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. 

The end. 

Please don’t proceed if you are triggered by self harm, suicide or eating disorders. 
I genuinely think I am going to kill myself in the next week. My family needs money to pay the bills and I’m draining any assistance I can give on treatment. I know if I don’t go to treatment then I will relapse instantly and die so I am having a hard time thinking of a reason to not just do it and be done. 

The only caveat is that my therapists at IOP know and I’m sure they’ve told my doctor and outpatient therapist so I’m not sure what I’ll do.

I think I’m really done

Like done, done.

Done with treatment.

Done with depression.

Done with anxiety.

Done with perpetual constant self hate.

Done with thought of self harm and SI.

Done with feelings.

Done with meds.

Done being tired all the time.

Done with people.

Done with myself.

I’m Back.

Well, it’s been a LONG time. The last post I “posted” I wrote as I was sent up north to Wisconsin for residential treatment. Long story short:

I got there.

Went to get medically cleared.

Failed.

Was sent into an inpatient lock down 24/7 medical unit.

Eventually transferred to residential.

Lived there for 3 months.

Came home.

Left PHP because the treatment method sucked for me at the time.

Did outpatient treatment.

Started relapsing.

Went into IOP in a different treatment facility.

Decided to start blogging again.

 

And here we are 🙂

My first post back will be up in a bit.

Side note: Eating disorders still suck but I am a LOT better than I was when I went to Wisconsin. Also it wasn’t as catastrophically bad as I pictured it and I even miss my “family” up there.