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.

++++++++++

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

So my iron is normal... it's actually in the 50s now. I don't know how that's possible, to be honest, but I'm glad. At least nobody's going to make me take supplements. Maybe the better nutrition over the last couple of weeks has helped that more than I realized. I dunno. *shrug*

On the medical front, I only have one issue that had yet to be addressed, as I'd not gotten up the courage to tell anybody until last night. Aside from having issues with my bowels, apparently my bladder likes to decide to malfunction randomly and make me... dribble. It's decidedly unpleasant, and it can happen anytime, which means sometimes it happens right at the beginning of a meal and I have to try desperately to control it, cause I'm like "FUCK, I can't even go to the washroom right now" (not allowed to have any bathroom breaks during my meals or supervision afterwards). So it's kind of awful, and plays on my nerves a good bit. They're testing me for a UTI and bladder infection and all that business, so I guess I'll find out the results of the urine tests either today or Monday.

I am also hoping to get a pass for tonight, and/or possibly an overnight. I've had time to think about it a lot, so I've planned that I'll take my snack with me, and Mom said she can pick me up to go get some groceries at around 7, after which I'll go visit at Emmanuel House, come home on the bus, and then sleep overnight (if I'm allowed) at home with my cat, because I miss him and REEEALLY want to see him. And I'm going to plan my breakfast with the dietician, and make a specific shopping list, to make sure I've got the proper foods in the house for that meal. I would come back no later than, say, quarter to 12, so I'd be back on the ward for lunch. I'm hoping that because this plan is logical, and actually is good for me, that the pdoc will let me have the overnight instead of just a 2-hour pass (I know I could get a pass to go to Emmanuel House for an hour). I also reeeeally want to get out of this hospital for a night, so it would be GREAT to get this.

I also decided last night or the night before that I want to be discharged either by next Friday, or by the Monday after that, depending on how things go. I guess I'll get to discuss that with Dr. G as well. I'm pretty certain he said he would see me today, and in any case I'm going to go up to the nursing station to get the nurse to make sure he'll come at some point.

The food is getting... well, the automatic eating is getting easier, but thinking about going home to do it all day every day is a lot more challenging. But part of what the pass will do is help me get more used to eating at home, in small spurts, so that maybe when I leave here I'll actually be able to keep on with my meal plan. I really, really hope I'll be able to do it. I dunno what's going to happen if I can't.

Anyway... peace out, y'all.

Talked to my psychiatrist today, and found out that my bloodwork is apparently not all completely fine. It seems that my hemoglobin is normal, but at the bottom end of normal; they haven't gotten my iron levels back yet, but he said they should within 2-3 days. Also, it seems that my white cell count is low, though not so low that they're asking for a hematology consult or anything, you know. But I'm surprised to find that anything in my blood work is amiss, even if it's something relatively minor like white cells being low. Anyway, I asked for the iron test because it was only in the high 40s last time it was tested, which was months ago, and since then I starved myself and stopped my iron supplements, so I suspect it has probably dropped a decent bit. Apparently the GP decided to do some sort of blood smear and other things, just to be on the safe side. I guess I'll get those results back eventually.

As for today... well, the morning was fairly interesting, but this afternoon is going to be boring, as it's going to be baking group, which I'm not allowed to attend as of yet. They bake cookies and things, which are trigger foods for me, so they don't want me there yet. I kind of hope maybe never. But then I kind of hope I'll be allowed sometime. It's fucked. I don't even know anymore.

I'm just... doing the best I can to be as positive and forward-looking as possible while I'm in here, and I think maybe it's working a little bit, but I have to keep keep keep working on it. Everything is really really hard, but I'm trying to believe that someday I might actually want this, and that someday things may not be so hard, and may even be good. I would love for them to be good.

Okay, so... a lot has happened since I last wrote. I ended up getting really suicidal about the eating disorder (had gotten down to 93 lbs with no end in sight, wanted desperately to eat but couldn't, & thinking everybody looked at me and thought I was ugly and awful because of how small I was), which... you guessed it... eventually led to me having to go to the hospital. I was in the short stay unit from Friday to Monday last weekend, then got transferred to the general hospital's psych ward (HSC) on Monday so I could do the eating disorder protocol. And this time they actually stuck to their word... so I started the protocol officially (as in I and the dietician had signed the bastard thing) on Wednesday night at supper.

