It’s a dark, dreary, rainy morning and I’ll be honest, I’ve got a bad attitude. I’m trying to work on that though, I’ve got ‘In Rainbows’ blasting in my ear buds. It just feels like a radiohead kind of day. I’m preparing myself for the inquiry that’s going to come because of this weekend’s decisions to skip meals, snacks, etc. Here’s the way I see it, and I’m probably wrong here, but, my discharge date is what it is. Well, maybe. I’ll either be sent home on the 26th or the 1st. I don’t really care which one and frankly, I’m ready to get out of here. But if that’s the date and everything I’m doing is just because, “I’m upset about my discharge date”, then fuck it. That’s the bad attitude, I suppose.
My sleep has sucked for over a week now, waking up at midnight and occasionally drifting in and out of sleep. But my thoughts when I do wake are usually full of anger or sadness that trigger severe anxiety. I didn’t pace around this morning though, I just doom scrolled TikTok. I can see the addiction, even though most of what I watched were dumbass videos in my feed programmed by the algorithm, which is probably just trying to figure out what I like. Well, I can tell you what I don’t like. These shit videos that say like and comment to see the conclusion of the video. It’s the new clickbait. If I still gave a shit about marketing, I’d be all over that shit. It’s so easily replicable. And the ads are not that clever, probably fiverr actors and the whole production cost $1000, so with a $100 product and $1000 in ad spend, you could probably triple your money pretty quickly. And it’s all dropship operations with chinese made shit. Anyways. I don’t care about that any more. I can firmly say that marketing falls outside of my values at this point. I guess I have learned something from being here. I don’t give a fuck about recovery, but I hate marketing. Fucking snake oil. I’m embarrassed I was ever part of that industry.
Kind of funny, however. I found Janet’s TikTok, “Janet Does Makeup”. Ok, J, first off, you need a better name. You’re too generic and too broad. Second, aren’t you a bit old to be showing off that beautiful face of yours? Janet was my boss for 3 years or so and I love her. But, i don’t know, seeing her whore out on social media is just kind of nauseating. That shit was fine when we were 20 and trying to hustle. But you’re too old. You need to be putting makeup on a younger face with bigger tits. I’m just saying. They don’t want to see us Janet. We’re not interesting.
I woke up with a grumble in my stomach. Funny how when I was in the weeds with anorexia I didn’t have to worry about that. I literally only ate to make sure I stayed conscious and could get Juniper around. So, now I sit on the cusp on collapse and I’m bargaining with myself. Is that where I want to be? I think maybe so. I’m just feeling so let down by this process. The lack of ability for me to set my own goals and follow through with them is disappointing. I guess if I can’t have control over my eating disorder, I just thought maybe I could have control over the recovery process. They let me down, “my team”, and I don’t think there’s any coming back from that.
So, back to what I was saying earlier, I honestly just don’t give a fuck. If I fall apart, if I eat, if I don’t, I don’t care. The only person that would be able to convince me to keep going is gone. I’m not doing it for me. Sorry not sorry, or something.
“Remember the Whys” is on a note card in front of Rachel at every meal. I don’t really have any whys these days. I’m not excited about anything and don’t really want to live. So, yeh. That’s how my day is starting. Why? Juniper. Yeh and I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon. I was surviving just fine.
How am I feeling? Distrustful and weary. Why? This process has left me with the same feeling I had when we were at Children’s Hospital. That there is an agenda that doesn’t include what I want. I had to move down to the end of the hall, I couldn’t help but feel like Jake was looking over my shoulder. Not that he was being a dick, but I think I’ve been writing so much that every one is wondering, what the fuck is she writing about. He probably couldn’t help but glance over. I don’t blame him. Jake is alright, but this isn’t exactly my shining moment and I’m not sure I want him to read this morning’s negative bullshit.
