Triggers

1. Facebook minifeed telling me about Marie
2. Facebook minifeed of people replying to Marie; who is constantly being flirted with...
3. My ugliness
4. My body
5. Memories of my incarceration
6. Realising how much work I need to do
7. Distress of trying to sort my life out

What is this feeling?

She makes me anxious
She makes me scared
She makes me doubt
She makes me fear
She makes me nervous
She makes me hide from her
She makes me cry
She intimidates me
She makes me feel small
It seems as if she is pushing me away
She seems so distant.

I feel horrible.
I feel so lonely
I feel hopeless
I am scared to talk to her more...I can't compete with the life she lives, the friends she has.

Is this what an infatuation is supposed to be?

Avoidance

I have been avoiding even thinking about these problems; but now, I am articulating them. It causes great anxiety and distress to think about them...

This is why my life is so difficult right now, and why I want to escape...

1. I need to find money for a PhD
2. I need to find a place that will take me on for a PhD
3. I am constantly thinking about a girl, and am worried about her
4. I need to find a place to live
5. I need to get referees for a PhD application
6. I need to impress the department to get good references
7. I have to accept that even if I do get money, a PhD programme and a future as an academic; I will have next to nothing in my life; the pay is poor, I will have no relationship prospects, no job security fior the next 10 years.
8. I want Marie to be okay...I care about her. I wish I knew how she felt about me.
9. I need a cuddle. I feel so lonely and worthless
   It's hard to get treated by the doctors because
10. I don't trust them.
11. They are a threat
12. They haven't helped me
13. They said they can't help
14. It causes me distress
15. I need to lose more weight. I have been purging since september and I have lost nearly 70lbs...I need to be slimmer so i can feel more attractive and positive about my body
16. I have anxiety problems, especially with girls..its hard for me to talk to her, even though we have gotten close

Depression in the news, and in my life...

Take a look at this article I just found off BBC.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/7233169.stm

Once I was being treated for anxiety, the first time I ever went to see a psychiatrist or a mental health person in my life. It was scary, didn't help my anxiety about the stigma. What upsets me the most is when people say they will help but aren't, in actuality there. That's what it means for me to not trust someone, and to lose trust in people generally.

I was being treated for anxiety with 'antipsychotics'. They said it was a psychotic disorder that would develop into schizophrenia. Only until after I was incarcerated they rejected that decree upon my life. To let doctors define me, is to give them incredible power over my self-identification. They have violated me in the most profound of ways. I've lost so much to them, and I'll never forget what they did to me.

When I was being treated 2 years ago at this local mental hospital place; I bumped into someone from university. Someone I knew through a university society. I remember one time he seemed to be following me as I was going home, so much that I had to make up some reason or somesuch so as he would stop following me. I thought he was a bit odd at first, but bumping into him in the waiting room of the hospital place was a shame too deep to express.

When you look at another person with a mental health problem in the place where they label you and 'treat' you, you are already defeated, ashamed, destroyed. That is a self-decreed judgement internalised by the judgment of the doctor. The doctor, with her Hippocratic oath, and confidentiality, seems so distant as not to be human. She knows your shame but it is not as bad in the clinical environment of the clinic.

But to see another social being not clinical, not sterilised by the state and its butchery of self-redefinition. You see the hurt and shame in them, and they see it in you; to meet eyes with them is a powerfully excruciatingly painful experience. Just pretend they are not there, don't talk to them. That's how I tried to deal with my incarceration; don't talk to anyone beyond waving and smiling as you pass them. I needed to preserve something inside myself, a barrier they didn't break down...

To remember all these things hurts me greatly. To remember the hospital; I go over it all the time in my mind, or sometimes I might tell someone, a friend, on MSN, how it makes me feel. It is too disturbing and distressing for them; to be in hell. Sometimes the bad memories come and they take over my mind, my thoughts, the feelings of distress, anger, lonliness, hopelessness, inferiority, inadequacy, and this murderous desire come through. All the negatives that I have.

They broke down one important barrier. My anger. The anger I started to feel when the superluminary doctor told me my incarceration was unnecessary made me boil inside. I learned to shout at adults. I learned to shout at white people. I learned to shout at women. I learned to humiliate those doctors with my words; to attack them with my academic knowledge and logic (I have been taught proper logic at uni). I learned to shout at people who aren't my parents. I learned how to shout at near strangers. I learned how to shout at authority, to challenge them, and use my own courage, anger, and confidence that came from within to oppose their will; never again will I let them oppress me. Never again will my timidity prevent me from opposing the medical doctors. Never again will I trust the hippocratic oath. Never again will I obey a medical doctor and tacitly assume without argument or convincing of her authority. I will challenge authority of those medical staff; by their academic qualifications, publications and other such relevant records. If they don't have a doctorate; they aren't worth anything to me...