I am getting to a really tough place mentally, now, because the increases are happening SO FAST, and there are so MANY of them. Plus when I left the choice about snack up to the dietician (because I was never going to say yes) she decided to have me start HS (evening) snack TOMORROW. Plus my belly is bloated most of the time, as my BMs are still not quite regular (& I spent 6 days with no movement), and I'm convinced I've gained like 2125322650 pounds, and every meal makes me feel worse, and increases the horrible awful fat feeling like 100 fold. I am really not enjoying myself, I have to tell you.

The problem is... I know I need it. I do. My vitals haven't been dangerous most days, but they certainly fluctuate a LOT, and there were two days when I had orthostatic tachycardia for real. (Heart rate jumped way too much when I stood.) My hands are shaky, which apparently has been getting better (though I didn't really think about it till like yesterday - but the doctors have been noticing it awhile, it seems). I get these fucking AWFUL headaches, complete with photosensitivity and possible sound sensitivity, which I've had three of in the last week and never had before that in my life, and which the doctors think might be migraines. My mind was extremely cloudy for the first few days here, and I spent a lot of my time in bed because I was SOOO fucking tired. With the food I have, at least, gotten more energy and mental clarity (and memory), and they say that the overall pattern is that my vitals are improving, which is good. It's just that physically getting better only allows me to think more and freak out more, which makes my mental state way, way worse.

And here I am lying down for vitals again... I have to get them lying and standing twice a day. Which is sort of annoying, but definitely necessary, as I've seen. My hospital weekdays are pretty full up, usually, until I finish supper supervision at around 6 or 6:30 (one hour of supervision for meals, and soon-to-be half an hour for snacks). But after that... and on the weekends... it gets so incredibly boring here. I try as best I can to occupy myself with books, TV, movies, and of course my phone, which luckily they let me keep... lucky for my sanity, anyway.

Just thought I'd update a bit about where I am right now, physically and mentally. Should go rest more now before vitals. Bye bye.

Floating between the mid 95s and 97.0... anywhere at all seems to apply, lately. Today I was 96.6. Not that it really matters, as long as I don't start going 97+ again. I was at 99.2 one day... last week? (I had started to eat a bit more) and after 2 or 3 days it just scared the fucking hell out of me. A day of eating nothing solid and I was magically back down to 97.2. So, obviously, 99.2 wasn't even a real weight... just fluid/food/stool weight. But still.

I just cannot handle non-double digits right now. I'll eat, or not eat, as I see fit... and lose, or not "bother" to lose, weight as I see fit. At the current moment I'm basically in weight loss mode, but for the last two days I wasn't. It doesn't matter, any of it, as long as I don't encroach my self-stated physical limits, and as long as what I eat doesn't make me freak out. As long as those two things don't happen we're all good.

School starts tomorrow, but I don't actually have my first lecture till Thursday. I decided to take one on-campus course (Aboriginal Languages of Eastern Canada, a Linguistics course) and one distance course (Business 1000). I figure Business 1000 will likely be a stupidly easy course, for the most part, so taking it distance should be fine. As for the Linguistics course, well, I'm really interested in the subject matter, as I have aboriginal ancestry (very far back) and I've always loved languages, plus linguistics is also something that interests me. I've always though I'd be good at linguistics. Plus linguistics is another "social science" credit, and I need at least four courses in at least two separate social sciences for my degree. I already have, or will be getting, three sociology courses, so this linguistics one will be perfect for the 4th.

I dunno. Mentally, for some reason, I just feel good enough to take on two instead of one right now. I also REALLY feel like I want at least a small amount of time on campus, which business by distance didn't give me, but I am interested in seeing what business is all about, so I don't just want to drop that course. I really, honestly think I can handle two, if I can keep myself out of an extended hospitalization and/or residential place till mid December. I guess we'll see if that part is going to be rationally feasible.

Triggering: Contains weights, BMIs, etc etc

I couldn't think of a way to do a good "summary" update, so I'm just giving you the last update I wrote on my forum. If anything doesn't make sense, feel free to ask me about it.


Today's weight: 98.2 lbs. BMI: 17.

Have talked to two different people about residential treatment in the last two days... with no outcome except that M (my care coordinator from IOP) wants to talk to my psychiatrist (we'll call him Dr. K), and also wants to have sort of a team meeting, so that she, K (dietician), I*, and someone from the housing team I live under can all meet with me and talk about things. They have to decide if there is somewhere else they could recommend I be funded for, and also decide if I've actually "tried everything else" (if I haven't, they can only present me with accepted run-of-the-mill options which may not actually meet my needs at all). If they don't recommend funding for another place, it's basically a what-to-do-with-me meeting.

