Urge to Purge

Ever since law school ended for the semester, I’ve endured awful urges to purge! I think it is two-fold. On one hand, during the semester, I could easily tell my eating disorder to go away by rationalizing that purging would make studying more difficult. I no longer have that excuse. Furthermore, with Christmas fast approaching there are ample opportunities to over-eat. So, I am eating more than usual and feeling sick-full. It is tough because I haven’t purged in…actually, I can’t remember the last time I purged! Looking at logs I keep, my record is a few months long. Right now, I’m going to take a nap and hope when I wakeup the feeling is bearable.

Compassion and Mental Illness Or Friends Who Accept All of You

I have a theory, people with mental illness tend to be more compassionate and understanding of other people’s flaws. For example, the first person to romantically accept me, every secret, every scar, and every contradiction, had a history of depression. Furthermore, I have many friends with various mental illnesses, some of that is by design like meeting people in treatment and I suppose the others are because we attract people similar to us.

Tonight I had dinner with a wonderful friend; we’ve known each other since high school. We met online and discovered we lived in the same town. At the time, we were both mired in our eating disorders and we did some rather disordered things together. The first time we met in person, we bought diet pills together. We ended up going to the same university and living on the same dorm floor (not by accident). Now we’re both in grad school! Tonight we ate dinner at the same place we met 6 years ago. Talk about full circle! She is one of two RL people who I sent a link to this blog. I sent her the Feminism link because I knew she came from the same world and might understand what I tried to convey. I feared there would be a lot of negative feedback. So, I wanted some affirmation. She did understand, but I did not need to worry. No one replied negatively.

Apparently my friend read more than just that one post. So now she knows more than most people. My family may not understand, but she is fricking awesome! She (as far as I know) does not share my proclivities, but she was not weird about them at all!

I realize the people who understand me on the most fundamental level and forgive my mistakes the easiest are the people in my life with a history of mental illness. That doesn’t mean I plan on actively seeking out others with mental illnesses as mates because I fear for any future children’s genetics; nonetheless, I think it is an interesting observation.

Alive, but Sad, Angry, and Afraid

I'm safe. I didn't even self-harm, which was a minor miracle. I have a half hour until my meds kick in, then I'll work. ...No, really, I will! *laughs bitterly*

I'm already on the verge of tears. My first words this morning were a lie. "Are you ok emotionally?" Me: "Yes. I'm good." *smiles* I'm not a half bad actor, maybe I should go to L.A. ;)

If I worked 18 hours today, I could still listen to all my Contracts recordings. Ahahahaha. That is not going to happen. Even though I skip class all the time and avoid all social things, I have one amazing acquaintance/friend. She always texts me when I miss and asks if I'm okay. She encourages me. I told her about the depression and I was nervous. Her reaction was great! She was so understanding and kind! I'm considering asking for her outline. She might give it to me, after all, I am far from a threat in the curve.
I can't decide if I should try to power through it all for hours on end or if I should try to learn specific sections in detail. That is if I even work today. :(

I hate that my school doesn't give medical leave to 1st semester students. My only options are voluntarily withdrawing before I take the exams or attempting to pass and let the chips fall where they may. If I pass, yay! Let's attempt a second semester. If I fail, I'm out, but I can reapply in 1 year to another law school or 2 years to my law school. For some reason the thought of re-starting the semester is not that bad, but the thought of going through the entire admissions process again is daunting. I doubt I'd do it. However, even if I voluntarily withdraw, I have to reapply. The odds are not in my favor.

Last night I thought about other life options: Wal-Mart cashier again, psychology masters or PhD, ultrasound technician, Costco cashier (they pay more, but I'm certain Wal-Mart would re-hire me), or something I haven't thought of yet. It isn't the end of my life, unless I make it so. At least if I'm alive I still have hope of becoming a better person. If I'm dead, I'll probably be tortured for all time, not a pleasant idea.

At the same time, most of what little self-worth I have comes from academia. If I fail this will shatter my fragile self-concept. Nothing worthwhile will be left. Technically I can "blame" depression; there was a point in the semester where my psychiatrist was evaluating daily whether to hospitalize me. It was a serious relapse. However, I *let* it happen.



The right thing to do is try as best as I can, but at this point, it feels hopeless. I keep thinking, "Why even bother? You won't pass."

