Since I apparently am a fat fucking whore without an ounce of self-restraint, it's one meal a day from now on and nothing but fruit and liquids throughout the rest of the day. 800kc max for the next 5 days.
I can't go back like this.
11:30 Breakfast: 2 eggs, 2 pc unbuttered toast, nectarine (70+70+60+60+60=320)
Snacks: 2 yogurt (64+64=128)
Dinner: Sandwhich, light bananamilk
To most this will sound like a pathetically naïve excuse for an epiphany, but I've realized over the last few months that loving someone is so much harder than I ever could have imagined. Why is that? I'm not sure I can pinpoint one or two clear reasons. It's a simple thing to write it off with a nice, catchy slogan: "Love Hurts." Simpler yet to argue that it's hard because you're giving your heart and soul and everything to this one other person who may or may not treat it with care, as the very fragile thing that it is. I personally do not like simple things. It is my very nature to complicate and overcomplicate as my OCD and anxiety-riddled brain attempts to work through a single thought. Nothing in my life has ever been simple--and so, I have come to resent simplicity because I am both intimidated by and envious of its substance. Loving someone romantically has not been hard for me because it is simply a painfully strong emotion or because I have entrusted one person with my "everything" (which I have not, fearing desperately that degree of vulnerability). Loving someone, I have come to think, is hard because it changes both individuals. It changes the very foundation of their personalities, it changes the way they react to various stimuli--and not always in a good way. Loving someone changes an individual while rendering that individual blind. When you are in love with someone and-more importantly-when you come to possess them, it can feel like you've completed a puzzle. You feel as if finally, you've found the one thing that you've been missing your entire life. What you may not realize is that your puzzle was already complete and that this piece you discovered is just a sticker that you're placing over something already there. People forget, when they're in love with someone, that they were living well long before this individual was introduced. Why do we forget, when we love someone, what we're capable of? Why do we forget that life without that person is possible? It's a complete delusion, it's something that we talk ourselves into over time as we become more and more accustomed to daily life with this person by our side. We allow them to become our most prized possession--and with possession comes not only greed but also insecurity, fear that we may lose that very thing that we have come to cherish more than anything else. In this way perhaps it's not the love itself that changes us but the fear of losing that loved one, because at some point we stop viewing them as a separate individual and begin to view them as a possession, as something to be lost or something to be taken from us. This fear has the power to turn even the most confident, trusting man into an insecure, possessive bastard; a kind, independent woman into a fearful, submissive little girl. Both parties in the relationship change, and both parties feed off of eachother's changes until the once pure, selfless and symbiotic relationship becomes a power struggle between two pathetic individuals, each rattled by selfishness and insecurity. This is why loving someone is hard. You have to fight and fight and fight even more just to hold on to memories of who you were before you fell in love. You have to struggle to retain your rationality and this is often far easier said than done. This is what I have found while struggling with my own first romantic relationship over the past 10 months. Since the moment we met, the odds were stacked against us. We clashed and fought and broke up and got back together and encountered two more obstacles for every one that we managed to overcome. I used to think perhaps it was fate that allowed us to make it through, that really we were meant to meet and meant to make it through all this and live happily ever after. Otherwise, how could two individuals possibly make it through everything that we have? Think of the most dramatic, obstacle-riddled relationship you've ever encountered or seen in a movie--now multiply it by ten and you might be able to almost imagine my relationship of the last 10 months. I wish I were exaggerating... That's why I first believed it to be fated. Now, as I look back on it, I wonder if perhaps that's not the case at all--that really, we were never meant to meet at all. I wonder if we're two highly explosive materials whose chemical reaction results in an implosion. Perhaps all of those obstacles were attempts by the universe to send us our separate ways and we were both just too damn stubborn to give in. The signs were all there, we just chose not to see them. Even now, we've experienced the most blissful months of our relationship and no matter how I think about it, I can't help but realize that there is no hope for a shared future. Whether the end comes three weeks from now when I leave, or we deny the will of the universe once more and postpone it for a little while longer, our relationship is doomed. It's a heartbreaking thing to come to terms with, and even thinking about it sends me spiraling into a series of futile attempts to problem solve and come up with a different ending. These days I think about it so much that it makes my head hurt, but I always come to the same conclusion and it makes me want to cop-out. It makes me want to stop playing this game of cat-and-mouse that men and women live their lives playing. I acted against my very nature in entering this relationship and it's been simultaneously the most painful and the most rewarding experience of my life. It's also made me so very tired. I've been fighting on behalf of this relationship for almost a year now and I'm so exhausted. The last few months more than ever, I've been fighting for both of us because he's not even here. I've been fighting to keep alive a relationship that survives on nothing more than three or four 15-minute phone conversations a week, and it's so hard. I've tried to imagine alternatives, but there are none that would not cause even more pain than we're enduring right now. So I guess the conclusion that I've arrived at after running in circles for months is that I'll fight until I have to leave and the universe has played its very last card, tipping the scales so that we have no choice but to say our last goodbye. I'll let him fantasize about a fairytale future together, holding his hand and relishing the few rare moments when I get to hear his voice, telling me that he loves me more than he's loved anyone before in his 27 years. That's a heavy assertion. While part of me isn't sure I believe him, I wouldn't dare challenge him on it. So I listen, and I let myself love him while pretending not to see our unavoidable future looming ahead. I tell myself that I'll see this through until the end, that I won't ever regret it and that I'll cherish every experience and every lesson I learned from it. I tell myself this. I force myself to believe this; and yet, I wouldn't do it again. I dove head first into this relationship because for the first time in my life, I really felt in love. It was like dashing across a six-lane highway without looking both ways; of course I got hit, more than once even. Some of my wounds have healed already and some are still in the process, but all of them will never be forgotten. For this, I would not take it back. In order to feel things I'd never felt and might never feel again, I fell in love with him. I did and I will not regret it. But I don't want to do it again. I can't imagine ever doing it again.