Personally, I either want proper treatment, or I want to be left the fuck alone to just get on with it. I am seeing everything very very extremely right now, likely because it's so much easier emotionally than trying to accept the shades of grey. The problem is that first I went into crisis mode (all the suicidality, the hospital visits, etc) and then I went into self-saving mode (the restriction), and right now I don't feel like there mentally IS an in-between. If I stop restricting now, or I do anything "wrong" within the restriction, I will go completely fucking mental. I've actually managed to prove this one to myself, because there have been a few times when I just didn't want to purge, or I wanted to eat extra, and I simply could NOT do either one, because my head immediately started going totally and ridiculously crazy. I mean, good Lord... what am I supposed to do when any behavior that's not anorexia makes me suicidal? Seriously??

M thinks, and I agree, that I essentially need treatment for two separate things at the same time: the eating disorder, and then the 'borderline' stuff. But I don't believe there's anywhere in this country actually capable of meeting both my needs at once, and the problem is that if they can't, they can't actually meet either of my needs. The only alternative to this proper treatment is starving until I am forcibly hospitalized or I die... and, well, in the case of forced hospitalization I would still go completely crazy, but I suppose at least there they could tranquilize me with lots of drugs.

Just... everything is so, so completely fucked up, and I hate my life and everything about it. I wish I was fucking rich so I could just go to goddamned America and be done with this fucking treatment bullshit. I NEED proper treatment, and even M said I deserve that, so what's the fucking problem here???

I fucking hate bureaucracy.

Dietician appointment in a little over two hours. My ridiculous physical symptoms of yesterday (heart going nuts every time I stood up or walked anywhere) seems to be gone today, so I guess I don't have to worry about getting vitals done or some shit. Not that I'm convinced she would do it, but anyway. To be honest I don't even see the point in going, because I don't honestly see how I can up my cal intake at this point, and that's pretty much why I would visit an RD at this point. But I guess it's good to keep some sort of connection with someone who actually knows about EDs. It might be helpful later on, too, if I actually try to get into residential again, which is something I'm seriously thinking about.

The problem is that in Canada, there are extremely few options when it comes to residential eating disorder treatment, and any inpatient treatment is basically reserved for only the most emaciated, death-bed anorexics (like programs in true hospitals). I've already been to Homewood, and I know another stint wouldn't help me again for various reasons. They diagnosed me as anorexic and yet put me on a weight maintenance contract; they have NO individual therapy (what kind of treatment facility has no individual therapy??); they allowed me to gain 18 lbs in 5 weeks when I was supposedly on weight "maintenance"; I could go on and on. But it's not going to help this time partially because of the lack of individual therapy, but also partly because they absolutely do not support suicidality in the program. In fact, I had to be three months three of a suicide attempt before they even let me in. Not to mention that if you cut even once there it was a dealbreaker -- as in, they could dismiss you from the program for doing it. Which is SO ludicrous, because so many people with ED issues also have self-harm issues, and a facility as supposedly great as Homewood should be able to deal with it without one cut being a fucking dealbreaker. I mean, how stupid is that?

Another facility I've been considering is Bellwood. This one is in Toronto proper (Homewood is in Guelph, about 45 mins outside Toronto) and is based on the 12 steps. Obviously, most of the programming there is for addictions. I sent them an online message about whether they have individual therapy, can deal with clients who traditionally get suicidal when not having their addiction/ED (because I do consider the ED an addiction, or certainly addiction-like), and whether they can handle people with borderline traits. I also requested that if they could not do these things, if they could recommend somewhere that could. I don't know how long it will take them to get back to me, but I hope they can actually tell me something helpful, because where treatment is concerned I'm seriously at the end of my rope.

I've done M House twice (first time for four months, which is the full stay, and the second time for almost two). I'm doing the ED IOP program for the second time, now, and am doing far worse in it now than I did last time, although admittedly I had a much better start. But things have deteriorated ridiculously. I've lost 10+ pounds with no signs of stopping, I'm taking laxatives every day, I intentionally don't drink liquids I think will hydrate me (basically any drink without caffeine). I still get ridiculous SI urges, but I've been able to ignore most of them. The suicidality is just being kept at bay by the self-harm/dehydration with laxatives. It's just... I don't know how much longer this extremely unstable balance is going to hold. I do know that sooner or later, something will give, and more likely than not I'll either end up in a hospital (which I HATE), dead, or permanently injured somehow. I loathe every single one of those options, actually, but I can't seem to avoid it when I get, or am getting, in truly awful states of mind.

