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Finally, finally, FINALLY, I can post again!

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So much to say. So many things that have happened. Here goes…

I traveled with one of my best friends and had the time of my life. It hurt my pockets, but it was so worth it both for me as an individual and as a bonding experience. Also, it was an awesome self-gift with the money I don’t have, since…

I GRADUATED MEDICAL SCHOOL!

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I’m a doctor now. Still can’t believe it. I freeze over when people call me “doctor”, when I see the MD after my name, or when I have to state my job is “physician” (say what?!). You guys have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to change the description of this blog to “Part-time doctor, full-time patient”. Betcha didn’t notice that!

My graduation ceremony went great and my parents were so proud. I was so happy to see them like that, and I was so happy for myself…after all that’s happened I’m finally here. Couldn’t stop smiling that day.

And then I moved to the city that I adore. Yeesh, everything’s happened so fast. So far I haven’t gotten terribly homesick, but it’s bound to come (although I do feel a knot in my stomach whenever I think of my dogs). I love my apartment so far. It’s tiny, old, has its problems, and it’s rough around the edges, but it’s mine (rented, though) and I couldn’t love the location more.

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Bittersweet celebrations

The first weekend was the toughest. I always have trouble those first few days anxiety-wise when I’m in a new place. So much that I’m afraid of going out or even leaving the windows open (I’ve posted about this before, it happens a lot). However, when I’m hungry enough to pass out (because I’m too anxious to even get food), I usually go out because I have no choice. That’s when the anxiety starts going down. I’ve still got a bit of a way to go but I’m not afraid of going out on my own anymore. It’s always this way, a slow process. Eventually it’ll go.

I also began orientation for my program these past few days, and so far no red flags have popped up and I’m glad I chose the heart-mindblown program. The place feels like a good fit. We’ll see how it goes.

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She probably knows more about what’s to come than me

Also, I met my co-interns! I like them a lot so far. I think we’ll make great colleagues and if friendships arise then even better.

Meanwhile, my love life…always have to post about that, right? I’m actually in a good place right now. (Sorry for the TMI that’s coming…) I had a fuckbuddy for a while there back home. I know, me? A fuckbuddy? I never saw that coming. But it was actually a positive experience because there was only desire on both parts and it was quite clear that’s all we wanted and there was no chemistry other than sexual. Why was that good, you may ask? Because it helped me understand what it feels like to “like” someone, versus just feeling lust. Now I know the difference.

Which brings me to….The Russian. He’s back. I was expecting it to happen since we were texting for about a month and a half and I was moving to the city that I adore. What I wasn’t expecting was for it to happen so fast. And by “it” I’m not saying we’re dating. We’ve seen each other a handful of times so far and agreed we just want to see how things flow. Problem is, so far they’ve flowed all too well (…that’s not really a problem, though).

I won’t go into details here, but we’ve had one or two frank discussions where he’s been surprisingly vulnerable with me and I chose to believe him. He’s single now. However, I’m still testing the waters. He is too. No commitments for now, just proceeding cautiously. I’m well informed of the risk I’m taking. If things backfire, then I’ll learn my lesson and hopefully it won’t be disastrous.

But we’re both surprised about how smoothly things have gone and how there seems to be a certain chemistry that wasn’t there the first time around due to circumstances beyond ourselves (it was all uncertain, I was living back home, etc). I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad. Then again, many things in life just “are”. I’ll go with that.

He’s actually helped me so far a lot with this transition. Having him invite me out the first week helped with my anxiety because it forced me to go out and about. And I told him about it, so he’s not completely clueless. Also I’ve encountered some unexpected issues that might delay my beginning residency as scheduled, and he helped me see another side to the problem and not take it personally (which is something I have trouble with). It calmed me down.

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He’s crazy. I’m crazy. It’s a perfect match!

So, this issue with beginning residency has to do with my obtaining a license to practice in the state. My program coordinator suspects it might have to do with some letters that got slightly delayed, but I’m paranoid and afraid it might be related to my taking a leave of absence in med school due to depression. I already provided a letter from my school, my own explanation, and a letter from G explaining that I’m good to go and doing wonderful…what more do they want from me?!

