Let’s start off with the basics. I woke up with a fuck recovery attitude that I’m thinking I’ll stick with all day. I don’t want to be a bitch, so I’ll hide it from everyone as well as I can. But seriously, do I even have an eating disorder? I’m able to nourish myself, per Dr. Parsley and Courtney, so I’m not even sure I ever had one to begin with, to be honest. And even if I do, is it really so bad that I need treatment? I mean I wasn’t getting sick or passing out. I was still consuming enough calories to live and move and do things. So, in lieu of this new self-discovery, I got up at 5am (I woke up at 1:50 am) and I paced for about an hour. That should equate to about 4 miles, since average walking speed is 1 mile every 15 minutes. I tried to pace quickly so that I hopefully come in right at that or a little tiny bit more. It’s all estimations of course, but I have a history of running and walking, so I can assume a relative speed. I was confined to the corner by the group room at the request of Dinette, who diligently charted my eating disorder behavior, which I think is absolutely so fucking funny. I was listening to Katy Perry and thinking about the things I shouldn’t say to Dr. Parsley and team. Like how my new weight goal is to trend down. If I kick my body into high metabolism mode and continue to eat less than half of my meal plan, I should be able to lose ½-1 lb. per day. In 17 days, that will be a little over 8 pounds lost. I don’t know exactly where I’m at now, but I would assume I’m sitting around 130 lbs based on my weight with clothes and shoes at the Dr.’s office. Meaning, I should get down to 122 before leaving here. To skew their data even more, I’m going to skip weight every 3rd day, so they can’t see a trend until discharge date, at which point I will hopefully weigh 2 lbs less than I did when I checked-in. Fuck recovery.
So what started this recent rage? I mean, I did have a decent talk with Dr. Parsley yesterday and we negotiated a few things. He wants me to agree to a target weight of 140. I want 135. I’m not going to budge on that.136 is too high. I don’t give a fuck what the literature says, 136 is too high. I don’t even really want to recover. I told him that. I told him I was starting my relapse now. His response, “How does that feel?” I think he expected me to say some sort of negative thought, but the truth is, it feels pretty fucking good. I feel like I have control over my body again. I feel like they can take away my safety, take away my will, but they can’t take away my body. Two, I know that Courtney is going to meet with me on Monday and want to increase my meal plan. I’ll tell her increase away. She can feed me 10 times a day a diet of sugarcane and Crisco. I’m not going to eat it. But she can write down on her sheet whatever she wants and whatever makes her feel good. Until I have in writing that she and Dr. Parsley agrees that 135 is an appropriate target weight, I’m going to continue spiraling.
As far as Alina goes, I’ll nod and say whatever she wants to hear. “I’m going great, I’m excited about getting back to life. Thanks so much for all your concern and help.” All bullshit. I hate her. She’s a cunt. She’s fake and she can’t be trusted. I refuse to trust someone that throws me to the wolves when I’m upset. She can’t trust me to tell her when I’m having a bad day and need space? I don’t trust her to tell me how to think. Fuck her and her reframing. Fuck her and her stupid fucking earrings. Fuck her fake smile and her fancy clothes. Fuck her all around. I know good therapists and bad therapists, I’ve had both and she falls into the bad category. Not because she’s not telling me what I want to hear or whatever. But because a good therapist builds a unique bond and trust. If she refuses to trust me, I won’t trust her. End of discussion.
So let’s recap. Exercise as much as I can get away with every day. Extend my stay by 7 days. Restrict as much as possible. Exercise will increase my appetite, but ignoring hunger pains is something I do well. I learned as a kid how to be hungry. It’s easy as an adult. Refuse all supplements. Tell Courtney and Dr. Parsley that they can increase my meal plan as much as they want. Eat only what I feel like eating. And say fuck it to recovery. I don’t care anymore. No shits given. I will tell them I’m going to PHP and then I’m going to no show. I’ll either stay in the apartment and refuse to go to groups and meals until they kick me out, or just go home. Fuck recovery. I give up. I failed.
