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OK. I feel better. I did Burn Intervals and worked the hell out of my muscles. I got through the set of 20 burpees for the first time without having to take a break! I AM getting in better shape!

When I exercise, my thoughts change from "I don't know what I'm doing with my life and I need answers now" to "I have all the time in the world to figure it out, and I can always change my mind". I feel strong and powerful. I can't imagine why I would ever want to overeat or stay in bed all day.

I still have flab, but there are strong, powerful muscles under it. Also, I have the mental tenacity and grit to push myself through hard workouts, day after day after day. I can see this through, so clearly, I can see other things through, too.
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I got into a discussion with a lesbian acquaintance of mine. She brought up the topic, "Hypothetically, if we ever got together, would you be the dom or the sub?" (On reflection, what the hell kind of question is that, but I didn't think about it at the time.)

And I was like, "Actually, I get a thrill out of being aggressive."

And she said, "Yeah, right. You'd be my little bitch."

My insides squirmed with unease and anger. Do I come off as submissive? One thing's for sure -- I have a lot to figure out, but the very idea of being submissive makes me feel angry and ashamed. It is not something I respect and not something I want to be.

Anyway I wanted to punch her in the goddamn face but I worked out instead. I'm determined to succeed -- to be strong and fit and have muscle, because goddamnit even if I never know anything about physical fighting I am not anybody's fucking little bitch!
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Once in a while it hits me hard, when I'm at work, that I'm an adult now -- they call me a teacher, and I am responsible for the development and safety of small, disabled children.

I am very kind to those kids. How could I not be?

I'm not a child anymore, and nobody is going to take care of me except me. Occasionally that makes me feel sad. Usually it is a powerful feeling of independence and capability.

I need to remember above all to treat myself kindly -- to treat myself like I would one of those kids. I wouldn't berate Malcolm about being an idiot, or tell him it's not okay to cry or feel lonely -- and I wouldn't shove too much food into his face, either.

I binge-ate last night. I even went so far as to steal roommates' food to do it (because I didn't have any junk food of my own). It isn't right. I feel sick and selfish and I don't want to do it again.
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I will admit I'm partially writing people handwritten cards, and being as nice as I can to everyone I can think of, in the hopes that a) they will feel just a little happier and not feel loneliness, and b) that cosmically somehow all that paying attention to other people will come back to me in spades later.

Of course, doing random friendly things hoping they'll like me better is a little self-serving. But most things we do as humans involve at least SOME level of looking out for self-interest. It still feels good to battle sad feelings by telling someone else that they're a good friend/kind/fun/talented/whatever. Better than wallowing, for sure.
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Blah, I feel lonely and I'm sick of eating healthy, so of course I bury the feelings by 1) eating heavily 2) sleeping too much 3) sitting around feeling sorry for myself 4) thinking I should donate some money to some cause so I can prove I'm a good person

which I realize is a little pathetic

work was GREAT, and I keep getting praised, and the kids like me, and I have money and safety and independence and DAMMIT I am annoyed with myself for being cranky

but I'm LONELY, dammit. I'm lonely. CAN I JUST HAVE PERMISSION TO SAY THAT OUT LOUD PLEASE. I WANT TO BE INCLUDED.

it hurts knowing my coworkers get drinks together and go out to parties together and all that shit, and I am not invited. i don't know if it's because they assume i'm not interested (i know sometimes i give off an unfriendly vibe without meaning to), or they don't like me, or i just don't seem like a party girl, or what.

it just feels shitty when i remember that lief tossed me aside and david tossed me aside and how i don't have any romantic prospects and all that nonsense -- yeah, you can't force romance, if the feelings aren't there they aren't there, I UNDERSTAND that, but that on top of the work thing is getting under my skin.
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i fucking HATE the internet and I hate email and i hate texting and i hate WOW and i hate having all those things, i don't even want the OPTION to talk to people in a non-real way. i hate knowing all these freaks (too strong, i know, but let me rant here for once) -- all these FREAKS who are too bloody scared to form any real friendships because they're so used to hiding behind their computers!

fuck!

i just want some REAL human connection, which is maybe why i crave sex so much, because THAT at least is utterly real and wonderful and close and MOTHERFUCKING REAL (yes I know i said that already) ... I HATE that people can just disappear behind their fucking screens and not actually deal in real life.

i hate feeling estranged and empty and alone. UGH
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I feel stale and used-up and tired. I'm going to hang out with Tim today and he asked me to find something to do, and I just don't even care. I WANT to go out, but I don't care WHAT we do, and it's stressful to try to come up with something that will be OK in his book when I don't even know what he bloody likes.