Blueberry yogurt (110)
Subway Ham Sandwhich (300)
2 hard-boiled eggs (156)
Apple Juice (64)
Chicken Noodle Soup (90)
Sour Patch Kids (130ㅠㅠ)
Current total: 580
Eggs (particularly hard-boiled)
Chicken noodle soup
1 cup pasta (no more than 1x day)
No eating after 8 pm.
No non-water based drinks, including alcohol.
Biggest meal is breakfast/lunch, small serving for dinner.
Run >45 minutes each night.
모르면서 난 날 이렇게 망쳤는데 갑자기 느낀다 다.
그래. 괜찮아. 망치지 않았다 아직 빨리 계획을 세우자.
-하루 최대의 900칼로리
-고기는 안돼 [물고기 밖에], 디저트도 안돼
-7시부터 절대 먹으면 안돼 [배고프면 닭고기국물 1컵]
-아침밥 꼭 먹어 [10시전, <400]
-점심은 삼각김밥, 샐러드, 스무디, 요거트+과일
-저녁은 뭐... 두부채소 들어온 거. 찌개, 참치김밥, 비빔밥, 등
-물물물 마셔마셔마셔 [녹차, 보리차도]
TJ and I got back together a week ago today. None of our friends support it 100%, but I guess I can't really blame them--even the two of us aren't entirely optimistic about it. We've been through so much in the last six months, it's unreal. Every time I look back on it I can't help but feel more like I'm watching a really bad movie than my own life. I've insisted countless times that I don't regret any of what's happened since I've come to Korea, and I still do feel that way. I've learned more in the last six months that I had in several years of my life combined, and I've grown a lot from it. There are moments of course, when I wonder about alternative outcomes of my initial decision to come here, but that's all it really amounts to, thank god. I had been fantasizing about this life too intensely and for far too long--for it to crash and burn before my year's even over would have been unbearable. In the midst of last semester, I couldn't have explained to you quite what was going wrong. Everything was moving so fast, I had jumped on a conveyer belt and when it started moving faster and faster I lost hope of knowing how to get off. Things began to get kind of blurry--who I was, why I came here, what I stood for... most importantly, what I wanted and who I wanted to become. A foggy filter fell over my eyes and I just drank and drank, hoping that would be a magic fix and make it go away. It only made it thicker. For the first time in my life, I really felt lost. Not the kind of lost that I felt in middle school and high school, drowning in crowds of prodigal children, but truly lost. Thousands of miles away from home behaving in ways that made me question the self that I'd known for so many years--well, that kind of lost. I became a character in my own story--senseless and reckless, masochistic and unworthy. Somehow, it was satisfying. As if after so many years of writing the same thing over and over again, projecting myself onto these despicable characters, it became something that I needed to live out myself in order to move past. An impulse. Maybe I felt like I needed to destroy just a little bit of myself to know what was there in the first place. I needed to be something I disliked in order to realize that there really was a small part of me that liked who I was to begin with. It's a terrible conundrum, really. I guess in the end I created for myself a rock bottom, in order to have nowhere to go but up. So here I am, piecing myself together and becoming, once more, someone I like.
Classes start Wednesday. Second semester. 2016, a new year. Somehow, I've erased everything. The effects are there, of course--my self will be forever changed. I just didn't want to keep remembering the events themselves. For too long they cycled through my head, rolling like a film that glitches at each of the unpleasant parts and repeats them ten or twenty times before moving forward. It was exhausting. I've realized things, though, that I think I've known for a long time but just didn't know how to put into words. The only way to leave things in the past is to accept the fact that life is a timeline, each moment exists forever and will continue to exist, unchanged and powerless against any other moment, whether you think about it daily or never think of it again. I realize that that sounds a tad contradictory, but you only need to understand it to the extent that it comforts me.
I found myself haunted by my sadness and anxiety numerous times during these three months of break, in large part I think because it was just too long, and as they say, "Idle hands are the Devil's plaything." Anyone should know that I don't do well with free time--it makes me anxious and philosophical and dangerously pensive. That's what I had though, free time. In retrospect, I should have take a class or found some volunteer work, or even--dare I say it--go back home. I guess at the time though, I was excited at the prospect of no responsibilities and as much time as I wanted to explore both the country and myself. Well. Now I know.
Today, though, is February 29th. The end of my three month break. One day before spring semester starts and I begin again.