There's a tangled thread inside my head...

My mind is crowded my hands are withered from washing with soap, with soap, with soap, and cold water.

A too-tight-waist; a cat with too-high-taste; a clock with too-fast-pace; shock at a too-tired-face.

I'm talking to things that tic and toc. I'm reading words but can't get them and cannot grock.


Itchy noses don't hold a candle to the depth and romantic glory of my spinning marbles. When will it stop? round-and-round it goes! Who knows. It's all a little convoluted to say the most and really that's all I can say about it.

I'll probably head to school. I'll probably pass out on the pavement and make a pretty bloody mess of my pretty bloody (swear word) head. So, even if my eyelids are begging begging to drop and stay there, I can ignore them long enough to get recognition of my messed-up situation through tragic accident. Won't I be pleased when those three will pay attention to my anxiety?

Resistance

Yesterday I experienced a truthful sensation that I have met with before. This was the sensation of seeing my emotional eating at it's core. And what I saw was resistance.

"Resistance" according to Tiny Buddha, is "any thought, belief or behavior–either conscious or unconscious–that stands contrary to our desire." So, while I find myself really liking the ability of being able to directly feel and work with my emotions rather than eat over them and also feeling most confident and in control when I only eat when I am hungry, I am most certainly experiencing a mental blockage that is "contrary" to these likes.


Lately I have been feeling very righteous in the anger I have been allowing myself to feel. My Mama told me yesterday that I "shouldn't tell people that they are hurting you because their actions come from a place of love". She further explained that I "just seen to understand" that they are doing things from love. Here is the dialectical branch of this situation: I can both understand and feel others' love and still dislike how they treat me. My mother could have meant the best when she tells me that I think she is not as good as my father AND it was still a behavior that hurt me.


I often translate the hurt that my environment inflicts upon me into my own behaviors. I have been trying to use understanding of the reasons why I am using food emotionally as a solution to that behavior, just as I believed that if I was understanding of other people's behaviors, I wouldn't need them to change the way they are acting. Well, I know that I can understand myself or others and that certainly does not mean that I can continue to not stick-up for myself!


It's amazing how persistent thoughts of my mother in particular but also the integrated beliefs of my family have been integrated so thoroughly into my beliefs about myself. No, not other people, just myself. I wouldn't dream of insisting upon something as confusingly irrelevant as the idea that unhappiness means a lack of gratitude for someone else, but had opposition to accepting that as an absolute truth and suitable reasoning for hating myself when I was unhappy.


I also would never tell someone that if they can understand the reasons behind a behavior that is causing their wellbeing harm then the behavior won't cause them harm anymore. Why not? Because it's MENTAL, that's why! Life is not a = b, b = c, a = c. It's often more complex than that. But do I create resistance to thoughts that are more logical (and helpful) than this? Most of every single day.


When I feel that genuine resistance so use healthier methods to deal with my emotions, I am resisting the trust that I placed in my mother even when she continued to do and say things which harmed me. This trust was something that I sacrificed so much of my humanity and self-love for; it was something which I both resented and obeyed; I fought closeness with people if it meant that it would disobey her or disrupt the kind of loving and kind gestures that people seek in their mothers. I chose food in order to protect my mother from the full reality of the hurt she placed on me and the trust I had in her that she was abusing. When I moved out of her house, she treated me like a criminal and blamed me as she had blamed others. She coupled me with my brother and my dad and made me into one of the bad guys she had formerly talked with me about. Giving up the resistance to take of myself-- to feel things as I do without trying to change them; to accept me as I am right now; to be honest enough with myself when I am trying to please others at my own expense-- this takes time and practice but I'll start right now.


Because there is so much resistance to the things which will straighten out my life and make it my life, I need to have faith in my understanding AND change.


I'm hungry. I'm going to go eat because of it.


-Kat

I am okay just the way that I am even when I don't make other people comfortable

I tried speaking to my mother about how I am upset with the unfairness of the way that people sometimes treat me.
 Paraphrasing, here is a recap:
The conversation started with us wishing each other Happy Valentine's day. I asked how she was doing and how her cold is going. She asked me how I was doing: "Horrid." Bad idea, Katherine. Don't be honest.

She asked why. "Mat came over and I got really upset and he treated me like I was trying to be manipulating and-- I'm just not sure why."

