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janestarz*Sigh*
Well, Marjolein is in a bad week. She had closed her sitting room door all week, so I thought there was another “We need to talk. It feels like something is wrong between us” (come on, we’re roommates! No, not even that….housemates!) talk coming up.
She had been in bed all day, ever since she came back from work (from one-ish to five-ish). She smelled like she could really badly use a shower and she looked a bit waggy out of her eyes.
But when she showed me the digital bloodpressuremetre she had bought, and told me she had had varying bp’s all day (in such a manner: “look at me, something is wrong with me!”) I got a little worried. She is a borderliner, so she tends to exaggerate and doesn’t know where her boundries are.
So, when Marjolein went into the toilet and I stepped up to her boyfriend.
“How’s she doing?” I asked.
“She hasn’t been eating since last week and she thinks it’s strange that you get nauseated from the pills. If you don’t eat with those pills, you get sick! But she thinks she’s fat. I think I’m just going to go in a few minutes. I can’t handle it anymore. I mean, what’s fat?” (or something in that order)
So before Marjolein came back from the bathroom I got back to my dishes. I heard them arguing just now. She hasn’t been eating, is sick from her medication, and he’s almost done for as well. And I’m just typing this happily in my LJ!
Well, sue me, I don’t know what to do either. I used to think she pulled herself up on her relationship with Erik. So I figured, once she was better she’d dump him. But now she’s pulling him under. And even though he is her boyfriend, I think he shouldn’t be devastated by her. I just don’t know what else to do.
“So, we have door number one with Borderline Syndrom, door number two with Hypochondria. And, whats behind door numer three?!”
{blond bimbo opens a door with a big red “3” on it}
“It’s Anorexia!!!”
And, oh joy!, Monday I have to tell my mentor that I don’t want the talks. Ah, well, at least when I’m at home, I’m not the most crazy person in the house. *sigh*
Sue me for being cynical. Shut up, that’s my way of dealing. And no, I don’t want the talks! Go away!
Well, Marjolein is in a bad week. She had closed her sitting room door all week, so I thought there was another “We need to talk. It feels like something is wrong between us” (come on, we’re roommates! No, not even that….housemates!) talk coming up.
She had been in bed all day, ever since she came back from work (from one-ish to five-ish). She smelled like she could really badly use a shower and she looked a bit waggy out of her eyes.
But when she showed me the digital bloodpressuremetre she had bought, and told me she had had varying bp’s all day (in such a manner: “look at me, something is wrong with me!”) I got a little worried. She is a borderliner, so she tends to exaggerate and doesn’t know where her boundries are.
So, when Marjolein went into the toilet and I stepped up to her boyfriend.
“How’s she doing?” I asked.
“She hasn’t been eating since last week and she thinks it’s strange that you get nauseated from the pills. If you don’t eat with those pills, you get sick! But she thinks she’s fat. I think I’m just going to go in a few minutes. I can’t handle it anymore. I mean, what’s fat?” (or something in that order)
So before Marjolein came back from the bathroom I got back to my dishes. I heard them arguing just now. She hasn’t been eating, is sick from her medication, and he’s almost done for as well. And I’m just typing this happily in my LJ!
Well, sue me, I don’t know what to do either. I used to think she pulled herself up on her relationship with Erik. So I figured, once she was better she’d dump him. But now she’s pulling him under. And even though he is her boyfriend, I think he shouldn’t be devastated by her. I just don’t know what else to do.
“So, we have door number one with Borderline Syndrom, door number two with Hypochondria. And, whats behind door numer three?!”
{blond bimbo opens a door with a big red “3” on it}
“It’s Anorexia!!!”
And, oh joy!, Monday I have to tell my mentor that I don’t want the talks. Ah, well, at least when I’m at home, I’m not the most crazy person in the house. *sigh*
Sue me for being cynical. Shut up, that’s my way of dealing. And no, I don’t want the talks! Go away!
Grrl? You said grrrl?
Ah well. I guess you have a feminist side after all. Before we know it, you'll be joining Riotgrrl. *giggle*
Anyhoo, I did tell him I didn't want the talks. And he sort of backed off. After he sort of stabbed me in the back by saying: "You'll never make it on your own"
Right. I need someone to guard my back. The one who promised to do so now is a few kilometres away from me again.
Re: Grrl? You said grrrl?
Date: 2002-04-23 12:05 am (UTC)So don't worry about it, we feminists don't mind. ;)
I guess trying to be as un-attached as possible is better than getting
sucked down by a disease that just needs serious helping.
I wouldn't know what to do either.
I guess I'd be laughing and crying about it..
but well that's little me.
Ltr, TC