Monday, June 30, 2014

How To Fix Everything In My Fucking Life

I think lately why I've been feeling sad is because I keep feeling like I'm doing everything wrong. Like for starters, I need to show up earlier at work. There's another girl there who is studying for her MCATs by taking night courses at the same time as she's doing a summer of lab work and she comes in at 8:30, right when the lab opens. I need to research more at home so that I can actually understand what it is I'm researching and come to conclusions like I was asked to.
Furthermore, I stopped exercising. I need to do that because I am still gaining weight and too much more will be too much for my frame. Like I should be riding my bike, every day, at least five laps around the lake, and while I'm at it, I need to stop buying chocolate pretzels from bulk barn.
That way, I can save money to go out with friends, because I've fucked up at that, too. Does it matter that the movie starts at 10 on a weeknight? Of course not, I need to do these things with friends! Or else I won't have any!!!! Obviously all plans with friends must be attended. Friends are important. Friends are one of the most important things in the world.
While I'm on the subject of relationships, it seems like I should end my current one since I am dating someone who doesn't really have a direction. Who cares that he makes me happy! Who cares that I'm only 18??? I need to worry about the future NOW, obviously. And I need someone who will be able to support me financially when I inevitably have 2.5 kids at 30 and need to buy a house.
And on the topic of the future, I need to get my schooling together. Like start taking a foreign language, and volunteer more- obviously I need to do all of that AlbertaSat reading so that I can be super helpful, and I should be filling the newsletter with fun space news and interviews with people who work for the group. Oh, and I should really also enroll in a physics course- I only have two labs, I can handle the extra one. I'll just put it on Wednesday nights!!! No big deal, right? Of course not. Because if I'm going to go to med school, I'll need to get used to working hard.
Med school, you say? Well, of course! It's the only logical choice for someone like me because I'm hardworking and driven, and definitely smart enough to do it. Plus if I want to maintain this kind of lifestyle, I need to have a good job. It's either this or something like dentistry. Research isn't solid enough, and it requires a lot of school that is not as laid out as med school. Which is why I need to take physics!!! And foreign languages!! And volunteer more! I should probably spend my next summer break volunteering somewhere far away, only to come back to work at a lab job again, maybe in a different lab. And I need to make sure I keep my GPA above 3.5 so I can get research grants, because THOSE look really good on med school applications!!
And then with finances, I need to start investing in stuff, and putting money in an RRSP. And I need to stop spending so much- I should only spend on necessary stuff, like clothes. And time out with friends, I guess. Which is why I need to stop buying myself things like expensive swimsuits when they have them for $15 at target!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHA. OOPS.

AND THEN THE KICKER: I must do this all while pretending that I am ok. Lately I am walking around feeling like I am not allowed to not be ok, and telling my parents that I have felt sad for the past two weeks results in my mom insisting that it's because I spend all my time in my room. Thanks, mom. That's really helpful. That clearly also explains my sudden need to scream at anyone who drives the slightest bit incorrectly on the way home- before I start crying, that is.

I don't know what's wrong and lately I just feel like it's me. I am not doing things right. And the worst part is, there's really an easy way to fix this. It's just that now I feel like I might be too late in some areas, particularly the friends one. I've really fucked up there.

I guess all I can do is move forward and try. Maybe not with this, which would obviously make my parents happy (hooray, our daughter has plenty of friends and is normally social with good grades and bright doctor future ahead of her with her boyfriend who is also on the path to success and pays for dinner sometimes (yeah, that actually came up tonight)), but with friends, and with exercise. The rest, I don't know.

I don't know.

I think I'll start with riding my bike sometimes and doing more things with friends. I feel like that is, at the least, a good place to start. Maybe I have seriously fucked up some relationships. I can still try to fix them. Also I can fix my habits of being inconsistent with what time I will stay out until. Usually I am more willing to stay late if the event starts earlier than if it starts later. I need to quit being inconsistent like that.

One step at a time, I guess.

yer pal,

p.s. on an unrelated note, i have spent the weekend at my dad's cousin's cabin with her daughters, mine and freckles' second cousins. They're adorable beyond belief and really easy to entertain and i have actually really been feeling relaxed and enjoying myself. and i finished the last book in the mortal instruments series today. A very good conclusion, I thought. Left me with feelings, but also left me feeling satisfied. It was a good wrap-up. I strongly recommend the series (The Mortal Instruments).
Just so you know I'm not always all weepy-sad like this. Today was actually a good day. I just think a lot sometimes.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014



I don't think I'm an introvert in the sense that I need to recharge my social energy frequently. I enjoy being out with friends on short notice and I do need people around in general, or else I get very lonely. The issue comes when I have to be around people I don't know very well, especially when it isn't my choice. But I can't say "no i don't want to go visit family this weekend because I need some time to be alone" because it just comes out as "I don't want to see my family because I am a gigantic douchenugget."

