Sometimes I just figure I will die from all this shit eventually. And then I start wondering why I am bothering to try and prolong the inevitable. But then sometimes I think I can actually get better, and I have to keep trying or I never WILL get better.

I am massively ambivalent about recovery, and it's tearing me apart. The self-destructive drive is SO STRONG right now, and yet the side that wants recovery has some strength as well, particularly because that side is being highly supported by M House. If I wasn't here, I can say with fair certainty that the recovery side wouldn't even have a chance. As it is, though, both sides are pulling at me, screaming at me, trying to force me to make a choice, and I haven't got the first fucking clue what to do. All I know is that this may slowly drive me even crazier than I already was.


I have to eat supper soon. :/

The suicidal thoughts are starting to become more of a chronic condition than an acute, episodic thing. I don't think that's good, really, but I feel rather indifferent to it most of the time. It probably doesn't scare me like it should. It just feels like... the way things are. The way my brain works. It also feels, at this point, like something I've always had and always will have, although I realize logically that this last part isn't true. It just feels true.

Today my ninth belt notch is not as tight as it was. Yay!!

I'm sorry if I sound like some kind of bubbly school girl in these posts, by the way. I forgot how heady this stuff can feel initially. I can't exactly call it the fasting high, since I'm not fasting, but maybe you could call it a restriction high. Sort of. I think it has just as much to do with the fact that doing this makes me feel like I actually have some kind of purpose, and am working towards something I actually WANT, instead of something I feel like I should do. You know?

Anyway, I have to go try to do some more Latin, since I was a moron and decided I needed lots more work in my life -.-. I'll probably write something again soon-ish. Hopefully, at least.

125.4. OMG OMG OMG. You have nooo idea how happy this makes me. This was in my skivvies, after 1.5 cups of dehydrating coffee, a BM, and no food so far today, but still. That's exactly the weight I came back from Homewood with!! I never thought I'd see that number again.

But I need to lose more. I am still far too fat. 120 is the absolute minimum, but ideally I'd like at least the mid to high teens somewhere. It's just a matter of how much I can get away with before staff finds out. I guess I will find out the limits pretty soon.

And if I can't restrict a lot, well... there's always exercise, I guess.

Being at my old house seems to be a trigger. Hmmm. Maybe it's just because I realize afresh how stupid and fucking pointless my life actually is while I'm here.

On the up side, I got on my scale tonight, wearing only my t-shirt and undergarments, and it said 127.2. OMG WTF. I am ridiculously happy about this. Also, I tried on a pair of my old size 10 jeans and they fit!! *does a happy dance* I know size 10 probably doesn't seem very small, but compared to a 12 it feels like I'm a million times smaller. 12 is just fucking ridiculous, anyway. Gargantuanely fat. Especially on someone who's only 5'3.5". Size 10 is not small, but at least I'm not quite as GROSS AND FAT as I used to be. Gotta try and keep hold of my eating, though, so that I don't gain anything. I think I will freak the fuck out if I gain much from where I am right now. And by "much" I mean like... more than a pound. But more especially if I gain the pant size back. I DO NOT WANT TO GAIN THAT SIZE BACK.

Crazycrazycrazy.

Today is one of those days when I don't want to be alive. I'm not actively suicidal, per se... I just really don't want to be here.

Only two days left! Huzzah!

I'm going to see a play today with a couple of friends. It's about a gay guy in a concentration camp who falls in love with another gay guy. Fascination with the Holocaust + LBGT themes = a good show, I hope. Has the potential to be profound. Yadda yadda yadda.

And since I have some time now, I guess I'll tell you about the psychological assessment, as I promised I would do before. None of it was very surprising in any way. DSM-wise, it went something like this:

Axis I: Dysthymic Disorder; Identity Problems
Axis II: No diagnosis, but characteristics of Borderline Personality Disorder
Axis III: GERD (acid reflux disease) and PCOS (hormone disorder)
Axis IV: I can't remember what this said, if anything. There might have been something there, but if there was it was fairly obvious, so obvious that I didn't take much note of it.
Axis V: This was the Global Assessment Functioning scale. My GAS level was rated as a current 50, but for the past year as a 60.


So, yeah - nothing terribly surprising in that, for me at least. I've known about the dysthymia and borderline crap for a long time. It is interesting to me, though, that neither my ED nor my anxiety received any diagnostic attention. I can only assume that neither, at this point, must seem serious enough to qualify, or something. On the other hand, it was a full report, and the report itself contained some details about the b/ping and my "drive for thinness" (which apparently doesn't mean I have to actively be trying to get thinner - just that I always want to BE thinner). The anxiety was sort of mentioned in with the borderline stuff, and not so much as a separate thing, except for maybe in passing.

