Ylva

I think she heard me.

In case you're new to me and have no idea who Ylva is, she is my wolf. She lives inside me. And when I starve, she starves. And when she starves she starts to eat her way out. Which, really, is the goal.

There's some saying about a sculptor talking about finding the figures that are already in the marble and just chipping away to release them. Well, this is the opposite, really. She's devouring me from the inside, and one day the roles will be reversed. I will live inside her and she will be free.

I know, by the way, that what I have just told you makes no logical sense. I know that it sounds stupid and a tiny bit loco. But it's the only way I have found to describe the way it feels, going from fat to thin. And Ylva's hunger impacts my mood. If she's too well-fed she's docile and domesticated, and so am I.  I stay quiet and alone and keep my voice and passions to myself. When Ylva is sleeping off too much food I lose all of my confidence. When she's hungry and angry it lights a fires inside me and I'm funny, I'm clever, I'm open and occasionally show flashes of creativity that otherwise wouldn't be possible. You see?  I need her. We are part of each other. If her hunger is satisfied I am unhappy. Is she is dissatisfied I shine. We are equal and opposite, in everything.

A week of nothing but raw vegetables and oats and fruit seem to have left her hungry and, as a result, I've had a weight drop this week for the first time in months. I've been getting smaller (my thighs I the mirror today look the best they have looked in years. Not good, but so much better.) but until now my weight has remained the same. Until now.

As much as Ylva and I are often at odds, I think she knows when I really need her to just take a bite out of me. Because, when she does? It feels like burning gold. 

Peel

I'm trying. Honestly, I am. 

So many things in my life are slotting into place. My job is fucking incredible. My fitness is improving and I train three days a week. I'm more consistent with writing my book than I have been in months. I have a man who really likes me and is keen to take care of me. I'm feeling the benefits of all of these things. 

So why does my life still feel kind of empty? 

I think my evenings, aside for my training, are kind of empty. I watch TV with my mum. That's pretty much it. My weekends seem full without anything ever being achieved. I don't think the guy I have is the right guy for me. I'm not being as creative as I want to be. And while I'm losing volume I'm not losing weight as fast as I want. 

Something is missing in my life. A sense of excitement or danger or a spark of some sort. I don't want to sound ungrateful, really I don't. Compared to the absolute misery of the end of last year I am living a total dream. But I just feel like there's a hole that needs filling. I know I've always been chasing thrills and that I thrive on a certain amount of chaos in the modern sense the word but I feel chaotic in the ancient sense of emptiness and wide nothingness. I feel like my fire is choking and I don't know why. 

I don't know why I feel down but I do. And I feel guilty for feeling down when things are going so well, because they are. I need something. 

And every day I miss Galakse. 

He got in touch on Monday night saying that he missed me and that he's getting better slowly but then didn't say anything else. I don't know what it think, really. I miss him too. I miss him a lot. But I'm so angry with him, I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. Mostly I feel sad and rejected. 

I'll be fine. I'm always fine. I'm doing a life drawing class on Friday so that will be cool. Maybe that will ignite something in me. I have no idea. 

I really can't organise my thoughts right now. 

Hard

Sometimes I make some very dumb decisions. 

Recently my ex got in touch. Our break up happened over the same time as my first pleuritic collapse and I think I passed all my anxiety over my failing lungs and onto the breakup and, under that weight, my heart was crushed. I've fucked him a few times since the end of the relationship, usually in the vain hope that he'd realise what he was missing and that somehow, in some way, I would win. Ultimately he got laid and the deep-tissue bruises in my heart throbbed ruefully, as if my brain didn't know that I'd made a dumb decision without a physical cue from a metaphorical ailment. 

A few days ago he got in touch and asked if I wanted to "wreck a hotel room" with him. I turned him down. I felt a little stronger. My heart thumped like a war drum.

Last night I went 55 miles to meet a man I've been talking to on twitter for months. When I turned up I couldn't see him. Then some flabby, crooked-toothed bloke winked at me and approached me. 

Some people look better in pictures than in real life. 

I feel kind of disgusted with myself, on two counts. One for being so superficial. Two because I slept with him anyway. I feel like the air-punch rights I earned turning my ex down were all lost in one night with this man. All I could think about is how much I missed Galakse. We dated through two months of the summer only for him to say he couldn't handle his depression and seeing me. I miss him every single day. 

I don't know much. I mean, I have a brain full of facts and a tongue full of words and I can string them together like bunting on a ribbon but when it comes to the hurtful things, the secret things, I know nothing for sure. 

There's a band I love called The Weepies made up of a couple. Before they were together the woman released an album that I've been listening to on loop. It includes a song called How Will He Find Me? It sums up one of my greatest anxieties; to never have the kind of love we are conditioned to crave. I have some wonderful friends, and I am so glad of them, I swear. I'm not ungrateful. But even in the arms of a man who physically repulsed me I felt slightly comforted. I miss the skin on skin of affection. I feel so tortured inside. I'm so wounded. I'm working so hard to be beautiful, I'm striving at work to be valuable, I'm making so much effort to hold my family together and I am not handling all this pressure too well. 

I'm meant to be running with Eir today. I AM running with Eir today. Through the woods and through the rain. Maybe the rain will wash last night off my skin. Aching muscles are a good distraction for an aching heart. 

I miss Galakse so much. Fuck. 

If I don't stand out like a star among the moons

If I am always late and he always backs away too soon

I walk the world with a skin so thin

I can wear no adequate protection, everything comes crashing in. 

If I'm too wide open for this place

But too closed off for him to recognise my face...

How will he find me?

With noone's arms to gather me together

How will he find me?

Only held by gravity

Faded with uncertainty

No longer young and not that pretty

How will he ever find me?

It never seems to matter, the tears I cry

There's a well inside of me that never runs dry

From being born, I guess. And born in life until we die. 

The music and the hope for love keep me alive. 

Still I wonder, how will he find me?

And what shall I do with a drunken heart?

With goggle-eyes and the troubling hunger

Reaching forward to trick mirror-men 

Leaning out and in again

If love is a game how can it be creation? 

And if I'm wasting my time how will he find me?

I need to figure myself out before I get off this train. 

Trust

Eir and I had another training session yesterday. We went for a walk and did some boxing in the park. It was hard and, I swear this morning my eyelids ache. Yes, my eyelids. But I'm so proud of my self for going nearly three hours of exercise in two days when I'm still technically in rehab. Eir was proud too. 

