There are enormous parts of my life that I simply don’t think about too hard. If I did, I have a feeling I would break down. It’s like I can think in sentences, but the sentences never become paragraphs.
When I first told my therapist about the beginnings of my ED, before I really had a sense that it was an ED, I wrote her a list of statements—no punctuation, no structure, just words of confession. It was the only way I could think to express these confusing, painful feelings that obviously went much deeper than mere words.
I am not commercially attractive
I am working less than some of my peers
I want to be found attractive and feel sad when I am not
My self worth is linked to my attractiveness
I may not ever fulfill my dreams
I may never reach the pinnacle of what I want
Many of my friends will, and sooner than I
I am jealous of others constantly.
I become anxious of being excluded, even from people who are my closest friends and logically I know they are probably not keeping me out because they don’t like me (more probably that they want date night/they weren’t keeping me out at all)
I vacillate between wanting to disappear and feeling present and confident in the world. I wish I could control those emotions.
I take a LOT of medication, but I still want more—I want to be fixed and perfect (which obviously doesn’t exist).
I fear fading into nothingness, and my dreams with me.
I reread the play that I start rehearsals with on Monday. It’s written by two of my friends (adapted from Chekhov’s THREE SISTERS), and the part was, in many ways, written for me. And there are parts in there that really ring true for me, almost uncomfortably so. My character, Olivia, fixates on the ranking of her school—which she hates yet still feels obliged to sacrifice her life to. And most painfully, she watches as everyone around her finds someone to love (or at least the opportunity to love) and yet she still is alone, painfully so.
Olivia wants more than ANYTHING to go to New York—to live the life she dreams exists somewhere with possibilities (unlike where she is). And I live in New York, yes, but I feel the painful, overwhelming desire for something; for a life in the theatre. I see plays and I want MORE THAN ANYTHING to be up there too. I look at audition listings and I drool and dream. I can’t imagine wanting anything more than this, wanting it so much that I feel brokenhearted without it, empty. I need to remind myself to breathe, to be calm, to want but not to tear myself down for it.