Anyway, I have to go check in yet again, so I guess that's all for now. Comments and queries are always welcome! Heh.

So I'm still in the psych ward, but things are looking up a bit, I guess. I got accepted to M House, so I'm going there next Monday at 1. Which means I have to stay here till then -- but I can get a pass basically whenever I want one, so at least I can get away sometimes, you know? I'm going to go visit my friends at school tomorrow, I think. I haven't seen them since the Friday before I got admitted.

They just called a level 2 code white on one of the units. Code white, for those who don't know, is the code for violence. I've been surprised by how few have been called, especially on my ward, which is one of the acute care wards. There have only been three, and they were all within the same week, and all on the same guy. He was manic and refusing to take meds, but he was also certified, meaning involuntary, so he had no choice about taking them. They threw him in TQ all three times. Apparently that means "therapeutic quiet". You know, one of those little rooms with nothing in it but a blue gym mat -- or, actually, in his case, not even that. Just a tiny, freezingly cold bare room. You come out, essentially, when you quiet down.

Ah, the tales of the psych ward. Honestly, mostly I just keep to myself a lot in there. Keeps me away from most of the chaos. I prefer that.

Anyway, at least I'll be out of here somewhat soon! I can't wait. Hospitals generally suck, even though I have to admit that I did get some decent help here. My psychiatrist really knows what he's doing, and the inpatient psychologist is pretty good too. Hopefully I'll write more about my assessment with her later, but for now I have to go check in at the ward.

Toodles!

To make a long story short: I'm in the hospital, and the only way I can get on blog sites is via my phone. I can check my email on the library computer, though. In fact, I have to head there very soon (it opens again in about 10 minutes).

Also, my parents have told me that I am not allowed to come back home, so now I have to find a place to stay. One suggestion they've made to me is a place called M House, which is like a therapeutic group home. The average stay is usually about 3-4 months, and they have individual and group therapies as well as life skills training groups, etc. I still haven't decided if I think it will be a good fit for me, but I think I'm closer to the side of putting in an application and seeing what happens. They have to do an interview and stuff anyway, so it's not like just applying would get me accepted right away, you know?

Anyway, gotta go. Peace out.

Honestly? I just want to die. I'm so tired of everything.

fighting horrible thoughts, again.

fuckshitfuck.

Found this in an old entry and wanted to do it again... so here it is!

Hello I am

adult, alien, artsy, big sister, blonde, butch-liking, caring, cat lover, chapstick lesbian, child, complex, confused, cousin, curious, cute, daughter, different, dreamer, dyke, eclectic, family-closeted, female, female-born, femme-ish, femme-liking, friendly, gay, genetic woman, girl, girl lover, hypo-sexual, intelligent, introvert, LGBTQ, lesbian, lesbo, lezzy, little sister, Ms., me, monogamist, multifacetted, nerd, not sure of myself, odd, out-ish, passionate, passive, philosopher, pro-choice, pro-gay, progressive, quiz whore, right-brained, sensitive, sexless, she-geek, suicidal, survivor, treehugger, trustworthy, virgin, weird, whole-brained, woman

Who are you?

So, well, I'm still around. Have been spending a fair amount of time wishing I wasn't, but whatever. I saw the on-call counsellor on Monday, and I'm talking to my own psychologist tomorrow, so I suppose I'll be okay at least until then. Or something. He's probably just going to hate me for wasting his time when I already saw someone on Monday, but I don't fucking care anymore. Even if he does, it's not like I don't deserve it, in my own mind at least. I am self-centered lately and think that my own horrible opinions of myself and my life are gospel, and everything else is a lie.

I have come to the realization, via the observations of a friend, that I am not actually in any sort of "real" recovery and probably never was. I just spent the better part of two years hiding and masking and creating more layers so that I could "cope" and "live a normal life". Turns out that when I get super stressed, and then maybe don't engage in as many behaviors as I had been doing before, all those layers start twisting and turning and pulling off. I start becoming that thing I never wanted to be -- the thing I tried to remake myself NOT to be. Emotional, with innumerable mood swings; alternatively terrified, lethargic, and self-destructive; and always, always needing more than anyone could possibly give me.

The biggest problem, though, is that as time has gone on, I've become very jaded about recovery in general. I don't think I can ever live the kind of life I actually want, or ever receive the kind of attention from other people that, at my innermost self, I feel that I desperately need. So clinging to behaviors seems not like any sort of childish or manipulative or even destructive thing to do, but rather the only way I actually CAN live in this world the way people seem to want me to. As a part of it, contributing, acting and seeming normal. As a nice person, a good friend, a stable daughter, a sister who doesn't echo the crazy you are trying to get over within your own self.