When we got home my my said that I didn't look like I'd worked as hard as yesterday and Eir told her that I had, it was a different kind of work and that's why I wasn't puce and sweating as much. Then when we were stretching my brother started criticising and interfering and Eir told him that his input wasn't helpful or required and told him to go away. I think I love her. 

I think I mentioned that she was really badly injured when she was kicked by a horse and she's been wanting to start riding again but still doesn't have the confidence. I love riding but haven't been in years because most stables have a weight limit. We've set ourselves a goal as a pair: I'm going to get light enough to go riding and she's going to get in the right mindset and we're going to go riding together. I'm really excited. 

In other news I'm dating a colleague at the place I'm leaving and I saw him yesterday for the first time since I've been ill. He gave me a card and a gift as an "I'm glad you're doing better" gesture. It was some loose leaf tea and a personal-sized teapot which is a really thoughtful gift and something I'll definitely find useful. He's the nicest guy but I've learned that I don't really feel sparks with nice guys. But he's sweet and supportive and I don't feel threatened or insecure with him. Maybe I should just see where it goes. Maybe my masochism extends to being uncomfortable with emotional comfort. I don't know.

So, I'm seeing Eir again tonight. I ache. So bad. But it's the good kind. I know it is. 

Push

Today I had the hardest workout of my life. 

Partially I suppose it was hard because I'm, as previously discussed, in the worst shape of my life. The thing is I think even at my peak of fitness (which doesn't say a lot, believe me,) I'd have found that gruelling. My physio is ex-Army so she knows all about pushing people to their limits but leaving them with enough physical and emotional strength to come back again the next day. She's actually a pretty incredible person. She suffered really badly from PTSD after working in war zones and losing friends and colleagues and seeing them maimed in combat. As if that wasn't challenging enough she then got kicked by a horse and was, in her own words, "broken". She's been in emotional and physical recovery for a long time and didn't know I'd she'd ever be able to return to Army life after everything she's been through. She and my dad have known each other for years. She speaks to me freely about her weight struggles and everything else and it makes hear really easy to work with. I want to work had to please and impress her which is something I've never felt with a trainer of any kind. The trainers I've had have always been either muscle-bound beefcakes or tiny, peppy blonde girls who, while obviously qualified, I never felt comfortable with. I couldn't work with them when I felt they didn't understand me. With my physio feel safe and understood. I'm going to call her Eir here because Eir was the Norse goddess of healing and, for me, that is who she is. 

So Eir and I went for a run/walk in the woods and used the equipment the parachute regiment use. For those who don't know these guys are proper hardcore and so is their equipment. I climbed over huge nets and did press-ups on custom logs and pushed myself really fucking hard. I ache. I'm lying in my bed and I ache. But I'm proud of myself. I'm seeing Eir again tomorrow after work and going for another run and we're going to do some cardio and boxing. I'm really excited. I think it's going to hurt but in a great way. I can't wait. 

That's all I really have to say today. I ache with fatigue and pride.  

Spirit

It's a sign of how dilapidated my body is that only an hour after doing 11 minutes of a workout I'm already aching. I'm trying not to be frustrated, really I am. Baby steps. I'm learning to walk again, respiratorially speaking. I have to remember to give myself credit. Where it's due, I must give myself credit.

Well, while I'm redesigning my body I might as well rebuild myself emotionally, right?

I've been learning about Nichiren Buddhism from a really, really good friend from university. He used to have his own issues with food and things and used to have a lot of anger. He's now got this incredible approach to his mental health. It's not so much emotional control as emotional release. He feels his feelings, acknowledges them, respects them, then lets them go, having used them in some way. A big part of that is chanting in front of a shrine. The words he says basically translate as "I worship the Lotus Sutra" which is a Buddhist document. He also chants in his head when he's feeling a string negative emotion, like counting to ten in your head before biting back in an argument. I chanted with him and actually found it really cleansing but, for me, as a non-Buddhist, the words meant nothing to me and felt insincere. While the action was really cathartic and a good way to empty my brain it didn't feel right. I felt inhibited by them. So I had to find my own words.

My friend said that the reason he likes the words is because, while they have meaning, because they're a foreign language, they're just sounds. It means he doesn't have to concentrate on what he's saying. So I tried really carefully to find words that meant something in a language far enough removed from my own that it could be a meaningful set of sounds, pleasing to say, that would help me clean my mind. So I picked Latin, a language I understand but isn't my own, and the words are:

"Quae me quaeso, lupa ero."

It translates as "I pray that I become a she-wolf."

Also, in Nichiren Buddhism, there's a document called the "gohonzon" which you're supposed to look at while you chant. Again, for me, there's an insincerity about that, but the concept behind it (finding your own part of it to divine meaning from) works. So I created my own "chanting board" make up of squares of blues, whites and greys in waves of colour. The blue represents the cleansing of water, the white of a clean, fresh page and the grey of the grey wolf in residence in my spirit.

So, as of tonight, I will chant before I sleep and when I wake up. To remind myself at the beginning and end of every single day what I am doing to my body: making it the best it can be in every way so it can be a worthy home for my spirit. Because, man oh man, my spirit really is something.

Try

My mum and I got into an argument. Least said best, it was just a stupid domestic, but it meant I had energy that needed using. So, as a result, I went upstairs and did a bit of ballet. Only about 11 minutes and it was basic and it was a struggle but I did it. I set my laptop up in front of my mirror so I could watch the instructional tape and watch myself at the same time. I'm lumpy, ungraceful and weak but I tried.

Baby steps.

Tiny baby steps.

Barre

15.5

Today I told work I was coming back. It's my last week in the same job until I start my writing job elsewhere. I've spoken to my boss and he's letting me do shorter days. This means I am going to fit in more physio and rehab. I've also decided to actually do my ballet workouts. I bought a leo, leggings, and overwear to dance in so I feel more like I know what I'm doing. My trainer is happy to work out with me morning or evening so I'm going to figure out whether ballet in the morning and cardio in the evening or vice versa is better. I need to get myself into a rhythm. Having weekends off, adding some structure to my week, is going to be a real help. I haven't had weekends in... erm... four years. Crikey.

Whatever size I always had pretty great flexibility. My stamina and upper body strength have always been terrible but my legs have always been strong, pliable, mobile. Even when I was an athlete and throwing discus for my county my strength was always in my legs. But now, between getting fat, getting lazy and getting sick, I'm in more or less the worst condition I think I've ever been. Physio and rehab are going to help rebuild me. no... not rebuild. Redesign.

