Just got back from the ER for a cut I made on my forearm. 11 stitches. It’s the first time I’ve ever had real stitches in a cut.

I guess I do actually, truly need this DBT stuff my social worker has planned for me after all... *sigh*.

Forcing myself to drink a whole bottle of Powerade Zero, because I've only kept in 100 cals today and I just purged the rest in the shower, and my heart has been going crazy off and on all day. I know I'm dehydrated, and I fear for my long-term potassium and cardiac health if this keeps up.

I have a fuck-ton of appointments in the next two days... well actually three... and possibly a 4th on Friday. Also my psychiatrist on Monday. We'll see what comes of all of it.

I am not better. In fact, I'm worse. I didn't actually think that was possible, but apparently it is.

94.4.

Okay... I'm just going to c/p my Xanga update from yesterday onto here, because I don't feel like writing a brand-new entry. Some of this is a summary of older entries here, since Xanga hadn't been updated in a long time.

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I just spent three weeks inpatient, from the ED making me suicidal... I was on the ED protocol at the general hospital psychiatry ward for a little over two weeks. I have only been out for five days and have already managed to lose over a third of the weight I gained in there, & I'm already back into ED mode a good bit (though perhaps not quite as extreme as before I went in). The problem is that I know it isn't going to get any better from here... in fact, it's likely to only get worse. I am resisting the ED brain as much as I possibly can, but that only means I might allow myself to eat two small meals a day instead of just 1 meal. It definitely isn't enough -- I was on 3 meals 2 snacks IP, at the end, and I still only gained a pound in the last week. If I was hardly gaining (at such a low weight for me) on that much food, it's pretty definite that I'm going to lose on 2 meals a day or less, especially since one of those meals is breakfast. My metabolism is up now, which is a good thing to ED, but bad in terms of my weight/health at the moment.

I don't know what to do anymore. I've tried everything I know to get over this stupid shit, and nothing has worked. I can't just go back inpatient now that I've signed out... they probably wouldn't let me in, anyway, since I haven't lost all the weight yet and I'm not currently suicidal. Not that I care, to be honest. I don't WANT to go back there. The unit was incredibly overwhelming, and if I couldn't be by myself / in a quiet space for a decent bit of time each day I would flip my shit and start barking at people, etc. I also cried numerous times because I simply couldn't handle the stress and frustration of everything in there. If I couldn't handle it a week ago, I certainly won't be able to handle it now. No... I reckon the only way I'll ever end up back on the ED protocol is if I get forced in.

I'm tired of people telling me I have so much potential, blah blah blah, only for me to come out of the place where people told me those things, go back to my real life, realize that my life sucks, and jump or slide right back to my illness(es). I have figured out that the only reason live-in anything works better than when I'm on the outside is because when you live in a treatment center you have constant structure and support, not to mention that you're never alone. At home, I am alone almost all the time, and the encouragement is... sparse at best (and often nonexistent). Not to mention that when it comes to ED specifically, I have to cook all my own meals, which involves buying the right groceries, taking time to make recipes, and then sitting down at proper times and serving meals to myself with sides, a caloric beverage (!!), and possibly dessert (suppers). When you add all those disadvantages up and take into account how extremely fragile my hold on recovery was anyway... is it any wonder I couldn't keep all the momentum I built up in IP?

Oh, yes, and finally I will mention that the ED OP clinic won't take me back unless I can prove I'm more "stable" with regards to my other issues, and also more motivated for their specific program. It's funny how they are requiring me to be a lot better before they'll help me in any way to be better. Is that a bit backwards, or am I just crazy?

Couldn't resist the urge to weigh today, as I got discharged yesterday at around 2 PM (yay!), and it was... 97.4. So I've only gained like 1 lb in the last week. I don't know what I really expected, except that I didn't think I was in the triple digits yet... but only one pound?

