5:33 a.m. - 2012-02-22
I haven't been suicidal since I discovered that Doctors Without Borders recruits RNs. It's given me the answer to the self-doubt and self-hatred and self-destructiveness that used to paralyze me. "People who are dying of malnutrition or for lack of basic medical care do not care if your husband thinks you're pathetic." Nor do they care if I think I'm pathetic, for that matter.
Anyway. Peter. People. I love people. I don't think I'm bad for people anymore. I don't think knowing me is going to make people get fed up with me.
I don't think I was entirely wrong to shut myself off from the world when I was the most depressed, after M told me he didn't love or want to be with me anymore. I don't think there was anything that anyone could have done or said that would have turned my mind from suicide to life. I remember S emailing me, and I told her I didn't want to see anyone because I was too skinny, and she said she didn't care how skinny I am. I thought, WRONG! and I think I was right about that; how the hell are you supposed to enjoy the company of a walking skeleton?
I am kind of proud of the fact that I don't know how much I weigh now but I think it is over 100 lb and I am OK with that. I'm tired of sucking air, and that's what anorexics do in my (I think very qualified) opinion. I think I have finally figured out that I want people much more than I want to be five pounds lighter.