So apparently I lost a pound... wtf? I'm pretty convinced my scale is lying to me, so I'm not exactly in rejoicing territory right now. Maybe if I continue to weigh myself and it sticks, I will... I dunno. *shrug*

You know, one thing I've noticed about myself is that when I'm bulimic (or, previously, restrictively EDNOS), I lack vitality, passion, and most of the other major qualities that make me me. But I know that, usually, passion is one of the things I want taken away when I do it.

See, I'm basically scared of it. Of my own intensity. And, I mean, I keep thinking I have good reason to be. Didn't I land myself in hospital a bazillion times last year, because my intensity made every negative emotion overwhelming, so overwhelming I couldn't deal? Didn't all my problems, for years and years and years, come from the fact that I had so many fucking feelings and no outlet to express them? My loneliness and my desire clashed against each other, ripping a void inside me which managed to fill itself only with turmoil -- never with anything that might have patched it over or, god forbid, FILL it. No. I remained continually alone, and things spiralled down and down and down until I hit rock bottom in a few different ways.

I made the desperate decision that I wanted to change, that I wanted my life to be better -- but has it actually gotten any better? Let's look at the objective facts. I'm employed, which I haven't been since August 2005. However, I'm not going to be in school this September, which continues to depress me and make me feel angry and extremely neglected. Not to mention that the combination of full-time in fast food + no school makes me feel about as useless as a pea pod. I mean, I can't help thinking that if I wasn't doing this job at A&W, someone else would be... it's not like I make some sort of shining contribution that others would not be able to do the same way as me. Fast food? Most people can do that at least decently well. You know?

And emotionally, has it gotten any better? I've delved deeper into a few areas I was previously afraid to touch -- gotten more in tune with myself -- but is it actually any better? Getting in touch with the stuff that I have has made me feel even more alone and separate. Of course, I can also see possibilities in the future, and in several months that could start to change a little bit... but then again it might not. I can't know for sure until things begin to unfold. And, of course, I have a very tumultuous past that has to be dealt with at every turn, seemingly, and will possibly hinder the things that could happen. Argh. I'm being really vague and possibly not making much sense, so I apologize if that's the case.

Anyway, the fact remains that I continue to be lonely and lack any really close IRL friendships, or the ability to confide in, well, just about anybody. The whole therapy thing is turning out to be a bunch of bullshit -- I'm on the point of wanting to see my psychologist, er, almost never. It doesn't matter if I'm symptomatic or not, because either way she is not helping me deal with anything. She told me herself that it is not her "style" to push people, and I am always too afraid to just say things out of the blue, so I don't think we're quite compatible in that regard. On the other hand, I'm not sure that even if my first therapist was around here, I'd be all that willing to talk about some of this stuff. Of course, she also wouldn't just give up on me the second I said "I don't want to talk about that", which is what the current one does. (I mean, come on... who WANTS to talk about stuff that's extraordinarily painful to them? That doesn't mean they shouldn't talk about it! Jesus!! I think my current therapist is a bit of an idiot about some things, and that's one of them. But anyway.)

I'm... peeved, and alone, and I have to cope in whatever fashions I can figure out on my own, since I have no one I really, inherently trust to ask for opinions. I do not inherently trust the therapist, and basically no one else even knows most of my history, or my current situation, or how much some things frustrate me. So I am alone, and I pretty much see fit to do whatever I want to do. If that happens to be bulimia, then, well, fuck whoever is trying to tell me to stop. That's the long and short of it, really. I don't have to stop if I don't want to, because I control me and nobody else controls me, so I really feel like just ignoring all those people who tell me I should recover, etc etc.

I mean, when things emotionally suck, where exactly is my motivation coming from to get better? I gave it a shot -- I waited -- I tried to have "hope". I cannot continue to have that indefinitely, for months and months, without results. I cannot live hanging in suspended animation, living for the sole purpose of waiting for a change that doesn't happen and doesn't happen and doesn't happen. I just can't do it. I have to live in the place that I am right now; I cannot continue to ignore it. And if bulimia and vague depression and existential issues are where I am right now, well, that's all there really is to it, from what I can see.