Earlier I was playing a game on my phone where, if you fail, you have to start again from scratch and for some reason it reminded me of being 8 years old in my grandmother's garden using a lawn-chair-cushion as a crash-mat, trying to teach myself to do a walkover. I'd manage the handstand, manage to crab and then never make it all the way back over onto my feet. That didn't stop me getting back up and going again and again until the sun went down. I actually never managed it. When summer ended I just stopped trying.

I am not giving up on this.

I know, I know, being fitter and thinner is always going to improve your quality of life but it's never felt this real and relevant to me as when I thought I was dying. People say near-death experiences change your outlook on the life you have. For me, being told I had a terminal illness was MY near-death experience. I may be taking baby steps but I'm taking baby steps with pointed toes.

Structure is going to be my friend.

Spick

15.3

Since doing this whole food diary malarkey I've lost 2lbs in under a week. So hooray for that.

Today I'm going to go and get a filter and a bucket and some fish. I asked my little brother if he'd like to choose a fish for the bowl and he got so excited, bless him. We're getting on so well at the moment, I really hope it lasts. People ask me what my relationships with my brothers are like and if I'm being hone I usually have to answer that I don't have one - we went to different boarding schools at different ends of the country so it was never really possible to maintain any real friendship. Now, though, I think things are changing and it's really, really positive. It's making me really happy.

So I'm going to get three little goldfish and maybe a snail or a minnow as company, I guess it depends who I find when I go to the pet store. First things first I need to fill the bowl with water and treat it so the bacteria can start making the water safe for my new fishy friends.

I know it's sad to be this excited about fish but I think fish are awesome so... there we are.

Glub

15.4

Today I went on an actual outing to help my mum at the garden centre. Aside form hospital visits it's only the second or third time I've ventured from my home town since I got ill. The garden centre is closing down so it's having a huge closing-down sale.

I made an unnecessary lust-purchase.

Every month I buy a non-food "lust purchase" - a little thing just for me, for no real reason, because I'm materialistic and "things" make me happy.

So I bought a fishbowl and pebbles and a little ornament and water conditioner and fish food and tomorrow I'm setting it all up ready for my fish. I've done my research and the bowl I have can only accommodate small goldfish breeds and maybe one or two companion fish and a snail so that's probably what I'll get. I also need a filter and a couple of plants for the fishies to hide in. I'm unreasonably excited about this.

Jaws

15.4

I'm keeping a food diary for my physio because I need to get myself into the best possible shape. That's the thing about being overweight; everyone's really desperate to help you get thinner. The thing is I know I'm eating differently because I need to give her an item-by-item breakdown of every single thing I eat. She's meant to be assessing the proportions of fat/protein/carbs and coming up with substitutions to make my diet healthier and to help me lose weight.

Though, actually, she's phrasing it as "fat percentage loss" and told me not to concentrate on weight loss. The thing is, after one day of keeping the food diary and not eating because I'd have to document it for someone else to see, I've actually lost a pound after months of plateau. Well, you know, whatever works.

I woke up hungry for the first time in ages which felt weirdly good.

I still feel like a total weakling which is pretty tiresome but I'm working on it, I really am. I'm even planning to go back to work next week. We'll see.

Rehab

15.5

Oh, thank goodness, finally some good news.

I got called into the hospital and told that I had been initially misdiagnosed. What they mistook for pulmonary fibrosis is actually just a particularly nasty set of pulmonary adhesions. The symptoms are very similar but pulmonary fibrosis is a degenerative, terminal disease. Pulmonary adhesions are crappy but are far less likely to kill me in the next five years.

So, in the long term, that's absolutely, breathtakingly (sorry, bad taste pun) wonderful news. I'm not going to die before I'm thirty. I'm not going to need a lung transplant. Probably. But in the short term, as far as recovery goes, nothing has really changed.

I'm still in "Pulmonary Rehabilitation". This basically means I'm doing physiotherapy to get my lungs up to par. It's like learning to walk all over again. I'm starting from scratch. I'm a newborn.

Instead of whining about it I'm going to just have to go ahead and embrace it. That is very much my intention, in any case. I am not going to treat this as a condemnation of one of my vital organs, I'm going to treat it as a rebirth of my entire body. Knowing that I am limited means I can push my limits, but gently and constructively. I don't have to lie down, bound by the indictment of my scars. Where before I've felt like I've had to push myself too hard now I have to listen to my body, to be intuitive, to do exactly as much as I can so that every day what I'm capable of is a little more than I was capable of yesterday. My limits will change. I will challenge them.

I have to treat my body as a clean slate, like a fixer-upper of a house. There are a few cracks in the walls and the paintwork is peeling and the roof has a few missing tiles. But the foundations are solid and, with a bit of work, I can make his house a home.

I can't remember the last time I let this bad and this incredible.

Ylva is howling with joy.

Diagnosis

15.7

Pulmonary Fibrosis.

Scarring on the lungs resulting in weakness, diminished lung capacity, predisposition to chest infections and intolerance to exercise. I may one day need a lung transplant.

I know my enemy. I can look it in the eyes. I am not going to let my scars, either on my lungs or my skin, get the better of me.

I'm in pulmonary rehab and seeing a physiotherapist.

I'm going to be in the best shape I can be.

I refuse to die of this disease.

White

212

My existence is given structure by a set of truths. Three of these can be summarised as follows:

I am fat.
I am in pain.
I am angry.

These truths can be split open like a fruit on a tree. In each truth there are components which make it what it is.

I am fat.
I have a large, scarred, irregularly-shaped, partially-dimpled, porridge-coloured belly.
I have thick, outwardly muscled, inwardly chafing, bristly, firm, soft, strong, weak legs.
I have dry, inflicted, turgid, pink, overly-muscled arms.

I am in pain.
I have teeth which grind against each other in my sleep and bite my own mouth and tongue to shreds.
I have a spine with defects in the nerve and bone structure which give me aches.
I have a head which sometimes feels clamped until I want to scream.

I am angry.
I have a job which bores me sick while causing so much stress that my hair falls out.
I am largely considered inadequate at the endeavours about which I am passionate.
I failed at university, which even idiots seem to manage.
I can't seem to find a job which either pays well enough to quench my resentment or fulfil me enough to sate my sadness.
I can't connect with other people. I feel sub human. The last person I felt like I related with was fictional. And also an alien. Who eats humans.

