I'd have to be a fucking idiot to even consider not going to Homewood if they accept me. So why am I considering it anyway???

Well, that answer should be obvious, I guess. Clearly, I am an idiot.

I probably don't even deserve it anyway. I mean, I really did bring all this on myself.

...

I think I need to go to bed now. It's late.

Today:

- Ate; kept some in, purged at least half.
- Ate; purged again.
- Ate again; purged yet again.
- Somewhere in there I took a lukewarm-to-cold shower (our hot water heater hadn't been working right).
- After all that, what Ex-lax got absorbed before I purged for the first time started to work its "magic".
- Did I mention that I baked brownies today? No? Well, I did. They turned out a bit too spongey for my tastes, but I ate like half the pan for all that. At 85 cals a brownie. (Low-fat Splenda recipe.) Ughhhhhhh. Luckily, I got most of that out. I think.

I guess this is just what days become when you have an ED. Sad that I met up with my friend at the mall to begin my day, and had a lovely time and bought nice things, but the food shit is what stands out in my mind the most. Because I'm still worried about what few calories got into my system.

Argh.

Today my flu went from "developing" to "I think I'll slap you in the face now". My temp, the last time I took it, was 37.3; I was sweating a bit earlier, but now I just feel hot and cold at the same time -- well, and achy, stuffy, and headache-y. But that's the flu for ya I guess.

I know this is bad, but. I love the flu because I usually lose my appetite a fair bit when I get sick, and having the flu forces my metabolism to work faster because my body has to use more energy to fight the virus. Yeah... if I doubted I had an ED, I think that would cinch it. LOL.

Hope you all have a good day -- or, failing that, not a terribly atrocious day. I know it's still Christmas season, so Christmas food and leftovers are still lurking around. Stay strong, in whatever way means "strong" to you. :)

Too true...

Your Christmas is Most Like: A Very Brady Christmas

For you, it's all about sharing times with family. Even if you all get a bit cheesy at times.

What Movie Is Your Christmas Most Like?

Yeah. Going back to bed soon. :|

TMI ahead

So let's see.

Today I went to my aunt K's house and then my cousin L's house. I had Diet Pepsi at K's, and cauliflower, baby carrots, ranch dressing, and Diet Pepsi at L's house.

Later, I shat in a flood, which included visible carrot bits. A lot of them. I suspect this has to do with laxatives from last night + coffee. My butt hurts from wiping so much... but I guess that's what I get when I decide to eat Exlax before bed.

This entry contained way too much information, didn't it.

I almost want to make myself eat -- so I will be forced to purge. Or, if I don't purge, so that I will start getting depressed and hating myself and slashing myself up. So I will, eventually, try to off myself for the fifty billionth time and finally RID the world of this stupid leeching presence with my name tag stuck to the chest.

I don't want to go to Homewood. I don't want to go anywhere. I want to sit here and self-destruct until someone forcibly makes me stop. And then when they release their hold on me I want to do it again. And again. And again.

Salt (written earlier today)

Do you guys ever find you go absolutely nuts with the salt sometimes, even when you're eating salty foods? I just ate three reduced fat chicken strips (180 cals, which isn't bad, especially since it's my first food of the day), and even though three of them already have 480mg of salt I like drowned them in the salt. Haha. It tasted absolutely amazing, though. I think my electrolytes were weeping tears of joy after that. XD

(PS: This whole thing reminds me of the parts of Marya Hornbacher's book "Wasted" where she talks about how she used to drown everything in salt, such as her cans of green peas and corn...)

Eating disorders smell.

I don't know if I'm just imagining things, but I think my fingers are kinda swollen. Really hoping it's not edema-esque; but, given my diuretic and laxative usages these last couple of days, there's a distinct possibility that it could be edema.

God fucking dammit.

