A Dysfunctional Friendship

I had a long chat with DM last night. Apparently she couldn’t sleep. She seemed a bit unhappy — lonely, I think. She was desperate to talk. I like the girl, and I feel a lot of empathy and affection for her, but she’s very naive.

She made a random comment, perfectly well-intentioned, which hurt me a little bit. The comment itself didn’t hurt me — if anything I found her optimism and naïveté a little bit moving. But she momentarily forgot about my circumstances. I prompted her, and she immediately remembered.

On remembering, she got very upset. She must have realized how inappropriate her comment was, and she overreacted. I wish she were a little bit stronger, a bit more confident, a bit more tactful. Her reaction worried me and made me very sad. I’m not sure when I’ll speak with her again.

I want to help her, I want to be a friend to her. At some level, unfortunately, I also want to be with her. But that’s just silly. I need to move on, as it were.

I need to disengage myself emotionally, to some degree.

Admitted Pending Final Results

The conclusion of the saga is almost at hand. The office of Graduate and Postdoctoral studies has decided that I’m grad school material. That’s right, after all that doubt and dread, things have turned out quite alright. There is one final piece required. I must, of course, succeed in Ecological Dynamics, my only course this term. And then that will be it.

I’m relieved. I am content. But I am not happy.

December 1st – Journal

Pardon the delay

I had a hard time waking up again this morning. I’m tired of that. I’m sick of my insomnia, my anxiety, my racing thoughts. I cannot relax these days, and I don’t quite know why. Hidden anxieties, I suppose. I’m sick of my somnolence, my lethargy.

I made it to the engineering faculty just in time, although finding the proper room was a challenge in that labyrinthine building. I walked into the small, crowded conference room and barely spoke for the whole presentation. I listened quite attentively though. A team of undergraduates had designed a fairly impressive apparatus for measuring the structural properties of plant samples. I will be using this apparatus once they manufacture it in mid-Winter. I wasn’t terribly nervous during the conference, but I was very shy and my confidence had evaporated. I let TW, my supervisor, ask the questions.

TW was cheery, as usual. I really like her for that — she’s always in a good mood. I’m happy that she’s my supervisor. We walked back to the biology department, discussing my upcoming project along the way.

When I arrived in the lab, I immediately began working on a laborious (but very necessary) procedure which I’d been putting off for over a week. It took even longer than I expected — almost eight (8) full hours! By chance, I saw Dr. RK in the hallway. I hadn’t seen him since April. He’s a very nice man, he gave me his usual nervous smile as he walked by. I said “hi” and smiled back. When I last saw Dr. RK, I had asked him for a big favor, and he obliged. I then failed to take advantage of the favor. I’m ashamed of myself, guilty. It haunts me. He appeared in my dream one night, wandering the hallways, uncharacteristically grumpy, reminding me of my grave failure. I need to do something to close that chapter, to fix things as best I can. I really want to talk to him, and maybe Dr. GP as well.

Chatted at length with BF more than once. She looked pretty today. I wonder how she perceives me. I don’t think she knows about my fixation with her. Talking to her is pleasant. I always appreciate her presence. She’s like a light.

I walked home. I tried to make myself believe I was confident. It only half worked. I do have some kind of confidence hidden away within me. But it’s masked by my fear, my post-traumatic stress, my anxiety. Nobody makes me feel worse, these days, than my peers. Attractive, confident, well-dressed people in my age group. Walking around campus, or through parts of my neighborhood, is a kind of hell for me. I often challenge myself, just to see how I’ll react. Maybe I’m better at it now than I was before. I must be. Someday I really hope that I can walk through campus, or walk up the Main, without feeling subhuman, without feeling that everybody else is hostile. I’m still fat and unattractive.

Things made sense when I lived with my mother and BB. Things were bad, but I yearn for those days. Adult life: I am a square peg in a round hole. I am damaged, a freak. None of my adaptations work. Instead I’m driven to the brink of insanity by the incongruence.

