108 lbs.

Fuck yeah.

I am still not sure if it actually was that doctor... she thought she met me on a medical floor at some point. Who the fuck knows, I guess.

Anyway, I'm home. Picked up my script for my new 150mg dose of Effexor, and also bought my own blood sugar testing kit. The kit was free, but the testing strips were FIFTY DOLLARS. I was talking to my friend M later on and she said that she and her dad had the Walmart brand, which is just as good as the OneTouch I got, and the strips only cost them $20. Fml, seriously. I should have asked what the cheapest kind was. -.-

Anyway, my blood sugar soon after I got home (and purged the stupid A&W I just had to eat) was 6.6[119], which is quiiiiite a bit higher than it has been, though still normal. So I didn't test it again till just now, and it's gone down to 5.4[97]. That's still well within normal sugar levels, though, so I am in no way worried. I'm certainly not going to eat any calories before I go to bed tonight. It will just be me, my Diet Pepsi, my trazodone, and possibly an OTC sleep med or two, to make absolutely sure I conk out.

I guess the biggest question now is: Can I control myself over the next few days? Can I not land myself back in hospital? Already tonight I've had urges to take more pills than is healthy, but then I happened to look down at my kitten, who was looking up at me with these big eyes, and I just broke. I even got teary, for the love of god. I got sad. I don't want to leave him without his mommy. Then again, the other part of me says, "Oh, don't worry, your parents will foster him out with Heavenly Creatures, he'll get a new home, he won't be put down." It's like this constant fucking verbal battle between the part that wants to die and the part that wants to live. And I still don't know which one is going to win.

IOP program referral: Check. The only reason I even let them do it is because I want to be able to ask somebody there if there is ANYwhere I can go inpatient/residential that would take a case like mine. Homewood, the only one I really know, doesn't take people who are suicidal, and they also don't deal with self-injury and stuff. They basically ONLY deal with eating disorders, or will medicate you if you have, say, depression or anxiety. That's IT. AND they have no individual therapy, and I can't talk about my deepest crap in groups... and then there's the fact that they diagnosed me with AN when I was on the weight maintenance contract (and therefore obviously didn't meet the criteria for AN). I just really don't think it's going to work for me, at all, for a lot of reasons. So there had better be something else, otherwise I'm just going to cave in and self-destruct until I die. I already more or less am.

My blood sugar this morning was, I believe, 3.9 (might have been 3.8). 3.9 is 70 on the American blood sugar scale, for the record. They started taking my sugars yesterday after I met with the team (an interim psychiatrist, a nurse practitioner, & one of the nurses from the ward), and of course the first time they took them the number was 3.3 (59). So I told them I would have a coffee with a bit of extra milk in it, and they seemed fine with that. Later it went up to 3.8 (68) and then 3.9 (70). BUT when I had it taken later that evening, it had dropped back to 3.4 (61), but I really really did NOT want to eat or drink anymore, having had so much extra that day already. However, the nurse threatened me with the glucose drip if I didn't drink or eat something, and I've heard from a certain someone that glucose drips make you gain weight, so I drank the fucking 3/4 cup of apple juice that he poured up for me, much as I hated doing it.

So far this morning I've had a REAL coffee (Mom and Dad brought me a large Timmies coffee last night) with like 2tbsp milk & 3 Splenda. It might not be enough to ward off being forced to eat for blood sugar again later, but it's okay for right now, I guess.

Anyway, when I saw the team yesterday, all they decided to do was... wait for Dr. H (the regular psychiatrist) to come back. She will be here sometime today. I think they were basically as puzzled as I was about what to do with me. The only things they actually did for me were raise my Effexor to 150, order me some polysporin for my arms, and start the blood sugar checks. The first two I'm fine with. The third.... well, it pisses me off more than anything. I mean, I've been FAR more hypoglycemic than this from the bulimia, and I always knew the signs & always took care of it. But here they're making me drink shit to compensate for "low sugar" when I don't actually feel very low at all. So it does make me a bit mad. I guess I can understand why they don't trust me, but I'm still like ARRRRGH.