This is going to sound really wanna-ish, but... I wish that, if I have to have the unpleasant symptoms of an eating disorder, that I could just be thin along with it. But noooo... I have to be 107 fucking pounds (yes, I'm back up yet again). Since I'm 5'3.5", of course, I'm not even all that underweight, if in fact I qualify as underweight at all. At the same time, it is sad that this whole weight thing seems to mean so much to me. I know it's just another symptom -- but it still feels real to me, so it's hard to shake. You know?

Yeah. All this coming from a girl who's possibly entering an eating disorder treatment facility in another month or two. HAHAHA. Who else thinks I'm going to fail miserably at recovery??? *waves hands spasmatically in air*

Homewood update

So guess what?? My Homewood interview is today (Thursday) at 3 PM!!! I'm so excited. I may actually get a possible admission date sometime soon, and it won't be delayed nearly as long as I'd feared!!! I'm over the moon about this -- I really am. I had been thinking that with my luck I wouldn't even get this stupid phone interview done until mid January sometime. But now... now I can do it way soon, and have it done. That will speed up the process a lot, which I'm glad of. :)

Bulimarexia -- good or bad?

This entry is not a joke. It is ironic, and often very sarcastic, commentary about my own eating disorder, which is essentially bulimarexia at this point (technically diagnosed as EDNOS because I'm not "underweight enough" -- the fact that I've gone from 165 to 105 pounds since April means nothing, I can only suppose).

Why bulimarexia "works" for me:

~ The "hamster cheeks" are a really good way to fool people into thinking I'm not as skinny as I am -- well, at least now, when the hamster cheeks still aren't as severe as they're probably going to become, and I'm still not quite emaciated.
~ I can eat whatever I want, and I won't gain weight -- all I have to do is make sure I eat everything in one shot and puke it up after!
~ Binge/purge behaviors don't make you gain weight if you eat very seldomly, if ever, in between b/p sessions.
~ I don't have to deal with the idea of my own starvation 24/7, because binging and purging gives the illusion that I'm not starving myself.
~ I don't have to deal with the idea of being a "gross" bulimic, either, because I do, after all, have anoretic behaviors too -- and, of course, my brain tricks me into thinking that I can stop my b/p cycles anytime I want and just be anorexic.
~ I get yet another way to harm myself in the form of purging almost everything I eat -- as if self-starvation wasn't self-harm enough, right?

Why bulimarexia SUCKS

~ Not only do I get the lovely side effects of starvation and weight loss from anorexia, but I also get the dental problems, sore throats, mood swings, and electrolyte and blood pressure inbalances inherent in bulimia.
~ Bulimarexia is going to kill me a lot more quickly than restricting anorexia would. In fact, statistically speaking, bulimarexia is the deadliest of all eating disorders. So, great. I get to die even sooner than the rest of you.
~ My digestive system is going through all sorts of perverse torture, due to me not feeding it for days and then suddenly stuffing the stomach full -- and then violently expelling that food again. My poor tummy doesn't know whether to digest the food right away, digest it whenever, or just not bother digesting it at all since it's coming back up anyway.
~ Anorexia makes me weak; bulimia on top of anorexia makes me passive and aggressive, near fainting and near violence at the same time.
~ If anorexia is slowly, precariously stepping into an icy ocean, bulimarexia is like being in that ocean, then suddenly turning over into a handstand and having someone light my legs on fire. I can douse my legs anytime I want, but the constant hot and cold, and the effects from fire and ocean, do much more damage much more quickly than cold and ocean alone.


So, come on... who wants to be bulimarexic with me?!?!?!?

Today's to do list:

- Get bus at quarter to one (therefore, soon)
- Go to hospital on bus
- While waiting for psychiatrist appointment, inquire about Homewood status
- Go to psychiatrist appointment
- Bring back stamps on the way home
- Possibly go to friend's house tonight (?)

And, of course, these things are the reason why you're not getting a better update right now. :)

You know how they say coffee is a laxative? Well... it's true. And I only had half a small coffee from Tim's!!

Note to self: Severely limit your intake of coffee from now on.

