Confession:

I realized today that part of the reason I am so darn reluctant to give up my eating disorder is because there is a part of me that, deep down, just wants to die already.

 

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Facing My Fear of the Scale

Got my weekend homework for IOP: Bring my scale to IOP on Monday.

Anyone with an ED can probably figure out why: we are getting rid of it.

Thing is this isn’t hard for me because I am getting rid of it, it’s hard because, well, I haven’t touched it in over 2 years. I haven’t weighed myself on it. Haven’t turned it on, haven’t anything.

Why?

(Trigger Warning Begin: Suicide, Depression, Self-Harm, Eating Disorder)

Because the last time I touched that scale I almost attempted suicide.

The number had gone up. I was a failure. I hated myself. My life. My body. Everything. I couldn’t live with myself anymore. I had to die. I wanted to die. I had failed and I deserved to die.

I prepped everything. I was in the bathroom, I figured it would be easier for them that way, easier to clean. Plus, there were no pictures, no reminders of what there was left of my life. I got the pills, I got the razors. I was done.

I didn’t go through with it. As I laid out the pills and brought the razor closer to my flesh I thought about them- my 4 year old niece and nephew. What would my family tell them? Would they remember me? Would they be at the funeral? Would they forget me eventually? Would they hate me for what I had done?

Touching the razor to my wrist and seeing the faces of those two little “babies” was all it took. I looked down at the razor, looked at myself, at that scale 2 feet away, at the pills in my palm and then fear surged through me, my thoughts racing through my mind so fast. It was like my mind was trying to get out everything that was rational before the depression, before Ed took back over.

(Trigger Warning End)

What are you doing? This is not okay? You need help. Don’t do this. They need you.

The fear coursed through my entire body so strongly that I threw up out of fear. I flushed the pills, I flushed the razor and then I turned and looked at that scale. I was hysterically crying at this point. Terrified to look at it, to touch it. Half of me was scared I couldn’t withstand the screaming voice in my head to stand on it, the other half was terrified that I would see the number again and not be able to stop myself against the suicidal thoughts.

I flipped the scale over with my foot, fumbled with the battery component because I was shaking so hard that I couldn’t steady my hands enough. I tore the battery out violently and flushed that too. And then I put the scale away, in the back of the closet. The “junk” closet. The one with the stuff we never use. And I NEVER touched it again.

Now, one of my IOP therapists wants me to bring it on Monday. Wants me to touch it during treatment and then get rid of it for good. I’m not even sure I can touch it to put it in the car so she said to have someone else do it for me and she’ll come get it out of the car.

That’s how bad my fear is.

Even getting weighed at the doctor’s office, daily in treatment and weekly now during IOP causes such anxiety that I have to take my anxiety medicine beforehand. And if it’s a scale that makes noise (like ones that aren’t digital) it’s almost too traumatizing to handle. (Case and point: Tuesday when I had to be weighed at IOP because my therapist wasn’t here to weigh me and it took my dietitian 15 minutes, music, stepping on the scale to hold it steady and a double dose of anxiety medicine to get me to even comply.

So that’s my homework. Bring my scale. Touch it on Monday. Getting it into my car will even be a challenge so I have to ask someone to do it for me- which is also hard because I feel like that’s embarrassing to admit and I hate asking for help but at least I have a few days to figure it out.

But oh gosh, I have to touch it. I don’t want to do it, I really don’t want to do it.

Chicago is better when you don’t arrive for ED treatment

I’m nervous but not all at the same time. Right now it feels like I am here for a vacation to see my family. Really though, it’s odd to be here so close to the marathon and not running it. 

More of my family knows now. Idk how I feel about it yet but whatevs it’s better than lying and they’ve been great. My aunt and uncle are stellar at keeping my secret and I love them for it. 

Tomorrow’s the day. Ugh already freaking about getting weighed. I feel like I’ve eaten a ton of food. I just don’t understand how if I eat x ounces of something how I don’t gain that instantly forever. I get it, but I just don’t too. 

I want to go home but I can’t. I’m really thankful for my aunt and uncle though they’ve been life savers and I wouldn’t be this calm if not for them. 

I’ll check in tonight or tomorrow. Tomorrow is going to suck. 

All packed. 

Taking a huge leap of faith tomorrow. I’m getting on a flight, heading to Illinois and well, going to residential treatment Monday.

I’m a bit stressed over the situation but it’ll be okay. I think. 

I’m going for the right reasons, my behavioral specialists at my current center trained with those ill be working with up north; I’ve got the inside scoop on the treatment center, I’ve been through some treatment so I kinda know what to expect and yet, I have no clue what it is really like. That scares me.

On top of that I went to the doctor on Friday, asked the treatment center if he needed to run tests and was told no, last night they called and said yes. Ugh. So now I have to go to the local ER by the center and get those done on Monday before I admit to the actual center. It’s really not a big deal just I would rather be at my doctors office when they do it. Oh well, I’m considering it an introduction into my new life in an ED residential facility 😏.

Anyway, after Monday I’ll be MIA for who knows how long. I’ll be finding myself, unplugging and getting better. So hopefully soon I’ll be back. I’ll try and post tomorrow and Monday before check in but I guess it depends on how overwhelmed I feel. 

Until then, my bags are packed, I’m all checked in to my flight (with an upgraded seat because, well, something should be extra comfy), I said goodbye to my niece and nephew who think I am on “vacation”, and to a few others who know about my ED and tomorrow my sister and mom will take me to the airport and drop me off. 

I’m not thinking about that part. 

Yesterday I had to say goodbye to my current treatment center. The hardest was to the 3 teens who are like little sisters to me. One was being discharged for good-for which I was psyched- the other 2 will go back on Monday except we won’t get to catch up and bond we will instead be separated by half the country. It sucks. They cried, I held it together until I left and cried the whole way home. They are so sweet, they don’t deserve this disease, they are fighters though and they will conquer this, they inspire me. So T, S and B if you ever read this I hope you are well, that you stayed on recovery’s sometimes bumpy path and I hope you know I cannot thank you enough for being the brightest part of my day in treatment. 

And J, my friend in the adult program, got moved to IOP but she was really my guardian angel in PHP. I have no clue how I would’ve survived without her or have been strong enough to accept my fate and come to terms with going to residential. J I can’t wait to get back bc we are so going to catch up at the cafe our EDs have kept us from ☺️☺️

But to do all that I have to go, my behavioral specialists say the center is stellar and like a family,so while B, S, T and J and our behavioral specialists S and M and dietitian C are all back here, I’ll be thinking of them and working hard to get home to them. I am going to make the most of it though, I actually do like unplugging for a while and I have wanted to live up north for a while so this is sorta like a trial run, sorta. 

Until then, I am excited to see my aunt and uncle tomorrow and have a mini sleepover with my mom and sister tonight before they take me to the  airport