I am not even sure why I am writing this. I don’t expect anyone to read it, but then again I am not out there “promoting” this “blog”, if you can call it that. I just don’t know and don’t really care anyway. Just writing to pass the time. There’s always a lot that goes through my head but I haven’t much experience at articulating it. I’m not happy with my life right now. Honestly, I’ve never been happy with it but things are worse. I lost my job almost a year ago today, mostly due to the anorexia. I had taken 3 months leave of absence 2 consecutive years in a row to go be hospitalized for this stupid illness and both times I came back to work unchanged in weight. I guess I can see where not being able to depend on a body to be there everyday would be a liability, but I had 11 years with this company. I had committed a lot of time, pension and savings in this company and now I am taking early withdrawals from these accounts just to maintain my lifestyle I had before losing my job. So basically, I am hemorrhaging money. I have used up all my unemployment allowances and still have no job. I have no confidence and zero motivation to get back out in to the work force. So my days consist of exercise classes, sleep, more exercise classes, more sleep and then I have the weekends with my boyfriend when he is off work. My boyfriend lives with me. Not sure why he tolerates me sleeping all the time but he seems to understand my depression and eating disorder, so for that I am thankful, yet perhaps spoiled, in that he’s not pressuring me to get off my lazy butt and get a job. What’s wrong with me? Jeez!
My weekends are more interesting but are perhaps starting to become routine and boring too. My boyfriend likes to drink. He’s not quite an alcoholic, but he does drink on weekends and mostly at bars, dive bars. Not exactly where I imagined myself at 52 years old, sitting on a barstool sipping cheap wine and discussing all the possibilities in life that I have with an artificially (read alcohol-induced) sense of vigor and promise. The talk sounds good but I never seem to act on these great ideas. I have truly achieved the persona of a barfly. How could I ever be happier? Just shoot me now.
This is my first attempt at blogging. Please forgive the rudimentary look of my site. I am doing this at the behest of my psychologist and to see if there’s anyone out there who feels the same as I do.
I am a female, was born female (although I sometimes think perhaps I was born a hermaphrodite and my parents had me “changed” to female) but this is getting a little too far ahead. At present, to the best of my knowledge and according to my birth certificate, I am a girl…now grown up. I have a young adult son and live with my boyfriend of 12 years. I am a girly girl. I love all things sparkly, ruffles and lace. I am a self-proclaimed “fashionista”. I love LOVE vintage clothing and 1960’s – 1970’s clothing and décor. I have two walk-in closets filled with clothing that I just can’t part with (even though some of it needs to go). I spend most of my days consuming online couture and ready-to-wear fashion sites and stores. I have spent a near fortune on clothing, shoes, accessories…you name it. All in the desperate attempt to appear more feminine in “my” mind.
Let me preface this by saying that supposedly I don’t look extremely masculine. In fact, I have had therapists laugh in my face and tell me they could take me to a shopping mall and not one person would accuse me of being a man in drag (tranny) or even question my gender. Good! That is my goal! This is because I am extremely thin! In my mind, the thinner I am, the more feminine I appear. I never EVER want someone to come up to ask me if I am a girl or boy or if I am a tranny. This has happened a couple times in my life…I can count these occurrences on one hand. They happened when I was at a more normal weight and when it did happen, my whole world fell apart and suffice to say I was suicidal. Depression, which had been there all my life, increased exponentially and took me down like I had been shot in the head. I never want that to happen again. I was lost, I hated myself to the point I was afraid to look in mirrors or at my reflection in a window. I was devastated beyond what my frail ego could withstand and I cannot ever go back to this point of self-hatred or I will die. This puts me at the mercy of other people. I cannot control what other people think I look like, but I can control my appearance through my weight and me being seen as a woman is the only thing that keeps me alive.
So, you see the conundrum? I must remain thin and small to remain alive. Anorexia is my lifeboat. I currently teeter on the edge of underweight to “anorexia” underweight. This keeps me alive, but only barely. I have moderate to severe hypotension (low blood pressure), am losing some of my hair and am constantly dehydrated. If I push the weight loss too hard, I pass out, get circles under my eyes, my veins are pronounced on my limbs and more hair starts to fall out. One would think that these side effects would be a deterrent to appearing feminine, and to a certain extent I agree, but still much less masculine than when my weight falls into the normal (even low-normal) range. I am married to my anorexia. I can barely live with it – but without it I am dead…by suicide. This is my life.
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