Miserable identity-card self

I am burried under loads and loads of paperwork, official applications for validating my diploma for another country and everything takes so long and these official translations with certification stamp from lawyer are SO expensive (--> no new books and coffee in next 3 weeks for me:/) and I didn't received some details about my thesis that I hoped I will have this week and and and... welcome panic attack. (It wasn't anything horrible, compared to what I used to experience it was like kindergarten panic, but I haven't been in the middle of proper panic attack for a long time and I haven't missed it.)

Mathias is doing somewhere between 5 and 11,5 (on Mum's scale 1 to 10). His (ex)roommate and all-time role model from school has visited in the weekend, because he is leaving for university in couple of days and for M. it was one of the best weekends food- and moodwise I think. School is M.'s motivation number one and although he won't be allowed to get back to boarding school in 3 weeks, he is working hard (as hard as Mum) to be able to go to local school and despite all anxieties and insecurities I believe every school will love to have him.

Grain of autumn is in the morning air. I got soaked at least three times last week (I am chronic no-umbrela person). I also saw the most massive and brightest rainbow ever. It was so strong and beautiful that it was almost scary.

I visited my Greatladies (Grandma and Great-aunt) for 3 days last week in our weekend house and it was good. I am glad Grandma took some holiday this year, because she is working like crazy despite she has problems with her spine and is constantly in pain. Greatladies are over eighty and every year less and less tolerant, constantly fighting over details (for example with what kind of rag I should clean windows - 15 minutes debate), they always know better (doctors, you know:) and they are cooking things I would never cook and eat at home, but they are awesome. You could see through their little fights how they love each other. And explaining my Grandma MicroRNA is the best:) I wish I was like them in my eighties!

Tiptoe has recently some good posts about getting rid of things that symbolize eating disorders in some ways and about loss of identity of eating disordered self.  I was thinking about it when I was discarding my old student card and identity card for hospital. These cards were made 6 years ago when I was not as physically sick and lost as when I was 15, but when I saw the face on the picture (I've seen it 6 years non-stop, but you kind of put your card on the white coat and don't care) it scared me. Deadened eyes and 1/3 of hair I used to have and unsuccessful attempt to smile a bit. I was freezing cold just from looking at that face. And at the same time I was/am jealous. Not that I like myself on the photo. I am sorry for my 20 years old ugly and miserable self in 2 pullovers. But I can feel the anesthesia, the I-have-no-power-to-care-or-freak effect of starvation, the relative simplicity of my ED rules at that time compared to all scary changes and responsibilities that are coming now. I am telling myself I don't want to be that girl every.single.day meal/exercise urge. I want to be like my Grandma, full of life and enthusiasm and ideas even at 84. I want my grandchildren to explain me something that will be new and exciting in medicine in 2069. But at the same time I wish I could escape of this life, escape of what everyone expect me to do and achieve and to look at the world with this disinterested, indifferent way whispering: I am not participating on this game anymore. I am not here. I live by another rules. 
I am not going there. The pictures on my new cards are healthy looking. But why does staying on the right path still cost me so much mental power and space? Why is this idea of feeling nothing and being emotionally flat so tempting?

Come and Work

Holy Macaroni. It seems that all that stress and doubts from this post were worth it and I was given a chance to work in the S-land in my first choice clinic. I've known it since weekend and I have again at least forty conspiracy theories about how and why I got the job by some complicated mistake. I didn't hope to happen it anymore and I was about to accept a job in university hospital just about 1 driving hour from my home where I know some people and I was actually relieved and ready and pretty content with it. I was already searching for some accommodation and practical things there when I got the offer from S-land and because I am not a person that can change her plans from minute to minute, it has made me pretty anxious and uncomfortable. (I know it may sound ungratefully, because I have plenty of friends who are journalists or lawyers or media-something-I-don't-understand working really really hard and who still can't choose or find their jobs so easy, because there is kind of crisis in these job areas. But it is how I felt.)

(Btw. I don't know why I am doing this not-telling-the-name-of-the-country-thing, because I will write about it sooner or later anyway, but for now it feels somehow safer to do it so.)

I am happy and scared at the same time. Which is pretty frequent state of mind when something good happens, because anticipation anxiety immediately arrives. It is like: this thing is good, but it is impossible that you can be good to not to screw it. It is probably how my anorexic mindset was "created": You are good at running and everyone is saying you are thin (I was in healthy weight range for my age), so you must inevitably be just worse and fatter in the future. And so I tried to avoid it. 

Anyway. The job means I will live the farthest from home I have lived (except of 3 months in high school) and plenty things to arrange requiring speaking to so much new and probably twice as intelligent people as I am, giving up my pipette and protein isolation and learning some new scary imaging software. Not speaking about the clinic. S-land has 50 hours working week for doctors, so that I am already freaking out about how I will eat and exercise and being able to stay in a state of body and mind that the job requires. I think there is no point in making plans and scenarios right now, because it will be all different then, so I think I will just wait and see (as you know something I am not very good at). But soon I will be officially student at medical faculty again, which feels good, feels like coming home. I like the student identity. Probably it gives me kind of mental permission to not feel so old and so adult, to wear jeans and sweatshirts or cardigans all the time and to not have kids and fancy house. (Am I just fooling myself again?) However it definitely means cheaper trains and books. Yeah.

There is a good thing blog-wise. The research/thesis part of the job is in English (another reason to freaking out and wanting to stampede away until it is not late) which means this time I will really have to try hard and move myself from fourth-class-Come-And-Play*-level somewhere further. 

Ok, I am going to look again at the list of things I should do now and.......big surprise.......freak.

*Come and Play was our incredibly dumb English book in elementary school. One of the main characters was Pixie Dixie, a boy that came from Universe in his red spaceship. Despite the spaceship being in every chapter, it was oh-so-boring. But it wouldn't be fair to blame this book for my bad English.