Also, I feel sad because I know my dad will be disappointed. He said he was afraid I'd let my fear of failure overwhelm me and I'd settle for mediocrity. My mom and brother each reassured me they'd still love me, even if I flunk out, but not him. :(

I'm sorry I'm repetitive, but right now my life is repetitive: wake-up, feel guilty, think I should study, avoid studying at all costs, feel more guilt, gratefully go to bed, promise tomorrow will be different.

Lately I've thought maybe my ideas of slavery are escapist. I think of it like Denna, a slave in her own way as Mord-Sith, thinks of it.

Denna: "I think you'll find it quite liberating wizard. For so long, you've been burdened with all the world's concerns. Once you're broken, you'll have only one: pleasing me."

Or Clip:

I don't have the fate of the world on my shoulders. Except, I sort of do, in that I have great expectations of helping others and if I don't succeed I feel worthless. Of course, it is self-imposed. However, if I was a sadist's slave, my life would at least be devoted to helping and pleasing one person. That is worth something, right? In addition, as Denna said, I'd only have one concern. I would have focus; I would have a purpose. Since my Master would be a sadist, I would be tortured and as you know, I deserve punishment. *sigh* I am well aware that this line of thinking is fraking insane. :(

Crazy Really Means Feeling Deeply

"She's always been Suzanne in my mind. The way I use 'crazy' is she's crazy-good, crazy-fun, crazy-fun-to-play, for sure. But she's definitely been 'Suzanne' to me because I didn't want to get trapped in
the one layer of just playing 'crazy.' When I was approaching the material, I thought of her as somebody who just feels deeply. This is someone who loves passionately. Every side of her life is a '10.' She
gets mad at a 10, she loves at a 10 and she's gonna pee at a 10. That's how I approach Suzanne," Aduba said. http://www.idigitaltimes.com/articles/21014/20131203/orange-new-black-season-2-premiere-spoilers.htm

:) I like this conceptualization of crazy. In some ways I think it is spot on! I think many people with mental illness, especially mood disorders and other disorders like eating disorders, are unusually sensitive. We feel deeply. We may scare easier than others, we may feel lonely a lot, but when we love, we love passionately. In fact, emotions being too strong is why anxiety disorders, depression, bipolar, etc. are a problem! The emotions are normal, but their strength is too much to handle. Therefore, we act "crazy". We feel so sad that we want to sleep all day or we are so terrified of whatever that we can only cope through self-harm.



...Still not working. >:( On the bright side, lunch wasn't too bad. I wasn't hungry or interested in food at all when it was ready, but I ate without complaint. I feel full, but not sick-full. Sick-full is like that feeling you get after a large Thanksgiving meal, you're overstuffed, you think you couldn't possibly eat another morsel for a month, and you feel ill. When I've been restricting for a while, normal meals start to create that feeling, which is a problem since I'm living at home again.

I hope by the time I publish this (It was saved as a Draft for a few hours), I am diligently working!

*Edit: It is now 3 hours after I originally wrote this and I still have not done ANY work! What is wrong with me?!?!?

Also, I forgot to show you ...because I have so many people who care, comment, and read this blog ;) ... the shirt I'm wearing today! I wore it hoping it would inspire me to concentrate on studying. So far, no dice.

Masochism and Me

It isn't that I believe I am worthless. I believe I have worth. I believe I have potential. I do not believe I am a good person. Given that I have an innate drive to punish myself, can masochism be anything but self-destructive for me? Is my self-hate the driving force for my masochism? If it is the driving force, is that okay? Is it fair to my partner? If masochism is the only way I find pleasure in intimacy, where does this leave me? Why am I this way? Can I fix it? Does it need to be fixed? If self-hate is a driving force, but not the only reason I enjoy masochism, is it still okay to participate or will it always be unhealthy? Can it be healthy if I still hate myself? What are the reasons, other than self-hate, that I enjoy masochism? Was I born this way? Am I meant to be a sub? Is that the only way I can be happy in a relationship? If kinky relationships are the only romantic type that I like, and they are unhealthy for me, what do I do?

I don't have the answers to all these questions, but I intend to think about them.

One thing I know is that this is a part of me. The first masochistic fantasy I remember was at age 5! I did not know what it was called back then and there was no sexual component until puberty, but these thoughts have always been with me. Did I hate myself at age 5? I don't think so, but maybe I did. If I did not, that speaks in favor of masochism as not wholly involved with self-hate.

I feel kind of guilty talking about all this because I know there is a misconception that all kinsters are crazy. I don't want to feed in to that misconception, but I need to work through this.

Sometimes...