calming. Yesterday I took my camera along for the ride...
Ok, Saturday I'm going to the beach. A 2.6lb loss in 3 days is upping the ante a little from the original 2lbs per week goal, I know, but I'd really love to be 120 or below by then. Wish me luck! I'm wishing a wonderful and successful second half of this week for you all, too <3
Monday, 1 August 2011
Monday, Monday...
Today I'm all alone at the office; everyone else is on holiday or away for various other reasons. Being alone makes me bored, and being bored makes me want to eat. Must resist, must resist. Am trying a fat-free yogurt Marya-style to keep my mouth busy. It's not a bad technique she's got going; it's taken me 40 minutes to eat half of it... I also found some videos on youtube than I'm watching - they're kind of cheesy but are distracting me from a binge so I'm not complaining!
I did think about looking at some of those weight loss hypnosis videos, too - has anyone had any success with anything like this...?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)