This blog often contains uncomfortable subject matter and occasional sexual content. If you don't want to read about it, empower yourself to close the page. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Old notes One of the more interesting, and sometimes depressing, parts of moving is discovering all of my old stuff while I'm packing. Specifically, today I'm talking about my old notes and notebooks and post-fight letters to BK. I like to read them sometimes to remind myself that he was a dick, and that I was right to break up with him (although, thankfully, nowadays I really don't need convincing of that). Just now, I was packing up my "secret" box, a box of all the things I can't let my mom come across when she helps me move. Pipes and sex toys, mostly. Well, some of the stuff in my secret box hasn't been unpacked from when I moved last summer. I found one of those post-fight letters, where I was desperately trying to explain myself, while apologizing profusely for being such a disappointment to BK. Ugh. I read it, saw the pain and fear reflected in my painstakingly selected words (I'm sure this was a third or fourth draft), read his very brief response that he would write back later (he didn't), and then crumpled it up and threw it in the trash. It felt good, to not need that note anymore. I think I kept it because he had written, "I need to utilize your methods and collect/figure out my thoughts and write you back. You raise valid points that deserve candid (ego-free) responses. I love you." That was a rare affirmation from him, and I kept it because I needed a reason to believe there was anything worth holding onto in him. I also found a few sheets of paper containing notes on weight loss. Foods to eat, foods to avoid. The fact that I had hidden them from BK says so much. I was ashamed for him to find out that I wanted to lose weight, that I wanted it bad enough to do research and take notes. Never mind his stories of this girl from high school who did the exact same thing and lost a lot of weight, and looked really good afterward. He always talked about her like she was an impressive person for having done that. He talked shit on fat people all the time, talked about LS a bunch and she was really skinny, of course I wanted to lose weight. I haven't really felt better about my weight since I was with him, either. He sent such contradictory messages to me. "That woman is obviously lazy and lacks self control because her physique tells me a lot about her lifestyle, but if you want to lose weight you're backsliding, becoming shallow." By the way, I'm taking some of his shit that somehow ended up in my possession to Goodwill, along with a ton of my own old clothes and yarn. It's really hard to part with some of this stuff, especially the yarn (What if I thought of a project idea?!!!!!) and the clothes that I used to love but don't fit anymore. I've held onto the clothes for so long, telling myself I'd slim down enough to wear them again. Some of these are a part of my old identity, like my favorite green sweater from high school and a few years after. I feel like a failure when I think of getting rid of them, because I have to admit to myself that I will never fit into these clothes again, that I am getting older, fatter, and I need to come to terms with that instead of deluding myself into thinking I can move backwards in time. I think it will be very good for me to get rid of this stuff, though. Clear some space in my home, and maybe in my head, too. 3:19 p.m. - 2014-07-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||