I am writing something that I think cannot be posted at my WordPress.com blog....their policies....

I am so fed up with everything.  I am so fed up with my life.  I am sick of having an eating disorder and I'm pizzled at my therapist.  (It is okay for me to be pizzled because I have Puzzle.)  I am pizzled at my psychiatrist, too.

Whenever I see my psychiatrist, I get a lecture about my weight.  Every time.  We don't get to discuss anything else.  I've been getting manicky lately and I'd like to discuss that, but she won't have time, because she'll use up the whole time to berate me for not gaining.  Oh, she'll probably give me a lecture for playing around with my bedtime--staying up late, like I am tonight--that, too.  All lectures.  Essentially, she believes I'm throwing my fucking life away.  If she knew about the caffeine pills, she'd give me triple hell.

Then there's my therapist.  She's not nearly as bad.  She'd better not be, because I see her once a week instead of once a month, which is how often I see my psychiatrist.  But to try to weasel me into a "program"...now, that was fucking dirty play that I don't fucking appreciate.

I will not lose my independence.  My therapist says that being "independent" isn't working for me.  Fuck her.  That is the most fucking cruel bullshit thing to say.  To put me into a position of dependence...no, I will not have that.  I will not stop being Julie Greene.  I will not lose the person I am, the person I am proud to be.  I am an adult, not a child, and I will not fucking be treated like a child.

I will not be force fed.  I was force fed as an infant and I will not be force fed again.  I will not sit at a table and be forced to stay at a table and be watched while I eat.  That is being treated like a child.  My parents literally put me in a chair, strapped me in, opened my mouth, and shoved in a spoon full of crap I detested.  They did the same thing with medicine that I think was Milk of Magnesium.

Then there's my life.  I like my life.  I have a good life.  I do some pretty exciting things.  Last week I gave a classmate feedback on a 417-page novel manuscript and loved every minute of it.  I proofread my brother's paper that he was having published in an optometry journal (he's a physicist--tenured professor).  I take a class in stand-up comedy.  I have my dear little Puzzle.  I have my online friends.  I go to a gym.  I knit, though I haven't had much time for that lately.  I'm working on another book.  I have a very full life.

So, you might ask, why am I torturing myself?  Why am I starving myself?  (According to me, I am not starving myself.  I am eating just fine.)  Why caffeine pills?  Why am I staying up late and playing with my bedtime, depriving myself of sleep when I know I am risking making myself manicky?  How can I be so stupid?

I don't know.  I have no answers.

I guess I didn't say fuck as much as I had in fact planned.  Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck....