After such a ridiculously melodramatic post the other day (‘War?’ For God’s sake, what am I a thirteen year old emo??), it was all fine. Or so it seems. They all seem to be on the same page, but it doesn’t feel like that to me. Anyway. Such is such. They seem to do what they want, because I can’t make any decisions.
I have a thing that I do in order to build up my strength, which is walking to and from the other side of the field. Now, I’m actually not one of those people with EDs who overexercise. I’m the other way ; I’m lazy and I spend a great deal of time in bed (more will be divulged about that later, I guess). I’m a naturally lazy person. I hate it. Mr Mediator is the least lazy person I know, and it highlights it even more. Dr Feline is physically lazy (well, not so much when it comes to gardening) but in no other way. She stays up until stupid hours in the morning doing stuff that needs doing. And she cleans, and does the sheep, and cooks (equal to Joe) and… basically, my family is the epitome of activity.
Me? Opposite. Do idle – physically and mentally. I went to the gym for the while and running for a good couple of years, but I hated it. Detested it. And I detested and hated myself for it. That was one of the big ways that my self hatred started.
Anyway, this is very tangential.
I was saying that I maybe I should walk to the sheep and back and see what happened and then did the second time after snack, and all these different convoluted things and K. Lee (a carer) said to me: “You don’t have to walk across the field.”
And I suddenly felt so free. I don’t have to walk across the field. My ED says I have to because of calories and trying not to be lazy; everyone else is encouraging me to build up my muscles. But I don’t have to.
It felt great. Thank you K. Lee.