The anger twists me into a hurtful animal. The anger transforms me into a person I don't want to be. The anger, I still am afraid to talk about. What it does to me; the boundary that was broken, allowed me to shout at my friends, my parents; and to humiliate anyone who opposed me or who had little academic authority to justify their position. I insulted my parents for not being academically qualified, those pathetic pissant immigrant fucks. I forget their humble roots and their difficult times, with all the racism and the like during when they migrated. Those things don't matter to them opposing me; they should not argue with me if they can't win.

The anger, the incarceration, the poor treatment they had...it has deformed me in a way that I don't like myself.

I can't bear to look at myself. I couldn't bear for Marie to see me. I started purging in hatred towards how pathetic I am. Yesterday morning I felt a lot of distress. I gave Marie a text. I haven't heard from her at all in any reply. She said I should call her at times like that; that I shouldn't hesitate, and that she wants me to call her then. She says she cares. But why does it feel I can't have her?

Because of all the other guys she knows, and who seem to make flirty and affectionate gestures. I'm from the old beliefs of things where I'm possessive. It's bad, I know. I need to rid it.

That guy I met when I was in the waiting room? Messaged me on facebook; he mentioned the incident, told me he had bipolar; he asked 'are you one of us?'. Referring to me as a 'mental'. I'm not willing to deal with this. I'm not willing to deal with this stigma I live with, or to face others who I hardly know to press it upon me. It is fucking rude!

Only Marie knows how things really are; although I have been texting Antonia telling her; trying to seek someone who I can find solace in, even if just as a friend. I told Antonia that I can't love her or return her feelings, but her friendship is valued.

I have another essay deadline. I don't think I can make it. Life, and essay wise.

Sometimes when I meet Marie; I see her and our eyes meet. I feel like she knows me, once in fact she did indeed say 'I know you', after asking about a piercing she didn't know I had. Anyhoo; Marie's glance at me, makes me feel completely contained in her. Somehow when I am in her eyes I feel completely consumed by her, her knowing sustains me as our eyes lock. She's so beautiful, she is the stuff that poets write about, and men and women of decades and centuries after admire her wonder after she is long passed. Such perfection, such beauty, such likeness to me, it tears me apart that I can't have her, or that we don't talk as often.

She's busy with a lot of her friends, going out, partying, going on trips with other guys to other cities, meeting people, and other such activities.

All my life involves is wanking, crying, purging, oh, and studying like 13 hours a day.

I'll never be good enough for her; I am captured by her closeness, yet tortured by her distance.

The future isn't bright...

Today I feel miserable. Even if I have a future; what kind of future would it be? Will I ever find someone to love? Someone who loves me? Particularly, a satisfaction of BOTH conditions! I love somone already, and someone loves me. But they aren't the same person (fuck!).

I'm a horrible person for not being able to return Antonia's feelings. I feel slowly torn and constantly in a pendulum of hope and despair about Marie.

The emotions are indeed a strange entity. The sweetest joys, and the most savoury of disgust.

I'm on my own. What if I do a PhD in a place where I make no friends? What if I have no one to look out for me?

I think that's the case now. What I want right now is to not be alone; and to be with someone who knows who I am, and what I go through. I am going to fall asleep on the floor; like the pathetic worm I am. I'm too tired to do any academic work tonight...

I feel so much disappointment in myself. I've let everyone down, especially...I can't even say their name, in such shame I have.

To feel her touch...

Today I had a discussion group to run. Pam was there; but she went with the other group, we talked only briefly.

My group had about 10 people in it; Marie sat right next to me. I put my badge on the table, and she asked if she could look at it, she held my badge, the badge that symbolises my heart, my being, she had it in her hands.

She was cold in the pub today, so she asked if she could wear my gloves; she did, the thought of her wearing my gloves chilled me. Her beautiful hands inside my gloves; my gloves mean a lot to me; I told her that. I sweated in those gloves, I cried in those gloves, I despaired in those gloves, I walk wearing those gloves every day. She held against my badge, my heart, and my gloves, my hands, today. I feel like her holding them is like having a part of her implanted into me. It sounds so stupid and sentimental I know.