:|

In an hour, if I still want to, I can walk and/or drive up to the grocery store to buy binge food. Maybe walk, since I don't really want my dad to eye the bags and wonder what the fuck I'm doing buying chips, etc, when he knows I don't eat that stuff.

Oh my.

Today's weight: 105. I almost don't believe my scale -- but I know it's probably at least within 0.2-0.4 lbs of being right. That makes me happy and just a wee bit scared at the same time. We'll find out when I weigh myself tomorrow if this 105 today is actually right or not...

Weighed in at 106.4 lbs today -- and that was after having consumed a large glass of Diet Pepsi. My true weight was probably more like 106. I shouldn't be so happy that I'm losing -- I know I shouldn't be -- but I am happy. And I still want to continue to lose more weight.

God. What happened to the days when restricting was actually somewhat enjoyable? When losing weight was like a fun game? I almost wish I could have them back.

However, oxymoronic as this is... now that I'm further into this disorder, and it has stopped being so fun, I am a lot more motivated to try and get better. Before, when the behaviors didn't seem serious, I did not in the least want to give them up. "There's nothing really wrong with me physically -- in fact, I needed to lose weight -- so what the fuck are you talking about?" That was my attitude then. However, I am able to see, nowadays, how excessive my concerns with weight and food and body image are -- in short, I can actually see now that I do have a problem.

I'm still not able to change the behaviors on my own, but that is, hopefully, where Homewood will come in. I still have to have a final phone interview before they'll even review my application, so this is probably going to take a lot longer than I imagined; however, I almost like that I have more time. Or, to be more exact, the eating disordered part of me likes that I have more time. More time to restrict and b/p and continue to lose weight. Ugh. (Sometimes I really do wish that part of me would leave me the fuck alone.) All this, of course, is just more proof that I need to be there. Which is another fact that I don't always believe... but I try to make myself believe it as much as I can, because, ironically, it's the eating disorder itself telling me that I don't really have a problem!!!

Even when I say all this, though, the eating disorder still exists. And I'm still happy about that 106 fucking pounds. *hits self repeatedly on head with a foam baseball bat*

So I went to the dentist today. Long story short: My teeth are terrible. I have eight cavities, at least one in each quadrant of my mouth, so now I get to go back four times over the course of January to get them all filled. Not only that, but my teeth are terribly sensitive -- the hygenist had to use some weird water spray to clean my teeth because the metal instrument hurt me too much --, I have a lot of plaque buildup, and the stains on my teeth are getting worse. Just fucking wonderful, hey?

Thank you, eating disorder, for helping to form eight new cavities in my teeth in the last six or seven months!!!!! [/SARCASM]

These days I have a very limited list of safe foods:

- Veggies with (minimal amounts of) fat-free ranch sauce
- Some fruits (but I usually only eat half of it and throw the rest away)
- Egg whites; 2 at a time
- Tiny amounts of lean chicken and/or 2-3 reduced-fat chicken strips... and I don't even have this often
- Fat-free barbecue chicken slices
- Danone Silhouette fat-free yogurt (40 cals for a full carton, and I don't usually finish a full carton in a sitting ANYway)
- 35-50 cal portions of random foods (very occasionally)
- Diet Pepsi / Diet Root Beer
- Water

Yeah. I'm getting so much worse these days it's not even fit. The things on this list are the ONLY things I can eat without completely freaking out. If I eat anything other than what's on this list, I end up having a b/p. The worst part? I often plan these b/ps. Save food from the family supper, etc, for a midnight-or-so binge and purge session, when everyone has gone to sleep and I can be alone to do the "dirty" deed.

So, so fucked up. :/

Goddamnit... tell my butt bones to stop hurting. :|

Haven't been to bed yet. Will go... ehh, soon. Maybe at like 8-ish, when the family finally leaves for school/work. Will sleep maybe till 12, and then will have to get up and take a shower before I go to my dentist appointment at 2:40. (Gotta get the bus at quarter to two.)

My hands are stiff, my fingers cold. Nails aren't purple at the moment, though, so I guess that's a good sign, anyway.