This fruit has a name. It's called Misery. And it's fucking bitter. If it was growing in my orchard I'd chop the fucking tree down.

But it's not fruit that feeds a tree, is it? The fruits are the product and they regenerate each season. What I mean to say is these truths are true but that doesn't make them permanent.

All these fruits from from a tree with my name carved into the bark. The trunk and roots are made up of some truths of their own.

I am creative.

I am clever.

I am beautiful.

Each of these truths also has elements to them.

I am creative.
I write.
I sew.
I knit.
I draw.
I have a limitless imagination.

I am clever.
I learn fast.
I am capable.
I am eloquent.

I am beautiful.
I have a well-proportioned face.
I have a nice smile.
I have a good body shape.
I have good hair.

And these things are constants.

If I tend to this tree it will bear sweeter fruit. That's all I really have to say right now.

Sloth

I will be thin by the time I finish my book.

I've chafed my Facebook photo to one of a sloth and I'm not allowed to change it until I've finished my book.

I will replace it with a photo of me thin as all fuck looking like hot shit.

Mono

I've been fat lazy shit for a week now but enough.

Looking at my lazy, fat, gluttonous housemate/coworker has hardened me. She is a sack of bones, gristle, fat and shit. I refuse to be like her.

Burn

202

This weight stall is pissing me off so I'm seriously shaking things up. Today I ate meat. Well, fish. And not in a guilty, dirty, secret way that I occasionally do. I cooked it and I fucking ate it and it was delicious. Like... amazing.

So I'm going to eat oven-baked or poached fish with green veggies on workout days (which should deb at least 5 days a week) then might graduate to chicken a couple of nights a week. I had thai-spiced salmon with spinach, asparagus, long-stem broccoli, boston beans and carrots. It was amazing. And only 443 cals. Which is only a little over half of what I burned in Zumba this evening.
That's right, my friends, the gym wasn't just a one-time thing. I'm going tomorrow for cycling, cross trainer and power plate. Yes. I am.

I intended to tell you more about my date but honestly I'm too tired right now. Tomorrow. Probably. Possibly.

Pulse

I got fucked like I've never been fucked. To the point that my whole body aches, and I mean my entire body - inside, outside, skin, muscles, lips, head. It all hurts. All worth it.

Sideways

202

Well fuck me.

I just went to the gym (yay) then came back and ate an omelet bigger than my head (boo). I think I need a food plan that I'm actually going to stick to. If I have good food in the house I'll eat good food. So, ok, here goes nothing.

At least I went to the fucking gym. In the pouring rain, I might add. It was grim out there. Ok, so it's like a 6 minute walk from my house to the gym but on my way home I stepped into an ankle-deep puddle and was freezing and soggy all the way home. Boo hoo.

I signed up for a personal training session and for a couple of classes. I know I like Zumba when the instructor has decent choreography. I'm hoping to make some friends who I can be at least mildly competitive with.

Oh, and fuck me, I have a date tomorrow. I'm going to stay with him for the weekend and I cannot promise not to fuck him if the opportunity arises because it's been fucking months and my vagina is going to shrivel up and die. We're going to hang out, drink and talk smack tomorrow evening then on Sunday we're going to go for a long walk together from Wimbledon to Richmond, so it'll at least be some exercise.

Ok, so I'm fucking freezing so I'm going to shower now and shave my legs because I look like a fucking yeti.

Mumble

201

I've been circling the same number for weeks now and something needs to change or I'm going to lose my motivation.

As such this bad bitch is taking herself to the gym tomorrow. That's right motherfuckers.

Aurboda initially wanted to come with me but has since got cold feet. I'm not going to let her hold me back.

Follow

203

After this weekend I need to play catch up a little.

I had a lovely birthday and it was nice to see my parents. I'm really glad that I'm now in a place where seeing then is good and happy rather than something that makes me anxious, angry and miserable.

What did make me anxious was the dinner we had on my birthday and the lunch we had yesterday. Dinner was literally all cheese and bread and I ate like a kid who'd just escaped fat camp. It would be impressive if it weren't so gross.

Then for lunch we went for Italian food. I ordered a salad with goat cheese and balsamic onions and mixed leaves which sounded like it wouldn't be too bad but there were all these bits of bread in the salad and my mother said to me, "Don't eat the bread, darling." Which seriously pissed me off. So, stupidly, I ate the fucking bread. What kind of dumb-ass decision is that? I need to just ignore most other humans. It's the only way.

In the interests of clearing out my body, though, I'm doing a tea cleanse today. I'm allowing myself caffeine and diet coke to make it through but no solid foods. I need to get whatever's left in my system the heck out.

Time for work. Boo.

Drop

Getting rejected fucking sucks.

My date went well, I thought, but today I got a text saying, "I had fun Friday night but I'm sorry I just don't think it's gonna go anywhere. I wish you all the best in looking for someone." I guess it was kind of him not to reject me on my birthday. Class act.

Love can seriously go do one.

I haven't had sex in months, and I was drunk anyway. I haven't had sex I actually remember clearly since the first night I spent with Frey and that was in early October. It's times like this I wonder how long it takes for you to be officially sexually deactivated.

Yikes

202

So I didn't post yesterday, I'm terrible, I know, I had an exam which kind of took over my day and then I was knackered. I started a post on the train but my stupid phone deleted it so here we are.

My tea cleanse was a complete success. I went the whole day on nothing but tea and a "negative calorie" energy drink. Be exceed about that for a minute.

It's my 22nd birthday tomorrow and to see off my last night of being 21 I'm going on a date with a cute guy. His family are all farmers so he loves animals, especially dogs, he has a proper job and passions and he travels and he's got nice arms and he's tall and looks good in a suit. I'm not getting my hopes up but any guy who says "the drinks are on me" is a good one in my book.

Despite my tea cleanse I'm (predictably) not going to make my unrealistic little birthday goal unless I chop an arm off or something for tomorrow but that's ok, I knew it was not going to happen. I'm more interested in making my goal for Monday and I'm well on track for that. As long as dinner with my parents tomorrow isn't too extravagant I should be just fine.

Right, time for work. I'll let you know how the date goes, shall I?

Numb

I feel weirdly spaced out and floaty. It's actually quite pleasant.

Shoulder

Good gods this day was obscenely stressful.