Nobody slept last night, that’s the word on the street. But they all still have such positive attitudes. What’s wrong with me? More conclusive evidence that I’m just fucking broken and can’t be fixed. We play this game called “Essence” in the cafe sometimes. I may have written about it before, I don’t remember. But one of the questions the guesser will ask while trying to figure out the picked person is, “If you were a car, what kind of car would you be?” Up until this point, I would hope that someone at least said something German, but a 2 door M3 Coupe. Today, I’m just a rusted out, ‘78 Chevy Nova. I’m held together by duck tape and super glue and just to get me started you have to hand prime the carburetor. I have four doors, but only the rear passenger side opens and that requires a crowbar. I shouldn’t even be on the road, I’m a liability. Did those things even have seat belts? I give off an obscene amount of emissions. I alone am responsible for global warming. I’m so rusty they wouldn’t even give me an antique license plate. They just laughed and gave me the number for the junk yard. Not for parts mind you. Just to be squished into a heap of metal and eventually thrown into a furnace somewhere. So that’s my plea to anyone reading this. Throw me into the furnace. Spare me the evaluation, you’ll just be disappointed. I know I am.
My makeup looks like shit and I don’t care. My hair is probably messed up because I changed hoodies in my room. Seriously. Kill me. But today it’s all sunshine and rainbows as far as anyone else is to know. I’m done being honest with anyone, including myself. 0,0 are my safety numbers. Get me out of here sooner than later. No loud thoughts today and my value is hope. No vulnerabilities to speak of. Sunshine and rainbows. Can I stay safe here at ERC? Of course! What skills will you use, probably none. Will I let the nurse know if that changes? Why the fuck would I do that? No. I tried doing that and the bitch told me to fuck off, so fuck nursing and fuck the staff. Safe as a baby bundled up in her car seat. Four straps, equalized distribution of force. Crush resistant. Nothing to worry about over here. Just mind your business and keep moving. Fuck you. And that’s the nurse that I like, lol. Bailey is a bit of a cunt. She didn’t even deserve a cordial, “Good Morning”, because I could see her eyes roll when she got my weight this morning. Fuck Bailey. Go over to 2E you cunt. Wow, I’m in a mood. I make myself cringe when I read this. I don’t want to be around anyone today. I want to crawl into a hole and rot. I’m in the wrong fucking building. They should have sent me to the human scrap heap across the way. They could pull me apart for spare bits and junk the rest in one of those yellow bins. Hazardous waste. That’s what I am today. I’m a hazard for myself and anyone I come into contact with and I should be headed to the incinerator.
Maybe I’ll stop hormones and just go back to the old me. At least I had white male privilege. I doubt if anyone would even notice what I weighed, if I was depressed, if I was anything. And I get better pay, better opportunities, people don’t interrupt when I talk. Like, literally, what the actual fuck was I thinking. That’s like having Park Place and Board Walk with hotels and trading them for those shitty purple ones that no one even remembers the name of. I’m playing to lose, not win. I could save my head, grow a beard, or not, it doesn’t matter. I could actually pull my skin off and no one would notice. I could stop crying and just go back to being angry all the time. People fear anger. Fear gets respect. Do you know what tears get you? A miserable fucking divorce. I can’t think of one fucking thing that I like about myself today. I’m just a freak of nature and I’m tired of being that. What the fuck was I thinking? Stupid Danielle and her gentle nudges. Maybe this was her plan all along. Turn me into some meek freakshow with tits so she could run away with lover boy, back to Nashville. It’s where she belongs, she and all of her hatred. And I belong in the scrap heap with Chuck, Matt and the rest of them.
