I feel inclined (this time) to say that I wrote something in my livejournal, which I generally just use as a place to paste my d*land entries (so the lj-folk can keep up with me more easily, and so I can keep up with the lj-folk) ... and the occasional quiz result that feels too frivolous for this journal. Oddly enough, I consider this my journal (premiere, core, original), although it actually has slightly less writing. I suppose I have more of a backstory here at diaryland, which I will someday get around to telling. And I still prefer it here, though lj has its perks: easy commenting, for one, and an insulation among my friends which - for now at least - has kept away the pro-illness bullshit so prominent here... I'm sure it's there also, but I have no desire to go looking for it, and so far, it hasn't come looking for me...
I've felt better about the whole Sara-thing since writing about it here. I still have this nagging anxiety; I called her but only managed to leave a message - a message I can only hope sounded secure. I thought I'd cried all my tears, but my voice kept catching and going all squeaky on me. It's nerve-racking not to have heard from her, not to know what's going on; it feels rather similar to having Jenna in ICU...constantly waiting for information, waiting in case someone would offer it, then chasing down someone who didn't have any... With Sara, it's easier; she'll keep me in the loop, but until I know that she's safe, I remain on edge. I feel better now about trusting her with the decision. I think I really do understand it; I don't think I was giving myself an easy break when I said this wasn't motivated by illness. So, now, I realize it's the same as always; from what she tells me, I know if she's safe and I know what I can do. Very often, that's nothing (except love her, which is huge, of course but not enough to keep her safe.) If this time does turn out to be different, I'll be there for her in a heartbeat (and forty minutes), but if she changes her mind, I can't obsess about it, can't assume that she's still at risk. It's her job to assess those things; it's the job of her parents and her treatment team back home to oversee her assessments while she's young and struggling. My job's the same as always; I just might be called in this time. And if I'm not called in, it's ok - so long as she's safe. I need to trust her to know what she needs, and I need to understand that she can get what she needs in ways that don't involve me. Can. She has me in her corner, and she knows that. She has a Mary Brave, and she knows how to use that...
Fueling nervous energy into dorkiness: la, la, la. Life is oh-so-difficult sometimes. I still feel optimistic, though. I think something must have gone awry in my brain, such that it's actually working. I don't know. Today and yesterday have been grey days, in both brainweather and the old-fashioned kind, and I've been down a lot. I think I've had low-grade migraines, based on the level of fatigue I've felt, and the antibiotic-mixture I'm taking includes Benadryl, which isn't helping me stay awake. Anxiety tries to help on that front, but I'd really prefer it didn't. And I've been low, feeling down, but I've mainly just reigned my life in, kept the lights high in my room, and tried to keep my mind distracted. I didn't walk today or yesterday, though I did go down to the first floor for the mail today (and that was difficult, so - accomplishment.) I exchanged reading material to gain a temporary reprieve from a lovely but not so upbeat novel in which I'm currently immersed. And I did think about walking today, but when I looked outside at the weather, I realized I didn't want to, at all... and unlike re-learning to eat, the doctor says that this is about doing what feels good for me, about making "adult" choices (adult meaning I get to say no when I want to...as opposed to what I think adult means, which is not so healthy as one might delude oneself into thinking). I'm not supposed to walk if I don't want to, and surprisingly that doesn't do a lot of damage. When the weather's been nice, recently, I've wanted to go out. I haven't always looked forward to it, and I haven't enjoyed it completely, but I usually want it enough - at least some part of it: the effect over time, the fresh air, the dynamic environment - that I go. I tend to beat myself up for not sticking to these habits - for instance, when I had such a hard time checking for the mail, I thought how hard it gets when I stop working - but the point is not to be ruled by the habits. I'm going to learn them eventually, and I have more freedom here to learn them in a way that teaches me more than how-to-not-be-afraid. This isn't as strict as food; it's ok to curl up with a book for a day, to stay in... Days like that don't work with food. Somehow, I need to understand - deeply - that as many parallels as there are between un-learning the agoraphobia behaviors and un-learning those of the ed, there are differences. I'm at a different place now, steadied by the strength of other areas of my recovery. I'm not just starting out this time. I need to remember that.
I feel like letting my thoughts rest now. Tonight's a quiet night. Life's asking for a lot, and I'm stockpiling my words and my silences for fuel.
~me