See Me Please.

Written November 25th

Last night, PW had left a note on my door reading “See Me Please”. He is the caretaker of my building, a small, middle-aged eccentric and generally agreeable English-speaker from Toronto. That was what freaked me out. This was the same day I had posted a note asking my neighbor to be a little quieter late at night. (He tends to practise his singing at strange hours). I felt guilty of my note, afraid of the possible consequences. I felt I had gone too far in asking him to keep it down. I thought PW had got involved, making things more complicated and serious. My logic, my reason, had left me and I sunk into the deepest hole of dread and despair. Within a couple of hours I was more or less back to normal.

Today I went to see PW. It turns out he merely wanted me to sign a lease renewal. What a goddamn relief.

A Setback, and the probable cause.

Insomnia continues to plague me.

Fuck, could it be because I quit the Cipralex? My paranoia has been on the rise. I’ve noticed some improvements in my thinking, but emotionally, I feel very endangered — I feel pretty serious fear.

Today was the worst day, the peak of my dread. And you know what? It must have been the fucking Cipralex. It’s no coincidence that I was getting brain zaps all day as well. I hadn’t felt such intense fear and anxiety in many weeks. Actually, it was worse than anything related to the Dr. AC / graduate school saga. Yes. It was some of the worst dread/anxiety I had ever experienced. And it was over something incredibly minor. But I was so caught up in my intense feelings, racing thoughts, etc. that I couldn’t see the reality for what it was.

Things have calmed down in the past two hours. Having chatted with some friends, I feel much calmer and stronger now. I can handle this.

I stopped taking Cipralex exactly a week ago. I’m not sure what the pharmacology of the drug is, but it seems so strange to me that it took a week for the withdrawal symptoms to really show themselves. According to Wikipedia, discontinuation symptoms can start a week later. It’s noteworthy that the intense brain zaps practically disappeared shortly after I took my first Zoloft pill. Dammit Zoloft, work for me! Hopefully my paranoia and insomnia subside.

Maybe we’re all slaves to our emotions. I keep thinking of myself as a logical individual, but my cognition can so easily be biased by emotions.

Wow. That was intense and majorly fucked up.

I will recover, and I’m feeling pretty optimistic right now. I am dreading the situation though. Fuck, my emotional response is still there. I wish I could disconnect myself from it.

Yes, I have feelings.

I just cried, something that happens… once a month?

I was browsing SD’s illustrations which are delicate, tender and adorable.

I’m not accustomed to dealing with my emotional needs. I have to remind myself that my emotions exist.

Emotions make you whole. A real, complete person. Emotions make life worthwhile.

I forget and I carry on with an empty, barren life. Automatically.

A Boring Post on Nutrition, Exercise and Metabolism

Acknowledgment: Lithium4 and La_Resistance were the ones who motivated me to explore the potential of FitDay.

Using the Harris-Benedict equations, I just calculated my BMR to 2,034 kcal/day. With moderate exercise I expend roughly 3,152 kcal/day. Every online BMR calculator seems to function on the same principle, thus giving the same figure. However FitDay seems to have made an error. Either that or I’m not comprehending. The software appears to treat the final Harris-Benedict product as the BMR, to which you subsequently add caloric expenditure from physical activity. So the activity contribution is essentially doubled. How could FitDay be so wrong when it’s arguably the best and most popular calorie counter online? Wouldn’t somebody have noticed?

The Katch-McArdle equation yielded 1,874 kcal/day, which seems awfully low. I may have screwed it up. The Mifflin-St-Jeor equation yielded 1909 kcal/day. It’s looking pretty certain that FitDay has been giving me the wrong numbers, at least the way I use it. Then again, I’ve been taught that regular exercise will increase your BMR. But activity level doesn’t factor into these equations at all.