My stomach hurts, my head hurts, I’m dizzy. I’m going to eat a breakfast I don’t want and wait at the end of the hall in that chair that can see all the way down to the double doors. I’ll wait to be summoned. And then I’m going to say whatever they want to hear. Or I won’t. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be honest, “I don’t care any more. Change the meal plan all you want. I’m not going to eat it unless I’m hungry or it looks appetizing. My goal is no longer recovery, it’s getting the fuck out of here. ‘Suuuurrrrreee, I’ll do PHP’”, I’ll say. That part is a lie. I’m not doing PHP. I don’t want to do the work. They are right, I’ve outgrown Willow. It has nothing else to offer me. “Yeah girl, it’s 0,0” Sunshine and RAINBOWS today.” I’ll go home and continue on, because that’s what I have to do. I don’t have a choice. And I do enjoy my time with little Bee. I miss her so much. She’s my everything, so I’m not going to kill myself, not intentionally. I’m not going to hang myself or slit my wrists. But I’m not going to do anything to save my life either. I’m going to eat what I want. Vape if I want. Smoke weed if I want. I’m going back to freedom. Danielle was right, this didn’t work. I failed. I’m ok with that. Recovery and I just don’t share the same goals. Please, discharge me. Let me go. I don’t want to fight any more. I don’t want to be part of this community any more. And I definitely don’t want any friends. I just want to go back to my little hobbit hole and do what I need to do to get by. I’m not talking to anyone else. I’m just smiling and nodding from this point forward. I’m not sharing my feelings and I’m done being vulnerable. I’m done giving compliments and I’m done fitting in or not fitting in, because it doesn’t matter. These people don’t matter, just like I don’t matter. Discharge me tonight if you want. I want to go home. I don’t want to care any more. I have learned that it’s all just bullshit anyways. That they aren’t really there if you need them. That I haven’t grown or changed at all. That I don’t like groups anymore. That I miss my sugar free redbull. That I miss my perfectly flat belly. That recovery is just fucking lying to yourself until you believe that you are happy with your own imperfections. It’s all a big fucking lie. I hate this shit. I do. I really fucking hate it and I’m done. Sorry ladies, I’m fucking over it. Danielle used to say that all the time, “I’m over it” and it hurt every time she said it. Well, you were right Danielle and I get it now. I’m fucking over it. I’m tired of groundhog day. I’m ready for freedom of choice again. I’m done with dinner questions. I’m done being supportive. I’m done being done. Fuck everyone and everything. “Hi Kiki, you lovely sweet lady, FUCK YOU TOO.”
Okay, 8:33 am and I have to admit it, breakfast improved my mood quite a lot. It started with Manon not getting her coffee because she apparently forgot to circle it. Kylee, who was sitting across from her, gave Manon her coffee. Just a little act of kindness, but I know it made her day. It kind of made mine. About halfway through the meal, I saw Kristen, “The Enforcer”, looking at Kylee’s place and then Manon’s and her eyes going back and forth. She totally saw what happened and didn’t say anything. I think Kristen is a favorite around here. Even though she enforces the rules, she also knows when to let the little things slide. Example: I was on the way to breakfast putting on chapstick and I think I heard her say, “you better put it away.” I have to assume she was talking to me, since chapstick is banned outside of splataaah. But it’s a dumb rule and Kristen knows it. Other rules though, she will definitely enforce. Staying out of our rooms, unless it’s room time, she’s really big on enforcing. Table talk rules are another one that she will enforce. But it’s okay, she’s actually really nice and smiles all the time. I think she really enjoys her job and enjoys being on our unit. That’s really cool, someone that finds purpose in what they do. She’s also very smart and cultured. She spent a year (I think) teaching English in Thailand after finishing her degree in Sign Language Interpreter or some shit like that. She claims that she forgot most of her sign language while she was teaching English, so she never pursued a job in that. I guess maybe sign language is like any language we learn later in life, use or lose it. I can barely even say, “I speak french like a 2 year old” any more. Sad. And I know what I said about Kiki earlier. I didn’t mean it. She’s so sweet and she says the nicest things to me.
I just feel like I’ve been a big part of their team meeting in the mornings and so everyone is on guard about me, but I’m not exactly sure what that means. It’s frustrating not knowing what’s being said about me and how that’s affecting their perception of me. Do they think I’m faking it or something now? I don’t know. But it does make me hesitant to be open and honest. And there is pretty much a 0% chance of me talking to nursing or anyone else about what’s going on, especially SH/SI. I’m just going to ride the fucking wave today and try to get out of here sooner than later. Honestly, let’s discharge this week, if that’s what my team wants. I’m done “advocating” for myself. And I’ll at least try PHP, because I feel like once I get over there and see my friends, I’ll feel more motivated to continue. I’m just stuck right now. I think Dr. Parsley was right, I’ve been ready for a while. I shouldn’t have kept putting it off, I should just roll with the punches.