But that’s all I’m going to say about that. No need to spoil all the goodness with something that is far beyond my control. I figured: I matched, so I’m legally obligated to sign my contract (already did), I’m already here, and as far as situations go things could be much worse. So, hopefully, it’s all gonna fall into place. Better late than never.

And so, I’ve been doing a lot of adulting here. I’m at that point where “going out” means going to the bank to run errands.

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Adulting like a pro

And now the obligatory question: since I’m beginning a new stage, what’s happening to the blog?

Short answer: it stays.

Long answer: I’m beginning residency, which really isn’t a game changer. I’m still weirdo me, except I’ve got the title MD now after my name. Depression-wise I’m in a good place right now…and hopefully it’ll stay that way, if not forever, for a very loooooong ass time. Food-wise I’m kind of in a gray zone. Anxiety-wise, there’s so many things to obsess about irrationally right now. So, you can guess what my posts will focus more from now on when it comes to mental illness.

But I’m still here. Except this is all so new to me.

Grab the popcorn.

 

PS: I’m sorry if my comment replies are short and sweet. They piled up after so much time. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them just the same!

 

I’ve continued texting and talking with the Russian from afar. I know, I know, I’m terrible.

We spoke on the phone recently. I asked him to call me so I could clear some stuff up. But the Russian has this goddamn ability to make me laugh even if it’s a serious conversation. And I hate that I like that about him (most of the time). So, sandwiched between stupid little laughs I told him that I was being serious in saying I hadn’t forgiven him, that he had to sort his relationship status on his own first before scrambling to catch me again, that I had no reason to give him a second chance and can find myself whoever I want in the city that I adore….and that I’d like to give him a second chance but he has to do something grand to earn that, that is, if his relevance in my life lasts all the way until I move for residency. But because we were giggling non-stop I had to make sure he was listening and say repeatedly “I’m being serious”.

Anyways…I took a plane to travel a bit, like I said. I know the best I can do is forget about him while I’m traveling (either way, we won’t be able to talk unless there’s wi-fi on my part). But! You know that’s not easy for me! Ugh. He’s managed to worm himself into my head again. I can’t just delete him like that yet again!

And to top it all off, he sent me a funny selfie two days ago. Ugh. I was thankful I didn’t have any recent picture references of how he looks nowadays…until he sent that picture. Now I know he’s still his geeky dorky hot self that I initially fell for. Ugh. Not helping!

I’ve tried re-focusing my thoughts away from him. Whenever I think of him I try to think about my apartment in the city that I adore and how excited I am to make it mine. Also about psychiatry, and residency, and oh-crap-I’m-gonna-be-a-doctor….but mostly about my apartment. Denial? Maybe a little.

Geez. I have to focus on this bit of vacation I have. If the Russian survives past that then that’s something to consider. If not, then I’ll be forced to say so long and goodbye to him.

Edit: I forgot to say….I effed up my no eating disordered behavior streak. Purged two days in a row because I kinda binged a bit. It’s very rare for me to experience loss of control while eating, and while it wasn’t severe I still hated myself for it. Sigh. Getting back up again now…

A few minutes ago I saw a video of a hot model just strutting his stuff (Travis DesLaurier if you’re curious).

Somehow, I went from thinking he was pretty darn hot to getting excited about finding a man in my future who will only have eyes for me and smile when he sees me, the way DesLaurier does in the videos (unf).

I don’t know why that got me so excited. It was a strange feeling. And in part I felt excited because this man that I envisioned was new and unknown to me.

He wasn’t the Russian. I think that’s why I liked it so much. The Russian hasn’t earned a second chance, so whenever I envision myself with him at our current human “relationship” status I feel trapped. But this other dream dude that hopefully exists…he doesn’t make me feel trapped. He makes me feel free. He’s handsome (or at least he is to me), he isn’t afraid of opening up to me, he’s his crazy self, and he loves me and thinks the sun shines out of my ass even when I just woke up and have bad breath.

