Confiscated

My doctor took ALL the pills I had stockpiled and didn’t use during my suicide attempt.

All of them.

And then he destroyed him.

I hate my whole team right now. 

I don’t want to recover I want my damn pills back so that I have an out in case I need it. I had hundreds of pills saved up sinc I was in late high school and college. From every surgery and injury bc, well, my pain threshold is high and I didn’t need them for that purpose. 

And now they’re gone. 

And I can’t have them back.

And I’m so pissed. 

I have no clue how I am going to go to work tomorrow. I feel like I need to go to therapy. Ironic since instead of going inside at this very moment I’m in my car typing this. 

But I can’t go in. I DONT WANT TO HEAR ABOUT EVERYONE ELSES ISSUES. I have enough on my mind without all their Bologna. I don’t need to hear about their problem with their job or their family or their day. I want to not hear about how awful everyone’s lives are because right now ALL I WANT IS TO END MINE. And that will NOT be helpful. 

I texted my IOP therapist (one of them) that is running group and said I’m not coming. She promptly replied with “yes u r” to which I have yet to respond and clearly, yet to abide by. 

Part of me is wondering if they’ll even care if I don’t show up. I’m a lost cause. I’m a burden and a mess. I’m complicated and hard to handle with therapy because I don’t trust anyone fully with my feelings including my conscious self. 

Anyway. I’m tired. I hate me. I WANT MY PILLS BACK. On a scale of hate my doctor is on the top. He’s a nice guy and easy to talk to but he is evil and awful for taking them before I was ready. My whole team is actually bc I wasn’t ready and they still forced me to do it. Well now I am just BEYOND depressed again and not going to treatment and I really don’t see how that’s at ALL useful. 

I hate them all. I hate them, I hate them I HATE THEM. 

All I want is to punch something right now or scream or nth or to run and exercise but noooooo I can’t exercise because that would be breaking the rules and even though I am overweight- despite what they say- I am not allowed to do it. Well eff this I am so done listening to people who lie about my weight and won’t really tell me if I have gained. I’m tired of people not letting me choose anything for myself. I hate this whole stupid process and I hate my life. Why did I even go to treatment in the first place??? If God really had a plan he’d have stopped all this madness a long time ago. 

I’m done trustin people. I’m done trying. I am just relying on myself from now on. The end no one else but me. 

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Hospitalized

 I got terrified and texted my therapist from IOP. She demanded to talk to my mom and let her know what I had done as soon as I told her. 

Now I’m baker acted and waiting for the psychiatrist to come see me. Last night I spent the night in the psych ward with my room under video surveillance. Classy. 

I can’t believe I did this. I regret it whole heartedly. I shouldn’t have done it. My whole self regrets it more than anything I’ve ever done before. 

The even *more awesome* news is  that I will have to discharge from IOP if I’m still here tomorrow and on top of that If I have to go back to ED residential I’ll lose the job that’s paying for my insurance that’s covering this red hot mess of a life I’ve got. 

Lesson: maybe suicide just makes everything worse.

Dreading this.

its here. I need to leave in 15 minutes.

I’m not dressed. Haven’t gotten my stuff together, haven’t brushed my hair or teeth (both of which are taking longer since I broke my hand Sunday), nothing.

I have cleaned my apartment. 😬

I know I have to get up and get dressed and do this but honestly, I can’t just yet. I’ve gotten 6 texts since I woke up from family/friends telling me how strong I am and that I can do this but honestly, they have no idea how incredibly weak I am. 

I put on a good front, and yeah perhaps I was once strong but right now, I am weak, terrified, isolated and vulnerable. And I’ve said countless times how I HATE feeling vulnerable. I am sure this therapist will have something to say about that 😏

I seriously wish I could just go to my regular doctor, have them mediate this transition. At least I have become somewhat comfortable with them knowing. These people are different. They see countless people fighting this and I am positive I am not nearly skinny, sick or deep into this to even get their help. They are going to think I am joking. 

Besides I am not keen on losing all independence. Like I get you need to keep an eye on me but I am still an adult.

And I am not keen on eating. What if they don’t take into account my GI issues and what if they start up again? What if the food is gross? How will they really know how much I need? How can I trust them?

The answer: I CAN’T.

I feel like I would like this better easing into it. Like if I had met them before and then come back to start today. Why do they not do this?!?! The reason going through my head is because they are horrid, it’s awful, torture and not safe at all to trust them. And that, is just making me guard myself more. 

And has me planning my escape route. No joke. 

I have 5 minutes. (10 if I am pushing it) 

I really don’t think I can do this. I seriously wish I would’ve been able to talk to my dr this morning, she would’ve made me feel better about this and quieted the run away aspect that’s consuming me. 

I’ve got to decide to go. I have to. I’m just not sure how to do that. 

Twas The Night Before Treatment

It’s officially here; my admission to the partial hospitalization program is tomorrow. 10:30am.

To be honest, nothing feels different, scary, intimidating or anything like that when I think of treatment tomorrow. It just feels surreal. But, I know that once my alarm goes off (assuming I actually sleep tonight) that will all be different. I sit here, not nervous but the thought of tomorrow starts to stir up the fears.