Marie disagreed with some points I made in the discussion; she talked to me briefly and complained a bit. I feel a bit shot down about that; she looked at me as if I was horrible in one suggestion I made. She knows that what is said in the discussion should be disagreed with and is open to discussion, but I feel like I let her down.

She sometimes makes these small gestures, like putting her hand on my shoulder, or to stroke my arm. To feel her touch me makes me feel so small, so humbled, I feel captured by her. I feel completely enslaved by her. To feel her touch is like knowing that I exist, to know that someone knows who I really am, to know that someone sees me in the real world, is my existence itself.

I feel so thrown about emotionally around her, her beauty, her touch, her voice, when she looks at me. I feel like she penetrates into the facade and stares right into my soul; knowing how much that she does about me, I feel like she looks upon me as if I were naked. I am, warts and all, the person I really am. Nothing escapes her acuity; I am me in her eyes.

I don't know what to do. I feel so lost. Do I tell her how I feel? Do I tell her that when I feel her touch it makes me feel enlivened, it makes me feel appreciated, it makes me feel like someone knows, and comforted?

I feel so torn; I want to know how she feels about me. I cannot be Werther, she is not my Lotte.

To hope is to be torn apart...Marie's touch is the stuff of dreams.

Female friends; Marie, and introducing Pam.

Today was a fresher's fair repeat. I had to run two stalls. My anxiety was really bad. Marie and some others came along to help. I enjoyed very much having Marie around; she talked to me about such normal and mundane things. I loved it. I hardly get a moment to talk to her alone. To talk to her feels like being in a beam of light. Damn, that sounds a bit stupid, doesn't it!

I also had a conversation with another lovely girl; she's come to be a friend of mine; she's 20, a first year, and we get along fairly well. We talk about stupid stuff like the 90s, or remembering when we were 18 years old. I really like it. I have not been able to have female friends, or know a girl I can walk home, we talk, but I feel nervous and anxious. I like her, we can talk such fun things, and when I meet her in discussion groups and stuff, I am the 'formal' and intellectual self which I have come to hate. But the mask can come off with her. Let's say her name is Pam.

Pam is great, she is really cute, she is in the department that I am in, so we talk about academic stuff. We are from a similar part of the country (technically) outside of the university town, and she has a lovely smile. I thanked her for helping me today, I said I owe her one, she helped me out big time today.

Marie said I did well today at the fresher's fair. She also told me that she got an essay that I was talking about once; on appearance management. What does this mean? I gotten her to read a paper that I talked about. She got it because of me? Maybe she likes the author and the message and not me. I once lent her two CDs of mine that I loved; she said that she thought it was beautiful and that she wasn't disturbed at how bleak it was.

A year ago; or before I graduated, no girl would ever pay attention to me. Now, I talk to Pam as I walked her 2/3rd of the way home, I talked to Marie and somehow influenced her to get a book that I talked about, and Antonia is constantly pining for my affections, saying how she sexually desires me and wants me to love her.

I'm quite overwhelmed. Not to mention, I am seen as a prominent intellect among the undergraduates. I don't feel like a postgrad. I never had a good time as an undergrad, now I'm making up for it...

My body

I haven't been purging as much. I just don't eat very much anymore.

I have lost nearly 60lbs since september 1st 2007. The day that I started purging.

I am 176.8lbs. My body looks different.

I can see bony parts when I move my neck, I feel the bony parts of my hips on the side of my waist. I am starting to see my ribs. My legs, which have always been muscular, are looking more defined.

I can see a little bulge in my bicep. My Tricep is really bulging, but that's mainly to RSI. I can see more variance in my body than thus ugly gluttony that I used to have. I kind of feel more attractive, but also, more empty, empty that I must throw up, starve myself, that some part of my is dying, crying out for help, crying out to express this pain.

My eyes burn as the water comes out when I purge, sometimes the toilet water splashes back on my face as I ate the oily, yet delicious £1.09 bacon and cheese turnover sold in the somerfield near my uni. I love those oily pastries. I purge when I eat them, as the oil disagrees with me. I try to eat light. Although if I ate a little, or moderate amount, I would feel hungry.

Do I know when to stop eating? My answer is 'no'. Despite that I eat a little and feel starvation, that is because otherwise when I am full I actually feel more-than-full, then purge. I have to eat under what I need or want to not purge; better to feel the overbearing lust for food, and hunger, than the gluttony of purging and eating too much (or just enough).

