BeingHappy.

Folks ...

 

I think I am losing this one.

 

Just spent the afternoon browing the local Tesco's for safe foods. Foods that I think I'm allowed to eat.

 

Basically, foods that are extremely low in Calorie/Fat/Sugar.

 

And I came away with a jar of mustard, Nimble bread and a bag of sugarfree candy.

 

Somehow I just cannot help it. I do want to get better but just cannot bring myself to eat normally. I even tried stocking my pantry with biscuits and chocolates but end up giving it away or simply finding some excuse to chuck them in the bin lest, I suffer horribly in a LateNightBinge.

 

And you know what the worst part is? Its the fact that I cannot find, for the life of me someone to whom I can talk to about these issues. No, scratch that, I mean someone to talk with.

 

And even if I manage to speak to someone about it, there is still the problem of trying to sound coherent after arranging the string of jumbled messages passing through my head.

 

And you know what is the weird bit? I don't know why, but being hungry and seeing those pounds drop off actually makes me happy.

 

I am not without concerned souls though. A kindly Indian nurse remarked to me the other day that she has never seen me eat in all the time I have been working there. She then said that she wanted to share half her lunch with me. And you know what? I felt so touched by her gesture. I declined however as I knew her kindliness would result in a massive guilt at some point later.

 

My Ex is now worried enough to start sending me chocolates and cookies almost every day. She said that there is now a very big difference in the way I used to look and feel and the way I present myself now. This actually got me thinking. Because you see folks, I turn 36 next week. Some say its young. Some say I will be middle aged. But why do I feel so old? Not only that, I feel that the older I get, the more limited my choices seem to be.

 

For instance. I was once a lawyer. I was once a legal writer. I was once a teacher of jurisprudence. I was even once a darn good pianist who managed to produce two singles. But as I got older, my insecurities just got compounded and reduced greatly my ability to cope with the world around me. I can now add ... I was once a stockroom assistant in WH Smith, a stock-picker in a craft house and a gardener in a garden centre. I seem to have gone from powerful positions to seeking employment where I get told what to do. My last job was like that I believe, as eventhough I helped to run a multinational company with almost two dozen principals, I was always the one to bear the hard work. Granted that it was the norm for such an effort, the mere fact that my boss took me for granted gave me little in building my self-esteem. There is not a day that goes by that I don't shudder from my boss's atrocities towards me.

 

But why is it so difficult to make sense of anything around me? All I do know is that there are certain things that do make me happy. Most of those things I have already talked about here. Its those other things that drive me insane. Those other things which are so readily available to other people. And by those things I mean the simple things like making friends, having some sort of family and even finding someone who actually likes me. The preoccupation of finding kindred spirits has made me run away from home, self-harm, break my heart, shatter my spirits and finally stop me from eating. I spoke about the 'hole' in my chest before and somewhere along the line, I stopped trying to fill it and be counted as a proper cogent being and instead, am now making it larger by starving and simply making myself disappear. A fact I tried just the other day to relate unsuccessfully to a co-worker. But by my usual masking my speech with GeneralWit, it simply came out as a Grand Joke.

 

Perhaps I should just let go? Just stick to comic books, cartoons and starships and give up trying to fit in anywhere.

 

And just forget food altogether.

 

After all, it never makes you full you know ...

Done