last resort

ive said it before and i'll say it again: my body is one of the most disgusting forms I know. truly and really. I hate it, i hate the stapled bubbles of fat stretched across the back of my thighs, dimpling my butt. i hate the fine scars of cellulite that line my legs like gills, expanding and retracting with my movements. i wish i didn't have the shaky lard rolls encasing my hips, the ones that jostle like jello when i try and squeeze into my dress pants.

but even with all of this disgust, i still value what it is my body can do. i have a very utilitarian appreciation for the workouts i can blast through--the way my lungs can heave through a cardio circuit and the power with which my hip flexors can steadily pull my quads through a curtsy lunge. even though it doesn't help me feel better about how i look, i must admit that i don't entirely hate my body; there are some ways in which it is valuable and i want to celebrate those.

anyway, at this point i need to decide how much im going to tell E tonight. i know, i know--this again, right? we're going over this same shit AGAIN? how much rehash can a person endure, right? but i want to know now, before i leave for work, so that tonight im not making a freakishly terrifying and impromptu decision in the parking lot.

i feel like it would be disrespectful and somewhat wrong to just drop this heavy ball of confession onto E before whisking myself away to college for the semester. like, it doesn't seem fair and im, of course, dreading whatever her response may be. i also need to think about the future. E is extremely busy right now and i don't think she's going to slow down any time soon. do i really want to share this with someone who, though they will likely be very understanding and COULD be helpful, may not actually provide much help at all because they're so consumed with other commitments? i feel rather selfish sharing this; its like im assuming that E will want to hear it, should shoulder it, and should help me figure out what the hell to do. at the same time, i really think that E would be concerned and want to help me through this. i mean, hell, salvation is a pretty scary thing and it matters probably more than anything else in life. so as a Christian, E will probably sense that urgency and a certain amount of responsibility on her end to help me. (again--that sounds extremely selfish on my end, i know!) :/ i don't want to do this to her but i NEED HELP. i do; i am stuck in my old thoughts about Christianity and God and i don't know how to work through them or move on. ive tried and tried to ignore it but i cant. it keeps coming up and i hate being so apathetic about it. ive also tried, to no small amount of frustration, telling K and Robbie about this problem. but they primarily just denied the truth of what i was once hung up about--that i had no choice about whether i was saved--which did little to actually convince me of anything. or help me move on. *sigh* for as much i really didn't like Robbie's attempts to help me, though, he did make a very good point in assessing that i seem stuck to him. oh yes, Robbie, i am stuck. and i have been for years.

i think that alone is probably why i think this is worth bringing up to E tonight. i am scared, i am terrified, id rather not say it--but i need help and this is the most important issue. this is The Thing. i don't really know what i would gain from not sharing with her. i think, in some ways though, that that is partially why i don't want to say anything. subconsciously, i think i sort of view E as my last resort. she's the final emergency rope and if i grab her and just continue falling i wont know what to do. i could spiral into a terrible hole of bleak depression. again. and then what? oh i know what; i see vending machine cookies and gas station danishes. i see crumbs on the carpet, spoons in my desk drawers, and the dread of ever-tightening jeans. i see the washing of acid over my throat three times a day, the need for saltwater to help me regain my gag reflex, and my nose rubbed red from all the snot pouring out of it. but that is not even the worst of what would come. no, the worst part would be the overwhelming depression and feeling of hopeless. the knowledge that nothing can change and no one can help.

i don't know. ha. that's probably a little dramatic. you never know who you're going to meet that might be able to help change you. and im not dead yet, so technically there would still be hope.

im terrified to confess this reality. but i think i need to. i just don't want to tell such a deep secret to someone who wont even care. or do anything about it. or ever converse with me about it again (as happened when i told D & E about my struggles with bulimia). that probably scares me more the anything. the fear of dismissal. i don't want this to be dismissed--i don't want this to be put in a little box, i don't want to be patted on the head or ignored. please.

hear me.

please.

help me deal with this. help me cope.

how much more do i need to act out until you will?