He could be the Russian (if he earns his second chance), but I currently think that’s highly unlikely. This dream dude is unlike anyone I’ve ever dated. He’s fascinatingly new. Mindblowing.

This is all pretty far away from where I was this morning. I was angry…because I had a dream with the Ex in it. And I was enjoying my time with him. Ugh. I’m sure I’m not the only abuse survivor who’s had these unpleasant dreams.

The worst part was I was happy. And that’s horrible because it messes with my head and what I know to be reality. It makes me think: Did I make it all up? Am I a liar? Am I a lying hypocrite instead of the victim/survivor I’ve been playing out all this time?

It makes me feel disgusting, in summary. It makes me ask the eternal question abuse survivors face: did I actually enjoy being abused?

So, I’m glad I had that ephemeral gust of happiness a few minutes ago. This dream dude doesn’t make me feel disgusting. He knows all about my past and he defends me to no end. Actually, this dream dude makes me forget the dark spots in my past. He makes me feel mine again.

Will it happen? I certainly hope so.

I’m sad. Today.

Why? Because I feel lonely. Love-wise, that is.

I think about my singlehood a lot. Usually it doesn’t bother me much and it’s more of an “oh well, whatever” situation. But every now and then I get a pang of loneliness that ends up in tears and asking myself “why?”.

I cried in the shower a little while ago. It was a bit forced, admittedly. I wanted to cry, because I was feeling incredible amounts of pain and crying makes me feel like I’m doing something about it. Why am I single?, I kept thinking.

I’m not ugly. (Or at least I don’t think I’m ugly 99% of the time, like I used to before.) I’ve got a decent brain between my two ears. I’ve worked hard for my accomplishments. I’m generally nice and sweet, or at least people tell me so. What’s wrong with me, then?

I don’t know. And it pains me to know I’m in my late twenties and I’ve no idea what it feels like to be in a relationship (NO, the Ex doesn’t count).

Where have all the decent and single men gone? Why can I only get the attention and interest of asshats like the Russian? (Yes, I like him, but he’s still an asshat.)

I half-jokingly half-seriously asked my dad where all the decent single men were. He said: “I don’t know. But your time will come.”

Sigh. But how can you be so sure, dad? There’s halfwits on my facebook feed getting married and having kids and I can’t even keep a decent male by my side long enough for me to say “I like you”.

And then I think about the Russian. I don’t know what his intentions are. He’s still got the facebook profile picture of him with the girlfriend he claims isn’t as girlfriend-ish as it seems. I haven’t forgiven him. I’m tempted to say he’s different. But in the back of my mind I know of the collective experience of millions of women before me: no, they’re never different.

Unless they want to, that is.

But nobody wants to be different with me, it seems.

To those of you who know what a queef is, as you can tell, this post will be slightly TMI near the end. To those of you who don’t, google it, then decide if you’ll proceed reading. I promise there’s a silver lining in spite of the TMI, though.

Well, guess who took the express lane to the very front seat of my frontal lobe, yet again?

Yes. The Russian.

On Wednesday he texted me: “Did you find a place in (the city that I adore)?”

I ignored him for a few minutes and he texted again. Due to this uncharacteristic insistence, I answered: “Russian, why are you texting me?”

Ensue the age-old trap: “You were on my mind.”

Fuck. It always works. Although it didn’t work immediately.

He went on in detail as to why he was thinking of me. And again, due to this uncharacteristic wordiness on his part, I answered. I told him: “I used to think of those things too”. And then I said: “But you disappeared and acted like I wasn’t worth even a goodbye. Plus, you have a girlfriend now. I have no place in your life right now even if I wanted to. You hurt me. You never apologized. I’m not interested in someone who treats me like that.”

Burn.

Again to my surprise, he continued the conversation. In summary, I gave him a piece of my mind, what I felt and what happened from my point of view. He was kind of douchey at first, said I was using the word “girlfriend” too sparingly, but that he did indeed “see someone for some time”, and he gave an incredibly half-assed apology that he recognized sounded like a lame excuse (maybe because it was?). In the end, he called me and I didn’t answer. He said “K. Got it.” I got pissed and said: “If you want to talk to me I will call you on MY time.”