It’s normal to be nervous. I know. That’s what everyone says. But there is nothing normal about this. There is nothing normal about having to drop out of school this term, to be going to a treatment center, to be going to one where I will be there 8 hours a day and be supervised during the entire time, there is nothing normal about having to stop working to go to treatment, there is nothing normal about crying around food, nothing normal about having side effects all the time, nothing normal.

But crying around food, not eating, the side effects all of that ED related stuff, it’s what I know. It’s normal to me. And I guess that’s precisely why I am dreading tomorrow,  because when normal is yanked out from under you it’s never an easy landing, never a flawless execution, and nothing ever ever goes like people plan.

So yeah, tomorrow is the day.

On top of that I am beyond stressed about not knowing what will happen, what to expect and what the whole situation will entail. I just wish someone could be like this was my experience “i did x first and y next and z then and blah blah blah.” But I can’t find anything online like that so I am stressing about that. And of being weighed. I am extra stressed about that part.

The anxiety over the minute details and new situations is so much worse these days. Since these stupid anti-depressants were prescribed I am always stressed. Always worried, always feeling like I am overwhelmed and on the verge of panicking. I hate it. I need to talk to my doctor about it but I just haven’t really been able to get there- because I am nervous about it. Go figure. Plus they make me not want to be around anyone. Not even myself some days. Whatever. I have good days too so maybe those will start to outweigh the odd ones.

I did drive to the center on Saturday- when they were closed. I parked in the parking lot and tried to piece together and mentally prepare for what is going to happen tomorrow, how I am going to get the confidence to go in, how I am going to open the door, say the words, and well, actually just go through with the whole thing. I’m still not sure I can do it.

I wish I could’ve gone to see my ARNP beforehand. She always says something that makes me feel like I can do this, like I am not alone, like it’s okay to be freaking out and honestly, I trust her so I can tell her and plus, I know it’s told in confidence which is relieving. These people at the treatment center, I don’t know them. I sure as heck don’t trust them and I can’t just open up to people about feelings. I’m not that kind of person. I’m not comfortable with that. I’m not going to do that tomorrow.

Secretly, though, my absolute biggest fear is that they are going to give up on me. Or, that I am going to trust them and then have their help yanked out from under me for one reason or another.

So, tomorrow. 12 hours, actually. 12 hours until this really becomes…. real.

Down and Out… Passing Out.

Passing Out- 1 : Me- 0

Last week I mentioned in a post about how I am doing shadowing for school in a local hospital. Well, today I went back for a half day and I was super excited about it because I am really interested in the field and finally being in that setting and learning in the field is amazing. So today I went, as usual, without eating anything and we got to the first patient after I had been there about an hour and all of a sudden my heart started racing. It wasn’t nerves but it was just racing, then I got more nauseated than normal, then my hearing went out and I don’t remember anything else until I heard one of the ladies I was shadowing say “are you okay” and grabbing me and I’ll I could do was say “pass out” and collapse. Luckily, patient rooms have chairs and they were able to get me into it before I totally dropped.

Coming up with an answer to the “did you eat today” question  came with too much ease and felt way to normal. Me? Eat? at 9:30 in the morning. Heck no. I eat at 1:30 and 7:30. All of these went through my mind but “yeah I think I just worked out too hard and didn’t get enough to eat after” were the real words that left my mouth. Then I had to eat. Again, thankfully I was in the hospital where food is plentiful even if none of it is safe. I had apple juice and graham crackers (as safe as unsafe gets) and prayed I wouldn’t pass out again although I felt woozy the rest of the morning.

The lady who I shadowed was so kind and I think she thought it was because of the patient and seeing them sick so I let her believe that because, well, it was a safer cover than anything I could come up with. And they were super nice about it and told me stories of when they passed out and have seen others passing out so it was really not nearly as traumatizing as it could have been and they said as long as I felt up to it I could keep shadowing the rest of the morning (I only scheduled a half day today) so I stayed.

But here’s the thing: I passed out. I passed the heck out. THAT IS NOT NORMAL. And worse, that is not something I can prevent from happening if I keep this up which means my dreams are going to be shattered. I can’t go into the field I want if I am not able to help care for people because I am malnourished, starving my body, deteriorating away and too weak to function. When I was in the process of passing out it was almost like dying. One thing at a time started shutting down sense by sense. First, my legs got tingly, then my hearing went out, then my balance, then my eyesight, and then my ability to communicate. It was like my body was dying even though I was still living. I guess that’s kind of what it really is, you pass out when your body sort of needs to “reset” because it cant’ handle what is going on. And, even though it is by no means the first time I have passed out, it was the first time it happened in front of others and there was something different about this time. It was like I knew I was going to pass out and I knew this was going to be a major shutdown not just one of those times I force myself to collapse out of caution because I feel like I am going to pass out. It was like seeing what was going to keep happening if I do this much longer.

I need help. Soon. Very soon. The instances of people almost finding out or my body experiencing the scariest side effects ever has been increasing exponentially the last few weeks. And now, I am beginning to to fear how capable I am at destroying my own body.