I keep thinking I need to do more treatment. Somewhere, anywhere. Then I could finally face the things that make me suicidal head-on, and learn to deal with them. The only problem is, I have no idea where to go for this.
M House? I just left there. Plus I don't think I'm prepared to go back for a third time, especially since it's not even two months since I left. I mean... sometimes you've gotten all you're going to get out of a particular program, you know? Sometimes enough's enough.
HOPE? I do that already, and they can't help me with any of the deeper issues. The only chance is the psychologist, but she has a 2-3 month wait list right now, and even then she is technically only supposed to do short-term therapy.
An eating disorder program? They usually can't handle the acute suicidality, or the chronic stuff either. I would have to talk explicitly about that with any sort of ED residential I could apply for. And they'd have to have individual therapy, which a place like Homewood, for example, does not. And Homewood is supposed to be a "top of the line" treatment in Canada. There really aren't that many other options.
Why the fuck don't they have a program for people with BPD in Canada, seriously? It's actually ludicrous. Bullshit. I know that what awaits me, under the ED, the depression, anxiety... it's the borderline part trying to come out. The part that fucking HATES me, that hates me so much that I want to destroy myself, slice myself to pieces, burn myself away, take an overdose so I just fucking DIE already. Only I never actually die, because then the small part of rationality that always seems to remain gets me to tell on myself -- tell a friend, call the paramedics, go to a hospital. I can never seem to actually complete a suicide attempt. And the hospitals around here? Well, they're a fucking joke, really. I was in HSC in June, short stay not long ago, and neither one of them could do anything that TRULY helped the suicidality. Both were holding bins until I could get my act together enough that I wouldn't actually try to complete suicide. Neither meant that the suicidal thoughts actually stopped once I got out.
But the ones that loom right behind ED for me, now... they are the sorts of urges I can't ignore. I feel, within some deeper part of my being, that they are right. That I've had enough of this shit, and I'm not getting any proper help, and it looks like I won't for a long time, so FUCK THIS FUCKING LIFE. I am seriously sick of all this shit now. I just want out. I want out I want out I want out.
But I can't overtly kill myself. Fine. So I take laxatives a couple of times a day, go through excruciating cramps and bouts of very watery diarrhea. So I eat less, and try not to eat foods with a lot of potassium or salt. I start eating and purging, because not allowing ANY food doesn't seem to work anymore, knowing that purging is also getting rid of fluids, potassium, electrolytes generally. So I stop taking my iron pills any more than once every 3-4 days -- just enough to make me non-anemic, because getting short of breath and having ZERO energy make me want to eat more. Never take the proper dosages, because I don't deserve to get fully physically better, and anyway, completely fixing a medical problem brought on by ED seems counter to my goals here. So I pursue the eating disorder, and self-destruction, with every moment of my day when I actually stop to think, and I build it up gradually, to build up my tolerance, and maybe soon this whole fucking piece of bullshit I call a life will finally be done with. Accidentally, one day. Oops, heart skipped one too many beats. Oops, passed out. Oops, accidental death, don't know when it's coming, won't tell on myself, it's not really fatal till it's actually fatal, and if it happens I won't be around to see the consequences.
This is where my head is lately. And it is a fucking awful place to be.
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