I fucking hate life. I fucking hate... everything.

I guess I'm sort of in relapse mode, now. I've only lost about 4 lbs, making my real weight about 117 (scale weight with clothes and food is about 120), but I am purposely not eating nearly what I should, and some days I hardly eat anything at all. I went away this weekend, and ate fairly normally throughout the weekend, so now apparently I have to restrict a lot to "make up" for it. Even though I know I couldn't have GAINED any weight this weekend, the fact that I'm pretty sure I didn't lose any is apparently a problem.

I also bought laxatives today, and took 4 a few hours ago (dose on package is 1-2, but the package dose NEVER works for me). I didn't even buy them to be "empty", as I still have fairly regular BMs... I just did it to lower my electrolytes, and to put myself through physical discomfort and/or pain. I just... feel like I deserve it, so much. I really really do.

I was suicidal practically every night last week... I actually ended up inpatient on Monday night, because it was getting bad enough that I was planning how I'd do it, and I think I actually would have taken an OD had I not gone into hosp that afternoon. My stay was completely useless, though -- the "team" at short stay doesn't have a fucking clue about psychological disorders, and consequently couldn't do shit for me. They couldn't even speed up my psychology referral at T Clinic (I've probably got at least another YEAR till I get a new therapist). So I asked to go home the next day at around lunchtime, and within an hour or so I was discharged. I didn't even have to fight with them. But I knew the psychiatrist would let me go, because I framed things when I spoke to her as a "freakout" (which is not exactly the right term for it), plus I was resisting everything the "team" was telling me, because it was all bullshit. (Well, it was.)

Of course, I still can't deal psychologically with my life, and if I keep thinking like that about suicide I'm going to end up in hosp again, and I cannot fucking STAND that ward, and I want to remain out of there if at all possible. But not acting on the suicidal urges doesn't make them go away... it just makes me need another, different method of holding back those particular thoughts. So... apparently ED is starting to return to its former place in my life.

After everything I worked so hard for... I came to a psychological challenge that I absolutely cannot deal with on my own, and no one can help me, so here I am, going back to where I started again. I am fucking PISSED about it, really truly, but I feel like there's nothing I can do about it right now or I will literally go insane, and/or actually end up dead this time, because I'm fed up with turning myself in. So... what's worse, destroying my soul with an eating disorder and yet leaving my physical body alive for longer, or killing the physical body when it's the mind I really want to kill, and in actual fact I don't truly want to die? I really don't fucking know at this point. I just know the option I prefer, and it isn't the suicide one.