For all my previous optimism, I haven't quite managed to shake this depression yet. Although, to be perfectly honest, it could just be PMT. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I know that anybody else in the world (apart from those of us allowed, because we are mentals) would deserve a slap for comparing PMT to depression, but shhh. Like I said, I'm allowed because I'm a mental.
A period for me is no simple matter. I don't mean on gory details, but I mean all those <*~FEELINGS~*> (the symbols around that word are purely for hilarity and irony and that, just so we're clear. I think most of the time, the people who don't like me very much don't, because they don't realise how HILARIOUS I am). First of all it's relief that I'm even having one, because I went so long without and I want lots and lots of children, so I'd really rather not be sterile. Then it's disgust that now I DO get them, that I'm fat enough to get them. Next comes relief again, because PMS to me involves some really hardarse Bulimic behaviours, and it's good to know that I was doing all that shit for a reason other than my own madness. Then a bit of relief that most of the weight gain is water. Fear that it's not. And then disgust again that I'm now a fully functioning woman. Phew.
But right now I'm just horrified at my weight. I've spent most of the last 6 months maintaining within about a 2kg bracket. But now my weight has shot up by about 4kg and... urgh. I wasn't paying much attention when I was so completely down, the depression was protecting me from the Anorexic that isn't quite dead yet, inside me. But now they're battling it out and I don't know what to do. Obviously, I am going to lose the weight- that's got to be the plan. But do I rush in, give my life entirely to the disorder and get it done in a fortnight? Can I hold on and live with feeling huge for a bit longer, to do it slowly? There doesn't seem any point in doing it slowly. Oh, I don't know.
And I have an essay to be in on Tuesday. 3,500 words. I have no idea what to do with the title and I'm going to London tomorrow (and starting ED therapy, for the first time since the end of summer, incidentally) and so I won't do any then. I haven't started now. I know I can get extenuating circumstances and hand it in late, but it's what I was saying before- it would be nice not to have to. But I'm too busy berating myself for being human, to write an essay.