Not to mention that my parents just LOOOOVE having company out at the cabin (god, this is such an upper-middle-class problem, I know). The only problem with them having company is that their company always has kids, and Freckles and I, being The Kids of our own respective family, are therefore the automatic Babysitters And Entertainment of the Visiting Kids. My parents have this annoying tendency to befriend people whose children are much younger than Freckles and I, which is how we end up playing video games with 12 and 8 and 6 year old boys all the damn time when they have company. With girls it is slightly easier, as Freckles and I are girls and have probs been raised in the same kind of social structure as the daughters of our friend's parents. But young boys. I don't even know what to do with them. ALL WE HAVE FOR TOYS ARE BARBIES AND THIS ONE BOX OF LEGO, SORRY.

My issue with this is that when it comes time for our yearly summer cabin retreat, my parents just start inviting everyone out. This summer they've already invited out my dad's friend's family, whose daughter's depression I tried to help her through a little over a year ago. I haven't seen her since, and I'm afraid it's going to be awkward and I'm going to cry and ruin everything. Not to mention she tends to lump Freckles in with her own younger sister, who is quite a bit younger, which doesn't really work because Freckles and I sort of run in the same circles, and she always tries to push her out and it just doesn't work that way and then everyone's slightly upset but no one says anything.

The best, though, are their adult friends who are sans childrens. Those friends are the best, because for once Freckles and I get to sit with the grownups and talk after dinner instead of having to go inside and look after the little ones. We get to enjoy adult conversation and best of all, when the adults start getting too boring and adult-y, we can just retreat and do our own thing.

And god, there is so much stuff to do around the house. I get it- I'm living at home on my parents' good graces, I should help out. But all I can do is compare it to how life was back at uni, and how I cleaned like once a week and never, ever, EVER had to help unload twenty bags of groceries. (After getting home from work today, my mother and sister unloaded twenty bags of groceries in the kitchen and my mother asked if I could "put a few things away thanks dear" and then they left to do things that needed to be done. Ugh). Not to mention not having my parents around to watch my every move. Also not having to hear their comments about Ptarckas, whom they don't like STILL because "you'll have to buy a home someday and you need money for that" and "what about when you have kids you need a partner who'll support you" like jesus fucking christ I GET that they are worried b/c he sort of lacks direction but I am the one who's 18, here. I still have like a decade to sort out my shit, and they're worried about this? Not to mention their Conservative Christian-esque views on intimacy and the physical aspects of a relationship. "You're too young for that," they say. "Everything should be covered up at this point." Or how about it's my body, not yours, and I will be as intimate as I damn well feel like. Don't worry, you guys raised me to be smart about this stuff. I'm not going to just go have unprotected sex or anything. Plus I have a boyfriend who knows what consent is! Apparently boys like that are more common than I gave them credit for.

The worst thing about being home is the not-locking door, though. Freckles barged into my room at midnight the other night, and interrupted a skype call between Ptarckas and I which was a leetle bit not something anyone else was invited to to say "YOU GOT ME THE SAME BDAY CARD TWO YEARS IN A ROW." Yes, thanks for telling me that. Couldn't it have waited until morning? It's 12:30, for christ's sake.

I'm still very tempted to get in my car and drive away. But the inevitable is that I have to come back home, and then my parents are mad at me, and I'm kind of in that stage now where I'm worried if I misbehave enough they might actually kick me out. Be like "you wanna be a little shit, go be a little shit somewhere else" which super sucks because I super can't afford to live on my own, not even with my job.

I guess everyone's entitled to a little whining. The big issue, though, is this weekend after weekend "let's go visit family who will inevitably ask about university in a way too general sense" shit. I. Need. Time. To. Relax. Having to be social and polite requires a lot of effort, and is not relaxing.

yer pal,

Trigger warnings



These people are not being sensitive in wanting to be warned before getting into content that may contain triggers for them. Trigger warnings are not about people in general not being able to read about touchy subjects. I am so fed up that people keep insisting that they are.