I may want to shift to a “heavy exercise” regime, which is what I’ve been aiming for. It would up my expenditure to about 3,510 kcal/day, using the Harris-Benedict equations. And that’s pretty goddamn excellent.

Today I just managed to break even, according to FitDay (disregarding my physical activity on account of the inflated BMR). But I know how I can easily reduce my intake. First and foremost, no more nuts. Yes, it’s sad. I love nuts, but they have such high fat content per mass. Second, no (or very limited) sweets. It’s obvious why I want to cut them out, but I worry that I’ll get cravings. It’s a fine balance, really. I could stave off my cravings by eating small amounts of chocolate each day. But if I had chocolate at home I might be tempted to eat it rapidly. I’ll by a bar of Lindt tomorrow and see how well I can control myself.

Additionally, I’m going to seriously avoid eating out. It hits me hard in the wallet and frequently means high calories. Another thing, I should probably cut out cheese. Yes, that’s even worse than cutting out nuts. And I should probably stop frying everything I eat — I need to figure out new cooking techniques. I should bring back the slow cooker, it worked very well before. And I should maybe reduce my beef consumption, or better yet completely cut it out. Fish is the least caloric meat, as evidenced by the 140 Cal can of tuna I just ate as a snack. And it’s filling too! So more fish. Another idea — replace dried fruit with fresh fruit, as the latter tends to be more filling (thanks to its overwhelming water content).

I may investigate some new pulses — lentils, beans, peas, chickpeas — and new cereals — millet, oat, barley, buckwheat, wheat.

Eh, fuck it, titles suck.

Insomnia for the past two nights, very little sleep. Today I felt surprisingly good, considering. Boxing again tonight, with my father, our new Wednesday night tradition. We haven’t missed a single fight since we started again — quite the discipline. I let him know that I was tired. We had to take about ten breaks because my endurance was shitty, but I actually fought well. I’ve been getting much better, much less fearful. I frequently best my father — owing mostly to my age, I’m quicker.

But in the end he knocked me down. I was losing strength and decided to go out with a bang. I unleashed a barrage of punches, but failed to protect myself from his devastating right hook (usually too slow to catch me off guard). I didn’t lose consciousness, but I fell flat on the floor. I told him I was fine, which was mostly true. My head recovered quickly, and I felt quite good after a few minutes. But I’d had enough. My left elbow was aching.

As I was instructing my dad on the use of his new computer, I logged in to MSN messenger from my iPhone. Who should be online but NF, my e-crush? We start chatting. She seems eager to talk (or she’s just being very polite), writing long and thoughtful responses. Where had she been all this month? She told me she’d been buried in work, which is probably true. We resumed our chat once I got home. I was awkward and self-conscious, as usual. Maybe she was too. I’m pleased that we’re chatting again, although my pleasure hardly equals in magnitude the pain I felt when we stopped speaking. Odd. Cognitive bias. Eh?

I hope we speak more. How can I move things to the next step? How can I ask her out on a date? The prospect of meeting her is exciting. Then again I’m repulsive both physically and socially, so maybe I shouldn’t.

An Important Success; Anti-Climax, Attitude, Neuroses

I’ve been apprehensive about posting for a while now. I have so many ideas, so many drafts, a considerable volume of writing that I have yet to publish here. But my anxiety has made me work-shy.

Anyhow, the anthropology situation has finally been resolved. I should be ecstatic, no? I guess I’m content, but I’m not happy, and I don’t know why. At least the stress is gone. I have new stressors now though.

Oh wait you* don’t know about the “anthropology situation”, which I also call the “Saga of Dr. AC”. Dr. AC taught two anthropology courses which I took in the previous academic year, ‘Prehistory of North America’ (a standard undergrad lecture course centered on archaeology) and ‘Concepts of Race’ (a graduate level seminar, historical and concerned with physical anthropology). I liked Dr. AC, he is an excellent teacher, despite his absentmindedness. But the courses were loosely organized, the entire evaluation based on essays with no fixed due date. Discipline was required, and I sorely lacked discipline for that entire academic year. Supported by a psychiatratic letter attesting to my anxiety disorder, I easily negotiated extensions for both course. Dr. AC was more than willing to accommodate me. So I needed to write four essays over the course of this past summer.

