And she’s gone

So she’s gone. The one person in my life I thought I could count on. And I know I still can. Sort of. We just won’t be seeing each other or talking to each other for a year. Until I graduate. She said she’s be at my graduation! More incentive than ever to work hard and get it done. I counted the weeks: 45 weeks. Only 45 more weeks (well, less, because on Monday it’ll be only 44 weeks! It’s kind of hard. And sad. But I can’t tell anyone about it. That’s the saddest and hardest part. Keeping up appearances, not crying when I’m thinking of her (so often!) and always, always, always maintaining the smile on my face and the cheerful “good” when asked how I am. 
What else could I say? I miss her? I want someone to understand me? I want to see her? All well and good but it won’t happen. So why whine? Why do any of it? During the day I feel like walking around in a haze, as if my body is bigger than me (which it is anyway) and all I do is guess what other, normal people would do now. They would go on with their lives. So I do, though I feel nothing and not even myself. Today I tried to find different textures, trees, bricks, to touch and feel. To FEEL something. To feel if there’s something in this body.

My therapist today only kept on talking about DBT and feelings and stuff like that. Didn’t ask about the eating, didn’t ask about anything. Didn’t even notice my mind was wandering all the time. Just once when I did it on purpose and wanted her to ask did she ask where I was mentally. And I could have lied. I didn’t. But still. She just doesn’t get it, does she? Or maybe I am pulling it off so well that no one notices. She’s gone and I’m hurting. But I have no right to hurt so I can’t show it. And that’s exactly what was supposed to happen, right? 

Only I DO feel and I DO hurt. So much so that I don’t want to eat, that I don’t want to take my medication and that I am in an I-don’t-care-mood. I don’t care about anything. Just her and she’s gone. But yes, soon, very soon, I’ll see her again. I talk to her constantly in my head anyway. I dream up situations where we meet and what we do. All the things I used to do as a child when I knew I needed friends but no one was there. When I knew I needed someone to hold me but no one was there. Still, no one is there. That’s alright. I know I don’t deserve it. I know that the punishment I am getting for loving her is fair. The pain. The feeling of being ripped apart and being whipped. That all is fair, I’ll take it. I know it’s alright. Because I also know I’ll see her again. 45 weeks. Not too long a time. I can make a countdown on my calendar. It’s going to be ok. I have my dreams. I have the nights that are mine and they help me get through the days. And work. I have my work which keeps me occupied. And I do it for her. So she can be proud of me. I just hope she’s there. I just hope she’s not sick or out of the country or on duty or… I hope she will be able to come to my graduation…

And my therapist? Why go to her when I can’t even tell her anything? She is supposed to help me with my eating stuff but she doesn’t. I don’t care for her in any way. I want her to leave me alone so I can starve myself. That is all I want. Starve myself and attain that glorious, empty feeling. Instead I ate today. And what did I eat? One potato with some ketchup (dinner), some squash stir-fry (breakfast) and some greek yogurt with honey (dessert). That’s THREE MEALS and it made me full and it was too much because I didn’t even work-out. But tomorrow I’ll confront the stupid scale and do what I have to do. I bet its over 76 again. 😦 It should be below 70!!! I’ll never get there. 

Well, back to my dreams of my wonderful woman…

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