So here I am on day 44. Doing great for calories, only 206 today, but most of that was an orange and some grapes. Keeping up appearances, you know. Still not dizzy or lightheaded. The growling stomach doesn’t even feel like it belongs to me, I hear it growl but I don’t feel it. It’s strange.
I got bit by a dog at my friends house today, her neighbors dog. It was my fault, I shouldn’t have walked up to it. It got my finger and then my shoe. No big deal. Except the adrenaline shooting through my body ate up the lack of food in my system, which naturally caused me to crash. I wavered and almost hit the floor before falling into a chair. My ears were ringing and I was sweaty. The feeling passed after a minute and I was fine. An interesting ride, really. Her brother was almost caring, and she was attentive to me, getting me something to wash my finger and then finding band-aids. What really amazed me was her brother thought enough to tell their mother when she got home, who then called me on my cell to see if I was okay. The caring of these people almost kills me. I guess I have been craving that. When I did eventually tell my mother, she only asked if the dog had it’s shots, nothing more. By now the bite is barely visible and is only a little sore. No big deal.
The embargo on conversation continues in my house. I did have a couple hours of reprieve from my mother today, but while little sister was over, as evening neared, the mood flipped again, back to angry. I’m so over caring about it anymore. I know it will happen everyday, so why think about it, why let it bother me anymore. Except that it’s all I can think about. I may not be crying over it anymore, but it still hurts me, the way she hates me. I gave up trying to figure out why. All I know is it is about me, something about me makes her angry. I really am being a bitch to her, mostly to protect myself. If she can’t get to me, she can’t hurt me. So I build my walls and reinforce them with cold stares and rolling eyes. Shut myself in my room, lock my emotions away. Worry about all the things I am hiding.
What am I hiding? My entire being. My self-harm, my eating, my novel, my self-hatred, me dreams, my fears, myself. I am hiding it all. People can’t use your life against you if they don’t know your life to begin with. It gets lonely, inside my bubble. But I don’t dare let someone in. It may burst.