A few minutes later of talking and it popped into my head "You know what bothered me so much? He just wanted me to stop being upset! I am so fucking sick of people not giving me the same kind of acceptance that I give them. If HE was crying I would be okay with it. But if I cry all he does is tell me to stop. I'm fucking sick of it! People punish me for expressing my negative and human emotions."

"I think punish is too strong.."

"Mom. Social punishment is certainly punishment and something that effects me very strongly! I tell someone that their behavior is hurting me and suddenly  I am not treated so kindly by them. Sticking-up for myself? I MUST have a cold, or I'm leaving my 'kind nature' behind, or I've 'changed-- SOMETHING is wrong with me for telling people that their actions or lack there of bother me in some fashion. I can understand and understand and understand and it STILL doesn't fucking make it okay. If I don't like what another person is saying or doing then suddenly I am 'ungrateful'."

Then, I'm guessing realizing that she is under this umbrella of people whom I know that do exactly this, my mother started to DEFEND the people I was talking about: "they don't mean it", "it's understandable", "you could end up hurting their feelings if you told them."

She has tended to be one of the most "nice"-peddlers I have ever known, my mom has. And, no, I don't mean  "doing things for others", I mean the most commonly used definition of nice-- a definition that is used to COMPLIMENT people-- "someone who does things for others at the expense of themself". That isn't something to be praised-- that ought to be pointed out as an unhelpful habit. This definition of "nice" isn't "doing something for others" as much as it is being really mean to oneself. Putting yourself on the back burner isn't kind it's cruel. I hate when people tell me how "nice" I am. I am not this definition of "nice" and I don't enjoy being told that I am just because someone can see that I am okay with things that are normally an inconvenience for other people.

"I know your nature is forgiving," says she, "If you just understand that those people are doing it with love..." She started to tell me how she "just called to tell me happy valentine's day and now I was yelling at her and" i was "so angry."
1. Mom, you just did EXACTLY what I am furious about: Telling me (by using shunning tactics like "your innate nature is better than how you are acting") that I should not be angry; that it is not okay to be angry.
2. YOU ASKED ME HOW I WAS AND I RESPONDED HONESTLY.
3. You have no faith in how much I love people. I love people NO MATTER if I am upset with them or not. I don't have to be happy in order to know that I love people.
4. How dare you tell me that I should be more sensitive to the feelings of other people! If they end up getting hurt then they aren't hearing me correctly and that's THEIR problem. Does this sound a little too close to home, Mom?


FUCK!

My Valentine to You

I want to hear about everything that ever was within you and what you anticipate that which will be. I want to learn what is making you who you are so I can appreciate all that is your existence. Speak. Don't speak. Let me give you what it is that will allow you to be as you wish when you wish to be as you wish.

I would like to clarify the direction of this. This is how I feel about you (whoever you are who is reading this). There aren't exceptions. I love you. I love you when you are destroying and when you are not. I love you when you act with kindness and when you do not. I love the way that you are reading this and I love when you ignore this or don't notice it. I don't care if this makes me bizarre because I love you. I don't care that I cannot tell all of the many "you"s there are because the lack of communication does not dissipate my love's depth and persistence. I love you.

#:00 in the morning; # O'clock in the Ante Meridium

It's funny how anxiety is at it's best around this time.

I feel so alone. Because everyone is asleep. Because I cannot feel the opposite of lonely. Because I cannot yet feel "together". A roiling boiling sort of pain-- not uncomfortable because it hurts so badly, but, rather, because of it's persistence. A soft and mistakingly sweet fear that is knocking about, having a laugh, seeing the neighbors, writing some letters, and having a lovely time as it is punching my walls, kicking over my castles, eating all the last pudding cups there ever was. Destroyed by a pudding eater. That must be what this dry and seeping hatred is coming from.

Mishika is squeaking and destroying because I'm awake so late. She scares me legitimately sometimes. I think she reminds me of the destructive sensations that I feel often within myself. Something like an overenergized kitten. It's scratching at your furniture, clawing up your legs. It's demanding immediacy of nothing clear. You tell it to stop, but it can't hear you-- it's a kitten. It either doesn't care or it truly cannot understand you. But you'll never know which one it is. And it doesn't matter anyway because now you have to find out how to MAKE it stop. Or accept it.

I want to accept it. The idea of running away from anxiety has been my goal for my last 14 days, 2 months, and 20 years.