I guess we'll see if anything actually comes out of this meeting with Dr. H. Speaking of her, though, she says she knows me, and if it's the same woman I saw briefly at the desk yesterday, I DO know her. However, the story of how I met her is a bit... embarrassing. You see, I'm pretty sure that I involuntarily puked up multivitamins in front of her and her supervisor (I guess she was a resident then) after one of my visits to the ER for ODing in 2006 :$. What a reason for someone to remember you, right? Oh well. I'm totally going to mention it to her if I see her anyway, out of curiosity anyway. Because if that's her, that's the ONLY way she could remember me. So clearly she never forgot it either. Like I said... embarrassing. :|

I wonder what interesting times today will bring...

My friend said to me on my forum: On my ward you get one cup regular in the morning, the rest of them are decaf.


I wish I was at your ward, L... I would love even one regular cup in a day! But I've been drinking an assload of Diet Pepsi every day - at least 1-1.5 litres - so I guess I've been getting at least SOME caffeine. Lol.

So I've decided to try and eat something very small at every meal... which is better than no food at all, like I did yesterday. Just now I had 1/3 of my scrambled egg, and I just got my (decaf) coffee with its 1 tbsp of milk. I don't know the precise calories yet, but I know it's not high, & mostly protein anyway (and some fat). Eggs are one of my "safe" things these days, so it should be okay.

The nurse said she's going to have a chat with me later on, when I'm "more awake". I wonder what the hell that means. I suspect she's going to rag on me a lot for not eating. What the fuck ever. She can say whatever she likes.

I think I'm supposed to be getting the standard bloodwork done today; I already did and handed in a urine sample. Also, the regular ward psychiatrist is in today, I believe, so she will see me and I guess make some sort of diagnosis and possibly/probably change my meds.

Today should be an interesting day...

Apparently my vitals are now being checked three times a day. Why I have no idea, as my vitals have never again been as low as 90s over 60s. Earlier it was 102/72, but that's not SO bad. Other than that it's been 110s or even 120s (once) over 70s or 80s. Everything else is always fine. I don't have a sweet clue why I would need to have it taken an extra time every day. What the fuck ever.

Warning: Self-harm talk ahead.


So last night was really shitty. I got ridiculously anxious, which led to me pacing, then trying to stop & subsequently dissociating, then scrobbing at my arms with my fingernails. I tore the skin clean off in strips... long strips on both forearms, and small ones, 3 apiece, on the back of each hand. The nurse last night put that clear sticky tape on them last night, which I innocently took, not knowing how fucking hard it would be to rip off later. One of the nurses took the tape off one arm earlier today, and it fucking KILLED. I cried at first from the pain, but within a couple minutes the tears turned into real tears, about everything. I had to retreat to my room once he was done with the tape and cry for at least 10 minutes.

I went back to sleep after I got gauze on that arm (it burned too much to put my shirt over once the tape was off), and once I woke up again I felt a little better. I did think it was pretty hilarious how they let me sleep through lunch without even calling me, though. I mean, it's not like I was going to eat it anyway, but they usually at least tell me it's up and ask if I'm going to eat anything.

I haven't been able to make myself eat anything today. I found out last night that the coffee is actually DECAF... what the fuck?? So I've been having it with only 1 tbsp 1% milk, and my usual 2 Splendas. So, all totalled today, I've had... 19 calories. :/ I know that's not really "good", but I can't face the thought of eating anything today. I was planning on half a yogurt (50 cals) but the thought scares me right now. It would take my overall cal count too close to 100 for my liking.

Ugh. I am so fucked up. I wish I could get out of my own head.

My friend said this to me on the forum I post at: "My psych ward can hold me basically as long as they want if I refuse to eat, unless I agree to OP treatment. [...] What are you going to do?"


