How am I supposed to face my own mortality without faith? I've been circling the idea for years, in a quasi-danse macabre. I spoke of reconciliation, of acceptance and anticipation... and how naive that was... because these conversations and flirtations were nothing more than a further, final denial. I haven't faced my own mortality... I've erected great bastions of distraction. It's like Winny Carr saying Flora, "Let me show you your wonderful death!"... and then flicking to page 62. It isn't the same thing at all.
It occurred to me that sometimes being loved isn't enough. We have to be loved the way we want... or we may as well not be loved at all.
Last year, two different men told me they loved me within the space of a week. It didn't feel empowering or electric. I certainly didn't feel loved. And you know what, I wasn't loved. We have to be our own benchmarks. If you don't love me the way I love you then your love is nothing. I'm the only constant in this series of equations... and if I don't find my equal then what are you making of me? Nothing, nonsense, a scholars' smudged scribble.
A loved me... but A also ordered my food for me, chastised my flighty nature and gave long speeches on Homeric idioms. He loved me the most when I was mute; a blank and magical whitewashed wall that he could project his own character upon... magnified. He bought me things, he protected me, he was as proud of me as I was embarrassed by him. He loved me like a possession. When I received a phone call, he would demand to know who from, in his rages he would cast wide nets of aspersion on my sexual morality. He had carved a niche for me and I had better slot into it.
B loved me... but B was also jobless, broke and high most of the time. B didn't really know me... he thought I awesome and super cool. He also fell out of love with me pretty quickly when I showed him how fearsome and super callous I could be. From the moment he said "I love you" I needed to show him that he didn't. He desired me, he knew I was a good prospect on paper, he saw the way his friends looked at me and he was carried away on waves of infatuation, lost in his own moment. He sensed the spinning possibilities for adventure and chose to call it love.
M says she loves D... D says she's never loved him. To my outside eye I think she does... in her own convicted, particular way.. but that's the not way he wants to be loved... so is he loved? No. He isn't. Love is not what you think you give. There is no reality here; reality itself being that rare word that should never exist outside inverted commas. Love is what you are perceived to give. My interpretation of your love is the only thing that can validate it... and if I feel like you do not love me, if your 'love' is outside of my criterion then I cannot call it such. You do not love me.
Just a little something to cheer you up on a Tuesday night. Ladies and gentlemen I present to you the sad tale of David Allen Kirwan.
It was July 20, 1981 and 24 year old David Allen Kirwan from La Canada, California and his friend Ronald Ratliff were driving through Yellowstone National Parks' Fountain Paint Pot area. Also on board was Ratliffe's dog Moosie. Round about 1pm they decided to pull over and get a better look at the hotsprings. Moosie escaped from the truck, ran toward Celestine Pool (a thermal hotspring whose temperature was measured at over 200F - that's 0ver 93C, practically boiling), jumped in and began yelping. Kirwan and Ratliff rushed over to the pools edge to try and help. Bystanders later reported that Kirwans attitude indicated he was about to go into the pool. Several people yelled, warning him not to.. but he shouted "Like Hell I won't!" and dived head first into the boiling pool. He swam out to the dog, attempting to take it to shore, but then disappeared underwater, let go of the dog and attempted to climb out of the pool. Ratliff helped pull him out (resulting in 2nd degree burns to his own feet) and another visitor led Kirwan to the sidewalk as he reportedly muttered "That was stupid. How bad am I? That was a stupid thing I did." He wasn't wrong. He was blind, and when another park visitor tried to remove his one of his shoes, his skin (already peeling everywhere) came off with it. He sustained 3rd degree burns to 100% of his body and died the next morning at a Salt Lake City hospital.
And if you want to read about more disarming deaths, look at this.
I guess it's about time I gave Ana a nod. My old web page redirects here and I expect 90% of my visitors are looking for writings on the subject. Or tips, probably tips.
I don't have anything new to bring to the table. You wouldn't swallow it if I did (chew! spit!). I had my experience, you'll have yours. If you're here you came because you're following the pro-ana trail. I'd like to tell you please don't. You're sick... and I think you know it. I think you're positively howling for help.. but that you have to get thin...really thin, before anyone will take you seriously, before anyone will even try to help you. Oh it makes me wild angry that girls (and for all you know, fat ones) are propagating this pro-ana junkto you. A lifestyle choice??? Yeah right.
But what do I know? I'm just jealous because I lacked the willpower, the discipline and the drive to get.. to STAY skinny. I want you to be fat so I can feel better about myself. I mean, that's how your mind's working right now. Thats how it works whenever you read anything that takes an anti-ana stance.
So forget me even trying to offer you an insight... What you have here is my letter to my fifteen year old self. Here's what me now would tell me, then.
"Nobody really cares how thin you are. I know that half of what you're doing is a kind of passive revenge. Look! you're screaming, I am slowly disappearing and you'll be very sorry when I'm gone. But sweetheart, nobody will miss a self-involved, shrivelled shell of a person. Be a good daughter, mother, friend, teacher. Channel your discipline into being all you can be (not all you can't). Life is short and you're shortening it. Right now you're young and your body can take it. It won't be like this for long. Make it to 25 and you'll see.
Being skinny isn't the answer to your problems. That's a delusion of the disease. You'll be thin and lonely, thin and broke, thin and ignored. Sure, you'll experience all these things from the fat end of the spectrum too... life sucks, it's hard, it hurts. You feel out of control (you are out of control) but ana isn't the answer. She isn't even your friend. She's weakening your bones, screwing up your chances of ever having children, she's robbing you of your rites of passage, severing the bonds between you and your family, your friends. She's making an island of you... and noone can live like that. Say goodbye to your dreams of a career, of a family, of scholastic achievement, of fame and fortune. You're giving up everything for this bitch."