Here's a good thing to know, though: pain is not something to run from. It's not something of horrid-nature but it is something of natural events. I haven't cried yet today. I've done laughing and smiling even though I was bigger than I have been in two years. This is the first time, maybe, that I haven't felt uncomfortable about my body image like it dictated my worth. I bought lingerie. I bought health supplements. I began another blog to talk about the different ways in which I am working to be the most content I can (which is many). I wore heels, and walked as tall as I could. I think the thing that scared me most was the eating.

Eating outside of meals is terrifying. "Oh gods," I think "I might not stop. I might just keep going. I might not stop. What would they say, all of them, if they knew? What would they do if they, all of those many 'them's, saw me? Would they label me a fat person? And if they did, those 'them's, would it make it true? If they knew how much their words can mold my thoughts, actions, and body, and then they called me fat I would be trapped. Forever the fat person. Forever someone who cannot wear what is comfortable. They would condemn me to life as the fat person and it would be all over."

I'm hungry legitimately but I've been craving a binge too. I'm not going to eat. Because I'm afraid. Because I can decide not to eat whenever I want. Because, because, because. Because right now, and most times like this moment, I don't want food or anything other object. Because I am craving the ability to scream and cry in front of someone I love and for them to be okay like I would be okay with them if they needed to scream and cry. A parent to rescue me from my crib when I don't know what will become of me; they'll coddle me and coo me and tell me things are okay and they will continue to be okay and all I have to do is cry. It's okay. They'll still hold me if I cry. They won't leave the room and lock the door if I throw a fit. Where are these people? Why is it that the person whom I know would do this for anyone won't do it for herself?

Well, I guess I am learning how to coddle and coo. Maybe I ought to ask: "What is it, Kat? What is it, my Love? What is bubbling inside you? What do you need from me? Can I give you a hug? I want to hear about everything that ever was within you and what you anticipate that which will be. I want to learn what is making you who you are so I can appreciate all that is your existence. Speak. Don't speak. Let me give you what it is that will allow you to be as you wish when you wish to be as you wish."

What a wonderful love letter I just wrote.

Lost-- not the TV show

This is the time of "day" when I feel like I'm falling apart.

The house is making house-noises, the cat is ruining my property, and I am more alone than I am when I'm around other people.

Days feel like years. Summer in the morning, Fall during the bulk of the day, Winter between getting home and getting ready to sleep, Spring as I lay awake.

I say Spring for when I lay awake because all my mind's flood-gates open and, suddenly, I have so much clarity for how I am supposed to act during the day. It all "wakes up" in the "Spring".

I feel trapped in a loop of the same day. Like one of those Twilight Zone-esque movies where the main character wakes up to a newspaper with the same date; day after day after day.

During the day my mind is so genki, even if my heart is not. "How are you, Kat?" "I'm good, thank you!" How do I manage to answer like that without hesitation?

And everyday--during the day-- I am missing my chances to be truthful.

"My life feels like a mess. A brain that seems to malfunction; unable to manage stress and unable to understand how to manage stress or learn how to. A heart that is easily shaken and confidence with such a lack of solid footing that breathing makes it slip, skid, and tumble.

I want to be with someone I have liked for so long but I can't even manage to be with myself. I have fantasies of being alone, away from even myself. So alone that I'll never be able to find me. And then I realize that is probably exactly where I am: So far away from myself that I cannot even locate who I am.

Probably, this feeling is why food is such a fast substitute for dealing with emotions.

Something I can touch and physically interact with is so much less daunting than the

bleak and confusing mess that is my internal self.

Kamisama, please let this be what youth is. Please let me grow out of this and become the capable and reliable person I know I can be.

I feel irresponsible writing this. Like I am admitting more than anyone should know. It's not a big secret. I'm not a happy person right now. I don't remember being a happy person for more than a month at a time.

I'll tell you my image: A girl forever unable to stop eating long enough to understand herself. A person unfitting for the niceness around her. Someone who hates herself so much that when she is comfortable she feels panicked with anxiety of how wrong it is. Someone who sabotages what is good for her and traps herself to the most disgusting term she can summon. I am a fat girl. Someone who eats a disgusting amount of food and is likewise disgustingly and annoyingly ashamed of herself. Someone who puts energy and effort into being exactly where she doesn't want to be.