Time marches on... time marches on

I just took my temperature, twice. The first time it said 35.1C.The second time it said 35.2.

Normal is 37C.
Hypothermic is below 35C.

Ummmmmm.

Scared?


:|

It's three o'clock in the fucking morning, and all I can think about is how I want to make a box of Kraft Dinner, eat the entire thing, and throw it all back up again. Well, okay... I'm also thinking about how cold I am. But I've been too lazy to stand up and close the door. You know, that door which is only about three feet away from me.

Yeah. I am fucking pathetic. *sigh*

Okay... now I really know I need a new battery for my scale. I got three different weights today, and each weight displayed at least 2-3 times in a row. So like... which one do I believe??? I recorded 106.8, which was the highest one; I wish I could believe the 106.4 or 106.2 were right, but my pessimism tells me the highest weight is right. Plus, I didn't think it was possible that I could have lost weight from yesterday, given that I b/ped twice. Bodies are very strange sometimes, I guess. And, well, I have been exercising a bit, and standing up a lot. Maybe that has something to do with it.

Last night I was in a very... vitriolic... mood. O.o. I am pretty certain that if Homewood accepts me now, though, I won't say no -- I think I'd have to be completely out of my fucking mind to refuse such a good chance at recovery. Because, for all my ranting and raving about how I don't wanna give up this disorder, how I want to keep losing weight, etc, I really don't like this ED, and I know that if it keeps going on indefinitely I am going to end up doing something drastic again. The last OD brought me far closer to death than I even realized until very recently -- and I know that if I felt as bad as that again I would have no hesitation in doing something equally harmful to myself once more. And the next time I could actually die. I could. And that scares the fucking hell out of me -- because in my heart of hearts I don't really want to die. It's just that I sometimes end up not being able to deal with my own mind, and suicide is the only way I know that would actually shut it off. And that's bad. Really really bad. :/

So yeah. If Homewood gives me the thumbs up, I probably will go. But I know that won't stop me from trying to lose as much weight as is humanly possible before I get there. I know that I won't be able to stop the ED behaviors until I get there. And you know... I can live with that, just as long as I know that eventually I will get help, that this eventually will come to an end. I can hang on if I know there's something coming in a couple of months that might help me. It's gonna take a lot of fucking work to battle those suicidal impulses, but I really think I can do it. If they accept me. If they don't -- well, I don't want to think about that, so I'm not going to. I'm just gonna cross my fingers extra tight and pray to a god I'm not sure even exists that they don't reject me. Pleasepleaseplease...

:(

Warning: This entry is extremely triggering.

You want the truth? All right. Here's the truth.

I am having serious doubts about Homewood. Mostly because I feel like there's nothing in this world that can help me. I know, I know, that's supposedly bullshit. But here's some more stuff related to this that may help explain why.

I read over the Homewood site again, and the stay is only nine weeks for non-anoretics. And since I'm not even good enough to lose enough weight to be called an anoretic, my stay will only be nine weeks, too. I mean, "only" nine weeks is relative, I guess. And probably I'm stupid for thinking that nine weeks is too short. But for some reason I could SWEAR I read that the minimum stay was 90 days, which would be three months. So I guess the contrast is getting me. It just... it adds to the hopeless feelings. Yes, that is stupid. I am just a fucking stupid idiot, okay? You're just gonna have to deal with it, because I don't know how to change it.

I want to lose weight so badly... I really do. And I know I can't do that with binging and purging -- I'm not quite stupid enough to not be aware of that fact. It's just that I start feeling extremely depressed, and then I want to eat for comfort, or something like that. And so I say, "Well, okay, you can eat, but you'll purge it out after." And so that's what I do. But then it leads to this vicious cycle where I hate myself for b/ping and that makes me depressed, which leads to more b/ping... ahgod. And I fucking HATE bulimia. HATE HATE HATE. Being bulimic, to me, is the equivalent of being a disgusting fatty who can't fucking control herself. It makes me feel inferior to everyone else, except maybe binge eaters. Bulimia is this terrible, gross, nasty, dirty, impulsive disorder. Anorexia is the clean, pure, calculated disorder that actually makes you thin. But, as I already said, I'm not even good enough to have anorexia. Instead I get stuck with this fucking EDNOS shit. EDNOS might as well not even be a real disorder. It means nothing at all. It means a hodgepodge of random symptoms, none of which 100% fit any respectable eating disorder. EDNOS is fucking bullshit. And, of course, THAT's the one I get diagnosed with.

