Mum Called the City on the Neighbours - Goes Way off on Tangents
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Yes, you read that right, my mum called the city on the neighbours. Their yard is ghastly. Maybe later I will upload a picture of their back"yard". It is really like a patch of thistles that are navel high (at least on me) and they are migrating to our lawn. Day after day we are pulling out thistles that could only come from one place. Even if they had a lawnmower (which they don't) they would not be able to push it through the dense weedlot that is their "yard". I have tried pulling out some of the crap that is in their front yard because I enjoy it, because I have nothing better to do and because it keeps me from eating. But I have stopped for now until the city can assess the situation. It is not actually my neighbour's fault, the landlord has not left them any implements to tame this mighty beast and has not been around to do anything either. I sat out there a few days ago until my skin resembled a cooked lobster in colour pulling weeds and it is not nearly half done. I want to do more so bad, it's like an itch I gotta scratch (speaking of which, I got my first mosquito bite of the year, I am allergic and hoping that it does not explode in size as it is in close proximity to my crotch). I went to work after getting my sunburn and some coworkers said I need to see a doctor about my sunburn. Really? Who goes to the doctor for a sunburn? It wasn't even blistering. Sure it was uncomfortable and rather painful but I don't go to the doctor every time I am uncomfortable and in tolerable, temporary pain. (Unless I'm pretty sure it's a UTI, then I go). Maybe it's cause I hurt myself so much I know how to handle minor injuries and even infections myself. Maybe it's because I really don't care for myself (and that can be taken in both ways). Ouch, that hit a nerve. The nerve is this: I had an appointment to see the Doctor in charge of the Eating Disorder program at Toronto General Hospital that I was in during April. I was discharged because I binged and purged. I went through three weeks there and it was hell. I got refeeding syndrome. It was two weeks of the trots and terrible nausea and some (involuntary) vomiting. I was in isolation for three days. I had to be on an IV. In total I had the runs for about a month and a half (even though I stayed for only three weeks). I binged and purged after the nausea and vomiting had ceased (of course). I disagree with some of the program's basic rules regarding artificial sweeteners and some of the food that must be eaten. There is too much dairy, sugar, junk, starch and fruit and not enough vegetables. One serving of vegetables is all there is. No artificial sweeteners are allowed. I don't see any reason why artificial sweeteners should be banned, it's not like in the program they would be eaten INSTEAD of normal food they would be eaten IN ADDITION TO normal food. And people without eating disorders eat them. I work at a café and bake shop, people of all shapes and sizes (and probably even some with eating disorders) ask for sweetener and people of all shapes and sizes (and probably even some with eating disorders) ask for sugar. Also, why must I gain to a BMI of 20? Is 18.5 not the bottom of the "normal" range? I don't see the reason for excess weight gain. But it is basically the only program I can go into to get help so it will be a situation of obey while being watched and do whatever the fvck I want when I am not. And whatever the fvck I want does not include binging and purging because I don't want to do that. And one of the problems I had while I was there was I was not the thinnest person there so I felt undeserving of treatment. I felt like I wasn't good enough. Most places I go, I am thinner than others. I am the thinnest person at work. I am the thinnest person in my family. I am not the thinnest person there. I hate it. Because I want to lose weight but I can't. Maybe I shouldn't have started writing this. I feel bad. I hate myself. I want to hurt myself. (Don't worry, I won't, too tired). I just have this feeling in my chest almost like something is missing. Like an inner vacuum. A void. A void surrounded by sadness and loneliness and failure. Everyone important is sleeping. My mum has to get up at 5:00 to take care of the dog and go to work. My sister has to get up at 6:00 and go to work. I work on Saturday but I don't work too often. And I don't work too well. I screw up a lot. Perhaps that's why I want to leave so bad. Maybe I'll go to the YMCA. It will at least feel like an accomplishment. I'm thinking about going up to bed to sleep and I will shortly. I'll lay on my dirty sheets, stained by the weeping wounds on my arms. A present I gave myself for fvcking up at work. I'll hold my stuffed cow close. I need to hold something to fall asleep, slumber escapes me with empty arms. I wish I could feel something warm, something that would hold me back. Something that would fill the hole in my centre. But the meds kick in and I fall asleep. I sleep like I'm dead. Not even an alarm clock wakes me up. It will buzz away and I will continue to dream. I have lots of strange dreams. Some are scary. Some are about school. Some are about my father. Some are about sex. I think some are about food. Some are hard to tell from reality. I remember when my dad was alive I could hear him and my sister talking about how terrible I was before I was awake, But when I got up, the house was empty. I was just dreaming. Some dreams might actually be hallucinations. I think they are real. When I was working on a jigsaw puzzle one day and my father was having difficulty with the computer I heard him say (my sister's name) was right, (my name) is a selfish bitch. so in one moment I knew that two of my family members hated me even though I thought I had been getting on with my sister okay. And I think about it everyday, I hear it every day. I wish it was a dream but I know it was real. He didn't know I was there. Now he's been dead for four years and this was probably a year or two before that and it still cuts like a sharp knife EVERY DAY. The truth hurts. If you've ever seen the Matrix, you'll know that Neo was given a choice to take a red pill or a blue pill and know the truth or be returned to his ignorant bliss. I wish I could take the pill that would send me into ignorant bliss. DEAR GOD I wish I could take the pill that would send me into ignorant bliss. I don't care about virtue I couldn't possibly burn myself so bad to hurt that much. Many people say that they would like to know the truth no matter how bad. I say they haven't been hurt badly enough. Good night.