Now for today’s news, I know I pissed Betty off this morning. She tried to jump in my shower spot at 6:25, when my shower was at 6:30 am. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, but I’m also not going to get run over. She didn’t sign up in time for the 6:30 spot, so she needs to wait. The fucked up part is that she took Analise’s spot and Analise took Rachel’s spot. That’s what happens. That’s why we have a signup. Two days ago I was forced to take a 7am spot. That sucked, but I did it, because I signed up late. I dealt with it. I still got my meds, I still got to breakfast on time. I didn’t spend as much time getting ready, just like today. No fancy hair. No makeup. We’re in a hospital and I know that stuff makes us feel good. Human, even. But, we have limited time in the mornings and you have to take what you can get. Is that bitchy? I hope not, #1 rule – DO NOT BE A BITCH. But don’t be a pussy either and get run over. As Rachel said, “state your needs.” And I don’t think I was rude about it, I just said, “No, you can’t do that Betty. I reserved that spot.” I don’t want to piss off Betty, she’s my friend, but she shouldn’t have done that. That’s not a very friendly thing to do. Oh well, I don’t give a shit.
I think I’m back on the, “I just want to go home” train. I don’t see why I should stick around this place any more. It’s 7:45 am. Breakfast time. I guess I got meds just in time. Fuck. And the Busbar that got prescribed yesterday didn’t come in last night, so fuck.
My thoughts betrayed me. It’s 8:32 AM. I was sitting at breakfast and had every intention of just eating my Rice Krispies and restricting the rest (apples, yogurt, soy milk). And everything was going well. But then I look over and I see Allie, Katy, Rachel and Mannon all working to complete their breakfast. Maddy was struggling, but she wants to get there. And then we started talking and as we were talking I felt compelled to dip my spoon in the yogurt and I accidentally ate it all. So then I was left with the apples and the remaining soy milk (about ¼ of the cup). I was nibbling on the apples and I suggested to Rachel that we play Essence. It’s a game where one person is the guesser and we as a group pick another person. Then the guesser has to ask questions like, “If this person was a season, what season would they be?” and the group answers. After a few questions, the guesser has to guess who the person is. Of course, Priscilla enthusiastically volunteered to be the guesser. She asked about the season, and then she asked what Harry Potter house would this person be. Everyone (except me) responded, Slitheren. I thought that was cute. Anyways, it only took Priscilla one guess to guess Mannon. She said the Harry Potter question did it. She’s so smart.
But back to my betraying thoughts. Time ran out and I still had my milk and half my apple slices. The BHT (who I think is a nurse) at our table asked me if I would be able to finish, and like a dumb-dumb, I said yes. Technically, she was supposed to supplement me and then just notate if I finished the meal instead. But she let me finish. She was the nurse that searched my room two days ago and they know I’m struggling. So I think she saw an effort and wanted me to feel accomplished by actually completing my meal. I still “want” to relapse, but I don’t think I can, not at this point. So I guess I’m going to focus on my real value, Juniper. She’s such a strong value for me and I can’t let her down. I also can’t let myself down. I want to be stable. I must be for surgery, so it’s essential that I don’t let the eating disorder win. I guess this is me, once again, accepting that I have an eating disorder.
Okay, facts are facts: all those negative thoughts were just the eating disorder, I guess? I’m so annoyed. I feel so conflicted, more so than I have in a while. I do want the control of my life and I do like what the eating disorder does for me. I want to see the joy. I do. But I also want to feel confident in myself and my body. I absolutely hate even thinking about weight. I really don’t want to gain more. I feel comfortable where I’m at. I’m eating, I’ll eat. I’ll eat a normal amount. I just don’t want to gain weight, especially more rapidly. And I want to exercise, I really want to run again. Yes, that means eating more, but I will crave food if I become a runner. That’s how it works. I used to take Cliff bars with me on runs in my backpack, so if I got sick in the middle of the run, I had some instant calories. It’s not like I don’t know how to eat a healthy amount. It’s that I hate weight gain. From that perspective I don’t think my team and I can ever see eye to eye. Maybe that makes me a failure. If Courtney increases my meal plan, I do plan on restricting. I do not plan on gaining weight. I am, however, willing to commit to my step down date and start PHP, as long as the housing situation is sorted. If I go home, there is no way that I can do PHP. It just won’t work. Eww, I feel queasy and anxious just thinking about it.
