Relapsing again. There's no use in any of you trying to encourage me to stop, because I won't.

Today I weigh 97.1 lbs, but that's because I ate a whole meal last night, and solid food before that. Yesterday I was 95.9. Hoping to get back to that weight within the next couple days, and then even lower.

This is just the way my life is. I don't need any "oh my gosh I'm sorry" or "I hope you pull out of this soon" posts. It won't change a fucking thing. This is just life, and it's just what I'm doing, and that is ALL there is to it. No discussion; no debate. Frankly, nothing you can say will change anything, and I refuse to do anything differently. And that is that.

Here's a Xanga entry I just wrote, which I had titled Recovery schmecovery.

++++++++++

Okay... the title is a little bit... bitter, maybe. Not positive, I guess. But I am actually sort of attempting recovery right now. In fact, I guess you could say that I am attempting recovery.

To be totally honest, I don't like that phrasing right now. Not one little bit. I feel like "recovery" is a word laden with so many ideals and expectations that it doesn't even come close to suiting what I am actually trying to do right now. "Recovery" means always trying to be in a positive headspace, and never acknowledging anything negative in my life, and never feeling anything bad because, oh my goodness, feeling anything bad might lead to behaviors and/or relapse. (Never mind the fact that one could say I am still in relapse right now, since I am not weight restored and still probably not eating "enough".) Recovery means making blogs and collages full of positive shit and trying to convince myself that nothing bad in the world will actually matter once I have enough good things in my head. Recovery means... never knowing or feeling the darkness in life, or emphasizing with another's horrific, or just really crappy, life experiences. Recovery, at least in my own little world, is somehow now a massive, pretentious word which I have to fake my way through in order to be "successful".

This ideal, happy "recovery" experience, for your edification, is bullshit. (As Marya would say.)

Let's be blunt here. Recovery fucking sucks. Swear words necessary here, as I feel. Recovery just feels gross and awful and uncomfortable, and is full of anxiety and panic and terror and depression and fatigue and bloating and general displeasure. I mean, there really aren't enough horrible words to describe it, especially in the early stages. Your stomach is not expanded enough to accept the amount of food necessary for true health; but, more than that, your digestion is slowed down, so if you happen to eat anything particularly high in fat or fiber, say goodbye to a functioning stomach for at least 3-4 hours, and say hello to horrible bloating, feeling terribly full, and having everything sit in there for, well, at least 3-4 hours. This is not an exaggeration. In fact, I have been known to purge something 5 or 6 hours after eating a meal and still have parts of the meal come up. It's pretty hard to deny that I probably have at least a little delayed gastric emptying here, as well as the normal feeling too full and feeling bloated because I'm simply not used to having all the food and stool weight in my intestinal tract. My body sometimes decides that it cannot even pass gas without giving me awful lower back cramps (true story -- it happened to me last night). I mean, you'd've sworn I was on my period, literally. But, no, it was just my body trying to get rid of some methane. Wtf???

I mean... I am so not used to this. I've never had to recover before from such a low weight, or with such restrictions on my actual physical stomach and intestine functioning before. In all my weight gain "adventures" before this, or restorations to normal amounts of food at normal times, my body has immediately and positively responded to all the food provided. I guess the fact that it's not bouncing back so quickly is a testament to the duration of the eating disorder (soon to be entering its sixth year) as well as to my increasing age (although I'm still only 25). I really do not enjoy these negative physical sensations, and it makes it that much harder to convince myself that not only is recovery good, but it is absolutely necessary. Eating is absolutely necessary; but not only that, eating normally and eating normal amounts is also necessary. It might take me awhile to build my intake up more, but I know that there is a certain point I need to get to, both in terms of weight and in food amounts per day, in order to be truly, holistically healthy and well.

I really don't mean to be a Debbie Downer, and I'm not really trying to. I am doing all this recovery crap despite all the discomfort (and sometimes pain), and I am doing it despite the fact that mentally I do not always want it, and most of the time it is terrifying, especially when I think of gaining weight. However, a few days ago I managed to have strength enough to destroy the dial on my scale, which I then took to my dietician to get rid of for good, so I can't actually actively weigh myself at this point. I don't trust any weight that is not in the morning, nude, after peeing and before eating, so I'm not going to be hopping on any other scales anytime soon. I know there's no way I could be doing this at all if I was weighing myself, because seeing it go up at all, even if it's just because of food and water weight, freaks me the fuck out and makes me start restricting again, because of the utter terror I feel about weight gain right now. So the fact that I don't have a scale is actually a positive thing, despite the fact that nobody is going to be weighing me right now at all. Once I admitted to the dietician that I was so freaked out about being weighed and having it show a falsely elevated weight that I was too anxious to eat before seeing her, she agreed that at least for the next 2-3 sessions I have with her I will NOT be weighed. To her it's more important that I'm eating, and trying to eat more and more regularly, than that I be weighed every single week, or in fact anytime that she sees me. And I really appreciated that she initiated that herself, as opposed to me having to talk her into not weighing me (which I wouldn't have done -- I would have just restricted before appointments instead). It makes me trust her a little more. Which is good, because I've had more of a history of not trusting her than I have of trusting her, and I would really prefer to actually trust my dietician if I'm going to entrust my body and my health to her. You know.

