Oh, hell.

{{{{{{{Allyson}}}}}}}

{{{{{{{Tom}}}}}}}}

I want so very much for a do-over for both of you - my gods.

As an aside, Gov't Mule's "Soulshine" came on while I reading everything, and I started crying, because it's so perfectly fucking apropos. You two - hell, all of you - have the most amazing souls. And yes, there's deep layers of crap that you've been through - crap that's been inflicted upon you by others and that you do not and never deserved - but that doesn't take away the fact that you're an amazing person, who is incredibly worthy of love.

I'm not as good with words as most of the people here, but I wish I could grab you and dance with you until you were laughing and felt as beautiful as you are. Because you are. You really are.

There's no switch, ita. I really, really wish there was a switch. It's not a decision, like breaking up with an idea and just saying, "I'm just going to put all of this shit in a box and send it back to the original owner and get on with my life."

And I really wish it could be like that. My mom is wrong now, when I'm 35. But she was my whole world until I was in my twenties, and she loved me, deep down she'd have given me her heart if I needed one, but she really didn't like me, and made it very clear that I was unlikeable. And if your mom thinks you're a disgusting pig, and a constant irritant, and you grow up trying to become invisible, which is the complete antithesis of what my personality demands, I'm....losing my point.

At some points, I gave up trying to be smaller, because it didn't matter. That was only one thing. The whole of me is rotten and in the way. I'd have to be someone else entirely, or not exist at all, to lessen the pain for others sharing my vicinity.

I get tired of wishing I was dead. I get tired of having to remember that if I was, I'd burden other people with all the stuff that would need to be repacked and moved out, that my cat would end up in a shelter or worse, that they'd have to find someone else to deal with all the shit that needs to get done at work.

It's a balance between how inconvenient I am when I'm alive, and how inconvenient I'd be if I was dead. I'm in a constant state of apologizing for my existence.

I'm trying to escape it. I went out with Paula and Lori last night and saw Paula's brother perform at the Improv. We were seated next to two young men, and I tried very hard to sit as far from them while still behind Paula as usual. I felt bad that the young man next to me might feel like people thought I was with him. I wanted to be behind Paula so other people wouldn't see me. I don't know if I've always done stuff like this, or if I'm just aware that I'm doing it now.

I kept trying to defend myself with the fact that clearly, the most awesome person in the room was Lori, and clearly, she was with me. Suckas.

Allyson, you're right, there is no switch. Just an uphill battle to retrain your brain. But over here on the sidelines, I will offer what I can, which is mostly pompoms and psychic Gatorade or something.

You are worth the struggle.

PS, can someone tell my phone that retrain is not the same thing as retain? So I don't have to edit autocorrect?

I love it, but sometimes, it makes inappropriate switches.

Well, I would like to see Allyson and Tom retain their brains too, because spicy brains.

Allyson, you're absolutely right. There is no switch, and learning to ignore those voices is incredibly hard. But I'm one of the people cheering you on, and will do anything I can for you.

Hey Jilli, the post office tells me you should get your surprise today, let me know!

Hey Jilli, the post office tells me you should get your surprise today, let me know!

::flaily hands::

Flaily hands which are no substitute for being able to SEE YOU and hang out, mind you, but flaily hands nonetheless.

Dang. People suck.

I only sometimes deal with BIDs like that. Often I'm quite convinced I'm fabulous. Stupidly single. But fabulous. Or at least, y'know, OK. Better than some. Or something like that.

Body Image Demons DO suck. I hate mine. And they've been mostly quiet lately thanks to the twin wonders of Weight Watchers working for me AND modern pharmacology. (Celexa is, for me, a wonder drug, and I really wish I had been smart enough to talk to my doctor about some of my issues earlier.)