Musing On Misery (Or Something)

I felt acutely miserable this morning. As long as I could read or distract myself, it was bearable. There was ballet with GFT and I HAD to go because we were only two students, but I didn’t want to. I felt the urge to cry on the way to the studio down the street, and I rarely feel that sad. My life seemed grey and hopeless and there was nothing I could look forward to. Just work and exercise, fighting my body, and trying to hold on to friends and Tom, pretending I was ok without being able to form a true connection.

In class, I felt fat and ugly and clumsy, undeserving of the beauty of ballet, and I could not take myself seriously. Between exercises, I tried to stretch my stiff joints and kept looking out of the window at the grey neighbourhood, feeling trapped in the studio and not caring one bit about silly unnatural movements of the feet, as the barre exercises seemed to me just then. Nevertheless, there were a few moments when the music broke through my defences and touched my heart, and hurt it. When music hurts me like this, something is very wrong, and I usually avoid music like the plague in those moments. It would not have taken much to make me cry, but I pulled myself together and got through class and in the end even found some joy in a few turns and jumps.

And after class, the misery was mostly gone. I wasn’t happy or anything, far from it, but it was a more ‘normal’ low mood. Moving, talking to other people and fresh air had all helped a little. I also wrote to Tom as always, and missed him terribly. But the thought of ‘is this it?’, the feeling of distance between us remained. He will visit tomorrow evening. And work will start again, too, so I will have to function. No more time to run away, hide, and numb myself with food. I have eaten very much for the last two days, and again just now after dinner, after having done well all day. This last episode brought the misery right back, and I let myself sob a few times while cleaning the kitchen sink. Why did I do it? I knew I would feel intense regret and guilt right after eating, I knew it would not help, but in a moment of tiredness or weakness I shut off my brain and fell right back into my default way of ‘helping myself’. Helping, ha ha.

Tom still doesn’t know about my struggles with eating, but I have gained weight since he saw me last. It is visible, all over. A part of it is water and if I had not binged tonight, that would have been gone by tomorrow, but now it won’t. He once told me he did not notice people’s shape much. But if he holds me, he must notice. And if I don’t want to hug him tomorrow, it will seem strange and suspicious. And I feel that I need to hug him, or I will die of loneliness. Not just hug him, but hold on to him for dear life. The misery and loneliness are in my very bones tonight, and I can’t seem to help myself. At least I am allowing myself to feel them and no longer running away. There is even music playing (and hurting me) as I write. And I’m wearing Tom’s necklace with the sickle moon and star.

The thought that I need to hide my body and the physical and mental symptoms of this eating disorder from Tom only adds to the feeling of distance. But I just can’t tell him. It would scare him away, make him lose his respect for me. But then maybe this distance and secrecy and my strange moods will eventually drive him away, too. And there are moments when I think it would be better, when I think that he deserves somebody better than me. Somebody who is not so scared and not fluctuating between neediness and resentment, happiness and depression. Sometimes I think I am not loveable, not worthy of such a wonderful person. But a part of me is fighting this thought. The better part of me, the healthy, good part of me knows that I have worth. My fear and pride will not let me show Tom the whole extent of my weakness, all my darkness. Maybe I will one day, if we are still together. I want to be honest and real, but I do not want to burden him. I also told him once that I did not expect him to ‘fix’ me, and that is still true.

And yet his love seemed the only half way positive thing in my life today. Beauty, music, energy, everything seemed meaningless. Despite the doubts and the distance, I longed for him, for his embrace and the feeling of being loved that I can’t create on my own right now. It felt like a need. If I need him when I’m down, and yet won’t let him know how I feel and why, isn’t it unfair? In his place, I would want to know what is going on. But I am not Tom. We share many interests and traits, but are also very different in some aspects. I have no way of knowing how he really feels about this without asking him. Oh, it’s so complicated!

Anyway, I have to try to find a way and get better on my own. Thinking about everything, recognising my patterns, writing about it, all these things are helpful. Mrs H will be back on Thursday as well and she always helps me, and work and my usual ballet classes will help, and Tom and I will find a way to spend time together, and I will learn, grow and figure it out somehow. This is my work now: to get used to being close to Tom and still be myself, be brave and real and vulnerable, and then maybe I won’t feel the need to overeat any more whenever we part.


About annalienor

Lover of beauty, adult ballet student, deliberate creator wannabe.
This entry was posted in Ballet, Health, Love, Music and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Musing On Misery (Or Something)

  1. Lori Guerin says:

    You’ve come so far and you are doing great! You are such an inspiration to me as you strive to reach goals, gain control over your habits, love ballet, and find a true love to share the rest of your life with. Keep up the good work and the positive thoughts. You’ll reach your goals. I know you can!

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