:: before :: sunday, september 8, 2002 :: after


well this is my first diaryland entry. i'm not used to the format... i'm so used to writing the html in fod.but that site is having so many problems i figured it might be time to explore my options ;)

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so... there is this psychiatrist who is apparently good. she does therapy as well, but, unlike most psychiatrists, she is good at it. most psychiatrists suck at therapy and just know meds [well they certainly don't all know meds... but that's another story] but she was first a psychologist and then became a psychiatrist. she used to work at stanford on the *ed unit* in the job jennifer had. i could talk [more like bitch and whine about the injustices done to me there] about the program and she would understand... but i haven't been able to track her down. when jennifer left i got a list of referrals from people she works with at the stanford psychiatry building, but there was no number, just a name and "berkeley" and she isn't listed :[ my mom isn't exactly trying very hard to track her down... it hurts that she doesn't care about me enough to take 10 fucking minutes to make some phone calls. we have talked about this several times... that yes, i would like to see this person. she was trying to talk me into trying someone else if she couldn't find dr. lin [her name] but i didn't want to see anyone else. finally i agreed i mean its better than nothing i guess. so, i've agreed to see dr. lin, and even try someone else if my mom finds someone else. but she can't be "bothered" to make that happen. so i am alone as usual.

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i went to this exercise class my mom signed me up for. last thursday. it's not cardio just weights and stuff. at the end there is a bit of cardio though. lots of ab work and stuff. i hurt everywhere. even my CHEST hurts. like the muscles over the chest bones, i didn't know there was muscle there. apparently there is a little bit and i had none because i hardly worked that out at all and now it hurts a lot. along with my upper and lower stomach muscles and my biceps and triceps and shoulders and hamstrings and thighs and just... everything. i don't know if i am going to be un-sore by tuesday. that's the next class. every tuesday and thursday. it's ok to have all the weekend + monday to recover from the thursday class, but going tuesday and then again on thursday is going to be brutal. i'm not sure i want to gain all this muscle. i can just see the scale creeping up if i do. i'd rather stay at 82 [ who am i kidding i want to lose 10 pounds ]. i was 82 yesterday. i don't even want to know. i think i'll hold off on the scale a few days. i'm good about that though. i hardly weigh mself anymore.

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sleep. such a simple need and yet i have found a way to even screw that up for myself. it's not really my fault. well i guess it is but it's my body's fault not my mind. my mind says 'ruth, go to bed. it's late. go to sleep when its dark outside and wake up when it's light with the birds chirping and be normal.' why is that so fucking difficult?! i am awake for two days straight. maybe more. tired but mind racing. ok, i was wrong, it's my MIND'S fault not by body's. poor body. it's the mind that is diseased. it's the mind that throws up so automatically the brain doesn't even think about it. the body has given up. it's obvious the body has given up trying to say no because it's far too easy. it's the mind that won't let me rest. and when the mind lets its guard down the body takes over and eats. and the body takes over and sleeps. and when i do sleep i sleep so long and so hard and its so torturous. when i sleep i always have intense dreams now. intense nightmares. they last hours and hours. i think they are partly what keeps me asleep so long. i can't wake up from the dream. i try to. last night i tried to i opened my eyes but somehow i was still dreaming and i knew it was a dream but i couldn't get out. last night wasn't so bad though, only 12 hours. a few nights ago after no sleep for 2 nights i slept for 15 or 16 hours. i don't know where the time went i didn't wake up once. not once...

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i don't feel like there is any reason to be recording my life. it's insignificant and boring. when i die no one will remember me and i am certainly not worth remembering so i guess i can't blame my family for not being sad or my former friends for not remembering my face. whether its 1 year or 50 years it doesn't matter. i'll be no more memorable then than i am now.




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