If you lived through a horrible experience as a child and are now a functioning adult who for the most part is okay but can't handle violence against children in movies or books, and decide "hey I'd like to take a university course on (x)" and that course involves readings that contain depictions or discussions of/about violence against children, that person might not handle it so well, and can you blame them?

This isn't to say that people who have lived through those experiences will all react this way. Perhaps that person has truly moved on from their past and is able to handle reading about things similar to what happened to them. I don't know. I can't speak for all traumatized people ever, but I do understand what trigger warnings are for.

I'm not sure about trigger warnings for things like "red meat," which seem just a little off to me, but then again I don't have an explanation for/against them so I don't really want to have an opinion just yet.

Also, I should mention that I'm lucky enough to have lived life without having lived through a traumatic experience. I've reacted poorly to things like assholes in middle school teasing me relentlessly and being woken up not by a fire alarm but by my mother's screaming (because she has night terrors) in a hotel one time (that fucked me up a little, to the point where I just avoid alarms in general because they freak me out more than they should and make me want to cry and make it hard to sleep), but I wouldn't really qualify those as traumatic experiences. So I guess I'm kind of writing about this to a certain extent from a position of not knowing a lot about trauma.

Anyway. This is really just a definition, and my own anger at people who think trigger warnings mean we're all turning into a bunch of sensitive wusses. I think they do make us sensitive, but sensitive in the way that we acknowledge that bad things happen to people and giving them a chance to not relive or be reminded unnecessarily of those bad things. That's called empathy, and it is a common trait of decent people.

yer pal,

Monday, June 23, 2014


I pack a suitcase, all comfy clothes. I put it in my car. I leave in the night. I drive to the coast. There, I find a place to stay that looks out onto the ocean.

I spend my days eating popcorn, watching movies, and making food. Sometimes, I buy books and read them. I spend hours in the library and don't feel guilty about it, even though I never finish read anything. I walk along the shore and take thousands of pictures. I talk to nobody. I have the energy to write again.

I sleep for hours. I stay up until 5 AM and go for a walk before going to sleep. I sleep until 3 PM. I eat erratically.

Months later, when I finally feel together again, I come back home.

But for months, I am not responsible for anything or anyone, and answer only to myself.

I feel worn thin like an old rug.

I'm just tired.

Why can't it be August yet.

Monday, June 16, 2014


I swear I am going through a late teenage rebellion phase. I had my boyfriend over this weekend, and it was very, very awkward. My parents keep saying that everything needs to still be covered up at this point, and keep saying "we're just worried" while continuing to insinuate that if I'm not dating someone marriageable I shouldn't be dating, casually mentioning that a starter-home they went to see on the weekend was $530K and oop, don't you need a husband who can help you pay for that? It's like, jesus fucking christ, I am 18 years old. I am not getting married. I AM NOT GETTING MARRIED. Besides, I am not worried about my future. I am doing well. I am working hard and trying to take advantage of things and keep my head up and that is going fine. I will go good places if I keep this up. I am not worried about myself in the slightest, especially since I have no desire to get married at all for like 5 or 10 years. I'm young! I want to live! Surprisingly, I want to travel! At some point, I'd like to become more independent! And gosh darn it, if I want to be in a relationship with someone who genuinely appreciates me and who I genuinely appreciate, who loves me and whom I love, then I will do so. What I do in my relationships from here on out is nobody's goddamn business except my own. I realize I am 18 and plenty of adults will laugh and think I'm so cute, but we are all 18 once. This is what I want to do with my 18.

Anyway, Ptarckas is home now, but I'm really glad he got to come down. We didn't do much aside from watch movies- he didn't see much of this town, but then again, he was coming to see me, not the city. There was lots and lots of snuggling- we are snuggly people- and many I love yous. He is turning out to be a very good boyfriend for me- we seem to want similar things out of a relationship, we get along really well, and... well, I realize that compatibility isn't exactly what makes or breaks a relationship, but I think some people just click. It even happens with friends- you meet someone who you can talk to all the time, who is always friends with you even when you don't see each other for a long, long time. Obviously it happens in romantic relationships too. We just... work, on some level. That doesn't mean that Ptarckas is the only person in the whole world who clicks with me like that, obviously, and I'm not going to run around saying he's my soul mate because soul mates are bs. I may love very few people in my life, or I may love many. But that's not something I need to worry about right now.

