Dread

And thus it has begun--a semester that I have dreaded from afar, the semester that guarantees to hand my ass to me in a brown paper bag, without so much as a courtesy bow. I wonder whether I have made in out worse mentally than it will really be--I have a tendency to do that. I imagine the worse, make it my reality, and then live it regardless of the actual situation. It is really quite silly, actually. There is part of me that just wants to be in the thick of all of it--to be in a "routine" of school that is comfortable. I hate this beginning period--where everything is up in the air and there is this muddling sense of disorganization that plagues everything and just makes it harder--and just makes me anxious. Oh the common theme. Anxiety. I used to say that I would give anything to eat normally again--to be a normally functioning "human being" again--this is what I said when I was anorexic. Now I am an axiectic (yes, I made this word up--it is my self-description for a person often paralyzed by anxiety--also known as me). I just wish that it didn't pervade everything I do and everything I am. It dominates me--like chocolate dominates some women. It makes me worry about things that haven't happen and may not necessarily happen. It makes me act stupid or silly or paranoid or not in my right mind. I suppose that it is part of me....but I don't particularly like it. I am not anxious all the time--like at work--I am not anxious when I am not floated (being in a strange place with an unfamiliar charting system, on the other hand, is very anxiety producing). Yet, I digress. I just want it to be 3 weeks from now. Not only because it means that I will be 3 further weeks into school, but also because I will be comfortable in my routine, in how it is going to work and how I might possible be able to function. I am still struggling with getting up at 0430. I think I have mentally made this my cornerstone--I have placed some blind faith in the idea that if I get up at 0430 and exercise for an hour that somehow my routine will be solidly in place and all will be well with the world. Maybe I am wrong...maybe I am right. I have yet to explore this--or rather, I have yet to drag myself out of bed at 0430. It is just so early....so middle of the nightish. Routine = control = less anxiety = fanatacism = god knows what. There is a fine line between motivated and obsessed. On a random note, I am mildly disturbed by the fact that I will be working with the doctor that treated me for my eating disorder....seeing as I feel like I am on the cusp of the divide between normal and not. Then again, I have to remind myself that I never chose to be anorexic--I just realized one day that I was. I don't think that it was something I could have accomplished if the situation wasn't just right--how else does someone eat 300 calories a day and run 5 miles? I am not sure. It was in some ways super foolish....and in some ways superhuman. Something to fear and to be proud of. It is no longer my "badge of honor" but rather a part of my past. It doesn't mean that I don't peruse the occasional pro-anorexic website...I wonder whether it is an activity I don't participate in when I am in such stressful situations because I don't want to or because I don't think that I can. I will never know....