I graduated college
This week I'm packing
I turn 23 in a day or so and I have no one to celebrate it with
This is my own fault
I forget to tell people things and I don't ask for help enough
growing up is realizing that not every year has a birthday party with streamers and cake
fuck it
I'm just going to go pitch a tent in the woods and get horrifically drunk
It'll be fabulous.
27 May 2015
03 May 2015
Food
I have money issues almost perpetually. Largely it's because one part-time job should not be relied upon to pay rent, cell phone bill, academic expenses, and still be able to get food.
((I feel like this contributes, in a large way, to people thinking that I am unreliable, or that I am kind of a flake.))
One of my old roommates offered to help me budget better, but I know where all of my money is going. It's just that the amount of money I have just barely covers that things I need to survive.
(I've tried working multiple jobs. One semester, I had 21 credits and 2 jobs. I also had one shaky, panicked breakdown in the shower, a truly spectacular depressive episode, and an entire semester's worth of anxiety over scheduling. I am a perfectionist, and this means that I put things off until I can do them perfectly.)
Food is a necessary thing that I need to think about more
During one month in that semester, I spent 25 dollars on groceries. I survived off of ramen and frozen dinners. It's tough, but doable.
I also never want to do it again.
I have issues with food. My sensory issues with food don't affect me enough to make me stop eating, but I have difficulty remembering to eat.
Sometimes I am just genuinely not hungry. I have learned a lot about things like "mindful eating", and a lot of that seems to involve paying attention to your body and interpreting that into what is healthy. Whole wheat bread makes me feel better. So does salad. And sometimes I am really not hungry. If I don't have a lot of food, and I'm not hungry, why should I eat?
((waste not want not))
My parents came from the Baby Boomer Generation. Their parents came from the Depression age generation. Being fat meant that you had enough food in the house, that you weren't starving. Meals were scheduled at breakfast, lunch, dinner, at specific times. My grandmother was a big lady. Big heart, big body, and, we thought, big bones. When my grandmother died of congestive heart failure, my family found out that she had a petite bone structure.
((i don't want to die))
My life seems crazy and out of control a lot. I need specific numbers on recipes. I need specific dates. I need specific guidelines. I need my lists and my calendars. When I was in second grade, I didn't have enough information to supply sufficient nutrition. Now I am in college and I have information and people still tell me I don't know what I know.
((knowledge will give you control))
Sometimes I trace the lines of my bones under skin. Sometimes I trace the edges of scars over it. Sometimes I trace the thin sharp lines of tendons. Sometimes I trace the curve of muscle over bone. I used to do it with metal, and now I do it with ink and fingertips. I feel that I am made up entirely of lines, and that the places in between the lines are nothing but smoke and air. My lines weigh me down. My lines keep me from blowing away.
((definition is existence))
Today I was able to go shopping for free in an old manager's basement. She "adopts" college students and lets them go grocery shopping in her stock of bought-in-bulk food. When I got there, she had already filled up a bag, and had me fill up another bag and a box with fruit and nuts and soup and instant dinners. I was worried I didn't say thank you enough. I have a full shelf of food now.
((it's funny how having enough food makes you feel loved, how asking for help doesn't make you feel useless, how eating food when you don't have to worry about the rest of it can fill in the spaces between the lines))
((I feel like this contributes, in a large way, to people thinking that I am unreliable, or that I am kind of a flake.))
One of my old roommates offered to help me budget better, but I know where all of my money is going. It's just that the amount of money I have just barely covers that things I need to survive.
(I've tried working multiple jobs. One semester, I had 21 credits and 2 jobs. I also had one shaky, panicked breakdown in the shower, a truly spectacular depressive episode, and an entire semester's worth of anxiety over scheduling. I am a perfectionist, and this means that I put things off until I can do them perfectly.)
Food is a necessary thing that I need to think about more
During one month in that semester, I spent 25 dollars on groceries. I survived off of ramen and frozen dinners. It's tough, but doable.
I also never want to do it again.
I have issues with food. My sensory issues with food don't affect me enough to make me stop eating, but I have difficulty remembering to eat.
Sometimes I am just genuinely not hungry. I have learned a lot about things like "mindful eating", and a lot of that seems to involve paying attention to your body and interpreting that into what is healthy. Whole wheat bread makes me feel better. So does salad. And sometimes I am really not hungry. If I don't have a lot of food, and I'm not hungry, why should I eat?
((waste not want not))
My parents came from the Baby Boomer Generation. Their parents came from the Depression age generation. Being fat meant that you had enough food in the house, that you weren't starving. Meals were scheduled at breakfast, lunch, dinner, at specific times. My grandmother was a big lady. Big heart, big body, and, we thought, big bones. When my grandmother died of congestive heart failure, my family found out that she had a petite bone structure.
((i don't want to die))
My life seems crazy and out of control a lot. I need specific numbers on recipes. I need specific dates. I need specific guidelines. I need my lists and my calendars. When I was in second grade, I didn't have enough information to supply sufficient nutrition. Now I am in college and I have information and people still tell me I don't know what I know.
((knowledge will give you control))
Sometimes I trace the lines of my bones under skin. Sometimes I trace the edges of scars over it. Sometimes I trace the thin sharp lines of tendons. Sometimes I trace the curve of muscle over bone. I used to do it with metal, and now I do it with ink and fingertips. I feel that I am made up entirely of lines, and that the places in between the lines are nothing but smoke and air. My lines weigh me down. My lines keep me from blowing away.
((definition is existence))
Today I was able to go shopping for free in an old manager's basement. She "adopts" college students and lets them go grocery shopping in her stock of bought-in-bulk food. When I got there, she had already filled up a bag, and had me fill up another bag and a box with fruit and nuts and soup and instant dinners. I was worried I didn't say thank you enough. I have a full shelf of food now.
((it's funny how having enough food makes you feel loved, how asking for help doesn't make you feel useless, how eating food when you don't have to worry about the rest of it can fill in the spaces between the lines))
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