Problem is, I’m a person of my word. And since I said I would call him on my time, I did. The next day, that is. Curiosity killed the cat, basically.

And the conversation was pretty pointless, because although I rehashed in my head time and time again all the things that I wanted to say and ask him, after more than 6 months since we first met he still manages to turn me into a stuttering idiot whenever I hear his voice. The only important bit was that near the end I think he finally realized just how much he hurt me and he said goodbye by retreating slowly like a dog with its tail between its legs.

After I hung up I texted him: “I liked you a lot, but I’m sorry to say you screwed up pretty bad. I’ll only give you a second chance if you earn it.”

Unfortunately, the Russian knows my Achilles. The next day he texts me a link to the soundtrack of a movie we both love (and which, has strangely been a recurring theme in our “relationship” since day one). Ensue conversation where we ended up exchanging youtube clips. And it felt weird in a good way, unfortunately, because it was just like old times.

Then today he texts again. Again conversation just like old times. Again, he always knows my goddamn Achilles.

So, what’s up? What’s going through my head?

He hasn’t earned a second chance. The problem is, I want to give him a second chance. I have decided to proceed with caution. First: he hurt me, and he hasn’t given a satisfying apology for that. Second, I’m not 100% sure he’s single and I refuse to be his rebound that he’ll ghost a second time around. And third, I’m about to begin a new life in a new city and there’s no reason whatsoever for me to tie myself to any particular man, especially a particular man who at some point hurt me. I’m well aware I can catch any damn hot guy I want at the city that I adore (hello, newfound confidence).

However, as is customary with matters of the heart, it’s not that simple. I like the Russian. It’s no secret. And although I might not have posted much about that the past few months, I still think about him almost daily in spite of the hurt (confession!). But, since my head isn’t entirely up my ass right now, I’m trying to just let it flow.

If he earns his second chance then great, and if not, then that’s that. But I’m trying to focus more on what’s happening with me right now.

And so, finally, I get to the part about queefs (I know that’s the sole reason you’re reading this post, don’t deny it).

I was talking to my med school BF today. I told her that “it” happened with Platonic dude the last time I was with him. He didn’t know what queefs were, and I had to awkwardly explain it to him. He was awkwardly disgusted. Something about that always bothered me, but I could never really pinpoint exactly what it was. And then it hit me: it bothered me because first, he’s a doctor, so he should know better, and second…I felt somehow restrained in how bubbly or random I could be with him, something I didn’t feel with the Russian (or Pizza guy). Platonic dude was unexpectedly uptight about things that are all too human, and I’m quite obviously not like that.

And then I thought, the Russian didn’t mind when “it” happened once with him. He said “that’s ok baby” and sex continued like nothing ever happened. He also didn’t mind when I accidentally stained his sheets because I was spotting, something Platonic dude was also disgusted by.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is: if I can be my gross, quirky, and random self with the Russian, then it must mean something.

Granted, in spite of this “queef test”, as my friend jokingly decided to call it, the Russian hasn’t earned his second chance. I still don’t know him enough to give him a full-on second chance.

But it doesn’t stop me from getting to know him. And that’s a start.

Shitty shitty. Eh. That’s how I feel.

Nothing much has happened. I’m more relaxed, not as stressed as last week.

But I feel butt-fucking-ugly.

It doesn’t have to do with food. I haven’t purged or restricted for at least a week now and either way, I don’t feel like focusing on food right now. No. It all has to do with my fucking face. I have acne. Terrible acne, like a teenager. My acne back in high school wasn’t as bad as what I have right now.

It’s so embarrassing I don’t want to leave the house and I just want to sit and cry. I’m frustrated because it just sprouted out of the blue. It began around the time of the Match, so I thought it must be the stress, even though I’ve never been prone to stress acne. But it’s just continued wreaking havoc in my face since then. And considering I’m more relaxed now I would expect some relief…but no.

God I feel like a pile of shit ugly.

I have some other stuff in my head right now but I can’t seem to bring myself to post about it. Men-related crap and residency-related crap and life-related crap. Just thoughts….about crap. But I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, I can’t put my thoughts into words. I feel like I’m censoring myself.

