It's been confirmed.
I am a horrible, horrible person.
Today was a hard day. The hardest--and I don't say this lightly--since coming here. It's funny. You would think the first couple of days going into treatment would be the hardest. That after 17 days, you'd at least be use to the situation and be able to cope with it.
I've always been an exception. I guess this is true even at an eating disorders clinic. So I've mentioned previously how slow I've been eating lately. It's taken me nearly 30 minutes to finish all my meals. Let me reiterate the fact that ONLY 30 minutes are allowed for meals. Well. During lunch today, I had HALF OF AN APPLE SLICE LEFT....that's 1/2....0.5....HALF. 30 minutes were up, and the staff member looks and me and goes "You're gonna have to drink an Ensure."
WHAT?!?!?!?! What the FUCK did you just say?!?!?!? Had you told me "There's 5 seconds left to finish your food" you can bet your sweet ass I would've shoved that fucking HALF SLICE in my mouth. But no. So what did I do?? I'll give you one guess.
Yep. I BURST into tears. It was like my body reacted before I could even process the information. "Don't worry," said the ever-faithful follower of the rules staff member, "You don't have to drink the whole thing. Just 1/4 cup." All I could think about was "You are such a stupid bitch! Yesterday you were laughing at Laura because she didn't eat dessert. SHE AT LEAST FINISHED HER FOOD, YOU HOMO!"
So, while I was about to drink the Ensure (which, like I said, has WAAAAAAY more calories than two TWO BITES OF FUCKING APPLE I COULD HAVE EATEN), Barb started doing her intentions. And yes, she did read the questions before answering. And I admit, in my misery, I still managed to stifle a giggle.
After choking down that fucking Ensure, I just broke down even more. I went in the living room, wrapped a blanket around my body, laid down on the couch, and cried. Cried so hard I was shaking. Cried because I was UPSET at myself for caring so much. WHY can't I be normal?? Why does this freak me out so much?
I just have so much on my mind. My big "decision" that I have to make is whether I want to do what's called a "step-down" program. It would start after my 30 days here are up. I would still live in the house for another 30 days but could do basically anything I wanted: leave the house whenever, eat at whatever time I want, eat whatever I want, go to the bathroom/upstairs whenever, etc., but still have the support of the staff and the other people living here, still have therapy sessions included, and still get to see the nutritionist. It seems like a no brainer. But I have reasons for why I'm doubting it. One of them is that I just fucking miss life. I miss Alyssa and Erica so incredibly much that the thought of being gone (even though I could see them whenever but not actually live with them for a while)--even just for 30 days--stresses me out beyond belief. And seriously, sometimes I want to tell people to SHUT THE FUCK UP. I'm SICK of talking about it. I'm SICK of THINKING about it. It's never during a one-on-one that I think this; it's mostly at the meetings.
We had an EDA meeting tonight, and I was just not present. I couldn't concentrate. I don't want to hear "Yeah, relapse happens, and it sucks." Maybe that's reality, but does it help? NO. I can't fucking hear that right now.
We saw the dietitian today. After she weighed me, she didn't say anything. Freakout #1. She said we could make my snacks optional. Freakout #2. Why?
1. I can't HANDLE CHOICES. If I don't have my snack, I'll think "SHIT! This is my Ed again." If I DO have it, I think "You fucking fat ass. You actually ATE when you didn't have to?? Say hello to thunder thighs, you stupid shit!"
2. It makes me think I gained weight. If I don't have to eat as much anymore, my body must not need it, and it must not need it cuz I've gained weight from it.
All this was on my mind at lunch. Not really the food. Not the time. Fuck. Never again.
I had all these thoughts after the Ensure thing. I was like "FUCK HARMONY GROVE FUCK DOING TRANSITION I WANT TO FUCKING LEAVE NOW!" Seriously, the ONLY thing that would've made me felt better would be to shove my fingers down my throat and get rid of that fucking Ensure AND the rest of that fucking apple.
I thought "Things would be so much better if I could just NOT EAT for like 3 days. I'd feel SO MUCH better!"
I honestly feel like I can't do this sometimes. I'm so tired. So, so tired and worn out from trying to fight this. I literally just sit there sometimes, not a damn thought in my head, and just zone. I don't even have energy to think. I have a few thoughts, and redundant as they may seem, I'm going to state them:
As of now, I:
Hate my fucking body. I can hardly stand to look at it. If I think about it too much, I can seriously feel the fat growing on it.