I am also not looking forward to batting off YET ANOTHER advance from YET ANOTHER guy I am not interested in. See, this is the kind of thing that makes a girl into a bitch, because now I'm all selective and arrogant -- I think, "I am more attractive than Tim, I want more than Tim has to offer." I am SO FED UP of fighting off guys' advances -- I feel like I spend all my time batting off the ones I don't want and failing to attract the ones I do want -- I can NEVER attract the ones that I was interested in in the first place. That makes me feel powerless and incredibly bitchy.

Cassie made my heart beat faster. Maggie makes my heart beat faster. David made my heart beat faster. Am I anywhere with any of them and will I probably ever be? No. It pisses me off. GodDAMN does it piss me off.

I keep thinking of that time Alicia and I felt each other up, just that one time, and how incredibly GOOD it felt. See, the thing is, whenever I am with girls -- at least nearly all the time -- I am INTO it, I am interested, intrigued, and excited. With men it's like -- I don't KNOW, I like to hang out with them, I like to joke with them, I can definitely appreciate an attractive man, but being romantic with them is just... I don't KNOW. Something in me pauses. Something isn't quite right. I have so many issues with the concept that men have nearly always been more valued than women, and I just ... I get angry and silent and everything is a power play and, oh, what if I'm doing things just to please HIM, and ... it all feels so much easier with a woman.

I don't know any single women.

So not cool.
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Note! I've lost 5.6 pounds in the last five weeks. That feels great!
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After a day of solitude and relaxing, I feel so much better. I worked out and my head feels clear. It's Valentine's Day, I'm single, it's gray and dreary, and that's just fine. Really.

loneliness

Feb. 1st, 2010 10:11 pm
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something i just wrote on a piece of paper and taped to my desk:


loneliness can not kill me.
in fact, it can not even harm me.
it is nothing to be afraid of.

it is just an emotion,
like any other emotion,
to be paid attention to, cradled, worked with.

impermanence is the very nature of things and relationships.
this, too, will pass.
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As she lay, she imagined angels, and children, with their hungry eyes, their outstretched hands and wings. Crumbled, coppery pillars. Blood from the fingertips. And the empty irises, and empty irises.

I know who I want to be.

She lay there and breathed, and heard the sound, like fireflies falling through the air and dying. Bursting, slowly, like rockets. Shivering sounds.

And somehow she was still at peace.

Somehow it still couldn’t touch her.

The air shivered then, and her bed--shivered, then shuddered, then shook, until the entire floor vibrated underneath her, and there was something huge rapidly closing in to her awareness.

She felt, she realized, defiant.

I don’t care what they think of me.

Thomas, or Tyler, or any of them. Alexis. I don’t care.


I am going to drink red wine, she would have said, if there had been anyone to talk to, if she had been wearing a white tight-at-the-hips dress and there had been candlelight, and a dinner coming. If there were red meat oozing on a plate. I am going to drink red wine, and it would have seemed the most innocuous thing in the world, but during the dinner, as she leaned across the table, rubbing a man’s leg with her toes, smiling flirtatiously, she would drink too deep, and drops of red wine would stain the fabric.

Steak juice, dripping across the thighs. Teeth ripping flesh, and beads of red wine.

Beads, and breaths, and birds -- she thought of eagles rising high into the sun.

The pillow was musty. It choked her breathing.

Stop, she could hear Alexis’ warning words already. Stop. You are in a dangerous place.

And Tyler. You are on a dangerous road.

I know, she told them, I know, and she rolled over onto her back, turned her head up to the ceiling, and laughed laughed until her stomach muscles were tight and aching. She laughed until the endorphins soaked through every gentle tissue of her brain, her skin, the muscles wrapped tight around bones.

Endorphins in her blood.

Her body felt so heavy, but pleasant heavy, like all her limbs had melted into one solid, warm mass.

She felt like a choir, singing Latin.

Politics had ceased to matter. Crumbling statues and bleeding children didn’t matter.

The blood working its way down from the corner of her mouth didn’t matter. It slid, innocent as an autumn leaf, down her cheek.

It didn’t matter what had been done to her.

She knew she was only blood and bone and muscle and frantic thought, but as she lay there in the silence, with the darkness pressing on her eyes and face and hands, she felt as though all her body were song.