This turned into a much longer entry than I'd anticipated, but I guess the point is... I'm trying. I may fucking LOATHE it by times, but I have to continue to try. When I'm not eating I have no energy, am apathetic, and basically show most of the other signs of clinical depression despite not actually having a true clinical depression right now. It's amazing to me that something as "simple" as restricting can cause me to have such a total mood and energy change, as well as all the other symptoms it causes. But it does help me to reaffirm why I actually don't like restricting, and why this desire to eat more actually does come from my true self. In some ways restricting comes extremely easily to me... it makes the perfectionistic, obsessive part of my personality very very happy. However, there are more basal parts of my self -- such as my passionate temperament, and my staunch feminist and anti-dieting, intuitive eating beliefs -- that really fucking hate restricting; but, more than that, think that restricting is an utterly stupid thing to do. These parts have been really trying to assert themselves lately, and I do not believe it's so very bad that I'm trying to let them. I really, really don't.

I hope this entry made sense. My brain is trying to short-circuit itself now, so I'm not going to be able to give it a read-through and edit like I usually do, at least not for awhile. Forgive me for any heinous editorial errors that may have occurred during the production of this entry.

ED = bad. Death wish = even worse. In essence, I am trying to die the only way I can try to die right now. None of my acute suicide attempts have worked, so now I'm trying to do it the chronic way. I don't know if this will work, either, but right now I have to do it. I have to try.

Today I weighed 94.2. So far I seem to be losing about .2 a day... which is okay, but not great. There's still a part of me that's attempting to hang on, and keeps making me eat more than I (mentally) want to. Which means the body survives longer, I guess, but...

I dunno anymore. I really, really don't.

Weight today was 95.2, but it's been jumping all around the 95s and 96s. I'm not really bothered about it. I know I'm not eating enough to gain any real weight... or if I was, it would show up on the scale and I could correct it. But 95.2 is actually down from several days ago, so I'm okay with my current level of intake.

I'm having what so far seems to be a pseudo / extremely light period... I had cramps and symptoms all day yesterday but with no blood, and this morning I woke up to the teeeeniest bit of brown blood. It may just be starting really slowly; but either way, it's screwed up from normal, since my period usually follows a pretty regular pattern. Maybe my weight actually is having some kind of effect on it? I honestly have no idea.

What I do know is that I do NOT want to gain weight. I will eat, what I consider "decent" amounts, and will likely continue to do so unless it makes me start to gain weight. My metabolism is up, however, so at this particular point I'm not super worried that a meal or two per day will make me gain anything. In terms of food, I feel surprisingly free and non-obsessed, given my weight and the fact that I would be quite willing to restrict to keep it to this level if necessary. I am glad of the heightened metabolism, because it lets me have that extra freedom and mental sanity. I do truly enjoy having more energy and clarity of thought than I normally would while restricting.

So... I'm not recovering, but I'm not totally deteriorating. I'm in an in-between place, but one that is easier to live with than any in-between place I've ever been in before. I must say that, relatively speaking, I enjoy it. I feel like I have at least a tiny bit of a life, or the ability to have a small sort of a life, which makes me feel happier and overall more well.

Today I am 95.8. I have been eating. I hope to continue eating.

Further than that... I guess I don't really have much to say, except that I NEEED to get on NaNoWriMo, STAT! I don't even have 4000 words, and it's day 5. (For reference, you need to have 5k words done on day 3 to be "keeping up".)

I’m retaining water everywhere on my body because I dehydrated myself so bad from lax the last 2 days.

Feck.

On the plus side, the reason I’m retaining is because I’ve actually been eating somewhat normally today! Hurrah for me! (Cereal and milk for breakfast, a banana for snack, a FULL lunch/supper thing, and now a lemon meringue pudding cup.)

Then again, I was 93 lbs this morning...

Feck.

(It could just be water weight loss. I guess we'll find out.)

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.

++++++++++

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.