My values today have changed since breakfast. I want to be honest with myself and my team and my goals. I want to see how we can work together to set goals that we can agree on and go from there. I need to be more open to their thoughts, but at the same time, continue advocating for myself. I guess the biggest part of my frustration is feeling unheard. I appreciate what Dr. Parsley was saying about weight goals. I hear that the literature supports getting to a weight that is an average of where you weight has been. And I hear him saying that he would potentially look for more data, so that they could make a better recommendation. From his point of view, he’s stuck, too. He can’t make a medical recommendation that isn’t supported by the research. Okay. Fair. I would challenge that by saying nearly all of the data he’s probably looked at is based on cis gender people. Courtney said she hadn’t read much on trans women because the studies hadn’t been done. I know from Psychology Classroom that this simply isn’t true. At the time of recording her podcast on transgender women and eating disorders, she said there were over 200 peer reviewed papers, so actually an obscene amount of data. I would feel more comfortable with their suggestions knowing that they actually read this literature, looked at outcomes and still came up with the same conclusion. But since that’s not going to happen, how can their decision and goals be trusted? I’m going to advocate for a target weight of 135, not 140. Once we reach that goal, then we can reassess, but I need to know that’s the goal we’re trying to reach. At that point, then we can make a decision on what to do.
Okay, let’s talk positives about stepping down to PHP. Here’s my list so far:
- Seeing Juniper for more than 1 hour a week
- Seeing Brandon for more than 1 hour a week
- Go get my a mani-pedi
- Get waxed
- Can wear whatever clothes that I want
- Can wear my makeup however I want
- Longer showers in the morning
- Coffee/Energy drinks galore
- Non-hospital Food.
- Sleeping in my own bed again
- Having a say in my schedule
- Smoking weed if I want to
- Driving anywhere I choose
- Sex!
- As much shopping as my heart desires.
- Don’t have to open packages in front of anyone
- Use a regular razor for a better shave
- Start electrolysis
- Start voice training
- Can play music I like as loud as I want
- Can move around as much as I want
- Can dance when I get out of bed in the morning
- Can play guitar and sing whenever I want
- Can use medications as I see fit
- Bathroom privacy, flush when I want, don’t have to show anyone
- Can work on my garden if I want
- Can choose the people around me and in my life
- Can work on my LPN goal if I choose
- The Cats + Rainbow (this should be higher on the list)
- Can exercise how I see fit
- Don’t have to eat if I choose not to
- Don’t have to have these stupid meetings with “my team”
- Don’t have to rush when getting ready in the morning
- Can sleep in sometimes
- Get to make my own goals
- Get to see my friends in PHP (if I chose to go, I have a choice)
- Don’t have to give safety numbers to anyone
- I made new friends and we can hangout outside of the hospital (shopping with Betty?)
- Access to my watch
- Sinks that have a normal knob for turning on and off.
Now, just for the sake of argument, let’s make a cons list:
- Lose the safety of hospital setting (both Danielle and Self)
- Less community around
- More isolation
- No one to help motivate me
- Have to work on divorce stuff and get through it (no more excuses)
- I have to figure out what and when to eat.