The thing about it being severely stressful is that I haven't had a chance to eat all day. I started out today wanting to manage my first complete tea cleanse without bailing and so far I've been successful. I'm going to sleep in about 2 and a half hours because I've got an early morning tomorrow. That means just 2 and a half hours without eating until I've done it.

I don't know why I treating this as some sort of life-altering thing. I've gone days and days without eating before. Like, seriously. I think I'm seeing it as confirmation that I can do this - that I've got my will back.

They call it willPOWER for a reason, I guess.

Nice

203

That worked fast. Acai is my friend.

Jiggle

204

Stupid digestive system.

My sluggish guts are holding onto every ounce of food that goes into my body and it's starting to get wearing. Even on days where I behave immaculately I'm very up and down. My body just needs to get used to starvation, really. Right now it isn't and it's making it act all weird.

But yesterday I caught sight of something in the mirror.

Fucking collarbone?! Really?

I'm not nearly thin enough for it to be visible all the time but holy fucking shit tits bum cock sank COLLARBONE. Do you know when I could last see see my collarbone? I've sat and twisted and contorted my body to try and force my collarbones to appear and they haven't obliged, so this again is flipping amazing. I'm so happy. This is progress, lazy guts or no lazy guts.

I've taken some acai extract. It'll give me a horrible stomach ache but it'll get rid of all the stuff that's seeming so reluctant to leave my body.

I got my hair done yesterday and chickened out of getting a fringe (bangs, whatever) but my hairdresser said that I needed to come back every eight weeks so let's see if i'm feeling bolder next time.

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go.

Thicket

202

I cut my knuckle somehow on my walk home yesterday. It's ridiculous, like my dog hen she throws herself through brambles.

I'm back to where I started before my little mini-gain and I'm going to be in the hairdresser's tonight so eating isn't going to be an option until I get home at about 8pm. I'm genuinely considering taking a shot of whiskey to work to put in a bottle of diet coke. It's been the only thing making me feel better through this shitty headcold/chest rattler/headache/sinus shit. My throat (and weirdly my tongue) are killing me and I haven't been able to breathe through my nose for over a week. This is getting really, really annoying now.

I have a busy end of the week coming at me. I have a training day on Thursday, a date (!) on Friday and I'm spending my day with my parents of Saturday, which could be nice. I haven't spent a birthday with them in a long time. As in 14 years.

I don't want to leave the warmth of my bed to go to work. Seriously.

I have to, though, don't I?

Slurp

204

I missed my target because (TMI, sorry) I didn't get to shit before my weigh in which is annoying but I'll live with it. It'll just make victory next Monday even sweeter.

Right now I'm sitting on my bed with diet coke and whiskey trying to use alcohol as medicine for my horrific sore throat. Coke gets rid of phlegm and alcohol is antiseptic, so it should help, and being ever so slightly tipsy will hopefully take the edge off the pain because, I tell you, it fucking hurts. This illness is getting pretty tiresome. Enough of this madness, body, stop mutinying against me, please.

I've been asked to write something about mental health for my old university because, obviously, I'm a glowing example of recovery (pahahahahahahahaha.) Actually, to be fair to myself, I very rarely have days where I feel like the sky is falling any more. I guess that's a sort of progress. I used to go for days at a time without leaving the house simply down to the intense feeling of dread and I haven't done that in months.

EURGH, seriously being sick is so boring.

Patience

203

Yesterday is the proof that intermittent fasting works best for me. The summers where I really cracked my weight loss were the ones where I ate a late lunch and nothing else, so clearly that's what I need to do.

For once Aurboda didn't leave Gymir here - thank god. He irritates me so completely I'd have been seriously annoyed.

Is it bad that I'm already thinking about dinner? Gah, brain. At least I have peppermint tea.

I've been so ill this week with sickness and sneezing so hard there's blood in my snot. It's gross. I feel so gross.

Crack

Meili and I spoke on Skype. It's the first time I've heard his voice in months.

He said that, had he hooked up with his previous housemate, he'd never have moved back to Australia.

So I told him I was tired and wanted to go and said goodbye and hung up.

Why do I throw away guys who are nothing but good to me and let shitty bastards consistently make me feel one inch tall and ninety feet wide? You'd have thought being on different continents in different hemispheres might take away his power. Silly me.

Green

I'm going to eat some peas. They are necessary to my wellbeing.

Slop

Aurboda is in the kitchen cooking for herself and Gymir. I can hear the oil popping and sloshing around in the pan. I can smell fat cooking. It's grossing me out.

I have lost my "binge" weight, and then some. I'm on target for Monday, in fact I've already beaten it. I did eat lunch today because I was rushed off my feet at work and I don't think I'd have managed the rest of the day otherwise, but I'm not eating dinner to compensate, so that's ok. That's one good thing about Gymir being here and Aurboda still being a child and hating me - I don't want to leave my room. Depite the mould growing around my window. I'll have to fix that. Tomorrow.

I'm planning to go for a run or a long walk or something tomorrow, I don't know, I have a day off when I wasn't expecting one and on my days off I can be extremely lazy. Hm. Honestly I don't want to set myself up for failure so I'm not going to say I'll definitely exercise but I'm hereby registering my intent. If I do I can buy myself a plant. There we go.

I'd like to spend the majority of tomorrow cleaning and tidying my PIT of a bedroom. It's getting a bit gross in here to be honest. I just bought myself a beautiful new cushion (ok, it's kind of ugly but I love it) and I feel bad having it in a room that's such a horrendous state.

That's my Ylva cushion, bitches. I'm going to hug it when hunger pangs make me ache or when heartbreak wounds me. The wolf inside me in eating her way out, the wolf outside is my protector.

I also wear my wolf necklace whenever I can. I had it custom made by a little company called Little Doe (ch-ch-check it out, it's amazing) and I plan to wear it until it turns my neck completely green. I'd love a gold wolf necklace one day. Maybe at a really, really big milestone I'll splash out but for now I am poor and fat. THIS IS WHY I CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS.

My new manager started at work today. There are obviously irritating things about her. She starts every sentence with "to be honest" even when that makes no sense in the structure of the sentence and she wants to change EVERYTHING but so far I like her. She's got a lot of energy and she's very positive and my workplace could do with a ray of fucking sunshine. I'm still looking for other jobs though, don't you fret. I refuse to be a retail bitch forever.

If I hear the giants fucking tonight I'm recording the noise and putting it on youtube.

