2005-01-22, 11:32 p.m.
I haven't felt like writing much lately. I think i'm afraid of myself, and writing looks deep into myself. I just don't want to feel anything. Each day is getting very painful. Thinking is way too painful for me.
Today I went to a semi-friend's 10 minute play festival for her school. Whenever I go see one of her plays, I get very sad. I remember the days I use to do clubhouse theatre plays for years when I was younger. I miss the rehersals, the people, the costumes, backstage, practicing lines, and especially opening night. I was such a different person back then. I was out going, talkative, warm and friendly. Now I'm shy and reserved, cold and bitter, and shake in front of an audience. But when I saw some of the plays today, I saw characters that I wanted to play, characters that I thought I could play. I missed it. But it's too late for me. I'm a totally different person now. But I can't help to think what would be different if I would continue down that road. Would my personality be different? Would I be healthier? More social?
Last night I was thinking about Julio and how maybe he isn't as great as I try to believe. Maybe he is a rotten therapist like everyone says. I remember this one time I went through nearly all my diary entries and printed the ones I found important to me. I stapled them and brought them to an appointment. At the end of the appointment, I gave them to him, kind of embarresed, by trying to gather strength. I sad he could read them "if he wants". The next appointment he didn't say anything, so I asked him at the end if he ever read them. He said he hadn't gotten around to it yet.
He never said anything about it again. I felt sad, mad, and embarresed. I poured my heart into those entries and I mustered up all my strength to give those to him and he just brushed it aside. I bet he lost them and didn't even glance at them. How could he do that? What kind of therapist would do that?
I feel like he neglects me in many ways. Not giving me enough appointments, doesn't hold up to his word, hasn't got me the treatment I need, or quality appointments. It just makes me angry and hopeless feeling. Still, I get angry when anyone puts him down. I feel attatched to him. It's odd. I like him, but he makes me so mad sometimes. Everytime I go to see him I promise myself to chew him out but he's so nice to me. Gah.
I'm just miserabal. Today I managed not to purge because I was afraid of it. The very thought makes me cringe. I was laying on the couch in my heating blanket and everytime I thought about bingeing, I thought about purging afterwards and my head started to spin and my stomach churned, and I wasn't hungry. I'm so afraid of myself. I didn't want to eat or move off the couch because I didn't want the evening to come. I'm okay during the day because I know I can always eat later, but the evening is so official. No more eating till the next day so I feel like eating and eating. I know I'm gaining weight and I can't get it off and I'm panicked. I don't want to leave the house. Today at the 10 minute festival I felt so huge I just wanted to leave.
I ordered diet pills and I can't wait for them to come and I'm scared they won't come. I spent a lot of money on these. These are the real thing and I had to give a fake doctor's name. If I can't control my appetite something else will.
I'm so afraid of tomorrow. I usually can't go more then one day without bingeing and I hate purging and I fear purging and the dread that goes with sitting in the bathroom and crying afterwards and cutting myself because I hate myself. I don't want tomorrow to come. It's like an unavoidable destiny.
I'm going to go to bed before I eat something.