The letter I won’t hand over

So much has been on my mind lately, it’s hard to think straight. The lines of communication as to further procedure have once again been capped, so it’s turned into one more chapter of silent co-existence under the same roof. Every so often, I think I’ll go crazy.

A few days ago, I decided to put all those stray thoughts down in the form of a letter. What a relief it was to put into words what I have not been able to express, what was just a vague feeling before. When I was finished writing it, I cried with relief as well as sadness. There is a lot of pain and sadness involved in this story. Then I decided to keep it, sleep on it, and see how I felt the next day.

In the meantime, a few days have passed. I have decided that it was good for me to get the clarity, but rather than dump the whole thing on him at once, I will keep this clarity for myself and apply it when appropriate. I want to stay focussed on the now. Rather than discuss hypothetical situations, let the situations arise and then deal with them.

This is a new way to function. Rather than saboutage myself with an outburst of all-encompassing honesty which might make me feel better at the moment but later complicate things, I learn to think, act responsibly, and consider the consequences, as well as to consider what I want and how to achieve it.

I have a couple of concerts coming up. They could be anything: final exams, presentations, job interviews. Whatever they are, they are important. I recognize that I tend to screw things up for myself when something important is pending. It’s a fake sense of control: If I screw it up ahead of time, then nothing can go wrong — or I can blame a bad performance on my own mistakes, rather than do my best and leave it up to fate. (The experienced bulimic will notice immediately: “Ah! That’s what I do with binges sometimes! I binge before an important event, and then blame the less-than-optimal outcome on the binge. I tell myself I could have done it so much better if I hadn’t binged!” Sound familiar?)

When I had exams to study for, I used to especially notice my messy room or closets, and they had to be cleaned out before I could get to work. Sometimes I regretted that wasted time. If I had spent more time studying, I could have done better. It seems to be a combination of wanting to control the situation, needing order around me in order to concentrate, or like I mentioned before: If I screw it up myself, then no one else can. In a strange way, that frees me somehow — but not really. It doesn’t free me to do the absolute best I can.

And so, I wrote my letter, put it in my diary, and that I hid under my mattress. I figure nobody will look there. After all, MOTHERS don’t hide their diaries under their mattresses, do they? That is not my concern at the moment. Nor is it my concern to clear up the mess in my life today. I will simply prepare for the concerts and trust that I am coping the best I can as each day goes by.