I don't know if I even qualify for Homewood. Why? I don't know if I could honestly say that I'm not suicidal. I won't know if I can say it when I get there. I mean, okay... number one, I'm fucking borderline. Suicide ideation pretty much comes with borderline personality disorder. Do they really expect me to get up there and suddenly magically not have any suicidal thoughts at all? I think they do. And I can't fulfill that expectation, so I may be pinning my hopes on this program for nothing, because I'll get up there and say I still think about suicide and they'll say, "Oh... that's too bad. So how soon can you take a flight home?" Waste of my parents' money for the flight up. Waste of my time. Waste of my hope. Waste of a fucking stupid idea that maybe some half decent facility can ever help me get better.

Fact is, it doesn't seem like anyone really wants me to get better. I'm being given the runaround here. Two to three months before I'll even fly up to Homewood, and in the intervening time... what? Therapy that doesn't even fucking work?? That's why I'm GOing to Homewood -- because what I'm doing treatment-wise in my life right now DOESN'T BLOODY WORK.

And why are they sending me to Homewood in the first place? Because they don't know how the fuck else to help me. I'm pretty much convinced of this now. Borderline personality disorder, which is my real disorder (well, it IS), is so hard and time-consuming to treat. And for someone like me, who doesn't respond to that bullshit therapy they call CBT, they just don't know what the fuck else to do with me, because they do therapy now to be timely and efficient instead of to actually fix the fucking disorders. So at the first signs of a diagnosis there is actually a time-constrained, "good" program for (aka the eating disorder), they're very willing to slap me into some inpatient facility on the mainland, because maybe they can treat the eating disorder and I'll get magically better, and then suddenly I won't be borderline anymore!!!!!!

Jesus fucking christ. I am so sick of this shit. It's like they're willing to send me to anything at all that will just get me out of their fucking hair. I'm too much trouble. Too chaotic. Too unstable. No one wants to deal with the fucking borderline girl. Let's treat her eating disorder and hope that somehow becomes the magic cure-all for her problems. OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO GO FUCKING INSANE HERE.

So I feel completely invalidated, uncared for, depressed, bulimic, and FAT. GOD do I ever feel fucking FAT. I might as well weigh 400 fucking pounds. And I can't even lose any fucking weight to stop feeling so fucking FAT because I keep BINGING and PURGING because I'm a goddamned fatty disgusting BULIMIC whose real diagnosis is not even a real fucking DIAGNOSIS.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH

Today's weigh-in on my admittedly shitty scale has me at 107.2 pounds. Which, as some of you may remember, is roughly where I was in late October, early November. I'm way too thankful that I haven't really gained any weight since then -- not that stayed on anyhow.

My teeth are shit now. I really need to brush them. I'm not even going to tell you how long I've gone without brushing now, because it's really gross, but suffice it to say that there's plenty of plaque on them. Eww. :(

I find myself making a lot of lists lately because I keep remembering things I need to do and then forgetting them temporarily. Writing them all down in list format enables me to keep them all current and forward in my head, so I will actually complete them instead of flitting aimlessly from task to task, as I have been doing lately. I'm still not sure why my memory is screwed up like this. Hypochondriacal me says that maybe the drugs did some sort of irreparable neurological damage. Logical me says that maybe I was able to concentrate more when I was on the Effexor, since that's one of the things it can help with, in both depression and anxiety disorders. I don't know which one to believe. The hypochondriacal side, extreme as it is, has its own basis in logic. And... bah, I dunno. I'm fucked up.