I have never met anyone as obese as I feel. The stigma attached to the word "fat" holds so much more than a surplus of saved energy on a body-- it is unattractiveness at it's most pungent and apparent.

I am trapped within this person. Each day, among different events and different wonderful people, is the repeating "newspaper with the same date" of a fat, hideous, annoying, and unlovable girl. I'm drowning within this obese person and yet there isn't even anything substantial enough to drown in.

Oh gosh, Poetry when I am anxious

I met a boy, a cat, a madly-bad love song.

Just as the weather began to boil in the East,

a lightening storm fluttered before it.

She saw a clean house; he saw none of it.

She saw a clean street; he mad a run for it.

She saw a mess; He had found the fun in it.

She saw an actress and witnessed the summit.

A rolling, boiling, roiling mesh of cloud and wind;

the mountains gave way; the fog tumbled in.

A pod and eyes fifty-something deep played

obnoxiously on self-exposed-repeat.

And the boy found the weather and the weather

found the boy. His dissipation as reliable as

the cat remains coy.

The boy made it as humid as he would have; the cat napped, ate, and played; the songs filled memory; the world turned; and I met myself in humiliation and then turned along, too.

Tonsillectomies and Weight Loss

Hello, there~!

So, today is my third day of recovery from my tonsillectomy.

I really did think that I would be okay after a couple of days, but it turns out that I am looking at another seven to nine days of taking it easy. Today, at six, I found out that today will be one of those days where I will be experiencing nausea. I had not experienced any the two days previous to today, but, gosh, I am so glad that I was given anti-nausea pills. This kind of nausea acts quickly and is sort of disabling when I am half awake, just taken some pain medication and have not been eating very much since the surgery.

Which brings me to the eating-portion of this whole scene. I don't feel hungry. But more than not feeling hungry, I don't mind not feeling hungry and am not thinking about food/weight/body as much. I'm much more focused on just resting and doing what is necessary for my body. How lovely! And here is some more important news-- I'm not excited about this because it feels so normal. There is no need to get super enthused about it because this is how it is supposed to be like: listening to my body, eating when my body wants to eat, leaving thoughts of food at the table when I'm done being hungry.

Oh, gosh. I'm staring to feel a little dizzy. I need to take a shower and then go back to bed.

Before I do so, a few more things. I noticed that I have been dropping body mass like crazy. This means that, because my diet for the past three days has been water, juice, apple sauce, and sparkling water, that a lot of my excess body mass has been from water retention. I cannot keep eating out. The sodium is way too much. I bet my little heart has been working pretty hard considering the ratio of sodium to water in my body. Also, my poor brain! I must have been dehydrating my brain terribly.

I have also found that I need to steer clear of dairy. I've gone back and forth between thinking that it is okay for me to consume dairy to completely eliminating it from my diet. I always forget how much better I feel without it in my diet. Margaret suggests goats milk and goat cheese because it is softer on one's body than cow's dairy. Lessen learned! :)

Finally, I have been reading a great little book called "Change Your Brain, Change Your Body". I initially picked it up because I believe that the changes that will allow me to act differently within stressful situations and around food will come from my head not from outside influences (i.e. whether there is ice cream, cookies, chips, etcetera around me).

The book talks about other things that have been worrying me, also. Such as reduced ability to remember things and severe stress that is difficult to control. My inability to remember things as well has been a little worrisome to me. It's been going on for a few years now- sometimes getting better and sometimes being so bad that I have considered talking to a doctor about it.

The book is talking about how to get a better body through improved brain health. I like this concept. I fully believe that the only way to move past difficulty with overeating, compulsive eating, stress eating, etcetera, is by taking better care of oneself. Love will change things. And I know from experience that anythings else-- especially force (i.e. dieting, restricting, self-loathing, etcetera)-- results in emotional rebellion and more problems. I am on my side, and I want to know that on a molecular level.

This book says that something that can boost one's own happiness in as little as two weeks is by writing five things to be grateful for each day. Only two weeks! I'm up for that!

1. I am grateful for the internet.

2. I am grateful for my ability to love unconditionally.

3. I am grateful for those who do not speak to me anymore.

4. I am grateful for all of my wonderful friends and family members.

5. I am grateful for cats.

Off to shawa- wo abimasu!

-Kat

I will not eat over my emotions today. I will not eat or distract from my emotions today. I will feel things without distracting myself. I am worth discomfort.