I found myself getting very philosophical this weekend. As I grow, I find I am turning into a very responsible person very fast, someone who uses reason and good sense to remain calm and focused. I'm very happy for that because it means I am rarely unstable. I don't like being unstable

Anyway. This post kind of veered. The original point was, my parents cannot just be happy that I am studying something I love or dating someone I love, there must always be success and support in that. I must make money to be stable, comfortable, settled. I must date only people who I could later marry, and those people must be on the path to being stable, comfortable, settled. And yet I watch all my friends have fun, party, get drunk, go out, live and do crazy things. I don't want to do those things, but my friends are still an inspiration to me. They make me realize that there are other paths out there besides the one I am following, which is the one I have been pushed towards my whole life. They travel, they work, they go to school, and all in a million different orders to study a million different things. It's really awesome to watch as each of them does their own thing, becomes their own person. It makes me want to try and be myself more, whoever I am. I don't get that from my parents, wise as they may seem to be.

yer pal,

Thursday, June 12, 2014

More dreams

This one was a school conference thing. We were waiting outside of a classroom, and for some reason a big mix of parents and kids (myself included, but I think I was my 12 year old self, which should have been the first warning) were going to sit inside. When they opened the doors, it was an exact replica of my seventh grade classroom, except we were coming in through the back, and the lights were off, and it was gray.

For some reason, the other seats filled up, and I went and sat in that seat right up front near the door where I always sat. I was there for two seconds before I started hyperventilating, screaming, and fell on the floor crying. I then proceeded to run from the room, where the voices in my head that were logical turned into my parents saying "why didn't you just sit somewhere else?" and "really, dear, you're making too big a scene out of this" and suddenly I was 18 again. It wasn't horrible, traumatizing, terrible. It just sucked, and I woke up tired.

I'm getting real sick and tired of this shit coming into my dreams. I think it's being home again, when it's so small here and I'm terrified of bumping into them again because we live in the same neighbourhood, the same city. I'm just so afraid of it, I don't want it to happen. I don't want them to remember me, or that I exist, or that I ever existed. I'm ready to be rid of this whole thing and I want it to be done and over and done with.

This was the nice thing about every academic step I took after middle school. First a new high school, one they didn't go to, where I got to start over and meet the best friends I've ever had, friends I am still trying to hang onto and whom I love with all my heart. Next, a university several hundred kilometres away, where finally I felt that I didn't have to worry at all. I forgot about the whole thing for most of this year, actually.

It's weird, because this has never resurfaced this much until this year. I just want to know why. I want to be done.

I think I'm going to go watch some kid's shows and read LBD fanfiction until I feel better. Oh, and make the bed downstairs- Ptarckas is coming to visit tomorrow and I am beyond excited. Hopefully work tomorrow doesn't suck as much (I spent the morning making gels, then one plate broke so I had to redo the whole gel, but I ran the other two, and then ate lunch, and then came back and finished the other one and ran the other two, and then started making five more for tomorrow, two of which decided to crap out, and then I blotted the first one but didn't keep track of which gel was which so then they were useless at the end of the day because they are from different experimental groups, and then I was getting nervous about blotting my second one because these two exchange students in the lab that I hate for honestly no good reason used up ALL THE FUCKING BLOTTING CONTAINERS and I was like srsly why the fuck do u guise need like 4 containers but then luckily someone else finished with theirs and my supervisor was like "no, it's okay, I used to do that all the time too, where you're working fast and all of a sudden you're like...oh no, which one was it?" and just said I can make them again tomorrow. So tomorrow I get to make four more gels, two 12% and two 8%, so let's hope I don't fuck that up, and then run those and blot them along with the other three 8% ones, and then I also have to apply primary and secondary antibodies to the membranes and just UGH IT'S GONNA BE SO ULTRA BUSY) so I won't be quite as grumpy. Although Ptarckas has an excellent effect on my mood, so perhaps if someone in front of me goes 40 the whole way home this time, I won't flip them the bird for extended periods and play my beyonce ultra loudly to try and get across my FUCK YOU SRSLY message. It occurs to me that I am perhaps not the best driver and need to not freak out so much.

yer pal,
swegan :(

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Sometimes I fantasize about running away from my whole life

This often happens in the summer. I dream of just packing a suitcase, taking my car, all my cash, and just driving away. I wonder what my life might be like if I left behind literally everthing- my family, my friends, my education, my home. Obviously it's still a thought too scary to contemplate, but sometimes I still think about it, and how I am bound here.