I really do have a very strong mind, you know. I endure a lot more mentally than probably many other people could. But it's because my head has been so full of SHIT and distortion my whole life that my mind has naturally had to be stronger, to cope with it all. It's not some wonderful gift someone bestowed upon me, and I take zero credit for it. If someone has to lift increasingly heavy weights his or her own life, every day, eventually that person is going to develop really great upper body strength. And it may seem awesome to someone looking in on it, but that person remembers the weights, the every day, the strain, the muscle tears, the pain, the stiffness, the suffering of it all. In the end, the final product looks completely different from what it took to actually get there.

I dunno if I'm making much sense anymore. Just that... I want OUT, so badly, and I was desperate enough to email Bellwood for myself, and hopefully I'll ask about more options when I see my dietician today. All I really want is like a comprehensive list of residential (or even inpatient) treatments in Canada that don't require you to be an emaciated anorexic on your deathbed. So far I only know of three residential places, and one is private and extremely kooky (and I wouldn't qualify anyway, because they don't let you in if you already take medications, and I can't stop my meds or baaaad things will happen). The two IP places I know of are the ones that only take emaciated anorexics. Soooo... I don't know yet, but I guess I'll find out sooner or later. I hope I will.

Warning: Entry contains eating disorder and suicidality triggers

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.

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.

I just cannot seem to cope as of about five days ago, but it’s not something that’s going to go away quickly... and I get to my wit’s end about it every day. The only thing keeping me from doing something horrible to myself tonight is the fact that I’m going out of town for a few days tomorrow, which is something that I hope will keep me distracted and on the happier side for at least that time period.

I know one thing I need — therapy — but I can’t get that for quite a long time yet. (At least 2-3 months, and even then it might only be short-term therapy.) I have NO fucking idea how I’m going to continue to deal with this horrible, awful emotional pain EVERY GODDAMNED DAY until then... and probably longer still after that, since it will obviously take awhile to start dealing with it. I can’t imagine how I’m going to make it through every single one of those fucking days.

My new mantra is: Fuck food, and fuck life.

It's stupid... I'm eating again, I'm eating somewhat intuitively now (although it can't fully be trusted yet), and I'm actually sort of okay with being this big (I am definitely at least 125 by now), and yet here I am contemplating throwing it all down the shitter and just going with my eating disorder again.

Why?

Because other people seem to have it soooo fucking easy with their disorders. They never have to face up to responsibility, or risk, or crazy anxiety because they're worried about how to pay their ridiculous bills, or what they're going to do in school, or what the hell is going to happen if they ever meet someone they want to be with and their intimacy issues crop up. Nooo. Other people get to dive into their eating disorders or self-harm or whatever, and get all the numbness and comfort from it, and never face f*cking reality. But meanwhile here I am, slogging through real life, actually trying to fucking do something for myself... and what am I actually getting out of it?

Stupid crazy anxiety. A fucked-up sleep cycle, in part because I've had so many fucking med changes lately, and every time I increase my Seroquel just by 12.5 mg I am asleep for 12-13 hours because it sedates me so badly. Days when I can't even go out, because the thought of having to be in the world and face it is so incredibly overwhelming that I can't handle it. Depression, when I have moments where I'm so sick of doing the same shit over again, yet I know I have to find some way to be content with the same things over and over, because I'm so fucking poor that I can't afford anything different.

And then I start reading shit online about emotional neglect, childhood neglect, and it makes me think all this effort at recovery is fucking worthless anyway. Because my parents will NEVER admit they could have been emotionally neglectful, even unintentionally (and I do believe it was unintentional), so how the fuck can I ever fix it? I'm probably gonna wait another 2 fucking YEARS to see a psychologist at T Clinic, and until then I have... what, a social worker who does "counseling"? I need real fucking THERAPY for this shit. And I can never find anybody who will fucking do it, and do it RIGHT.

Hopelessness. That's what this is. And wanting an easy way out, because the hard way seems like it's never going to work, and I don't know what the fuck to do anymore, and I'm trying SO FUCKING HARD and this is not working. What more do I have to do to make this work?? What more do I have to do not to suffer from depression/dysthymia, anxiety, the [very large] remnants of emotional neglect? What more do I have to do to be comfortable with my sexuality, to be comfortable telling boys who think I'm attractive or nice that, sorry, I'm actually gay? What more do I have to do to actually be fucking OKAY, and BELIEVE that I am okay????

I am just... so incredibly frustrated. And I hate all this fucking bullshit. Maybe I would feel better if I, too, pulled into myself and destroyed myself and just became a selfish, dismayed, petulant child again. Maybe I fucking would.