Anxiety and boys

While writing my last post, I realized that one reason why I am so confused and bothered by getting attention from boys is that I don't find myself attractive.

This isn't because I have excess fat on my body-- well, it has to do with that, but that's not all. I don't think I am attractive because I see from my excess weight that I am unhappy. I see that I need to be working on things; that I need to be changing and understanding myself better. Excess weight comes from me eating when I am not hungry. It is my physical signal to myself and others that I am deeply unhappy with somethings.

Getting attention from boys is bizarre. Am I really attractive to you even though I am having a hard time not placing all of my worries under the umbrella of food/weight-related issues? What is attractive about that?

Furthermore, how can boys touch or kiss me when I am like this? It's frightening. It says to me that my proof of things that are yet to be dealt with is not enough. People cannot see it well enough. I can't gain more weight because I'm scared of it. And, yet, it's not enough. The excess weight plan is a failure. It's time for me to drop it and cut the funding. But, then, where does this leave me? A person who eats when she is hungry and stops when she is full; a person who loses weight quickly when she is dealing directly with her emotions-- surely this person doesn't have people who are concerned for her or will take her desperation seriously.

Also, how I find something as efficient as food that will help me when I want to leave myself? What is there? What is there for me that I can access at any moment?

I think this means that I need to take out my DBT book and look at coping skills.

-Kat

Self-care? What are you THINKING of? Part Two

The first part of this post was done via text messaging. However, my post was 6 pages in text messaging form and turned into six different posts on this blog (I fixed it).

So, the correlation between self-care and my eating is that when I eat normally I get negative consequences and when I take care of myself I get negative consequences, too. When I tried to leave my Mother's house because I was purging every time I was around her, I was told by my Mother and my Brother that I was abandoning my Mother. I was explained to that I was horribly imposing on her my absence and that I was only thinking of myself. The response I have to that situation now, thankfully, is "good for me for trying to only think of myself!" I was having passive suicide ("passive" meaning I wish something bad would happen that would take my life away rather than "active"[using a blade, rope, etcetera]) thoughts daily at the time that I needed to leave her house. When I was around her I was not only not good enough for her to stop saying things that hurt me, but I was also not in enough pain for her to take my pain seriously enough for her to change. It didn't matter that I had binged enough to gain all the weight back that I had lost or that I was caught taking dangerous dieting pills. And, in the end, it didn't even matter to her that I was purging-- she wouldn't stop saying those hurtful things.

When I try to eat only when I am hungry, I get a series of uncomfortable reactions. One is that because I have been trained to not listen to myself too much I just am not used to doing so on a regular basis. Waiting for myself, listening to myself to figure out when I am ready to eat is so disconcerting sometimes. It feels dangerous. It means that I am abandoning my mother and becoming a "self-centered bitch". It means that I am not thinking that I need to bring home food to my Mother when I go out with my Dad when I am 13 years old. It means that I am not only thinking too much about myself, but I am not thinking about other people at all either. I am becoming a bitchy, unfeeling, selfish and self-centered, abandoning daughter when I take care of myself.

Another response I have is that I feel the things that I have been eating over. So many, many things. Things that I do not yet understand and things that I have known of for a long time and I am still trying to work through. It hurts and is scary sometimes. I don't know who to talk to about it. I have sensations deep within me that there is something inherently wrong with me. I want to dispose of myself; disappear; regenerate into something or someone worthwhile. Who do I tell this to? Myself? If I cannot trust myself to be a reliable and good and worthy person, how could I possibly find solitude in sitting with myself with this anxiety?

Eating only when I am hungry also means that I may not be able to see my Dad as often. All my Papa wants to do is go out to eat, it seems. If I don't want to go out to eat, does that mean that I am not wanted as company at all?

Another uncomforting aspect of only eating when I am hungry and stopping when I am satisfied is that I will lose weight. I will get more attention from boys that I already don't want. I will also lose my physical evidence (my excess fat) of my emotional turmoil. My Papa said that during the summer I looked so pretty and happy and he was really relieved to see it. Gosh, does that mean that I am not going to be paid attention to when I feel like I am going to fall apart? Will my self-hatred be less evident?