I'm bound by money- I wouldn't last very long on what funds I do have, and I obviously wouldn't have a job anymore. I'd be lonely- there are so many people I love here, and care deeply about. I am firmly attached to them, and seeing a friend go is always sad. And I'd miss the comforts of home- I've lived here all my life, and I know how everything works here. In fact, if I wanted to go far enough away that I'd really leave my life, I'd probably have to leave the country. The closest place to here is the US, and like hell I'd want to go there.

But I still entertain fantasies of it. I guess not really so much leaving my current life, but just... if my life had been different.

I think this is why riding my bike brings such joy. I'm allowed to leave my house, be outside, be away for a few hours, on my own. I'm an adult now, nobody can stop me, my parents can't technically say "you're not allowed" because I'm the only one who's allowed to say what I can and can't do now.

I think that's another bind I have- my parents. There isn't anyone stopping me from going out and driving around for 3 hours on a Friday night, but they would worry and call, and if I didn't come home on time, they'd stop supporting me in some small way. I still rely too much on their support, I'm not even close to independent. So even though I have technically moved out and I do whatever I want in the new city, I'm still cautious.

I've noticed that about myself, too- I feel so responsible and mature. I can't get drunk because I want to be in control of my actions at all times. That's why I like driving- I'm in control of where I go. And it's even evident in how I care for my sister, how I try and help around the house, and even stupid things like needing to definitively know where I'm going when going somewhere unfamiliar: familiarizing myself via google maps, because I remember what streets look like better than what they're named, knowing the exact address, having a GPS and a phone app that will help me if I get lost. Being the DD, constantly.
I think I figure I just understand why people like having a caretaking role. I like being a caretaker, to a certain extent. And since I'm not even in my 20s yet and people kind of expect me to be selfish and reckless and curious and explore everything (kind of like a puppy?)... I don't know. It makes sense to me to take care of others at a time when I have free reign to care only about myself.

I dunno, I'm in a weird mood tonight, like that mood where you romanticize everything. I think this is about as drunk as I get. And I'm fine with that.

I need a road trip and a carnival.

yer pal,

Sunday, June 8, 2014

The issue of bathrooms

*tw for assault, I suppose- still learning how tw work. I think I keep forgetting about them... although I'm not sure how much it matters given that I know all the people who read this blog and to my knowledge none of them consider assault discussions to be a trigger* *but hey you still never know so here is the warning anyway*

I read an article in a the newspaper the other day about trans people needing non-gender specific bathrooms. This brought up a couple of thoughts


2) But it raises other issues.

Do I support the idea of creating bathrooms that aren't gender specific? Of course I do. The violence that trans people face, which I have not experienced but which I have heard about over and over and over and over and over is not acceptable. I see no problem in providing a bathroom that is non gender specific, that is just "a bathroom," and furthermore, I fully support taking the gender signs off of single-user bathrooms. It's ridiculous. You have two single-user bathrooms, with one toilet, but one has a female sign, and the other a male one. Why? There is no point to this. The bathrooms are exactly the same. This is ridiculous.

But note that I still support having separate bathrooms the way they are, just with the additional one added. I don't like the idea that I might go into a bathroom- a room in which you really can't install security cameras- and a man could follow me in there, that he could lock the door, assault me, and leave. I still want a bathroom space where I can go in and only see other women.

I know a lot of people might say "THAT'S RIDICULOUS AND STEREOTYPING OF ALL MEN" but you know what, I really don't like being alone in small, confined spaces with only one exit and no security cameras with a random man who I don't know who is probably physically larger and stronger than me. That doesn't sit well with me.

The one possible solution the article did offer was the idea of the washrooms being sort of... visible to the outside world. The stalls are private and closed off- obviously- but the rest of the bathroom can be seen by everyone outside the bathroom. I really like that idea (although you would need to provide the baby-changing station in private, I'd think... or maybe not, I don't know)- the only time you're alone is in the stall, and even if you are the only person in the bathroom, other people can see in. That, I think, would end violence in bathrooms period, because everyone around would be able to see if something fishy was going on, and my understanding of people who have the intent of harming other people is that they try to corner people when they're alone. If you're in a public place, other people will see and go "HEY THAT IS WRONG STOP I AM CALLING THE POLICE" and intervene. The only kind of crime I can think of in a large crowd is pickpocketing. Well, and terrorism, but that's a different topic.
Anyway, these bathrooms solve that issue of making that public space visible and not closed off. I think there is a bit of a privacy issue, but really, if you're just washing your hands and checking your hair and your clothes or whatever, does it matter if strangers see you? Other people already see you do those things if you're in the bathroom with them.