So now what? How do I feel? I don’t know. Conflicted I guess. Still a little angry, I guess. Tired, for sure. I don’t feel capable of recovery, I still feel broken. I still want to give up and just accept the failure and move on with my life. But I want to be with Juniper, goal #1. I want to spend time with Brandon, goal #2. I want my house back, goal #3. I want my life back, goal #4. And while I don’t think I have to recover to get all of those things, I do believe that maybe, recovery will make those things easier to accomplish.
I really like the interest that everyone has taken in my journaling. I think they all want to read what I’ve written so far. I don’t know if it’s good, really. Actually, some of it is really bad. Like just incoherent rambling and shit. But there are some bright moments so far. Successes that I’ve had, along with breakthroughs. Lots of laughs, too. I really like living here. I never got to live in a dorm and even though this is a hospital setting, it has almost a dorm like atmosphere. I like journaling about that. About the rumors and the gossip. About the struggles and successes of others. I like writing about all the different personalities among us and how each of them contributes to a functioning community that supports recovery. I think the close quarters actually enhance that community effect. It feels like a big family in a way, except I like everyone here and I can’t say that for my extended family. Also, they are all so accepting and kind to me. I can’t say that about my family either. But, the point of this paragraph was that I want to create a blog out of what I’ve written. Maybe someone else that is struggling can read my ups and downs and backs and forwards and relate. Maybe someone will read and ask for help. Hopefully no one will use this as an excuse to continue their eating disorder, because you can literally read my negative self talk. But, that talk is normal. The back and forth, Mr. Negative and Miss Sweet, they love to argue. The main point is to not let Mr. Negative gain traction and win. That’s the kicker, I guess. One problem with making this a blog is that good blogs have good, original content, but they also usually have photos to illustrate what the writer is saying. That becomes a challenge when I am not allowed to take pictures, especially of other patients. I can, however, with their permission, take pictures of their artwork and create my own original art. Hmm… let’s feel it out and see what everyone agrees to. Oh, and I may have to change names to initials or fake names or something. I don’t want anyone to feel exposed or embarrassed. Not everyone wants people to know about their stay here. I would feel awful if I caused trouble for someone. We’re all so fragile and even seeing their name in print on the web could be a problem. Oh, and then there is the time and energy of setting up the blog. It’s a serious commitment. I will say, I don’t plan on editing anything, I want it to be raw thoughts. Hmm… I’ll have to keep thinking about it. I do have a name for the blog: DontCallMeClaire.com. I mean, why do they keep calling me Claire, my name is CLARA…A there’s a fucking A at the end.
Now on to more important matters. I’m going to text Brandon and hope he comes today. Today is going to be a busy visitor’s day, no question. That means a better chance of being put in the telephone room for snuggles. It gives me tingles just thinking about it. Actually, just the thought of Brandon gives me tingles all over. And the strange thing is that I can’t put my finger on what it is that I love about him, but he casts a magic spell on me. It’s like I lose control around him and I like that feeling. Almost like a helpless feeling, but not incapable of doing things. More of a feeling like I want to let go of all control. No one has ever made me feel like that before. Okay, so being with Brandon is one of my values. I’m glad that our relationship has gone the way it has gone. I do like that he’s made an effort to come see me every week with nothing in return, other than my company, of course. I think he’s honest and true with his values. It makes me want to trust him, which I can’t really say for anyone else right now. Except Juniper, I always trust her. She’s real, too. But back to Brandon. I love how much he’s into me and thinks I’m his beautiful princess. I love all the plans we’re making while I’m here. We’re going to have a lot of fun going forward. I love that he loves how much I love Juniper. He sees me as her Mom and knows how important her care is to me. He’s not afraid of her and we’ve even made some plans for things to do as the three of us. With Danielle gone, I don’t have to worry about her opinion on the matter. So yeh, I do plan on us doing things as a unit in the future. I also really love how much he wants to help with the eating disorder. I don’t think he understands it, but he cares enough that he keeps asking what he can do to help. I love that when I talk about surgery, it doesn’t scare him and he even said he’d help with my recovery by taking care of me on weekends. It’s so sweet. I don’t know if he knows how big of a surgery it is that I’m planning and that it’s 30 days of needing care. But he loves me with or without it, that’s a good sign. Ok, I’m going to text him now. I’ll let you know what he says.