They can hold me as long as the fucking well like... I still don't want to eat, and I'm not fucking eating.

68 cals yesterday, 97 today. And that is enough for me. I do NOT want to eat anymore.

My sister is going to come in soon and bring me clothes and toiletries and stuff, and also bring me my new books and DVDs, and some of my food. Specifically, she's bringing Diet Pepsi, my yogurt, and my rice milk. I'll have to get stickers for it all with my name on it, otherwise other people may steal it.

A doctor actually did come in to see me today... apparently she's actually a psychiatrist, too, not a GP. She said that she was going to get the nurses to more closely monitor what I'm eating, which I don't really care about. I'm REALLY thinking a transfer to H (general hosp psych) is likely in my future. This hospital, the W, doesn't have an ED protocol, and I don't see myself starting to eat anytime soon. Oh well.

So apparently the labs don't even open until Wednesday, which means the psychiatrist won't be in either. Christmas is a shitty time to get incarcerated for more than one reason, apparently. Bah humbug.

One of the nurses is going to get me a couple bottles of Diet Pepsi and some change later today, though, as she said the cafeteria will be open today. All I have left is five and twenty dollar bills. Lucky for me that the bus strike is on, I guess, or else I probably wouldn't have as much money randomly on my person. And I'm pretty sure they don't have a bank machine here.

I'm sitting here watching Gene Simmons. The only damned thing to do here is watch TV. I don't even see any cards around here. There are some books, but I'm pretty sure they're not the kinds of books I like to read. Whatever.

Point is, it's BORING, and I'm bored. I guess that's the reason I'm online and posting shit so much. I have nothing else to do, plus I have something half interesting to say at the moment, so I actually have things to write about.

Ho hum.

Today's vitals:

BP: 98/69
Pulse: 72
Temp: 36.4C

So... not too bad, but not as high as usual when it comes to BP. I'm not super worried though. Restricting is bound to drop it a little, and it's not exactly medically dangerous at the moment.

Watching movies in here today. Have watched a tiny bit of "Prancer" and the majority of "Casino Royale" so far. There are a couple of other DVDs as well as an unopened Star Trek movie... Generations (one of the TNG ones). I have seen it at least twice before, but I would totally be up for watching it again. I have no idea if the other guy in the lounge would go for that, though. Oh well.

I'm on the short stay unit now. There are only three people here, and two of us came in last night. (The unit holds 7 people total.) Merry Christmas to us all, I guess. I'm pretty sure they left my purse at the assessment unit, but they're being really slow about calling back about it. I want some lip chap / lipgloss, and also money for Diet Pepsi if I can get it, and this phone needs to be fully charged. I am not eating today, of course. After that fiasco of yesterday??? Yeah fucking RIGHT. No food for me. Coffee, water, and diet soda. That's it.

I'm tired, and yet bored. There's not very much to do here so far. I think this phone is going to end up being my life line.

My friend called 911 on me tonight, so here I sit, waiting to get assessed, and probably admitted to fucking short stay.

I fucking hate my fucking life.

On my forum thread, a friend said: "what happened to treatment? what did your GP say?" (I had been vaguely considering actually doing something about the bulimia)


I told my GP I was still binging and purging, and that I couldn't stop, and that I didn't know what to do anymore. And she said... nothing. Except to just keep trying. Which just basically showed me that I'm clearly not in any sort of crisis, therefore I don't need treatment at this point. I felt that asking about treatment after what I said, and her reaction, would just be basically whining for "extra" that I didn't really "require", and so I didn't bother.

But it's okay, because I am so fucking done with life it's not even funny. I don't care if I can keep my job long-term, or if I ever go back to school full-time, or anything. I don't want to do anything except what I have newly planned to do. And so I am going to do it.

