I know my posts are starting to become really sporadic.
I'm trying to live... trying to be busy...
perhaps I'm trying to run
I got turned away from two careers this week.
Anorexics are turned down because: "It is impossible to predict the 20% of sufferers who make a full recovery and the remainder relapse and remit or remain severely ill."
And Bulimics: "may be considered for recruitment if they have been symptom free for more than 4 years, but 30% relapse and so referral is recommended."
It's a fucking hard pill to swallow.
And yes, I shed tears.
I had told them the bulimia was in my past - that I was cured - that I had learnt so much about myself on the road to recovery - and even then they didn't want me. Let's face it. If they knew the truth, if they knew I still stick my fingers down my throat everyday, if they knew about this blog, if they had any idea of the fear in my heart... they'd never even have let me in the interview room.
And that's not where my attempted glossing ends.
I told Alex.
I told him I failed my medical for the job.
On Friday evening, I told him why.
I had to lie.
I had to lie to him. I wanted to tell him the truth, I did. I wanted to tell him I still throw up every day - that it's never gotten any better - that I need him to support me and love me...
But I couldn't.
He doesn't understand sadness like I do. He doesn't understand fear like I do. There would be no point in telling him, "I'm really insecure, I hate myself, I stuff my face and throw up, sometimes several times a day, and then I exercise like a madwoman until I collapse, and then I starve myself until I shake, and I am so afraid, and Alex, Alex I need you to hold on to me..."
He wouldn't understand any of my words.
I spent all of Friday and Saturday with him.
We walked through Hyde Park in the sunshine, sat by the lake and watched the swans, ice cream in one hand, his hand in the other. I stayed in his bed all night, fireworks and laughter, heat and fingertips; he held on to me until the sun rose... until mid afternoon, because neither of us could tear ourselves away. And then he cooked me 'breakfast' at 3pm. Fried eggs, bacon and toast. And I ate it. And it felt wonderful.
I've never felt warmth from someones body like that before. I've never had someone kiss me that way before. I've never felt so right before.
But he can't save me.
This isn't lust. This is something far more scary.
This is something far more painful.
Last night we went to a barbecue with a group of others from 'The Club'.
But we weren't a couple.
To the outside world, there was no hint of anything going on between us. You'd never know I spent the previous 24 hours blissfully in his arms.
The only one there who knew that anything was going on was the girl who was wrapped up with him for most of the night. With their stupid banter, that they're married, 'hubby', hahaha. He doesn't laugh like that with me. He's not sitting alone with me. He's not talking to me.
I meant it.
Of course we left together; but I was cold towards him. I was hurting and afraid. I didn't hold his hand as we took the last tube and waited for the nightbus. Instead, I walked with a notable distance between us and couldn't look him in the eyes.
I didn't want to care about him. I didn't want to be falling for him. I didn't want him to be capable of doing this to me... But he is.
...and I am weak; my coolness towards him quickly began to melt, and by the time I was in his bed it was gone - I was his.
But he knew.
And awkward as he was, he tried to mention it; 'This is a bit random, but, you know Katie and I have this thing where we pretend we are 'married'...'
'Yeah I know,' I said bluntly. There was a bitterness in my voice that I couldn't disguise, so I didn't say anything more.
'Oh, good... I er, thought you should know.'
It's stupid, I know. There's nothing going on between them. He likes me. He does.
...But I'm afraid. I mean, I'm fucking petrified. Because I'm in so deep now - I'm in deeper than I ever was with James or Jon or anyone - and I remember how much they hurt me. They hurt me because I let them - because I let myself fall for them, and in doing so, laid myself vulnerable and exposed.
Yes, I'm jealous and insecure - and I know those are my faults, not his - but still, they are faults of mine which are not going to go away and are only going to get stronger and harsher the more I fall and the longer I let him keep control of my heart. I need to protect myself.
I want to run
'You're wonderful, you know that?'
'I think your body's perfect.'
'I'll drive you there - and you will probably meet my parents - big steps!'
'I think I'm falling for you'.
Why the hell do I want to run from him?
Is it just fear? Or do I know that I can't handle it? Because I'm not better yet... I'm too fragile for this.
I'm still throwing up everything I eat. (Except when I'm actually in his company).
Hillary Clinton meme
9 months ago