Again, too much has happened that I don't know where to begin.
Sometimes I wish my life would just slow right down again.
I will just have to write it in bits, a full monologue is too much for me right now.
Last Friday I nearly ended it with Theo.
As I said, he was taking me out for my Christmas present. I took the afternoon off to get a massage, sit in the sauna, get my hair done and make sure I looked my best.
It was the leaving drinks of someone at work so we both went along to that. Theo told me we would leave at 8:30pm. The time came and went, he did not make a move. He was drinking with his mates, I was standing with my friends, sipping my one glass of wine so I stayed sober to enjoy our dinner. I sent him a text - when are we going? He didn't check his phone. I went to sit upstairs trying to fight back the tears. I read back my last post on my blackberry... I must not take his cluelessness for lack of care, I must not act like a child and ruin this, I must not throw this away....
I made a note:
"It was 8:42pm when I messaged him to ask when we were going, and 9:08pm when I decided that it was over. This was supposed to be our special night. I hadn't taken the afternoon off to get my hair done for my work colleagues Theo, I did it for you. You should be holding on to me like I'm precious gold. I can't do it. I'm walking. Walk Ophelia, don't be weak. Walk. Don't be weak. Even if I stayed tonight, you couldn't change my mood now, it would be impossible, you've spoilt it."
At 9:15pm he called me. I didn't answer, but remained where I was in the upstairs section of the bar. I wanted to teach him a lesson. I'd been gone for 45 minutes and he hadn't even noticed.
I wandered down when my friend called me and left a voicemail.
"Where have you been? We've been looking for you! Theo didn't know where you were!"
"Yeah, I was upstairs."
They told Theo I was there now but he still stayed with his friends outside, drinking and smoking, ignoring me. Finally he came back in and asked my friend, "So what's the plan next? On to the next bar?" I was sat, jacket on, with all my bags ready to go, eyes brimming with tears. Now he was out drunk with his friends, he didn't want me any more, he didn't care about our evening together.
He beckoned me over. I got up reluctantly.
"Are we going?!", I asked.
"Um yeah...we can still make it... you ready to go?"
We left and got a taxi. I could barely talk. I was choking back the tears. I couldn't look at him. I pushed his hands off me.
We got to the restaurant and ate. He was drunk. But I started to forgive him as his moved over to my side between every course and ran his hands through my hair and told me all the most wonderful, beautiful things.
I realised he could only say them when he was drunk.
He couldn't keep his hands off me.
I realised he loved me most for sex.
At the end of the meal he told me to meet him in the toilets and sauntered off. I sat there in disbelief. I was imagining this. But I was drunk too. Why not. Cross it off my list.
He pushed me to me knees like a doll. He pressed me hard against the wall like a worthless slut. He didn't even know who I was. His face of inebriated pleasure disgusted me.
We left and he called up his friend from work.
"Where are you guys now? Who's there? How long you staying?"
I couldn't believe it. I stood on the pavement in the freezing cold while he floundered, drunk. He hadn't got us a hotel, he didn't know what to do, he dragged me into an Irish pub so he could drink more. I wanted to go home, but I knew the only option was to stay it out for this night.
"What do you want to do?", he kept asking me repeatedly.
"I want to be with YOU. I want to get out of the cold and go to bed."
I didn't know where we were, we walked for ages to some bus stop where we waited for a bus. He wouldn't even get a taxi. When we got to Kings Cross we tried hotel after hotel until we found one with rooms free. I was broken, I couldn't bear to look at him. I got straight into bed and curled up in a ball.
Tonight was supposed to be so special. I'd made myself look stunning for him, drank juice all week, brought my best underwear, sexy new shoes, fucking hell I would do everything for that boy. And look at the love I got in return.
* * *
On Tuesday I had my internal interview for the new position I wanted. I had studied every day over Christmas and every weekend and evening since I knew they were going to interview me.
They turned me down.
Shit, somehow this is even harder to write than the above.
I feel humiliated.
I lay in bed crying myself to sleep, tears flowing down the sides of my face.
Theo said nothing to comfort me.
On Thursday morning I received an email to officially tell me that I had been turned down from the other department and that my current department would excuse me from travel for two months only so there will be a meeting to discuss what is to be done. (I had asked when I went back into treatment to take one afternoon off a week to go to my appointments and to not have to travel so much because I wasn't able to eat any safe foods.)
My current manager is now trying to force me to resign from my current position because in interviewing for the other department I have proven that I am not committed to my current role.
We had the meeting yesterday morning.
"For the business, we want someone who is committed to the role for several years."
"Everyone on that floor is going to move on at some point," I argued back. (In fact, there are only three people in the whole of the department who have stuck around for more than a year.)
"You don't want a career in this, you want to move to the other department. We can't have that in this role. We need someone who is fully committed."
"I am happy where I am and I don't want to leave. I have studied in my spare time, been fully committed to the role during work hours and have given excellent results as proof of that."
"That's not the point. You want to move to the other department if an opportunity arises. I can't have that in my team."
They were doing everything they could to force me to resign.
I signed a document to allow them to have a letter from my doctor.
They are going to ask for a letter explaining my ability to do my job and what effects it has on my health.
"If I choose to do a job that is detrimental to my health then that's my choice." I said angrily.
"Yes, it is, but we need to know, from a 'duty of care' perspective how best to accommodate you."
So they are expecting the letter to come back saying that I shouldn't be working in a high-pressure environment and should not travel. (All of which is absolutely true, I will never get better in this job and my doctor of all people is the one who is most aware of how true that is.)
And they will then use my illness as a way of forcing me out of my job - by way of their 'duty of care' towards me.
My eating disorder took away years of my life, it was the reason I got turned away from jobs in the past, it destroyed friendships, it destroyed relationships, it destroyed opportunities and hope. The great hurricane of destruction clearly hasn't finished it's rampage yet.
This is the most depressed I've felt for over 12 months. All my motivation and lust for life has been sucked out of me again, I cry at the smallest thing, I can't go to the gym, I can't restrict, I can't smile at people. I've gone back to the dark, cold place.
Theo, still in contact with me all week, knows all that happened above, and has not offered a single word of comfort.
Two weeks ago I was dreaming for everything finally falling into place. And now I am standing where I stood just over a year ago. Frightened, empty, alone and humiliated. The girl that everyone wanted to beat at school, the girl who worked so hard, won every award, was going to be great at whatever she chose to be.
All I know now is failure.
Hillary Clinton meme
8 months ago