I like to feel around my body, explore myself, as I realise the body I have is 'new'. I do not know the nooks and crannies that I used to have. My breasts have reduced in size, but still exist, I still have a belly. Although now it is just a pudgy thing than a full blown fat bastard look.

I wonder how fat I was when I started this all. I sometimes take pictures of myself, my face, my belly, pictures of my fleshy body from time to time to compare how my size has changed.

I push my belly as far out as possible, and then I look at myself. Look at this, this is the fattest you currently are. Maybe one day if I push out my belly there won't actually be any movement there at all.

I feel more attractive having lost this weight. Yet I feel the desire to resist the overeating is difficult. Even if I don't purge, and eat normally; I will still have the lust for food.

God is cruel; to give us the desire for such beautiful things, yet they make us fat. Moderation? You may say.

To have a crumb of the most beautiful gateaux is no satisfaction, it is like having a cuddle from Marie, or a gentle word from her, to feel her hand against mine only briefly. To feel the possibility of her, to feel the hope, to smell her, feel her cold, soft hand, hold her body against you. It is a nightmare, a taunting. I cannot have her. I should not eat all of this gateaux.

One slice? But it will end! I want the whole gateaux, and then I want custard, and mince pies, and more, and MORE!

THE DESIRE WILL NEVER STOP! EVERY DAY IS A CONSTANT STARVATION. Moderation is just another word for starvation, starvation of the most perfect fulfillment of our corporeal desires.

The most perfect fulfillment of my corporeal desire, to have all that food. It is bad for me, cholesterol, obesity, diabetes...those are all social ills

However; the most perfect fulfillment of my lonliness...why is that so wrong to have? Maybe it isn't wrong, but. I can't have her.

After my post earlier, Marie came on MSN and said she saw my message, but the phone was off at the time so it was late.

Marie said that she wants me to call her when I feel desperate, that she wants to help, and that I shouldn't hesitate to contact her when I felt bad. She said, "I want you to know that I'm here for you", she said, "I care".

I have a very special friend. I've never had a female friend who cares about me in this way. Even if it won't amount to what my heart wants of her. I am happy I have such a lovely friend that cares about me. I like feeling cared about, and she is beautiful.

Have I eaten a slice of an emotional Gateaux, by being her friend? That is, my perennial question.

God's providence

Today; I had a deadline for 1/3rd of my MA degree.

I basically had an anxiety attack earlier. I'm crippled by exhaustion and fear.

I called a few people, and they have helped me get an extension.

I called the GP, who was not very supportive in tone, nor helpful in manner; but gave me the necessary letter of illness that I need.

I also called the student advisor of the student's union; she contacted the department secretary to ask for an extension (because I'm scared of the secretary).

I got called back from the student advisor, who told me that the secretary will give me a 7 day extension and its okay for me to extend my essay deadline. I am so relieved. I was about to kill myself if I failed.

I felt so lonely, so isolated, so anxious. I had never felt such terror; except for one time before my research methods exam in second year undergrad (ironically I was in a similar anxiety position, but i was strong enough to take the exam...and get a first class); and, when I was incarcerated...

I failed in some way, today.

On another note; I, in my desparation for support, gave Marie a text asking if I could call her, because I felt a great deal of distress...I haven't yet heard from her.

I wonder if God knows that I suffer. Does he will this? Or, if he doesn't will it, how does he square with himself knowing that I suffer, and so many others feel pain.

It's funny; I don't think of God when I feel independent, but when I am the subject of the whim of disaster; I beg him for mercy.

I don't think I have made things right with God; well, firstly because I am part of the atheist society at university.

I wanted to be a priest once. Christianity had deep significance for me once upon a time...

I failed. I couldn't meet the deadline because I can't work all the time. Why don't I work enough? Because I feel depressed, because I feel lonely, because I feel anxiety, because I have commitments to things I organise.

If God were in front of me now; I would ask him; why do I suffer?

In some way I could accept my own responsibility for that; its my fault I have mental illness, its my fault I am a coward, its my fault I'm ugly and fat.

On the other hand, maybe God is punishing me. It is humanity's distance from God; Adam's curse, the sins of our seminal ancestors that we experience mental illness, rejection, shame, and the pain of childbirth...well, that's what my old upbringing would tell me.

I feel so much pain, suffering, lonliness. I long for Marie, not so much out of desire, but out of need. She's the only one who really knows how I feel (without this being an anonymous blog). I have feelings for her which I suppose she cannot return.

Sometimes I think what others must think of me...who is the real me?