I mean, it's good in the sense that I'm not freaked out by my weight yet, but it's bad because if I'm already eating 3 meals 2 snacks, and I only gained a pound in the last week, it stands to reason that within a few more weeks I will probably stop gaining on this plan, and I do NOT want any food increases!!! But I know that if I don't keep gaining the dietician is probably going to want to do more increases... and this meal plan is fucking hard enough without MORE GODDAMNED FOOD. I really, honestly don't know how many more increases I can handle.

I'm only managing what I'm eating now because I'm giving myself ZERO choice with regards to my current meal plan. It's pretty much like I'm keeping myself on protocol right now, including in terms of getting up semi-early, what and how I eat, and the intervals at which I'm eating. If I wasn't following protocol still in my own head I know I would NOT be eating like this, because my hunger cues are still fucked up, and restricting is still far more habitual to me than eating. It's extreme mechanical eating at this point... I prepare the food, I sit down at the appointed time, and I bite, chew, and swallow until the allotted food is gone.

And I still hate it -- I don't like feeling so full so often, and I don't like eating the volume of food I'm eating, and I don't particularly want to eat. But I know that if I don't eat, I can't do all the things I want to do so badly in my life, like actually learning more about everything, growing on both an intellectual and artistic level, actually being involved and making a difference, etc. Food is the basis for this, so I'm putting the food in my mouth and letting it go down my esophagus to my stomach. That's it, plain and simple. It is not easy, or fun, or truly pleasurable at this point. It is simply a rote exercise which I perform with the desire of attaining something more because I have a basis from which to start.

This detachment I have from the food is also necessary, I think. I guess it kicked in after awhile at hospital, after freaking out about pretty much every meal for almost a week, when my hunger signals started to come back a little, and I actually began to be hungry for some of my food. It was only then that I didn't feel gargantuanely bloated after every single meal, and could feel that on a natural, biological level that eating was right, and so then I freaked out a little less about having to do it. But I am definitely NOT all there in terms of mentally processing, really being in the present with food, or much enjoyment.

On the other hand, I know I will get further than I am now, that this is a stage through which I will eventually pass, and that the discomfort and anxiety won't last forever. Plus, as I said before, I know there is a greater reason for doing this, and a GOOD reason (well, actually, there are many), so right now I am able to just... do it. Even if I can't think about it very much.

So I got on the scale this morning... something I am NOT allowed to do by protocol, and I definitely won't be telling L (dietician) I did it. But I was about 96.4 or something? Which means that I've only gained about 3 lbs total. Plus I'm still in the double digits, which I LOVE. It actually made me calmer to weigh myself and see the number, instead of imagining how fat I must be getting now, and having horrible spiralling thoughts about it. Even if I'd been like 100, though it scares me shitless even to say that, I would rather have known so I could deal with it, you know?

Anyway, I obviously went on my overnight, and it went pretty well, actually. I fucked up my sleep schedule because I wanted to stay up, because I was so excited about being home and I wanted to DO things, you know? So I ended up eating my "breakfast" at like 3-4 am, which I considered pretty legitimate as I was ravishingly hungry, and I knew I wasn't getting up at 8 or 9 am to eat it. But then I must have slept through my alarm, because I didn't even wake up till 12:15 . I was supposed to have been back by noon to eat lunch. In the end it took me so long to get back that I missed lunch altogether, even though I had called the unit as soon as I woke up and explained, so I'd figured they'd've held my lunch for me... but I guess not. It hardly mattered to me, to be honest, because I basically spent all day between meals and snacks sleeping, since my night meds were still somewhat in effect.

Today I woke up when the nurse woke me up for breakfast, as usual, and right now I feel physically tired, though not really tired enough to go back to bed. I could easily lie down, however. But I'm fairly happy because I'm still relaxed, plus I brought a ton of stuff to do back -- many new books and movies, and also my iPod docking station . I think the music might make a HUGE difference for me. I forgot my earphones in my purse, but I can go outside later and put them in my jacket. They didn't even bother checking my bags when I got back... I could have taken ANYthing from home. But I actually didn't take anything I'm not supposed to have, as I have no self-harm urges right now, & I wouldn't get away with other types of things anyway.

So yeah... there are my bored-on-a-Sunday-morning hospital rambles. Oh joy oh bliss. :P