Anyway, those are just some thoughts. I think one can quickly point out that the idea of 3 bathrooms would probably be a costly solution to the problem, which is why I favour the second idea.

yer pal,

Saturday, June 7, 2014

On Fitness

I've started riding my bike again lately, and I am trying so hard not to make it into a weight-loss thing. The fact that I am the heaviest I have been in my life (which isn't saying much when we're talking about me anyway so there's no reason to make a big deal out of it) should not influence whether I go biking or not. I just like bike riding, I do. I get to see the city, be outside and surrounded by nature, and get some exercise. I am being very firm with myself that losing weight should not be a motivator in riding my bike. I am still at a healthy weight. I am not unhealthy. I'm not very active, and I can count on one hand the number of strong muscles I have in my body.

But sometimes I feel like though I may be biking also for those myriad other reasons (and it is something I really enjoy as it lets me see the city without using a bunch of gas in my car and having to drive super fast, but I'm still going somewhat fast and I don't get tired as quickly), I am also biking to lose weight. I hate this. I don't want to be obsessed with this. I haven't for most of my life, and I thought that was because I was above all of this, but really it's because I've been stick thin and weeny-tiny all my life until now and I don't know how to handle it.

While BMI may not be the best indicator of health, my mind still fixates on it. For most of my life I have been underweight, just slightly. I am now firmly in the middle of "healthy weight" and it's weird. Given, I was small for most of my life because I was dancing all the time, and because I guess some kids are just like that. I wasn't developed yet, I was very active, and my mom never bought dessert.

I think it was in my last two years of high school that that changed, because I wasn't doing gym class anymore and was spending a lot of time just sitting and studying. Which meant I became pretty smart (and insecurities about intelligence are a completely different topic-- let's just say when you're hanging out with the really, really smart and hardworking kids all the time, you start to feel bad about your own abilities when your grades don't measure up), but also meant that I gained weight. This wasn't a bad thing. I'm not going to say I was unhealthy before, when I was a twig of a girl, but it's not like I was unhealthy after. I just weighed more. That was all. And there wasn't anything wrong with that. I was still healthy.

In my last year of high school, as I'm sure you all know by now given how much IB still rules over my life, I had to find a way to do 50 hours of action activities. That meant like physical activity, not taking action on causes- something which was covered by the 50 service hours I had to complete as well. I ended up taking TRX classes at the gym- something I tried to go back to this summer, but the schedule at that gym has now changed (they used to do punch cards- as in you buy a card, when you show up for a class, they punch your card-- very handy-- but now they do 8 week "sessions" and while I would need something for june-july, there's only may-june and july-august so I meant really I'd be paying for two sessions and only going to half). I really liked TRX- I had actual mucles. In my arms, too, which was really something for me. I also gained about 10 pounds over the course of the year, which I attributed to muscle mass building. I don't actually know if that's accurate or not- I only went to the class for an hour a week, but it was pretty intense. Over the summer I wasn't able to go as often and so the muscles faded.

Over the past year at university I will admit I have been snacking. A lot. I was more concerned about the financial burden at the time, seeing how much money I probably wasted buying those damn hershey's drops, but I think it was a small act of rebellion. My parents- my mom especially- weren't around to police my eating anymore. I could buy snacks whenever I wanted to... and no one could judge me. Mom wasn't around to say "your thighs are so beautiful, you don't want them to get lumpy and ugly" when I was snacking on saturday nights while my roommate was out at the bar. Mom wasn't around to give me judgemental looks and tell me to "be careful with the chips, dear". Mom wasn't around to say "you're growing out now, and not up, so be careful with the chocolate." I get that my mom loves me and that she always will. I get that she will always be proud of me. I get that she will always be there for me. But it just dawned on me now that my desire to lose weight is probably obviously really, really, really tied to my mother.

Because while I realize that she will always love me and support me and be proud of me, I still feel like she would be more proud of me if I was back with my BMI firmly at underweight. Like she wouldn't make these comments. Those comments imply that she thinks I don't know what I'm doing, that I'm doing something wrong, that I'm forever on the cusp of being ugly and I had better be careful, because I'm just about there, and if I don't watch myself, I will be ugly. If I don't watch myself, all I will get are judgemental looks from my mom.