My anxiety was still bad, and I didn’t start writing in earnest until last July. I emailed one essay after the other to Dr. AC, and got no replies. I tried my best to track the man down, but I failed. Had he gotten my essays? Had he graded them? Were they too late? Had he new deadline already passed? I didn’t check my online transcript, out of dread. I continued working on my essays even after the Summer term had ended. I emailed my last paper to Dr. AC in the last hour of September. (Literally.) Still nothing. I was relieved to have finished my work, but I figured that he was deliberately ignoring me, that he had failed me in those courses. It wasn’t until I got an email from the graduate studies coordinator of Biology (which I could only bring myself to read after having drank) that I found out there were still no grades for those courses. I started seeking out Dr. AC once again. With a significant amount of effort, I tracked him down. He was happy to see me. He’d been extremely busy, which explained the silence. He’d received my papers and I had passed the courses — essential to my graduation.

This situation utterly ruined my August, September and October. Those were months of grave stress, doubt. It was one of the worst periods of my entire life, so terrible that fleeting thoughts of suicide had crossed my mind. Fleeting. My life, my career, seemed to be imploding in front of my eyes. And yet I didn’t even know what was happening. They were months of avoidance. I lacked the courage to check my transcript, to see if my grades were up, to contact the anthropology department and ask them what was happening. Dr. AC was missing in action. My graduate school application was hanging in the balance, as was my future. I wouldn’t have graduated with a minor in anthropology. I wouldn’t have been accepted to graduate school with two failed courses. This drove me insane.

In the end, I was awarded an A in each of the anthropology courses I took with Dr. AC. He was impressed with my ‘Concepts of Race’ paper on the Nazi genocide of the Gypsies. I was elated at his positive evaluation. He even suggested I pursue the same topic as a graduate student. I’ve been checking my transcript since Thursday, when he finally submitted my grades. Today, at last, the As are there. My GPA has climbed to 3.59, as predicted. An A in ‘Ecological Dynamics’ would nudge me into the 3.60, which I consider to be “grant range”. My graduate school admission is not yet confirmed, although I feel it’s fairly certain. (I do still worry that I might be refused).

The Biology Department’s graduate studies coordinator is on the ball, apparently. I just checked my application status and I’m officially “Recommended by Department”! Presumably the application now just needs to be cleared with the Office of Graduate Studies. Cross your fingers for me, imaginary reader.

Life is hardly perfect though. I’m filling my quota of stress and despair with social neuroses. Always a good fallback. Last Fall, my social neuroses were a fraction of what they are now. My living situation siphoned off most of the dread and anxiety. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that I was socially more “successful” then. All I wanted was to move somewhere else. Things have now shifted such that my living situation, being quite good, occupies hardly any of my thinking. I take for granted that I have a nice apartment in a nice neighborhood. I take for granted the convenience of my location. I even complain about my living situation sometimes, internally. I still dream of something better. But my mind needs to be neurotic about something, so I obsess over my social situation. It never ends…

*”you” being an inferred, imagined reader more than anything

Two Pieces of Good News

My scale is awfully inaccurate, but today it kept reading 192lbs, a substantial decrease. Apparently my new diet-exercise plan is working! Now that I have “something to lose”, hopefully I can show a bit more discipline. Last night I gave in to my cravings and ate an entire 120g bag of chocolate covered almonds (660 Cal). I wouldn’t want to jeopordize my modestly improved shape by doing that again…

Secondly, today I woke up after 7 hours and sleep and felt… rather good, actually. Energetic, alert. It’s as though the Cipralex decided to kick in again! I wonder if there’s something I can do to keep this happening every morning.