Today’s food journal marks week 14 of treatment. I almost slept in today and would have been dismissed from the program due to 3 Monday absences, so, thank fuck, I guess.
Sitting on a tough, teal, synthetic seat-cushion in the hospital caf, I feel frustrated, but not depressed.
The gaping disparity between my bright social self and the dark underbelly feels less raw today. Writing these journal-style blog posts is helping to achieve insight, giving structure to the eclectic extremes of self-analysis.
Incidentally, I’ve decided on my artist name, and am closing in on a firm EP title, something referring to my sense of a split self. The Underbelly, Shadow Half, Flipside, Young Shadow… Something like that.
What’s frustrating about treatment right now is my raging desire to start my summer body exercise routine. It’s nearly March and I have been relatively sedentary since October. I am disgusting by visible fat on my body, and frequently lose my presence of mind in preference of fantastical weight-loss montages.
I want to quit clinic now, enforce strict meal structure, and use my free weekday mornings for hot yoga, Goodlife and swimming. Within two months I’ll shed some fat from increased muscle, I’ll feel happy and progressive, I’ll leave bad things behind and conquer the world.
Instead, I will plow on through this bs, body melting into lethargy, one meal at a time.