I keep ignoring this entry, so I'm just gonna end here and post this now. That would be that inability to concentrate for extended periods coming back again. Oy. Anyway... later.

This is the story of a girl

Here is the story of my first two days in hospital, as told to a friend of mine over AIM. Screennames and hospital names have been changed to protect privacy.

Xx a friend xX: what exactly happened the night you left? Does everyone know about your ED now?
Niika-gal: well okay
Niika-gal: the night i went, i was having a really bad night
Niika-gal: i was fed up with starving and puking and being depressed and hating my life and no one helping me
Niika-gal: i really honestly didn't care what happened to me
Niika-gal: that's probably the most truly suicidal night i've had
Niika-gal: to make a long story short: parents came in, i hinted, they left
Niika-gal: well, mom came in first. i hinted, she left, then dad came down
Niika-gal: i told him basically that i was going to, after he heckled me. then he left, saying he was calling the cops.
Niika-gal: so after he left i got panicked -- i was NOT going to the hospital without doing something. which is bad i know
Niika-gal: so then i took all my effexor and a few seroquel and a few ativan and a few gravol
Niika-gal: i finished that like 10 or 15 minutes before the police officer even got there
Niika-gal: so she asked me a few questions and i was standing there completely embarrassed that there was this police officer, uniform all pressed and smelling like soap, looking at me sullen and quiet in my pyjamas in my messy room
Niika-gal: but she told me in the end that either i could let her call me an ambulance or she would have to drive me to the hospital
Niika-gal: so i said she could call the ambulance -- i didn't care
Niika-gal: it was the difference between going voluntarily and being forced. and, anyway, i really DIDN'T care.
Niika-gal: so i went in the ambulance to hosp. he was gonna put an IV in me but then he was like, "you can refuse the IV if you want to". of course, who WOULDN'T refuse it after that?
Niika-gal: so they didn't put that in till i got to hospital
Xx a friend xX: allright.
Xx a friend xX: i would have done the same thing
Xx a friend xX: lo
Xx a friend xX: l
Niika-gal: haha
Niika-gal: i was like, "well, if he's not gonna make me, i'm not fuckin takin it"
Niika-gal: :P
Xx a friend xX: haha
Xx a friend xX: yeah
Niika-gal: so i got to the hospital and they put the IV in my arm. i still didn't want that water in my blood, diluting the drug and negating the effects, so i kept it shut unless a nurse was looking directly at the drip
Niika-gal: they put it in my elbow, which made it super easy
Niika-gal: all i had to do was bend my arm
Niika-gal: doing it when the lead is in your wrist is trickier, since ya gotta put your arms under the blankets ("it's so cold in here!" ") and manually pinch it shut
Niika-gal: so yeah
Niika-gal: i did that for awhile.
Niika-gal: barely got any fluids into me, which made me happy
Niika-gal: and then -- get this -- they come with this bottle of charcoal
Niika-gal: with a straw
Xx a friend xX: ugh. i hat ethat.
Niika-gal: and then they stand there trying to get me to drink it
Xx a friend xX: i've had enough experience with that.
Niika-gal: yeah... it looked fucking NASTY
Niika-gal: i was really honestly revolted by the idea of drinking that shit
Niika-gal: and they were like "if you don't drink it we're gonna have to put a tube down your nose and do it that way"
Niika-gal: so i kept like... putting it to my lips but being unwilling to drink it
Niika-gal: after like 5 or 10 minutes of standing there, the nurse says, "i'll give you 15 minutes to work on it" and i was like "okay"
Niika-gal: so she left and I... well, at first i just didn't drink it
Niika-gal: then i got craftier
Niika-gal: see, they have these trays, where they put your food or whatever