He’s coming today! Yay! I just have to make it through lunch. Ohhhhh, lunch. I hate lunch. I don’t like the food choices and it feels like such a chore. Anything other than a PB&J sandwich or grilled cheese just seems gross. Supposedly this is what they are going to fix in PHP. I don’t, I struggle. I haven’t been pushing to get out the door. One positive thing though, at AM snack, our whole table was 100%. That was such great motivation to complete my snack. I did it without even really thinking about it, because everyone else was doing it. That includes Allie, Katy, Mannon, Rachel and Maddy. It seems like Maddy and I struggle the most, so I was really proud of her. I can tell her anxiety just goes into hyperdrive around meal times. She’s such a sweet girl, though, and she is doing well. She has a long way to go, but she’s doing her best. The same could be said for all the girls at the table. And we all have a little bit of a bond forming. I like it. One of humanity’s basic needs is to belong and sitting with these girls, I do belong. And I know Allie, Katy, Maddy and Mannon just got here, but in a way, I feel closer to their level then a lot of my peers that came in closer to when I got here. I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe because they are more artistic or have similar thought waves. I find Katy and I think pretty similarly, especially when we play games. But also, being gender diverse means we have a similar, but different struggle. I wish I could be as confident as they are. I’m trying.
We just had a group about authenticity. Once again, Priscilla and Anelise had some of the most profound ideas and thoughts of the whole group. Many struggle with bi-polar disorder and we had a pretty deep discussion about what it means to be authentic and who that authentic person is. How do we know what our authentic self is if our personality changes because of a disorder? If I apply this line of thinking to myself, am I really authentically me when I have my depression managed or is my authentic self that deeply self-reflective and critical person. When I was doing a bunch of blow, I thought that was my most authentic self. I mean, I wore the clothes I wanted, I used the name I wanted, I could play piano like Mozart, my thoughts just flowed out and into the world and my feelings onto the piano. Who was that? And now, here I am as Clara and I do feel more like me. It’s ok for me to be delicate. It’s ok to let Brandon take care of me a little bit. It’s ok to look pretty and talk softly. It’s ok to be gentle. I feel safe and comfortable in this unit. No one here is judging me. I can be vulnerable. I can be feminine. I get to be one of the girls. I love feeling like myself. I miss Polly being here. I got to be my real, real self. The child self that is silly. The self that isn’t worried about being weird or unlovable. I miss them. I guess I’ll probably see them on June 1st in PHP, hopefully.
Now, the big question is, since Brandon is coming, do I want to wear something cute for him. I think the obvious answer is yes. I wish I had done makeup this morning, now. But, alas, I rushed to get meds and didn’t have time. Booooo! But it’s ok, he loves me with or without makeup. Ok, I changed into a more frilly, girly shirt. I can’t say for sure, since we don’t have mirrors here (well real ones, we have the funhouse mirrors), but I did a quick selfie check with my phone and I’m going with, cute af, final answer. I would wear my skirt, but I don’t feel confident in my leg shaving skills, so this is the best that it gets. I am going to wear my new fuzzy Adidas to boot (no pun intended, but definitely accepted). One positive thing that I’ll say about Brandon is he likes seeing me dressed up and looking cute. He still loves me in jeans and t-shirt, but he likes the frilly stuff. And I’m just going to say it, this shirt is darling. I threw in a headband. If I had some hair ties, I might try a top knot, but I haven’t the materials and I think that’s going to take some experimentation anyways. I really want to ask the other girls for help. I know maybe Kirsi or Priscilla or maybe one of the others. Betty even. Would probably help me. Actually, if I had to guess, Priscilla would make a project out of me. Maybe Mannon, too. They are into fashion, shopping and makeup. But like some superficial way like Danielle always accused me of being. That’s just one way that they just like expressing themselves. Betty as well. It’s nice to not feel weird for wanting to express myself. It’s really nice to be around so many girls. I feel so at home. They are a lot of fun.