- Having the ghost of Danielle follow me around
- Responsibility (Adulting once again)
I guess those are my main cons. Lots of upside to getting out of here though. I have to remember that when I start to feel down. Like, seriously guys, I’m not upset that I’m leaving anymore. I’m over it. June 1 or May 26 or tomorrow, I’m okay stepping down. I was holding on to something that wasn’t real by prolonging my stay here. My value today is honesty. Honesty with myself first. I’m scared. I know that my mental health isn’t great, it hasn’t been since I was 14-15 years old. However, I don’t feel as depressed. I think the lexapro might be helping that some. If I stick with PHP, I’ll still have access to Dr. Parsley for another 8 weeks. Our conversation the other day gave me more respect for him. He didn’t talk down to me or dumb down the conversation. That doesn’t mean I agree with the weight goal, but at least he was respectful and I didn’t feel like he was just reading from a playbook. He didn’t use the Dr. tone. I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with the rest of “my team” though. I really dislike Courtney and Alina (if that’s her fucking name). I know I shouldn’t be this black and white about things, that’s not the right way to approach things. But I think they are spineless and I don’t feel like they are on my side. Especially Alina. I do begrudge her for pulling me out of my room in front of everyone that day. She didn’t trust me. I don’t know how I can trust her. I’m going to be cordial. I’m not going to apologize. I’m going to answer in as few words as possible any question she may ask. I will do my best to be honest with her, I just won’t go into a lot of detail. With Courtney I think it becomes a little more challenging. I need her to get on board with my weight goal, even if there is a caveat that we can reassess behavior once I reach 135 lbs. That’s the major sticking point I have with her. I don’t feel comfortable increasing my meal plan any more, because I don’t want to start rapidly gaining weight. I worry that I’ll start and then it just won’t stop. I think they know that’s what will happen and they’re counting on it. All over this place there are signs and sticky notes that say, “you’re more than a number on a scale” and “You’re more than an image in a mirror.” What they don’t account for is the fact that me having a block body is going to make me more clockable as a transwoman. It’s something that I don’t think cis people can truly understand or empathize with, because it’s something that they will never go through. It’s not their fault, it’s just not something they can understand. My passing or not being stared at is very dependent on how I look. I was born into the wrong body and those male traits that I hate so much become so much more noticeable if I’m not small. So, yeh. I’m not willing to go over 135. That’s a good weight for me. Also, I just thought of this, but part of my weight prior to the eating disorder was muscle mass. I have lost muscle so naturally, I’m going to be on the lighter side of things. And they might not use BMI as a measurement, but many doctors and scientists do and at 135, I’m around 22 BMI which is on the low end of normal, which is exactly where i should fall. I don’t know how to come to terms with my body in any other way.
I feel like this stuff is all boring and I want to journal about some sort of other self-reflection or introspective shit. I want to have that breakthrough moment where it all clicks for me and I’m body neutral or something like that. I keep waiting and it just keeps not happening. And my thoughts ruminate.
Am I willing to engage with strong emotions today? “Meh” was my answer. I did that yesterday and it took me down a dark road. I sat in the pain, just like I’m supposed to do. But I don’t feel better, even today. Well maybe a little, I don’t know, it’s hard to say. I still miss Danielle. I still miss our family. I still have so much self-hatred. I still wish I had a time machine and I could do things differently. What would I do differently? I don’t know. Maybe I’d never take the Petstore job and never meet Danielle. All the love songs say the pain is worth the joy of falling in love, but I just don’t see it that way. Danielle did save my life after the split with Lindsay though, I can say that. I was actively thinking of ways to end my life at that point until she started texting me back. See, here I go again, feeling these feelings. The grief, the loss. My person. I didn’t want to give up my person. I wanted to stay with her forever, she just gave up on me. Maybe that’s what hurts the most. The first promise she made to me was, “I’ll never stop trying.” And yet, she did. I didn’t stop trying, but she did. She gave herself to someone else, her mind first, then her body. She made up reasons to stop trusting me. They were bullshit. I don’t want to go down this dark road today.
It’s a rainy day in Denver and even though I’m at the end of the hall where there are no windows, I can still feel the gray. And I guess that’s just how I feel, grey. The rain is good and I actually like grey days, so I don’t see this as an absolute negative. It’s more neutral or necessary. We must have grey and rainy days. We must sometimes be grey ourselves. For me, that means not having strong emotions one way or another today. Maybe a skip day from all the feelings. Maybe today is just a day. A normal, average day. Maybe I’m neither enthused or repulsed by recovery today. Recovery just is, just as am I. I don’t always have to be joy and sunshine or spitfire and exhaust. Maybe I should stop searching for the supposed joy and just exist and see what happens. Is this my breakthrough moment? Am I finally seeing the light or something? I don’t know. I say that a lot. I don’t know, because the answers are so blurry.