Want to just sleep. Sleep and not think. Not have this problem. Not be where I am now. Not be trying so hard and feel as if I'm getting no where.
Want my mommy. All I could think of when I was trembling on the couch was "I wish I was with my mom, even in our ghetto-ass, nasty house in Anaheim where I don't even have a bedroom." I want to lay in her bed, have her tuck me in, and just reassure me. That I'll get through this. That one day, I will be okay. That I'll be normal and happy and healthy and able to move past this.
When I told Laurie of my snack-freakout, she went and talked to the nutritionist and then came up to me:
Laurie: Honey, do NOT freak out about your weight. Heather told me what it was, and believe me, you have NO reason to worry.
Me: Maybe you can look at the number and not think it's bad, but maybe for me, IT IS BAD!
This conversation made me feel even worse. I don't understand it. I don't know why I put myself through this.
That's the thing. Everyone always says "You won't get fat. Your body just adjusts to getting good nutrition, and you DO NOT get fat."
Um. Easy for you to say. Guess what? I AM NATURALLY FAT. Yes. Not all eating disordered girls started off fat, BUT I DID. If I "eat normal", I will gain a bunch of weight. I will be disgusting. I won't want to look in the mirror. I think back of when I was DEEPLY, DEEPLY into my Ed, and I get jealous. Never mind the fact that I actually had no thoughts that weren't food or exercise related. Never mind that I had NO FRIENDS and pushed people away because they were interfering with it. Nope. I was skinny, I was able to exercise off every fucking calorie I ate, and that's what I envy. The thinness.
And if that wasn't enough, Laura and B-Money were both SO SWEET to me today. Babs told me today, "I'm glad you're feeling better honey. My heart just broke for you before."
Goddamn, B-Thugz. Way to rub salt in my wound.
Laura asked if she could help me in any way today. Fuck. Way to make me feel like an even BIGGER bitch than before.
I just want to be nice. I want people to think "Angie. Now she's a sweet girl." Instead of "Angie? That girl is a RAGING BITCH with some messed up eating thing. Plus, she has this weird hick accent."
I'm only taking 12 credits next semester. I CANNOT handle 15. CAN. NOT. I was even considering taking the semester off (even though this consideration lasted for about 2 minutes). I think I'm dropping either French or Theatre. I wish I could drop math. I'll probably have to take it for a fourth time, anyways.
But there's still part of me that is struggling to get out and beat this thing. After I got out of the shower (which was after the Ensure incident), I felt better. Maybe it's because I wasn't a nasty greasy ho anymore, but I started to feel "Okay. I can do this. I can eat normal. I can be normal." I WILL DO THIS.
and i will not spend years and years and decades in the throes of this disorder. It will always be in my mind, yes, I've accepted that and can live with that. But it WILL NOT control me anymore. It WILL NOT run my life. It WILL NOT make me miserable day after day. The thought of food will not evoke such anxiety in me that I have a mental breakdown.
I have no idea how I'm going to do it. If possible, tomorrow I would wake up, eat something fat-free and 100 calories or less for breakfast, and go work out for like 3 hours. I would feel so much better. But it wouldn't be me. It would be Ed. I'm lost somewhere, sometimes emerging to make one of my (in my opinion) witty comments or to say "I'VE HAD ENOUGH!" but it's so few and far between and it seems like the REAL me is coming out less and less with each passing day. Instead of getting better, I've been regressing into old thoughts and--if given the opportunity--old behaviors.
I can't believe I was frustrated with the new people yesterday. At least they have an excuse: It's their second day!!! It's my 17th!! That's almost MY AGE, and I'm just flailing about aimlessly with no direction. I can't manage my own life. I can't make decisions. If given a decision to make, I have a panic attack.
Thank GOD today was a Starbucks day. If I couldn't get my (tall....which is all that's allowed) coffee with sugar free hazlenut, I swear to God I would've fucking hopped in Carmen and drove off. I kind of pictured it last night. "THE ESCAPE". Of course I wouldn't do it. I can rebel against some things, but inside, I'm still the rule-following pussy I've always been.
Ugmdsmd. I just miss my life. I miss the apartment. Erica and Alyssa. Wisconsin. Amber and Meagan. Angie. Fuck, I'm even starting to miss Health Hut.
I KNOW I still need therapy when that thought crosses my mind.
To do the step-down or not to do the step-down??
Shit.
I have no idea.