It's Christmas Eve, and I wish I could say that I've enjoyed it as much as other years, but that would simply not be true. My aunt's gathering was an exercise in "how little can I eat and still look normal?" with a little bit of "fuck, I didn't have to eat THAT" and "why did I eat so much of that??". I ate, literally, 60 calories before going to her house, not counting the milk in my two half coffees (max 20 cals), and by the time I was done like 4 hours of work I was really tired and cranky and just wanted to go home, and I've had a couple of significant downswings today, mostly related to my sister's completely inane yelling about extremely stupid shit. Seeing my family was good, and talking with a couple of my cousins that I haven't really talked with, and getting presents... but overall, this day really hasn't been so great. And I'm not expecting too much more from the next couple of days.

The only, and I do mean the ONLY, reason I'm surviving right now is because I'm also self-destructing. Literally nothing else is keeping me alive.

I've just... given up.

Merry Christmas.

113.6.

I am so fucking sick of everything. Life sucks and then you die.

So I haven't purged in like 2 days... but my weight today was 116.8, and I feel hideously fat and disgusting, even though at the same time I think I can see a little more definition and a little less fat throughout my middle, etc. I may be imagining that last part, though.

I just... I dunno anymore. I can't decide if I'm fat or not, if I'm bulimic or not, if I'm a restrictor or not. I don't know if I even have the right to call myself eating disordered, when I can eat so much fucking food and be okay with it, and even enjoy it, most of the time. It's like the part of me that thinks I'm disgusting and huge, and the part of me that eats, are two totally different parts, and I can't make one connect with the other. If there was some way I could think of to drop loads of weight without having to stop eating and keeping in meals, I would do it. I've thought of diet pills, laxatives, diuretics, the whole she-bang, and I can't think of a damned thing that I personally could get my hands on that would allow me to do what I want to do.

So... I try to at least control my food somewhat, and I exercise. I want to go to the gym 4-5 times a week, if I can manage it. I want to make sure I can't get fat, even if I have to build up some muscle mass (and therefore not lose weight on the scale) to do it. Of course, today when I was at the gym the flu hit me fairly hard, so I had to stop my workout basically right in the middle, which I was pissed about. So chances are I can't even go in the next few days anyway -- AND I ate like the stupid pig I am tonight. A huge bowl of ice cream with syrup and two packs of Smarties, among other things. I did want the food, and I liked it, but... the mental consequences of eating like that, for me, are not exactly pleasant.

I fucking fail at everything.

I feel ED's pull... its band of control gets tighter and tighter, little by little. I'm not taking a big leap off a cliff this time -- its progress is gradual. But I know it's progressing. Thing is, I don't know how to stop it, or if I even can. I basically feel helpless. I have to do what it says, because I can't live if I don't.

My brain is telling me: Eat less. If you do eat, work out. Get rid of the food. Whatever way you have to do that is okay in my books. Sure, diuretics won't make you lose weight, but dehydration is a great way to punish yourself. Laxatives are cool too, if you can ever find a day when you don't have to work and you can take them. You need to lose weight, you fucking fatass, so you'd better fucking do something about it, or be a lardy disgrace forever. You have too many jiggly parts... get rid of them. Get rid of them NOW.

And it just keeps going on in that vein. Forever and a day, it seems. And I am getting stricter in my routines. Seems to be becoming: Have coffee for breakfast (cream is allowed, because it's yummy cream). Go to work. Nibble at work (that's allowed too); have a healthy break (only healthy is allowed). Usually this consists of burger on whole wheat, a container of full-fat yogurt, and a fruit serving. Nibble more if you like. Drink at least a liter of diet root beer on shift, because you're thirsty / want to. Pee a bazillion times. Get home from work, (or from my workout, which I've eaten a carb before), try to eat something healthy, crave horribly unhealthy foods, binge, purge. Then usually I end up eating something before bed, because I can't stand being as hungry as I get.

I just... I dunno. I don't know how to stop this. It's just... my life. My brain. And it just keeps going.