Who was she singing to, if she didn’t believe in God?

When exactly had she started grimacing at the very idea of God?

I am my own, she whispered.

She lay there in the darkness, and her heart beat the way butterflies do when smacked out of the air.

She was heavy, and heavy, and warm, and heavier. She thought of tinsel. She thought of nights, years and years ago, when she had cupped a cup of hot chocolate in her hands and huddled over it at the kitchen table. That warmth on her face had been the only warmth.

And here now she was, a solid, liquid puddle of heat.

The cold outside her body was all-consuming, but here, now, in the dark, she could not see her upraised hairs, the gooseflesh forming on her skin.

How did I get here?

I am here,
she answered herself quickly, because I grew tired of circles. I prefer life in lines.

Life in lines,
she thought again, delighted by the phrase. She thought of the lines that made up her brain; twisted-around-themselves lines, gentle curves, the pockets where secrets hid, where databases formed themselves.

She imagined herself moving steadily through space.

A grin stretched her face, quite involuntarily; aware of her palms, outstretched, upturned, relaxed. Her lifeline long and ponderous. Her heart line, head line, swelled to bursting, and still she did not believe in palm-reading.
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the ocean is deep. the seagulls are crying. my sadness and fear are dying,
and dying, and I am at a crossroads. i am still as earth.
but even earth will move where earthquakes shake;
and castles can arise where once were only grains of sand.
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Past hurts are past hurts. There is nothing I can do to change them, so I might as well let go of them.

Might as well let go. Might as well accept.

There is nothing I can do, and that, in itself, is freeing.

I want it to be morning. Luckily for me, soon it will be.
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(a very boring meeting)

the sparking in my brain, and still the mouths are moving
claiming pain, and pain, and pain;
and all the kids-grown-older are slumbering again;
another day, another meeting and we're slumbering again.

...

my life indeed is like the sea,
flows in and out so prettily;
and I say all that can and be
can be traced back to evening sea.

...

I now know why i've come together,
do not tremble at the weather
(cold and brutal in this place);
why i have escaped the tether
of mental illness; such (dare I say?) calamity --
is, was, will always be a tragedy --
for everyone involved --
dodged it happening to me...
(I fear that thought to be
a bit insensitive.)

I might have power to aid
those whose parts are overplayed --
those exhausted mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers --
and all the others whose songs go unsung --
the kids themselves, so overstrung --
frustrated -- tired -- the tension in their shoulders.

i am no soldier.
it's hard to say what to do now.
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I signed on to Facebook to wish Lief a happy birthday (it is today) and saw he's in a relationship now. It makes me feel a little twingy, a little shaky.

But I'm OK.

fragments

Oct. 26th, 2009 11:06 pm
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there is dust on my hands. from a hard day's work and the sunset rolls across the sky. i wheel wherever i turn my eyes and my iris is expanding but my body is so heavy. warm and the sky contracts. the iris is expanding and i am a whole person. i can say it at last that i have someone to take care of. little hands clenched in my hair. scalp searing but i wouldnt' give it up. and it's sweat not blood that buds on my lips. blood's contained in living tubes though bruised skin would tell you otherwise.

---

i am all elbows and triceps. what is this feeling? of not being able to sleep. all my life i have been asleep. the idea that my body is separate makes me laugh. my body is the curve of your hip. the limp of his hair. my body can house another and it no longer seems so strange. once i heard that children make your heart walk outside your body. only if you let them. i think i am letting them and it scares me to know the me that was alone was never alone. and here the muscle is working and expanding. here at the back of the thigh. here where the top of the leg meets hipbone.

---

if you have a cupcake party would you invite me? could we label the flavors with notecards & colored pencils? and candles and tablecloths. enough sugar to make the blood beat. all my life i have said to the air, let me become something. and yes i know you'd invite me. and yes we'd eat ourselves sick and laugh, spines pressed against a lumpy mattress. all of us piled like puppies & old enough to know better. the leaves are gold & dying but the oven is still on. the smoke is curling in my lungs and if this is a small death, i want a thousand.
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Dear Universe,

Thanks for keeping me safe. Sorry for being such a grouse.

<3

Katie
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I am always lonely, even (and especially) when people are around me.

I'm tired of this.
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heart heart heart heart heart
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Reading over old journal entries:

I am so grateful to be away from where I've been.
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