Niika-gal: and underneath is a tray you can pull out -- and it's pitch black, and shadowed
Niika-gal: so what i did was i put my thumb on top of the straw a few times and when no one was looking i poured charcoal in the tray
Xx a friend xX: hahaha
Niika-gal: so that when they came back the bottle would be lighter, you know
Xx a friend xX: oh man
Niika-gal: and i accidentally got it on the floor and on my fingers, and i was like... FUCK
Niika-gal: but then when the nurse came by it had been awhile and i had laid the bottle on that tray. so i was like "yeah, i spilled some" as soon as she looked at the floor
Niika-gal: O:-)
Xx a friend xX: wow.
Xx a friend xX: lol
Niika-gal: hahaha
Niika-gal: she believed me too.
Niika-gal: i am a really fucking good liar when i wanna be.
Niika-gal: but anyway
Niika-gal: they didn't keep me for very long at all, after that
Niika-gal: i'd say within a few hours they took theIV out of my arm and sent me in a cab to the mental hospital
Niika-gal: so i spent about the first ten or eleven hours of thursday at methodist, in the holding beds (the short stay unit was full)
Niika-gal: oh, i forgot to mention that someone from psychiatry came down during that stay at the hosp
Niika-gal: asked why i did it, etc. but didn't ask much else, which surprised me...
Niika-gal: so okay.
Niika-gal: so at somewhere around 10:30 the next morning, i have a grand mal seizure.
Niika-gal: i don't remember ANYthing about it
Xx a friend xX: wow.
Niika-gal: which pisses me off to no end
Xx a friend xX: yeah
Niika-gal: but the story went like this: glennis or glennys or however you spell the nurse's name
Niika-gal: came in with my reflux pill
Niika-gal: (i don't remember any of this)
Niika-gal: and apparently i took it and everything -- so clearly i was still hearing and understanding words
Niika-gal: but then suddenly i threw up my hands and tossed the pill away
Niika-gal: the nurse said she thought i was mad or something at first... but then i fell on my side and started seizing
Niika-gal: the seizure lasted for about a minute, so she said
Niika-gal: so they called code 666 on me
Niika-gal: that's the one they use for medical emergency
Niika-gal: apparently a whole lot of doctors were all around me -- i don't remember this either
Niika-gal: they stuck a valium IV in me, then transported me by ambulance back to the general hospital
Niika-gal: all i remember is waking up in the ER and thinking "why am i on the other side of the ER?"
Niika-gal: and someone told me i'd had a seizure, and i was like, "oooookay..."
Niika-gal: it was funny -- i actually had to ask if my time at methodist thursday morning was a dream
Niika-gal: because i couldn't remember
Niika-gal: i had thought it was a bit too clear to be a dream, but i wasn't sure for all that
Xx a friend xX: yeah
Niika-gal: so anyway, they did all these weird random tests on me and shit
Niika-gal: eventually concluding that it was the OD that had caused the seizure (i didn't need a fucking doctor to tell me THAT)
Xx a friend xX: haha
Niika-gal: what was funny was that they asked me this set of questions... you know, like what day is it, where are you, what's the year, etc... and i couldn't remember what month it was at first
Niika-gal: like i seriously thought it was march or april
Niika-gal: haha
Niika-gal: but after they told me it was november i remembered
Xx a friend xX: ah
Xx a friend xX: yeah
Xx a friend xX: that's weird.
Niika-gal: yeah
Niika-gal: i thought so too
Niika-gal: but anyway. i went up to a medical floor for the night, and on friday early afternoon (i think it was early afternoon) they discharged me from the medical hospital and sent me back over to methodist
Niika-gal: i'd been admitted to the short stay unit since thursday but didn't actually get there till friday. haha
Xx a friend xX: hah.
Niika-gal: yeah
Niika-gal: it amused me