Ok, litmus test, I’ll wear this to lunch and hope I don’t spill something on it. I do have the curse of eating like a 2 year old. But maybe, if I try extra hard, I can manage to avoid a disaster. Also mentally preparing for, “why did you change clothes?” rapid fire questions that are going to come at me. “Well, you see ladies, when a woman has a hot boyfriend that she’s super into, sometimes she wants to present herself in such a way that feels feminine and makes him feel like a testosterone driven man.” It’s easier than saying, I want him to start thinking about what he’s going to do to me on June 1, when I walk out those locked doors and he has access to me for the first time in 2+ months. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he had better take me somewhere fun and make me giggle a lot first. But then, ravage me. Ask and ye shall receive or maybe ask I and I shall… oh nevermind… this is getting a little too trashy for an eating disorder blog.
I’m nervous about lunch. I’m kind of obsessing over it. What if it’s something I don’t like. I tried challenging myself this week which was a huge mistake. I should have just kept it simple, stupid. That was part of my argument for wanting to be here longer, but Dr. Parsley says that’s going to be more PHP focused stuff. I’ll believe it when I see it. He talked about cooking classes and stuff like that. I attach a lot of emotion to cooking and eating in general because that was something that Danielle and I really liked to do together. I hope, for the sake of Karma, that she has a tough time cooking now, too. Is that mean? Am I being a bitch? DO NOT BE A BITCH. Oh, wait, it’s Danielle. I think I get to be a bitch to her, because she is definitely a cunt to me and a cunt to her own daughter. Like, total fucking trash. So yeh, I can be a bitch to her.
I keep waiting for this clonazepam to kick in and it hasn’t really yet. It will probably hit me right as I sit down at the lunch table, my head crashing into my salad bowl. Oh god, so much pressure. If everyone else is completing, I have to complete, too. We motivate each other. Allie and Katy were talking about getting to phase II and I definitely t’sdon’t want to hold them back. I would feel terrible. I have to contribute to the community. It’s funny how as the community has changed and the longer I’ve been here, the more integrated I feel. Rachel and I lead the charge in the cafe, it’s fun.
I swear, this clonazepam is going to kick in right as Brandon shows up and I’m going to fall asleep in his lap. Also, it’s always cold here, but today, it feels even colder than normal. I was trying to wear this cute frilly short sleeve shirt and if there are any hairs left on my arm (i’ve been pulling them out), they are going to be standing straight up. Might be time to email the CEO again or maybe the whole board. I do feel less intimidated than before when I was going to be here longer.
I just want to take a moment to pat myself on the back, by the way, girls that like to order fun shit every week. Prior to my arrival, we were limited to 2 packages per week, hard cap. And it was strictly enforced. I looked up the law and found that it’s actually illegal to delay packages in mail in a mental health facility without a clinical reason. The stated clinical reason was, “safety of patients, because staff doesn’t have time to open all the packages with them, even though they are assigned 45 minutes to do mail, every day.” I called bullshit and I quoted the statutes, both in Colorado and Federal law. Mail is not to be delayed and they were breaking the law. I met with Brandon, our patient advocate and told him it was unacceptable and VIOLA! Now we have a much more reasonable policy. You’re welcome ladies. I feel like I really contributed something to make this place better. I’m 99% sure it was my conversation with Brandon that got this changed. He said the higher ups were actually having a meeting and reviewing the policy with their compliance officer. There is no way that delaying packages, sometimes for weeks, is consistent with law. They might be able to get away with the weekend policy, because staff literally isn’t here. But most of the time, what we were finding was that staff was just being lazy and there is nothing I hate more than lazy ass people. Not being staffed with enough people to manage mail is not my problem as a patient and that’s basically what I told them. I was right. They changed the policy. So, if you’re inpatient or residential here at Willow and you like to shop as much as I do, you’re welcome. If you came here and developed a shopping addiction and were frustrated with the old policy, you’re welcome. If you were pissed off that they were denying you your bathroom products, you’re welcome. Now we can have pretty much as many packages as we want. I still try not to go too crazy, because I don’t want them to review the policy again and reverse the changes. But, I don’t think that’s going to happen because the policy they had was clearly against the law.