Perhaps not everyone sees my body shape as the representation of my anxiety and upset the way that I do. It's hard for me to not see my body that way. I see my excess body fat-- the 165/170 pounds on my small frame; the size-nine-panted-body that used to comfortably wear a size five-- as a distress signal. I accumulated my excess weight through months of excess eating; of not feeling able to be within myself; of hating myself and loving the world and disbelieving that I belong at all in someplace so wonderful. I took the anger that I felt for other's actions and swallowed it with poptarts, ice cream, and microwaved cheese sandwiches. So, isn't it obvious to other people that this is why I look like I do? This is what I see when I look in the mirror. It isn't admirable. There is something wrong. I am my physical representation of that wrong something. Look at me.

And here is my terror of this realization: it is not working. The excess weight just serves to attract boys who like "hearty" girls. It isn't showing my family that I am sometimes out-of-my-mind with grief and unhappiness and self-hatred and anxiety. They don't see it. The fact that I gained so much weight in such little time didn't send off any alarm bells in their heads that I was frightened, didn't know how to ask for help, and desperately needed more time with people. They saw me gain weight, but that was it. They saw me become panicked about it, but all they said was that I was beautiful the way I am. I'm NOT, though. Anxiety, hate, and fake "don't worry! I'm fine. We'll talk some other time, I understand you're busy"s are packed in accumulations of 3,500 calories around my thighs and stomach and back and arms and legs and chest and face. But they cannot see this.

So, here is one of the things that I am taking away from this: I will only eat when I am hungry. It isn't working to emotionally eat as people cannot see my upset through my weight, people don't give me extra attention that I crave, the problems I eat over are still there, and I don't actually stop feeling all of the negative emotions anymore (I am at least half-aware of my emotional eating so it doesn't fully distract me).

Also, I will take care of myself. Even if this means that I will be faced with consequences that I don't like, I am worth the trouble. There is no consequence that is worth compromising my self-respect or taking care of myself. Albeit any kind of anxiety or upset, I am worth the trouble.

It just is not working.

Love,

-Kat

Self-care? What are you THINKING of? Part One

Today i was going to go to a movie by myself. It was going to be okay. There was something that was bothering me, though, and i kept eating at the movie theater while i was waiting for the movie to start.
I realized today that there is a correlation between my eating and my emotional behavior. Of course, there are many of these. I am happy to be figuring them out.:)
The one i recognized today was about my ongoing learning about taking care of myself. When i take care of myself- stand up for myself, eat only when i am hungry, not put up with behaviors of people- i get negative consequences. I am told that i'm not being nice and i am told that i am a self-centered person when i stick up for myself. When i eat only when i am hungry a lot of things happen.

I will put this in my next post.
Love,
-Kat

gyabo. super-uncapitalized-gyabo.

Hello, again.

二分のひさしぶり。

I want to say this. EVERYTIME I don't get a text back from Aaron,

I want to tell him, not text but call and tell him with my voice:

"If you aren't really interested in me, don't humour me. Don't text me.

Don't talk to me. Don't tell me that you miss me. Don't do it. Don't

waste your time and energy. I will just feel badly for you. Don't make me

feel like I need to feel badly for you when you spend energy on me.

So, don't do it. Don't talk to me, tell me you miss me, text me, or

spend anytime at all with me if you are only doing it with half a heart

or only with pity."

It just hurts too much. I feel like I am burning with humiliation when I

say "dear" and "sweetheart". Those words I use, does he read them when they show up on his cellphone screen? Does he hate me for them? I can't tell, because he never responds with the same kind of affection. No. He is less than affectionate towards me. And it hurts.

He is less than attentive when I want to talk to him and spend time with him. And it hurts.

I dislike that I feel like this defines me. Like his reactions to me define me. It is self-abusive, ne?

It's been an hour since I said I would take a shower and go to bed.

So, here I go.

Tomorrow (today), I have a therapy session. Thank goodness.

-Kat

Oh gosh, how many times can I say "Oh gosh" in one post?

Like a tide scrambling onto a shore
the things oppressed by miles and time are arriving
and each receding combination of nature and gravity
only enforces the impact of the preceding effort

This is my post on facebook today. I feel as if these words are falling

towards me more and more often.

Today, 2:22 AM, I am writing on my blog. I just spoke to my Rinapin on facebook.

I am listening to Deathcab. I am being filled with this intense sense of anxiety and

loneliness. I crave love. Not just friendship or family love. I am craving love from

a person whom I am attracted to. I've been in love once and, gosh, how I want it

again. To be in love with someone who is in love with me is such an incredible

concept to me. And I am impatient. I want it now.