I'm hoooome! :D. It's funny, though -- I only got in the door about twenty minutes ago, and I'm already starting to notice about a dozen different little things that I am only now realizing contributed to my depression and hopelessness before. Some of the things I have come up with include:

-- Even though my bedroom is painted a light shade of green-blue, I really should have painted it something even lighter -- icy blue, perhaps, or maybe even a really light yellow. Reason being? My room is quite dim -- dimmer than any other room in the house. The second I walked into it I felt like I was walking into a dungeon. That's all right when I'm sleeping, but to live in... well, that's an entirely different story. My solution is that I'm gonna have to put up a bunch of those National Geographic pictures, and maybe some celeb and/or fashion pics, too. Hopefully that will brighten up the room enough that it will be fit to spend more than sleep time in.
-- Extraordinarily loud and obnoxious noises above my head in the form of my sister being an annoying 14-year-old. I had a mini epiphany about this as I realized: That's not normal behavior, even for a 14-year-old. That's being rude. And I shouldn't have to put up with that kind of bullshit -- and, in fact, I will not. I can stand her playing a bit of music above my head, but her playing with random, jarring computer sounds on full blast is NOT OKAY. You guys understand where I'm coming from, right?
-- I also realized that any conversation I have with my mother almost inevitably leads to me feeling like shit, because she and I have such completely different ways of thinking that sometimes it's like smashing my head repeatedly into a hard wall to get her to understand even simple concepts. It exhausts me and frustrates me and leaves me tired and irritable. Solution? I'm just going to avoid talking to my mother whenever possible. It is absolutely the only thing I can do. Believe me when I say I've tried every fucking thing I know to get along with this woman, and I am honestly not sure if it's even possible. And trying to squeeze myself into a mold that she will understand and accept, as I have also only recently realized, plays and has played quite a large role in the development of my mental illnesses. Well, I can't and won't try to squish and choke and restrain myself anymore for her, because it makes me far too sick when I try.
-- Spending too much time on the internet. I'm pretty sure I was, and probably still am, a true internet addict. I mean, I was literally spending at least 8-9 hours a day, every single day, on this bloody machine, whether I actually wanted to or not, and whether I actually enjoyed it or not. It started as something that I really loved and had fun with, and grew and grew until it eventually dominated my waking hours. These last two weeks at the hospital have helped me to figure out the kinds of things I like to do when I don't have a computer around. That sounds really simple and rather inane, but it's so true. I actually never knew what I liked to do with my spare time when I didn't have either social gatherings/outings or the computer to fill it up. Now that's what I call sad. That is one benefit I got out of being in a psychiatric unit, at least -- the ability to figure out how to keep myself occupied without resorting to the internet.

So yeah. Clearly, I've been doing a hell of a lot of thinking over these last two weeks spent cooped up in a mental ward. I didn't have much else to do, really... haha. But, seriously, I've managed to come to a lot of new conclusions -- healthier ones! -- and I'm glad for that. I've got a whole new outlook on just about everything, one that I never imagined I'd ever have, and I'm grateful for that. In summary, I've gained a new sense of self as well as a larger measure of hope.

It's really amazing how such a short period of time can sometimes change so much.

In The Psych Ward

Well, I was hoping to have been out by this afternoon, but things don't always go as planned, I guess. I am still doing a shitload of paperwork re: my application to Homewood, and it all still has yet to go through the final processing stages, so I'll be in here until at least tomorrow, and possibly for another day or two after that. We'll see what happens, I guess. I have standard privileges now, so I went out for my "smoke break" which all three of the nurses told me to extend from 15 minutes to half an hour so I could come up here. I love how they conspire with me... haha. ;)

Anyway, the unit itself is pretty boring, but there are several really great people down there to talk to, and people are always bringing in magazines and tabloids and newspapers and the like, so I'm not lacking for things to do. In fact, this is probably the most interesting stay I've ever had in that particular unit. Most of us know how to make our own entertainment, which definitely helps! And, of course, the fact that my parents can bring me in random odds and ends (books, notepads, Diet Pepsi) also makes it rather more comfortable. Don't get me wrong, though -- I'll be glad to get outta there. It's about a thousand times more interesting to be living a real life, let me assure you! o.o

Well, anyway, just wanted to let you know that things are okay with me for now, and Homewood stuff is moving along quite nicely, relatively speaking, so there's no need to worry or anything like that.

Write to you all again soon, I hope. :)