Tight Monies

This month is going to be a little tight for us.
Really tight.
I have tuition due for my last semester of college, along with rent, bills, and a court cost we won't go into detail about.  The amount is hefty, and I am a little afraid of not getting everything paid.

This is the first time since I have moved out on my own (except when my ex cleaned out the bank account) that I have been tight on money.  We have a plan of not going out much, not driving much, and living off of rice and beans for awhile until we can build back a financial safety net.

I am also considering other ways to make money... not all of them illegal.  They include, but are not limited to:

-Stripping
-Prostitution (not my favorite)
-Winning the lottery jackpot
-Selling organs
-Selling plasma
-Signing up for experiments at research facilities

Some are more feasible than others.  Such as the lottery.  That will definitely happen, right?  RIGHT?  Yes, agree with me and make me feel a little better.

On the bright side, with all the sitting around and staying in I will be doing, I will have an abundant time to write and become reacquainted with my dear blog here.

Have a lazy Sunday afternoon, everyone.

Love,
Lenina

Chance

I suffer from bulimia and body dismorphic disorder.  I'm sure I have made that clear over many blog entries on this site.  Cures exist, as we are told, but nothing has ever worked for me, up to date.  Therapy, food journals, drawings, hypnotism... I think at one point I was a doctoral student's thesis paper.  Nothing gives me the result I want.  Which is to sit down at a plate of food and not feel guilt.  To finish a plate of food and not immediately purge my body of its contents.

So when a friend of mine told me about a new program she was following, I was skeptical.  I had gotten to the point where I felt nothing would ever be different, and I would just be dealing with this forever.  I have gained weight from the worst times, I look healthy.  I feel overweight and disgusting.  But I can make myself eat.  I can't always keep it down, but I do my best.  I was ready to deal with it.

But this new program, well, its different from everything else I have ever tried.  There are daily lessons, a regiment of food intake, and an internal support system.  Oh, and it centers all of it around God, and healing yourself for His glory.

It has been a LONG time since I have been overly religious.  I was raised Baptist.  And that's how I phrase that to people on purpose.  I was raised Baptist.  I don't consider myself to be anymore.  I was jaded by the "Christians" I was raised around in church.  I haven't felt the need to practice an organized religion, but I do miss the fellowship.

And so I thought this was a good idea.  Not only might I find a cure and healing, but I could maybe find that fellowship I missed from the past.

Tonight was the first night I went to a group meeting.  Within the lesson, we discussed how God gives people second chances.  Even third, fourth, or 60th chances.  He wants us to serve a purpose, and we don't always follow the first time.

So now I am thinking, do I even deserve a second chance?  Or I suppose it would be more like the 60th category for me by now.  What warrants forgiveness?

Just a ponderous thought for the evening.

See Through

I'm staring at your picture right now.  Looking into your eyes, looking at your goofy smile and the way you cock your head to the side while you laugh.  How I admired you.  How funny I thought you were, how witty, how clever.  And also, how kind.
I'm trying to see through it all.  I'm trying to see a clue to what you really were.  What you really are.  How could I have missed something so blatantly obvious?  How could I see you each week and not know the evil that waited under the surface.
You laugh at me from the picture.  You fooled me, hurt me, humiliated me, and you know it.  You're proud about it.  And I hate you for that.

I hate you for a lot of things.

So many things and so much hate in fact, that my heart refuses to hold it.

I am forced to let go.  Forced to forgive you.  Forced to look past your wicked smile, your sharp teeth prepared to tear into innocent flesh, your eyes of smoke and mirrors.

And I see a sad, sad, sad little boy.

I cry for you.  I cry for you, and what you did to me.  You could have possibly taken away my future, everything I hold dear.  I could lose it all, just by the choice you made.  But I cry for you.

I'm staring at your picture right now.  And I no longer see rage, fear, sadness.

I just see a picture.
It's just a picture.

Back To Basics

This blog used to be an outlet for me.  A place to rant and rave and let out the anger that builds inside me at times.  A place to find solace through writing and steer myself back on course.

I keep getting further and further away from peace, it seems.  Soma.  My gram of soma is a call back to Huxley's novel "A Brave New World."  Soma was the pill they would ingest to negate feelings of guilt and anxiety.  Instead of learning to deal with pain, they chose to ignore it.

I choose to ignore a lot of things I don't want to deal with.  Things that happened in my past, things happening in my present.  And the more I attempt to ignore, the more the anger and sadness and mistrust fills my mind.

I am trying to remind myself of the beginning of this blog.  The blog I began in 2004 that is no more, lost to the oblivion of the internet.  That same Lenina, Amanda, has to be there.

Doesn't she?

I'm Bipolar

Ha.  Me likey.