I feel gross after lunch and I’m worried i have lettuce or something in my teeth. That’s not sexy at all. Okay. Onto my meeting with Brandon. Looks like the telephone room again this week. Well before I start my fucking rant, let me say, my little one hour dates with Brandon are so cute and fun. We’re actually really getting to know each other and I just enjoy hearing him talk. And he listens to me when I talk and is interested in what I have going on right now. So it’s really nice. More on that in minute.
I go to PM snack and it looks like they’ve changed my snack without telling me what they were doing. It was the regular strawberry shake, or so I thought + a cup of breeze. I was already like, “go fuck yourself”, I’ll drink the normal shake, but I’m not doing the extra supplement. Then, as I’m going through the shake, I taste some sort of bitter powder mixed in. That bitch changed my snack even though I told her no. Well here’s the thing, Courtney, if you’re going to make changes that I don’t agree to, then I’m not going to drink the shake either. You stupid fucking bitch. That shit is shady as fuck and I’m not going to tolerate it. You can increase my meal plan all you want, but I’m not going to participate in it. That’s not what I agreed to and I just won’t drink any of it. And whatever the fuck they put in there was really bitter and gross, so the whole thing tasted like ass anyways. But the fact that you’re throwing in rando ingredients without my knowledge, extra, extra, extra fuck you. So, where before I was actually going to finish my snack, now I only drank about ¼ of the shake portion and none of the fucking supplement. No. Just no. I told you, I don’t agree with it and I’m not going to do it. Now I’m going to hide in my fucking room until meds time and skip dinner and HS snack. Your dumbass move backfired like a mother fucker. You fucking stupid cunt. Thanks. I was just feeling motivated again and back on board and you had to go and fuck it up. You had to make a change that I told you no. Well change whatever the fuck you want. I’m done eating anything, because I can’t trust that you aren’t putting fucking secret ingredients in there without my consent. Seriously, FUCK YOU. I do not trust you and this is why. FUCK YOU. I’m so fucking angry right now.I don’t know who thought that was a bright move, but fuck you to hell. I’m done eating anything here. I’m not coming out of my room. Fuck this place. I was right to be suspicious. I was right to not trust her. She’s a fucking snake.
I guess I need to write another letter and inform them that I won’t be partaking in any snacks or meals. I’m done. I don’t know what gave you the fucking idea that you could do that, I certainly didn’t agree to anything. And I don’t want to fucking hear about it. I’m going to pace my fucking ass off and it’s back to plan A, lose more weight than when I came here, so they look like massive fucking idiots. Then I’m going to sue their dumbasses for malpractice over the estradiol debacle. And if I can get myself into the ICU in the next 17 days, you can bet your ass i’m going to try. Fuck that makes me so fucking angry. I’m fucking pissed, in case you can’t tell, I’m fucking pissed.
Why can’t I have just ONE week where everything is just fucking normal. Just fucking ONE. Why do they have to fuck with me every single fucking day. And whatever supplement they added to my shake is so bitter, I can still taste it 15 fucking minutes later. I don’t like secret ingredients being added without my knowledge. It’s bitter and it is kind of making my mouth itch and my stomach burn. And I don’t even know if it’s real or BS. I was going to drink the shake. I didn’t want to, but I was going to do it. Now, I’m going to skip the rest of the meals today. My goal is back to losing weight. I want to drop 15 fucking pounds in 17 days. Fuck you so fucking much. AHHHHHHHHHH! I’m so fucking angry. So now I need to calm the fuck down and write some type of cordial letter expressing my concerns in an assertive, but calm manner. How the fuck am I supposed to do that when they did something this shady. It’s so fucked up.
I wish one of the good nurses were here. I don’t even know who’s in there now. But it’s not one of the nurses that I can talk to, it’s some random ass nurse that doesn’t know me. I hate this. Where are the sweet nurses? I guess they get Saturday off. This place is so understaffed today. They simply don’t have enough people to run both units.
Leave a Reply