With the blinds shut and curtains drawn, I slept in complete darkness until noon. The only reason I didn’t push it further was because Mom knocked on my door to ask me a question and gasped when she realized that I was still sleeping. Honestly, after another week of consistent five- to six-hour sleeps each night, I cherish every minute of slumber I can get on the weekend.

After finally rolling out of bed, I began dealing with the suitcase of stuff I had brought home from my apartment yesterday. I don’t want to completely gut the Witch Cave, but I’m trying to transfer items in batches to make the official move-out date a bit easier. I think my clothes will start going next. There’s not much else in my apartment that I want to remove just yet. I don’t exactly want to live with empty shelves and walls for a month. I still want the Witch Cave to feel like home. I am definitely ready to move, though. I have a feeling I might begin to think differently as the date approaches, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I need to do this. I need to jump.

Once I found a new home for everything in my bedroom, I watched the rest of last night’s JonBenét Ramsey documentary downstairs, which Dad joined me for. It couldn’t have been worse timing, though. I was ready to eat my lunch, which was sitting on the kitchen stovetop, and then Dad sat down beside me on the family room couch. To a normal person, there would be no issue with this. However, it’s in these moments that I am literally cringing inside with anxiety. It gets to the point that I am almost frozen in place. I don’t want to get my food and then eat it beside Dad, as I am so nervous about him watching me eat.

I’ve realized it over the years, but I believe a lot of my bad eating habits – particularly the binge eating – stem from a fear of disapproval from Dad. I think the trauma can be summed up with a variation of one line, which I used to hear far too often growing up:

“Easy on the bread.”

Every time I eat around Dad, those words echo through my mind. Sometimes, like this afternoon, I will purposely wait until Dad leaves the room before I start eating. If I hear Dad walking towards the kitchen while I’m looking in the fridge or cupboard, I will either grab what I need or completely abandon what I am doing altogether and literally pole vault myself into another room. I can’t risk Dad seeing me fill a bowl with chips.

It’s sick. I know it is. I don’t know how to change that, though. There was one time a few years ago when I went off on Dad in the middle of a restaurant. He had made one of those infamous “bread” comments, and I lost my cool. At this point, I think Dad is well aware that he should not make any remarks about my eating habits. However, there’s still a part of me that will always think Dad is judging me. It makes me anxious.

I ate my food privately, finished watching the documentary, and then returned to my room and ended up falling asleep for a couple of hours. You know, as if I didn’t get enough sleep last night. It was a huge waste of time. I really shouldn’t have napped, but I don’t exactly regret it. I love sleeping so much. I really do. I want to live in a bed. They’re so comfortable.

Today, I really went off the deep end with food. The house is overflowing with candy for Halloween, and I ate so much of it that I felt physically ill. Of course, that didn’t stop me from eating more right after my nap. It was one wrapper after another. Chocolate, candy, chips, and more chocolate. At this point, I think I have about seven cavities. In an attempt to get my act together and combat the inevitable diabetes I am going to develop because of all the sugar, I threw my ass in the gym and did my thing for a couple of hours.

Phillip messaged me about the car this evening, and we made arrangements for him to pick it up at the Witch Cave once I got back downtown. Five minutes later, Phillip asked me to bring the car to his place instead. I said no.

Honestly, I’m at a point where I am going to stop bending over backwards for Phillip. A part of me feels shitty. I feel like I am always ragging on my brother, when in reality things aren’t all that bad. The other part of me gets angry, though. I feel as though Phillip carries himself with a huge sense of entitlement, paired with a jarring lack of reciprocation, which bothers me to no end.

Everyone gives in to Phillip’s requests. No questions asked. Yet, when you need something from the kid, you’re lucky if you can even get a response to your text message within five to ten business days. Perhaps I am projecting. I don’t know. Nonetheless, I denied Phillip’s request for the car delivery tonight and he dealt with it accordingly.

I’m having a That’s So Raven vision right now. There’s going to be a lot more “no” in Phillip’s future. Perhaps it’s not just with Phillip, either.

Listen. I consider myself a pretty generous person. I have every intention of maintaining that character trait, too. However, I also want to make sure that I am putting myself first when I need to. If that requires a few “no’s” here and there, so be it.

I wrapped up in the gym, packed my fresh laundry into the car, and headed back downtown. My Mariah Carey “Heartbreaker” costume is 99% ready. I am so freaking excited for Halloween. Aside from a trim of my wig and a few accessory additions, I am ready to get my diva on. I’ll also begin my starvation tomorrow – slowly tapering off my food intake by Thursday, until I am on a strict Trader Joe’s Fiberful Granola Bar diet by the weekend. It’s going to be a moment for sure.

Back at the Witch Cave, I unpacked and ate more food. Given the fact that today – and this entire weekend in general – was a total write-off, that should not come as a surprise. I jumped into bed with my left hand and a bottle of lotion, and did my thing.

Good luck this week. We’ve got five more weeks left until Big Bird receives her surprise two-week notice. Oy. Not looking forward to that.

Goodnight xo