more moaning

Yesterday I went to the dentist for more fillings. The whole time my jaw was aching and my lips were numb I just told myself, this is your fault. I always brushed my teeth after throwing up. I guess it didn't matter. Protection is gone. My teeth are in a precarious situation. Every time I brush my teeth at school and someone walks in and stares at me I remind myself, you did this. You did this with your pain and your anger and your obsessions and whatever drives you in this eating disorder.
You know what? I would still be doing it if the OD-ing didn't get so horrible due to tolerance.
I don't really like the dentist. Someone doing things you your mouth with you powerless. I know it's not sexual at all but it brings back memories. Does that make me sick?

Today was not so good. I went to a math competition. None of my friends were there. I've decided the people in my math class probably think I don't have friends because whenever I am with them I am alone. I sat with my math teacher for heaven's sakes. How pathetic does that look? And you know what? I don't really care. I know I have friends. Anyway, I got really frusterated at some of the math. Permutations and statistics. I don't remember how to do arithemetic sequences either, besides by dull iteration on my calculator screen (and that's so easy to lose track of).

At tennis we ran about two miles, which wasn't too hard, but for some reason I could not do anything today. Couldn't do forehands, couldn't volley, couldn't serve. They started separated the varsity people and all the contenders for varsity. Needless to say I didn't get separated. I think there's one slot left and I probably won't get it. That was so... horrible. That feeling. Them watching, not being able to serve, watching the kids that havea sure path to varsity. I felt like giving up and walking off that court. I'm so pathetic.
I walked to my car after practice and more sprinting, set my racket on top while I dug through my bag to find my keys. I finally found them. I drove a few blocks, feeling miserable, hating myself, going through the motions that become a theme when you're so used to putting yourself down. That voice in your mind that is constantly degrading you takes over and you sit back and agree, or disagree feebly. It doesn't matter. The voice always wins. I am weak, stupid, pathetic, selfish, devoid of commitment.
I heard this sound, kind of a scraping. Some dim, far-off corner of my mind clicked but I was too busy tearing myself apart. A few blocks later I realized that the scraping noise was my tennis racket falling off the roof of my car.
I drove back. I parked the car. I got out and I jogged about two miles, tracing where I had just driven. I found nothing. It was nice out except for everything miserable inside of me. The air felt like spring. Not as cold as Monday when my hands turned blue. My legs were sore from sprinting but I slowly fell into the jogging. I love running.
My mind was going through the permutations, just like on that math test today. My mind was thinking of every insult it could throw at me. Is it a part of me, that says those things? I can always feel this weak opposition, but that is just one more thing to ridicule, my inability to even stand up for myself when... who? Me? Is it me that hates me? Are those several very separate people in my mind all me? Man I hate dissociative disorders. You lose yourself. There is no single 'you' anymore. There are only pieces fighting for attention, all with different fears, emotions, and convictions, some stronger than others.
I ran and I ran and I hoped it was spring and I thought about killing myself and it seemed nice. I thought about tennis and not making varsity and it made sense to just let everything go. And then some part of me, one of the many, said I was shallow and stupid for feeling suicidal over losing my tennis racket and getting stuck on JV. It wasn't worth dying over.
But somehow it was more than that. It wasn't just the tennis. It was the way I felt so far away from it all. The way I wasn't even that concerned that I'd have to come up with $150 to buy a new tennis racket before tryouts tomorrow. That all seemed so far off, so trivial even though it affected my emotions in ways I couldn't control. I was just running, and there were my legs, sore, and my hands and my face and my body and sometimes maybe me, but mostly just some random, disconnected hunk of flesh and I thought, "FAT, STUPID, UGLY, WEAK." And I thought about accountability and how so many people weren't accountable, and how accountability was the one thing I thrived in. I can blame myself. It can be my fault. Fine. You can win.
I never used to give up this easily, to just accept things like now. I used to believe I had some sort of say in my life. Now I seem to be degrading into naturalism.

I'm not suicidal anymore. I ran it out of me, gave into that absence of logic. Now I am here and I will spend all of my money tomorrow on a racket and I'm not sure how my car will survive without gas, but those things happen, they work themselves out. I can jog everywhere if I have to with my twenty ton backpack. No sense in trying to avoid scoliosis and the like.

There are periods, painful, when I believe in myself, when I love myself. How awkward. How much more natural to slip into this state of mind where I am not worthy of even the oxygen diffusing into the alveoli in my lungs.