Hahahaha! Perhaps the intensity of this has to do with the fact that I am listening to

"Transatlanticism". All of the songs by Deathcab sift and pour inspiration for being in

love with somebody into my heart whenever I listen to them. It's such

soft, sweet, kind, and forgiving music. Oh the sentimentalism is setting in! Hahahahaha! I'm so silly.

Oh, gosh, I am I am.

I really wonder what I am to Aaron (of course, I do, while I am thinking about love, relationships, loneliness, and sentimentalism. Hahaha!).

Apparently we are definitely "monogamously casually dating". But I have no idea what that means. Does that mean that he likes me? I can't trust that unless he says so. I like him. But, gosh, how can I say that to someone who I am not even sure enjoys spending time with me?

I want to text him. "Are you still awake?" I want to ask him "Do you want to go on a walk with me?"

The answer to the latter would be a definite "no".

I want to walk with you. Did you know that? Did you know that I would want to take a walk with you

even if it was super cold like it is right now? I would and I do. But this environment, the one where I

know for certain that you will say "no" because of temperature, feels so lonely.

Ne, not eating over emotion is so painful. I'm feeling things. And it is hurting. Oh gosh, I'm so proud of myself.

It hurts and I can feel just how much it hurts. I'm not stopping it.

I just texted Aaron. If he doesn't answer, it is certainly okay. I hope he is asleep, actually. The point is more to just do

what I feel I need to-- to reach out when I am upset even if I know that I may not get a response-- in order to prove to myself

that I love myself. I feel sick with anxiety and hurt. And, gosh darn it, I'm feeling it all.

Maybe I'll take a shower and try to sleep.

Ohhhhhh, crying. Oh the pain. Oh the extreme loneliness and sadness. Yet, I know this is good. I'm not hiding myself right now.

This is good. I'm being more honest lately than I have been able to be in quite a while. Hey, Aaron, I wonder how you will feel about me when you find that I feel things so much. Will you reject me?

Ben Gibbard, in the song "President of What?", just sang "nothing hurts like nothing at all". It's true. It's been building up inside me as I try to tear my gaze away from my anxiety and self-hatred and I focus on the things that are zettai kankenai with what I am trying to change within myself.

Okay, enough. I need to sleep. I need to rest. This is a lot for me.

Oh the love,

-Kat

新年

Omedetou!

Today, the first of the new year, I am able to wake up in the comfort of Momo's family's home. I have spent the past two days eating all things sweet. I don't usually like to think of the New Year as an excuse to finally change oneself, but this year I would like to welcome all of the good things that people are working on, thinking about, and believing in to help me as I'm sure it is helping them.

I realized yesterday that the underwear I have continued to wear is too tight for me right now. I have gained too much weight to fit them properly for the moment and wearing them hurts. This is part of me not accepting myself as I am at any moment; thin, overweight, happy, uncomfortable, angry, lonely-- I use so many things to gage whether or not I am worth accepting and loving.

Rayna said that one needs to "start loving themselves first. Then it gets easier." I want to dive into this. No, I will dive into this. I must be more attentive to myself. When I want to eat and I am not hungry I need to stop and ask myself what it is that is going on inside me. Today will be a great first day for this.

From my last therapy session, I have been thinking of what is it that is keeping me from going through with taking a leap and working full-force toward feeling things rather than eating over them. The fact that I believe that it is a leap that I must take probably has soqmething to do with it. Afterall, it is not really a leap. It is a necessity. Taking care of myself-- no matter the negative consequences I may encounter-- is the priority in my life. Since this priority is put on the back burner several times each day, I need to become vigilant of my actions.

Why are you eating to the point of feeling sick, Kat? Why is it that you are so resistant to feeling feelings, Kat? Are you doing alright, dear? What is it that we can do together that will change how we are feeling and acting?

I am careful to put "together" here after mentioning "we". My Papa has this habit of saying things like "let's do dadadadada..." or "let's try to dadadadada.." But what he means most of the time is "you should do dadadada..." and "you should try to dadadadada.." I feel so alone when he says that. It's as if, by vocals, he is excluding me. Or, rather, excusing himself from whatever process he is talking about.

I need to go and help makes crepes with Momo and Rayna.

More soon.
-Kat