That’s never good.

And because I have all that crap in my head I do what I do best: not deal with it and focus on the mundane, in this case, the acne.

I guess I’d rather berate myself over being ugly than think about my life or the men who aren’t interested in me. Mostly the Russian. Fuck, yes, I’m still thinking about that douche and it’s embarrassing to admit.

Middle school. Kids bullying me over apparently being ugly and crappy. That’s all I can focus on right now.

Gosh, all that residency paperwork got me going crazy. Didn’t mean to take a week off of posting there. Finally I have a decent break to write.

Well, I’m back home. That in and of itself helped a bunch in feeling better. It hurt to be in the same city as the most recent dude and not hear a word from him (I’ll call him Platonic dude from now on). So near yet so far, you know? But at home that’s the least of my worries since he’s far away and I can’t control that.

And so, I’ve kept myself busy by filling out paper after paper having to do with residency. I’ve also been busy apartment hunting from afar, although I wouldn’t exactly call it hunting since I’m so ridiculously easy to please and my only must-have requirements are appliances and good location. I already submitted my papers for a (really) teeny tiny apartment in exactly the place I want to live. I’ll be paying a shitload, but the city that I adore ain’t cheap and the apartment is EXACTLY where I want to live. Also, since my moods are very easily influenced by my environment that’s something I’m not willing to compromise in. All that’s left is receiving that “yay” or “nay” from the landlord. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, when it comes to food the past two weeks have been a crazy rollercoaster. I recently had an ear infection after a few days of back-to-back purging. I didn’t think much of it when it happened and I stopped purging for some days. But this past week I started purging again and now my other ear is infected. Odd, right?

However, I haven’t found any information on external ear infections and purging, only middle ear infections and vomiting (in toddlers). Either way, I don’t think it’s a coincidence. If there’s something eating disordered behaviors have taught me so far it’s that you always think what you’re doing to yourself isn’t “severe enough”. But oh how wrong we are…even the tiniest bit of purging or restricting wreaks havoc on our bodies. During the worst of my restricting in 2014 I had a kidney stone, then constipation and gastroparesis. Now that I’ve added purging to my behaviors both of my ears get infected out of the blue. Why else would an otherwise healthy twenty something female like myself have that happen to her?

Thankfully, I haven’t purged in 5 days. As soon as I started feeling the ear pain I’ve been more cautious of not reaching that point of no return where I feel full and want to purge. I’m not restricting, except maybe mildly. I’ve also been trying to be kind to myself and not body check as much. Also been keeping myself distracted. Trying to feel the love. Big things are a-coming in my life now.

I hope I’ll keep it up for as long as I can. I won’t count the days, though, that just makes me feel pressured.

Another thing that’s been helping is that I’ve kept my mind off men this week. I have to focus on me now and I know it. Plus, I have no prospects to look forward to here and I’m not remotely interested.

I spoke to Platonic dude the other day. I randomly texted him just to break the ice and make sure we’re on good terms, which we are. He confessed he was afraid of texting me in the aftermath and wanted to give me my space. I thanked him for being upfront about his feelings (or non-feelings) toward me. Also told him he’ll be my forever crush but I understand if he doesn’t feel we’re a match. It happens. He ended the conversation with “talk later”. But no, we haven’t. And we won’t. And I’m ok with that. It’s what I need.

I’m sure everyone who’s dated can relate to this, but it’s funny how after something doesn’t work out between you and someone you start noticing the itty bitty things that didn’t make you a good match. Platonic dude and I might seem like an incredibly amazing match on the surface, but it’s only after removing my head from the sand (or from somewhere else…) that I’ve accepted he’s right. It’s…details. Just details. Itty bitty details that make you go “crap, this won’t work”.

And the funny part? My gut felt this on the first date. I guess I let my brain get too much into it with time. That friggin’ gut feeling is always right.

I hope the gut is also right about the heart-mindblown program.

Yes. Yes it is. Let’s stay positive. It’s all a matter of how you see things.

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