It’s funny, or not funny really. Strange might be the word. Frustrating? It’s like all my restlessness, lack of self esteem and obscure body image is trapped in the walls of my old room. I’m easily agitated. I feel fat but I know that I’m not. I’m frustrated with mum and dad, or mostly dad. Or his carriage? It’s like my old soul was waiting for me here.
Well this sounds a bit worse than it is. We are having an amazing time, mostly, and I love spending time with my parents. I don’t want to get away from them. I love them. But sometimes I get so frustrated because they aren’t taking care of themselves in the way I would love them to. Because I care about them. I Suppose this is how frustrated they used to be with me. When I didn’t care about my health. When I drank too much. When I starved. So I suppose that we are even now. But Life isn’t a competition, and I just want them to be happy. Like they wanted me to be happy back then. I feel my old feelings of helplessness awakens. And I feel this field of electricity in my body, like I can’t reach them. I cant reach dad and his carriage. And then I feel like my body is not what I want it to be. Like I did then. Like my old self would think. And feel.
Adrian wondered how I feel here. He could sense something. Am I’m happy. Content? Honestly, I just feel lost in my body. But happy to be here. And then it fucking hit me. It’s lingonberry week soon. It’s not the walls, and old habits entering my body. It’s my bloody, literally, hormones messing with my brain. Like they do every single month. And that I always forget. Surprise surprise.