Social Anorexia

I went out once this weekend (Thursday night), which I suppose is better than not at all. Oddly enough, there really weren't that many awesome parties going down on Friday, so I didn't feel guilty about staying in. But Saturday was the night of an incredible rager that practically the entire school shows up for, and I had absolutely planned to attend that, as well as a pregame with a group of the sophomoric sophomores. I was literally about to head out the door to the pregame when -- it was almost as if a switch just flipped in my head -- I made a total 180 and changed my mind.

Weight. Calories. Body image. Alcohol. Calories. Weight.

Eons and eons ago, between the ages of 13 and 16 (maybe not even that old), I still played owner to that distorted sense of anorexic pride where I thought it was really great and special that I didn't "need" food like other people did. I was different from everybody else because I could "handle" restricting food; I could deal with it. I felt... yeah, I'll say it, superior to others. Bullshit, I know. And I've realized that and I feel quite the opposite now -- I feel inferior to those who can handle food and eating -- but back then, that was where my head was.

Now I find myself doing the same thing, but socially. Replace the word "food" with "relationships," and that's what I've got going on. I find myself thinking it's really great and special that I don't "need" relationships like other people do. I find myself feeling superior to everybody else because I can handle restricting relationships. Not needing people makes me special, or something.

Of course, now that I've realized this is what my mind is doing, I'm trying to talk back to it. Of course I still need people and relationships -- right? People need people; I am not the exception -- right? There's no shame in indulging in friendship -- right?

Oh fuck. Is that what that is? Shame for craving friendship, closeness? Shit. I think that's dead on. I am ashamed to crave the company of others. And if I can resist it, if I can resist opening myself to others, then that's a success.

Oh God, that's the most miserable thing I've discovered about myself in ages.

Good thing I have therapy today.