Much as I don't want it to be, my issues with my weight and health are all tied up with my relationship with my mom. I don't want her to comment about this at all. I don't want her to give me looks for eating doritos or chocolate or brownies or ice cream. I don't want her to tell me to "be careful" with food. I don't want her telling me how to eat or how to treat my body. I want that to be left to me.
I want to have a good relationship with my mom, too. I want to be close to her, I want to be able to talk to her about anything, and I want to feel like she loves me and is proud of me. Perhaps I am putting too much weight on these things she says, but they're still really poisonous to me. When she says something like those things, I feel my heart rate increase, my stomach twist into knots, which is exactly the same response I have before writing a hard exam, or the response I had in middle school when I had to interact with those idiot boys who treated me like shit: I get anxious. I get nervous. And being home is hard because of that. I'm always waiting for her to say something.

I just want to feel like my mom isn't judging me for how I eat. I want to feel like she isn't judging me based on how my stomach sticks out now, because I've gained about 10-15 more pounds in the last semester alone (the freshman fifteen is apparently real... although I think it was just me snacking before dinner and then being full and then making myself eat dinner anyway because it was good for me and being way too full like if I just snacked after dinner then that wouldn't have been a problem). Yesterday I wore a purple shirt to my sister's piano recital, a sort of stretchy one that I've had for a few years that hung on my stomach awkwardly. And I was worried that my mom would say something about it. I contemplated not wearing that shirt because I was worried of what my mom would think, of whether she would say "I don't think that shirt is the most flattering shirt on you, dear." But I did wear it, and thankfully, nothing happened (beyond getting insecure at the recital again because a) I can't play piano well anymore and I hate that, b) because now my sister just loves her new piano teacher and everything we ever had to do with the old piano teacher is poisoned, and c) because there were two girls there who just won like all the awards in the universe for piano that the teacher had to tell everyone about and it's like yes that is good for them and obviously they worked hard for it but you're still a little jelly). Mom and I both ate two cupcakes at the recital (albeit, they were tiny ones), and nobody made a big fuss over it. All was well.

I'm just... I'm actually questioning my own motives for wanting to start biking regularly. Is this about weight loss? Should it not be? Does this even matter? Can't I just say I'm doing it for health? But what does that even mean? Doesn't 'doing it for health' imply that weight loss is part of it? What happens if I don't lose any weight despite biking lots over the summer? What if I don't gain a lot of muscle, either? Was it all for nothing? And part of me is starting to think that maybe I should just fucking bike and if anyone tries to say that I'm doing it to lose weight I can tell them to go fuck themselves because my weight is nobody else's business, and I am slowly trying to reclaim it from my mom.

I get it. She's my mom. She worries about me. But seriously, if she wanted to help me out here, she'd stop with the comments.

As for why I can't comment on this to her and ask her to change, one time I said it really sucked being late all the time for school and I mentioned that I blamed mom for it (because seriously, she would say "be in the car by 7:30" and then casually not be in the car until 7:45, making me embarrassed and late all the fucking time) and I was a little rude about it and my mom's response was to act like I was being totally mean and ridiculous and deliberately hurtful and the next morning my dad drove me to school because my mom wouldn't (or at least, that's the impression I got from asking why he was driving me). I felt horrible, tore myself up about it, cried a lot, and then apologized to my mom. She was completely cool about it when I came in, teary eyed and hating myself. She said she wasn't mad about it, and kept a neutral face the whole time. That unsettled me. She was like the popular girl, acting like I was the one making a scene and getting emotional over nothing when she refused to drive me to school. My point is, if I try and confront her about this, she will get defensive, I will get blamed, and my dad will be no help at all because he tends to agree with her. Like a lot. I will feel horrible, apologize, and be made to feel like it wasn't a big deal at all, and nothing will change. It's just not worth it.

I love my mom. I do. We have our moments, there are times when I love spending time with her and feel that she is a source of wisdom and strength. But as I get older I find those moments becoming more and more rare. I hate it. I'm probably exaggerating the story above. Of course my mom is supposed to be perfect and hardworking and admirable, and she is hardworking and admirable and I just want to feel close to her. Maybe this is some kind of delayed teenage rebellion thing. I don't know. It just makes me sick, and I want it to end.

yer pal,