Friday March 14th….i hate who i am….

Fridays are everyone’s favorite day, right? It’s the end of the week for school, most people’s work week, ect. Friday is like a mini-holiday in the eyes of many….but not me. Not this past Friday anyway.

To start off, I don’t get to sleep on Thursday night. I worked at McDonald’s from 10pm Thursday night to 6am Friday morning. I’m not really tired, but I decide to come home and take a 10 minute or so nap. I walk in the door and I am greeted by my almost 1 year old cousin, Hannah Grace, seven year old Caleb James, and my mother. It is barely past 6am and the two children are running around like they’ve had the world’s supply of sugar. I put my stuff down and head to my room to take my nap. I get about 15 minutes and I resolve to get out of bed against my body screaming it wants more sleep. I take my shower and start getting dressed. I can’t find what I want to wear in one room, so I have to go to another. I start walking back to the bathroom to dry my hair and I get bombarded by Caleb James. I tell him I don’t have time for this, but he continues to try to bug me. I start to close the door to the bathroom and he stands in the doorway holding onto the door frame. I tell him again, louder and meaner, that I don’t have time for this-I can’t be late to work-Move. He said “No!” and smiles. I resort to pushing him.

::I push him. Not shove him. Push him. He not only moves out of the doorway, but he falls on the floor. He falls on the flippin’ floor. I pushed him down. I hate myself at this point. I want to run over to him and tell him that I’m sorry, pick him up and make sure he’s okay. I don’t like the idea that I hurt him…I hate myself at this point. So much….
But what do I do? I close the door and finish getting ready for the day.

I head off to work after telling everyone in the house goodbye, yes, I’ll be careful, I’ll get something to eat at lunch, ect. So, I’m driving. I know I have to take the long way due to the bridge next to the interstate still being inpassible. I get onto the road and make it to Fort Smith. I am driving along, and I find myself almost to work. I don’t remember driving past certain points. I can feel myself drifting in and out. I even hit a curb driving on a straight road. I make it to work in one piece finally. I am even a little early, which is great seeing as how I’ve either been late or not shown up most days. So, I go out to the front and start trying to help people find jobs. I am sitting at the computer and I cannot focus my eyes. The numbers keep moving up-and-down and side-to-side. I get a headache from it all, I’m freezing even though I have on a jacket and the heater is going for me.

I get the chance to take an early lunch, two hours early. I take it. I go and get the key for my aunt’s house and I crash there. I basically pass out for two hours. I sleep through four or five phone calls, several voice mails and text messages. My uncle is who woke me up. He came to the house and slammed the door on his way out. It scared me and I looked at my watch when I focused my eyes, two hours late. I grab my phone and call my manager. I let her know what happened and that I will be there as soon as possible. I grab my crap and leave. I walk in the door, clock in, and my manager tells me that we need to have a meeting. I knew it was going to be bad….I just didn’t know how bad.

::Tonya and I sit down in a room after making sure the door was closed. She looks at me, I look at her. I start to tear up…she asks what has been going on, how am I doing with both jobs?, am I getting enough sleep?, am I eating right?, ect. She goes on to tell me that I have not worked a full week since I’d been there. I’d either been sick or late. I told her that it wasn’t intentional. I really do enjoy my job most days, I love the people I work with, ect. I told her I didn’t know what was going on with me. She told me that I was going to be written up, that I need to work on getting to work on time, and to not make her sorry for re-hiring me. I was informed that she passed over a bilingual girl for me. Her boss gave her the option of the new girl or me, and she chose me. I felt horrible. I wanted to tell her everything that was going on, but I don’t want her to think I can’t do the job. I can. I will.

So I go to finish the day. I start to feel better after a while. When we have a lull in the flow of people, one of the other workers, Clara, comes over to talk to me. She asks how I am feeling and if I am getting enough sleep or food. I didn’t know that she even knew that I was feeling badly. I assure her that I am well on my way to getting some veggie protein as soon as I get home. She seems content with that for the moment. The day ends finally at a little after 5pm and I go to the back to get my stuff. my manager asks how I am doing, I tell her that I feel better. She goes on to tell me that I look like I feel better too. I ask what she means, and she tells me that I was looking pale and sickly. She tells me that I need to get some sleep and eat good food over the weekend. Another co-worker chimes in about how I need some “meat on those bones.”

::I didn’t know they worried about that kind of stuff with me. Well, I did, but I didn’t. I haven’t heard anything about my weight in weeks. Not even from my family, except when I was at the doctor about the vertigo. I didn’t think anything really about it till I was on my way home……

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I can feel myself slipping back into old habits. The same day I told one of the few who know about the diet pills, they took me to another one’s house. The two of them are bulimic. They take laxatives (like I did) and throw up their food. They have pro-ana and pro-mia books and thinspo collages everywhere. The one I told, Janice, did not tell the other girl. I just met her. We have been talking for a while via cell phones and text messaging, but Janice has known her for a while. I don’t know the story of how Janice and Betty found each other or how they swapped stories. Anywho, Betty doesn’t have a clue about what I’ve done or how much I’ve changed. I stood there listening to her talk about how fat she is and do I have any ideas about how I could help her?, or how do I hide it from my family? She kept showing me all the books she’s collected over the years, ones that she’s written, drawings she’s done, everything…and it all revolves around eating disorders. I could feel the lack of self-worth, confidence, pride…and it just took over me. I was powerless against it. I was swept up in the old habits and ideas and goals….I welcomed the familiar. I walked right back into that cage.

~ by wanderingwonderer on 16/03/2008.