Joy

202

Well this seems to be working. Isolation brings Ylva out because she devoured two lbs of fat from me yesterday, despite the 3 litres of water I drank throughout yesterday. I was afraid I'd be carrying a ton of water weight. I've just got to make sure I don't think, "Well, I did really well... I can eat shit today".  I have to combat those thoughts.

I am going to try and drink 3 litres again today (mix of tea and water and one coffee) and tonight I'll have chilli and rice. Nom.

My new manager starts today which I am not so excited about as I expect Aurboda (who spent all morning stomping about because she knew I was sleeping) will slag me off as much as she can.

I really hope I don't have to work on my birthday. That'll just be too depressing.

Run

All the advice points towards hydration being a good thing. Skin, mind and muscles are all positively affected by drinking plenty of water and having a stomach full of it is great for helping me to avoid filling it with anything else.

To help keep myself drinking throughout the day I needed a way to keep track of what I'd had while also reminding me to keep drinking, so I devised a cunning plan. I wrapped a piece of sellotape around one of my fingers and, using sharpie, drew a little line for every 250ml I drank. It's colour coded - red means fruit tea, blue means water, yellow means lemsip (still have a nasty cold) and been means instant packet soup. Altogether I drank 3 litres. It made me pee like a racehorse al day but it also meant that, while I was definitely hungry when I got home, I ate my dinner and felt pretty satisfied instead of wanting to head to the fridge or the corner shop. I'm still getting comfortable with hunger again - I'm so out of practise - but I'm getting there. Remembering that willpower is POWER.

I have one more lb to lose for Monday's official weigh in. If I don't manage it that'll throw me off for weeks. It would be a shame to fall behind so soon so I'm powering through. 

Aurboda still isn't talking to me. I'm really not upset about it. It's not like she has any other friends - it's her loss.

Cotton

My flat is kind of gross. Aside from the fact that it's a mess it gets mouldy because the heating doesn't work so we don't open the windows and as a result there's a load of condensation. All around the window and in the corner we get greeny/black mould patches. It's disgusting. As soon as the cold weather ends I'm living with my windows glued open.

Productive activity of the evening: De-mould my bedroom.

Yummo.

Child

204

All my "binge night" weight has gone again, thank goodness. That leaves me with another lb to lose for Monday which I think is entirely possible. It's going to happen. I have faith and resolve and that's all I need.

Aurboda is slamming around the flat like a teenager having a tantrum. It's a bit pathetic really. If she's going to be like that at work from now on it's going to be pretty unbearable. Though, everyone says that friends are the enemy of starvation, so maybe it's a blessing.

Eurgh, I still feel ill.

Vitamin

Ok, so eating was probably a good move because now I don't feel like my body is trying to turn itself inside out. Stir fry veg and rice noodles with chilli sauce is not the worst thing in the world I could have eaten, and I'm not going to let myself think that I failed, because I didn't. I said right at the beginning of the day if I managed nothing but tea all day then great but I'd eat if I wanted to. I was under my daily calories, so I don't feel bad. Maybe the whole one meal a day thing is a winner for me. I've read a lot of good things about not eating for long periods to force the body into metabolising fat, and at work I'm on my feet all day. I'm going to try not to eat at 9pm going forward, instead I'll eat right when I get in then do something productive like writing or cleaning or tidying or drawing or sewing or something.

Right now I'm drinking a bottle of water because, yeah, ok, I do feel guilty for eating.

But today was good for reminding me how powerful being truly hungry makes me feel. The wolf inside me was making herself heard.

Wolves don't eat for days and do when they have to. So maybe that's another reason that only eating once a day appeals.

Slide

Today has been a bit shit, frankly.

Burning myself, feeling so ill, getting yelled at, all of that sucked all on its own but then for Frey not to be there for me - again... fuck it. Fuck him. Seriously, I don't have the energy.

I'm on the fence about eating once my food delivery gets here - when it gets here. All the food I've bought is healthy and actively good for me, so from that perspective I couldn't feel bad about eating, but at the same time I've got this far.

You know when you feel ill and you don't know whether eating will make it better or worse? Yeah, that.

Blister

So far, so successful. I haven't eaten today, all that's gone through me is liquid. Though I managed to throw a fresh cup of tea down myself this morning and burn my legs/stomach. I'm telling myself that it's a sign that the tea cleanse is burning off the fat in my belly and thighs but, to be honest, it's more likely to be a sign that I am clumsy at the best of times and worse when I'm ill. I suppose we see what we want to see, and the scales tomorrow will show either way.

I have had this snaky, writhing feeling in my guts for most of the day. It woke me up in the night and it's been there in waves all day. It's pretty unpleasant. I used to get this feeling as a kid when I hadn't done homework for a scary teacher and was expecting to be yelled at - a kind of sickening trepidation.

It doesn't help that Aurboda is angry with me about something. She was absolutely fine on the walk to work then as soon as we were there her mood flipped and she was short with me all day. I asked her a couple of times if I'd done something and she said no, but towards the end of the day she admitted that I'd "massively upset" her somehow but that she didn't want to talk about it until we were home. I left work early because I didn't have a lunch break, so I'm kind of sitting here with a belly full of worry-snakes and tea waiting for her to come home and tell me what I'm meant to have done. To be fair there's a few things it could have been. I guess I'm not a very good friend.

Well, ok, that's not really fair, I can be a good friend. I can be enormously caring and generous and kind and passionate one loyal and lovely. I can. But at the same time I can be really horrible to be around. I think the problem is that I find most people a bit boring. That's a terrible thing to say but it's true. Most people just don't engage my interest for that long. Some of my favourite people are people I only see in short bursts because we live far apart or we have different circles or we're busy. It means we make time for each other, catch up, love each other all over again, then go our separate ways and I don't get bored and they don't see how broken I really am under the joy of seeing them. Maybe they feel exactly the same towards me, I don't know.

The long and short of all that is that I'm sure I'm extremely difficult to live with. Between my crappy sleeping habits, up-and-down moods, messiness, carelessness and minuscule attention span I can see how I'd be a nightmare to be with for protracted periods. I imagine it doesn't help that it's in my nature to bottle my thoughts and feelings until the absolutely have to vomit forth. It's given me trouble in the past one way or another and I've actually hurt people I care about pretty badly as a result. It's a pretty terrible flaw in my character and one I really would like to work on. I'm defensive and non-confrontational but everyone tells me that a little confrontation is healthy.

Well, I'm pretty sure there'll be some confrontation once my housemate returns.

I really do feel spectacularly unwell. It's not even just a queasy feeling, my guts actually hurt me. Can you overdose on fruit tea? I know for sure that it has mobilised my sluggish digestive system (sorry), maybe that's what it is. I'm giving my innards a really aggressive, minty wash. After the shit I ate on Tuesday it's probably exactly what I needed, even if it's meant I've been biting back tears all day.

(I just googled, apparently mint tea relaxes your organs or something and can loosen up gas and things, maybe that's all it is. Again, sorry!)

Gosh, I've had a lot to say today. I expect I'll have plenty more once Aurboda gets home later.

Niord, this guy I've hooked up with a few times, got in touch today. I'm not sure what I actually think of him. We met at a conference a couple of years ago and (at the risk of sounding like a complete jerk) I didn't really notice him because I got a lot of attention as one of the few females there, and the only one not in a relationship. I spent the night with a different guy and I didn't really remember Niord beyond his face in a crowd. We're part of a professional network so he added me on twitter and started messaging me on there, showing interest. It was flattering but I didn't really reciprocate and at the time I was nearer my HW and not really in any fit state to be contemplating anything romantic or sexual. I didn't feel particularly desirable.

He badgered me a bit for quite a while, saying he'd wanted me when he first saw me and was disappointed not to have "linked up" (his words) when we first met. I batted him back and told him that I was happy to get reacquainted and catch up over drinks but he made it pretty clear that he really just wanted to fuck me. Well, you know, sometimes that's good to hear, and his honesty was kind of refreshing. So many guys pretend to be interested in me as a human and turn out to only be interested in fucking, so it was a novelty to have someone admit upfront that they thought I was cool but they were more interested in getting to know what was between my legs than what was between my ears.

So at a low ebb I went to see him in his flat. Which he bought after he sold his first company. At 24. That in and of itself was pretty appealing. After years of dating students it was nice to be around someone in a good suit with a real career and serious money.

Yes, obviously I had sex with him.

I think the fact that I fucked him in every room in his flat and bit him and didn't flinch when he brought out toys really piqued his interest. I don't think he meets a lot of girls like me. I'm not saying that to be conceited, I mean it in the sense that I'm not really a slick, professional woman with a portfolio and MAC lipstick. He seems to spend most of his time at work (in a starchy office) or at home, working. I'm outside his "zone". I'm a novelty for him. Which is probably why he's been pursuing me.

A few months back he asked me if I was home alone, in the middle of the night, and when I said I was he offered to come over and at the time I couldn't think of any reason to reject him. Despite the fact that I had a boyfriend (I know, I know, I'm not a saint, ok? I'm a terrible person). When we'd exhausted ourselves I told him that I didn't expect him to stay and if he did he'd have to take the sofa. I wasn't trying to be cold or coy, I just prefer to sleep alone. He was so surprised.

Anyways, the reason I'm talking about him is that he got in touch today. Apparently he loves fucking me and is delighted that I'm back on the market. I still turned him down. Casual sex has really just lost all appeal. Between hating the way I look right now and my sex drive dying a death months ago I don't really want to. I feel gross and I'd rather leave him wanting more.

-

So Aurboda just came home.

Apparently everyone at work has told her that I told my boss that she's lazy and that her boyfriend spent the whole day at work the other day to save my own skin, when she's the one who fought for me when my boss (and his boss) wanted to fire me. She wouldn't let me get a word in edgeways but said on several occasions "I thought we were friends but clearly that's not true" which, frankly, is a little melodramatic. The funny thing is she's not been told the things I ACTUALLY said but she's been told that stuff I wanted to say and didn't. Which is odd. She didn't even hear to from my boss, the one I actually spoke to, but from other people who apparently told her not to trust me. Maybe she'd be even angrier if the stuff I actually said had been fed back to her. I have no idea. Regardless, she shouted at me, didn't let me defend myself then stormed off into her room. The rest of this tenancy is going to be pretty awkward. Hooray for fixed leases.

To be honest we don't spend too much time together anyway but still... I don't really know what to do.

Blow

205

As I predicted three of the four lbs I "gained" have gone again, so that's something. In the other hand, though, I feel like complete arse. My nasty cold is getting nastier and turning into a nasty sickness bug. I kept waking in the night thinking I was going to vomit.

My food shop is arriving tonight and that means I can start cooking myself healthy dinners in the evening, and that can't be anything but good news when my entire order is made up of vegetables and spices. I inure if I have good stuff to hand I can't help but be good, right?

I might try a tea cleanse today - maybe it'll help with how truly sick I feel - but I won't beat myself up tonight if I get home and want to make something when my veggies come in. I'll make myself a stir-fry if I really want something when I get home. But right now the idea of eating only makes me feel sicker. I hate being ill.

Today is one of my last days with my horrible boss before he moves to the coast and leaves me alone forever. That makes me feel a little better.

Infuse

I spoke to one of my favourite folk this morning and told her that I want to do a tea cleanse at least once a month where I give my poor guts a break and a good wash out with plenty of mint and fruit teas (no sugar or honey, I'm not an idiot). As a reward when I manage a tea-only day (where I can have as much tea as I want) I can buy myself a little plant from the florist on my street.

I want to turn my bedroom into a real cave/haven (caven? No, sorry, forget that happened. Embarrassing.) Plants and decorative touches will help. With my job being severely stressful and wanting to kick my writing up several notches this year I need a serene space which is mine alone where I feel safe.

Also, each time I hit a milestone (which I organised recently) I can go for a beauty treatment. I have this thing I got for being local to this salon which means I get certain treatments for free. So it won't even cost me anything. But it all helps towards the efforts to become a beautiful, thin, together sort of a woman.

Also, as an extra kick up the arse, Meili is coming back next year. I want to knock his fucking socks off. As well as showing Frey what he threw away by calling her "crazy".

Grow

208

Controlled though last night's binge may have been I "gained" 4lbs. I know a lot of that is because, ahem, it's still in my system at the moment and water retention from the salty junk food and I drank a lot (about 1.5 litres) of water after in a twisted way of trying to feel less uncomfortable after. Today my poor distended belly needs to recover. Lots of water and mint tea to flush that complete junk out of my system. I feel so horrendous. I actually felt so sick after the shit I ate last night that I had trouble sleeping. I feel like my whole being is being forced to orbit around the sick and overfed wolf in my guts. Eurgh.

