My Internet won't fucking work properly, but it let me sign on to Semagic, so maybe I can write an entry and have it work. [Author's note: Semagic is a LiveJournal client.]

Today... I hate myself.

Today I also went to see my psychologist, for the first time since December 21st. I actually talked to her quite openly, which as she noted was a change from the last few times I'd gone to see her. I'd been very guarded and skeptical and critical the last few times; this time I was, at least at first, somewhat cheery and also a bit more, well, respectful.

One of the things we talked about was the Homewood admission, of course; and when we talked about it, I realized something. See, for some reason, I have this huge, urgent, ever-present psychological need to want someone to take care of me. And to me, hospitals feel like places where someone is actually focusing on me and attending to me and paying some fucking attention to me. I guess I unconsciously (and often consciously) feel like I don't get that in my real life, and so I seek it in places like hospitals.

The worse part of this, though, is that I spare no expense when I feel like I can't cope with life and I decide (unconsciously) that I have to get away from it all. I have overdosed at least 7-8 times, nearly dying two of those times, and nearly seriously screwing up my liver a third. I have had two psychiatric admissions that did not involve taking an overdose pre-admission (although both times I wanted to). And I think that I also gave myself an eating disorder in part because I believed that eventually an ED would bring me my longed-for hospitalization. I remember how absolutely sick with jealousy I used to get when I heard that someone who had similar problems to my own had ended up in a psychiatric ward. I would still get like that if a) these people were still in and out of psych wards, and b) I was not soon going to an inpatient program at a hospital myself.

Which is another thing. Given my history, and what I am able to admit about myself -- that I often, at least unconsciously, want to be hospitalized while I am there; that I have this desperate need for people's affection and attention -- I can't help wondering what exactly is going to happen once I get to Homewood. I think the eating behaviors are a bit far gone now to be immediately curable as soon as I put my mind to it. That being said, however, I can't help questioning myself as to what I am actually going to get out of this hospitalization. Will I actually "recover" -- or will I just "recover" for the duration of the hospitalization, and maybe for awhile afterwards, and then fall back into some sort of disorder again as another bid for attention? Will I purposely induce the eating disorder again several weeks or months after discharge just to once more prove to people how "sick" I am? Will I do it because I'm afraid nobody will acknowledge the mental aspects of my illnesses if I'm not showing some sort of physical symptoms? I don't know; but I think that all these questions come far, far closer to reaching the truth than anything else I've asked of myself lately.

My psychologist pointed out that if I was just going to the hospital for that feeling of "Ooh, someone cares about me now", I would get out and just be right back where I started again... far from being recovered. I would still be seeking validation and, not knowing any "better" way to do it, I would probably again seek that validation through disordered behaviors. And, you know... she's right. I know she's right. The truth is, boys and girls, that I'm just an attention-seeking little shit who'll do anything, no matter how much it "hurts" me, to make people "prove" that they "care about me". It's totally twisted and delusional, but it seems to be how my mind operates. And I am not sure, exactly, how Homewood is going to help change that, if it can even help at all. But right now I don't know what else to do that would be any better.

I have a really, really fucking STUPID brain.