But the facade is slowly starting to come apart. And, predictably, so am I. (I just wish real predictions were as good as retroactive ones.)

I have no idea where this is going, or even where it can go. It could continue by keeping me in a downward spiral, leading to lots of horrible things. Or maybe it could be some sort of road that leads me into actual, true healing of some kind. But even as I write that second possibility I don't think that can actually happen. I am too broken, and I've been broken for too long, for it to be able to be fixed. It's starting to all work itself into the way my personality, my whole self is shaped, rather than being something abnormal that is controlling me and making me crazy. It seems to be trying to work its way from parasite to symbiote. And I'm letting it. I find it comforting. I like having this one avenue towards fire and chaos that other people can't take away from me, no matter what they do to me. In fact, negativity would probably just feed into it, rather than taking it away. I like having something that not even stubborn insensitive parents and well-meaning friends and poverty and being a total fucking failure can take away from me. I could get to the bottom of the deepest barrel and still have it. At the bottom of that barrel, I would be able to sit there and think, "At least I can still be good at one thing." In some strange, fucked-up way, I would win.

Shields.

Sometimes I also wonder if I want to recover at all, which may or may not be another reason that I never truly did. At one point I really think I wanted to recover, and even had some hope that this could happen. Again, I've gotten rather jaded since then. So many psychologists, so many different people and treatments, and here I sit, still like this, still the same as ever. They say it's insanity to keep doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I don't even WANT to keep doing it.

I am tired of all of it. Physically, mentally, emotionally -- I'm tired. I'm tired of therapy, of school, of my family, even of my friends sometimes. Really, really motherfucking tired.

I don't know how to deal with this anymore. I wish someone could just come scoop me up and magically make all this stupid shit that is my life go away -- change it all into something that's actually liveable, that is worth living through. I can't think of another way to make anything liveable. Which means I'm running out of options.

One way or another, something is going to have to change, and soon.

THIS POST COULD BE TRIGGERING. You have been warned.


I'm in a state of mind right now where reading about some other girl's struggles with wanting to off herself (I think) on a certain LJ community, a girl I don't even know, is ridiculously and absolutely triggering.

Let me be honest. I have been having the worst OD urges possible -- last night, and now they seem to be starting again tonight. I think I just want my life to go away. And it bothers me that I can post how hard things are in a forum I frequent and have almost nobody comment, and someone else can post the same thing on another community and everybody actually gives a shit about her. I know that sounds incredibly attention whore-y of me, and who knows but that it might be in some respects. I want someone to get a fucking clue that NOTHING IS OKAY AND I AM SO FUCKING FED UP WITH THIS SHIT. So maybe it's not being an attention whore so much as... I wish that if more people knew about it, maybe one of them would know how the fuck to fix it, or say the right thing to make me okay again. Make me functional. But maybe that can't actually happen.

The counselling center tried to call me this afternoon at around 3, and I can't think of a reason they'd do so other than that they want to cancel my appointment for Monday. My appointment LAST Monday didn't go ahead, either, because apparently it wasn't even in the schedule -- and even then the receptionist said he almost certainly would have cancelled anyway, because he was in some sort of Very Important Meeting. I am getting rather tired of this bullshit. Maybe I wasn't exactly acute before, but things are clearly way worse than they have been, and I really think I at least need to go and talk to someone. I guess it's the on-call counsellor for me on Monday. Let's just hope it's not someone horrible.

I need to think of something to do tonight instead of pills, or even cutting. I'm supposed to go putting up posters tomorrow for an art festival I'm volunteering for, and it would NOT be cool if a cut came open and bled all over my clothes while I was walking. So there needs to be something else. What can I do???? Fuck me, man. I should not be trying to think of ways to self-destruct. And yet I can't seem not to think of it these last couple of days.

I don't even know why I'm writing this here. You're all just going to think I'm doing this for sympathy and "omg baby feel better" comments. But I think that what I said above stands. I wish someone here could really truly HELP me, but I know they can't, not like a professional could (and really should, I guess), but I just need somewhere to vent, or a lot of somewheres to vent. And maybe someone has been through this too and can understand. I don't know. I don't know what I want. My brain is starting to try and extend itself in about a thousand different directions all at once.

fdjslkf;djsfkldsjafkldsf;jsflk;dsjfdsj;lafdjlksa;jf

I can't handle anything without bulimia lately.

I feel like my mood is generally going to shit, and my life also.
I hate school this semester. With a passion.
I want to be anywhere but here.

And I don't know what the hell to do to make anything better.
In fact, I don't think I can.