That means I have 6lbs to lose by Monday which I know sounds mad, but so much of what I'm carrying right this second is water/salt/literal crap which will hopefully be out of me by the end of the day. Hopefully. Maybe some acai pills will help me along, so to speak.

I don't regret it, to be honest, because it taught me a lesson:

Junk food really is a load of junk.

Stretch

Every week I'm allowed a "controlled binge" so that I don't talk myself out of restricting the rest of the time. Any time I want to eat something I shouldn't I put it on a list and one day a week, if I still want to, I can eat something from this list as long as it doesn't take me over my max calories. This way I can avoid genuine binges and reinforce the idea of eating actively GOOD food the rest of the time.

I ordered takeout. Greasy fucking takeout. And you know what? It was kind of unexciting.

Maybe this is part and parcel of eating right and losing weight but I was chewing through this food that was supposed to be my naughty little deviation and, in reality, it tasted like crap. The most exciting part of it was the salad in my veggie burger. Seriously. That in itself is actually pretty pleasing.

So maybe that's what these controlled binges are for - reminding myself that "bad foods" are just that - bad food. It tastes bad. It does bad.

Interesting, innit?

Also, I didn't get fired. My weirdo boss is putting me on management training, apparently. Which makes no sense. Buy, hey, whatcha gonna do.

Anxiety

204

I'm leaving for work in about 23 minutes and today I find out whether I'm getting fired or not. I spent all day yesterday trying to talk to employment agencies, I even went to the job centre who said they wouldn't help me unless I was signed up for JSA (job seeker's allowance). At this point I don't really know how I feel about potentially losing my job. Obviously I'm a little panicked because I have nothing in savings at all so if I'm not getting paid I can't pay rent. Which is obviously an issue.

I hate my job so much, though. Working with my roommate is a nightmare because she's possibly the laziest person I've ever met and my boss is a disgusting sexist pig.

Oh, well, there's nothing I can really do any more. I just have to turn up and see what happens.

At least I'm still losing. That's obviously pretty awesome.

Kentucky

In all seriousness, I really need to day-drink this wretched cold away. I have calories left and I'm going to use them all on whiskey. That said, whacky calories never seem to go quite far enough.

I'm in my bed with my blanket on dreading the return of Aurboda. I saw her at work today when I tried to get an answer out of my boss and she gave me such a horrible book.

Eurgh.

If her boyfriend would be willing to ACTUALLY move in I'd be gone like a shot.

Trawl

205

I'm pretty sure I'm going to get fired tomorrow by my sexist pig of a boss.

This gives me seriously mixed feelings. I hate my job and everything about it except for the small matter of it being my only source of income. It's not like I live with my parents, I have bills and rent to pay. Without a job I'm completely screwed. I'm panicking.

The only bright side is that I have lost 3lbs in 2014. This is good. This is a start.

Magic

The spell is broken. 

Frey was so close to inheriting my love. So close. 

I was crazy about him until he called me crazy.

Now that my hackles are raised he just seems like a pretty shell long since abandoned by its inhabitant. He's nice enough to look at but there's nothing real inside. 

I know as well as anyone that depression can alter a person so I'll stay his friend while he's getting better because, unlike most of my exes, I don't think he's actually bad. He needs help and he's trying to get it - who am I to criticise?

But he doesn't actually deserve anything from me. 

We didn't even kiss goodbye. 

Totem

206

I was tested and I didn't fail.

I got my talisman today and it makes me feel safe.

I'm going to see Frey tomorrow. I don't know how I feel.

Trust

So...

I let you tell me everything.

Petty, serious, dark, like, tangible, abstract.

I listened.

I supported.

I never told you it was stupid.

I never told you it was petty.

I told you that you weren't alone.

I told you I wasn't going anywhere.

You told me I could tell you anything.

I told you I was sad. I told you I was frustrated. I told you I missed you.

You called me silly, weird and crazy.

Well... thanks.

Crazy

Just because I am doesn't mean you get to say it.

Snore

207

Horrible Gymir is still in my flat snoring like a jet engine. He seriously needs to fuck off. I'm sick of everything about him. He needs to disappear. Millstone around the neck and into the sea.

At least I lost a little weight. That's literally all that is keeping me going right this second. That and my dream for August. That helps, I must admit.

Splinter

So I broke up with Frey and now I feel sick.

It doesn't help that the giants are having unreasonably loud sex less that 20 metres away from me.

Fuck my life.

Seriously.

Fuck this.

Mustn't cut.

Mustn't cut.

Not worth that backslide.

Mustn't cut.

Tears

Sure.

Keep me as an afterthought.

That's just fine.

It's only breaking my heart a tiny bit.

Dogs

Dogs can't eat wheat. Neither can wolves. Neither can I. It makes me feel gross.

Giants

I live with a giantess called Aurboda. And a lot of the time I live with her stupid giant boyfriend, Gymir, too.

I really can't stand him. Between his offensive "sense of humour" and his complete disregard for me (finding it hilarious that they wake me up on a regular basis with their fucking loud fat people sex) I just really wish he'd just disappear. Whenever they're apart (even if it's just for an hour) she bitches and whines as if he's died. I don't understand they relationship. I don't think I've ever wanted to be by someone's side 24/7, even when I was so full of love I thought the colour of my skin would change to reflect it.

I just don't get that smothering instinct that the two of them seem to have. I miss Frey, obviously, but we don't see one another for months at a time. We're both natural loners, I guess. I wouldn't want to see him every day, even if I ha nothing better to do. Despite my considerable levels of self-loathing I do actually enjoy being alone.

That said I'm missing my friend Lofn a lot. We haven't seen each other in a long time. Partly because I'm ashamed of myself. Seeing her when Ylva is sleeping makes me feel disgusting and bloated like a corpse in a river.

I feel free, though. For the first time in a long time. And it's because I know that soon Ylva is going to wake up. She can keep me company.

Celebrate

208

New Year's was a bit of a bust.

My friend from uni came down to see me. He's quite difficult to spend time with - he's been taking lots and lots of drugs for years so his focus is basically appalling. Trying to hold a conversation is basically impossible. He hugely overstayed his welcome yesterday morning as well, when all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep off the alcohol and exhaustion.

Tomorrow is a day off for me and I fully intend to sleep through it, like a little hibernation. I'm so tired I feel like a zombie. My brain aches and I feel shaky but I have to go to work. I hate going to work. I hate my job.

The pit of my vast stomach feels full of snakes.

Possession

208

Today will be my highest weight this year.

I'm prepared.