Let’s start here, with this mantra: “I exist in a neutral space, neither good nor bad.” Today just is, it’s neither good nor bad. I don’t have to label every day in black and white, because life isn’t black and white. Grey exists in all various shades and it’s ok to be grey. I choose today to exist in a neutral shade of grey, neither sinking into the earth or lifting up to the heavens. I am. Today will have uplifting moments that make me smile and laugh and will have downward spiraling moments that make me uncomfortable. It will also have neutral moments, where I just exist. I will survive the three, regardless. Today I exist in grey. Today I exist in a neutral space, neither good nor bad.
I have 11 minutes before snack time. I need to give Eleana her kudos. That means buying an amazon certificate, printing it out and writing her a note that hopefully has some meaning. I haven’t spoken to her, so I can’t say what I like about her. I can only say what I see. She’s here and she’s trying and she can’t fail unless she quits. That’s true for all of us here.
At least my snack was normal today. Back to the regular ol’ strawberry shake. I think they got the message. God only knows what they’ll say to me when I get pulled later. I think my response is going to be, “We have time to work on this in PHP, right?” Posed as a question instead of a command. It’s less aggressive and gives them the illusion that it’s their decision. That’s what people in authority over your life want, right? Is that thought too negative? Let’s reframe. Letting them make the final decision is the best way to ensure I’m getting the most out of my care. There. Was that so hard? I can be positive. I can have recovery oriented thoughts. Proof.
And I’m even going to go to group today. Look at me. So many recovery oriented thoughts. Dr. Parsley gave me a stare down as he pulled Raine from group. Tongue lashing on its way. Is that too negative? Let’s reframe. Dr. Parsley and/or the other members of “my team” are going to provide feedback regarding my weekend, the PHP stepdown plan, my meal plan and my weight restoration goals. Oh boy, that was a mouthful. The anxiety snowball is rolling, but I want to use this journal and my other coping skills to try and manage it. Let’s start with some music. I started “In Rainbows” this morning, but paused on “The Reckoner”, so I’m going to pick up where I left off. Rooms will be open in a few minutes, so I’m going to use that quiet time to regroup before my lunch challenge, whatever that might be. And I’m going to continue working on my “Pros” list of reasons to leave Willow and rejoin the functioning adult world. I’m going to try and diffuse any negative thoughts, FUCK YOU MR. NEGATIVE. I’m going to give myself some compassion for not being perfect and not just jumping in line and doing as I’m told. I’m going to write a letter to my entire team expressing my new found excitement to step down, so that there is no room for interpretation, I am sticking to the goal. I’m ready for the next challenge. Boom, reframed, BITCH.
I had a productive meeting with Alina and Courtney. I guess. They didn’t push any meal plan changes on me, we didn’t discuss weight and we discussed some of the most basic PHP goals, along with the safety elements that I’m most concerned about. I asked for one month in the apartments here before trying to transition home and they seemed to agree with that. I think we’re all on the same page that the transition home is going to be the biggest challenge for me. We also discussed, just as Dr. Parsley and I discussed that if it’s too much being in the apartments, then the opportunity to step back up will be there. I don’t know how much I believe that, knowing what I know about hospitals and how they like to run, but I want to trust them. Further, Courtney apologized for the unexpected changes to my meal plan over the weekend. She swears she didn’t make any unannounced changes and I’m stuck having to believe her. I think that hopefully we’re all on the same page with the meal plan. I don’t want to increase my meal plan right now. I don’t care if my weight is trending. I don’t want to trend up. I’m not comfortable with trending up. I want to keep it the same. I’m not a statistic, I am an individual and if it is as they are saying my choice at the end of the day, then I choose to maintain my weight, which is healthy. I don’t need to weigh 150 lbs. to recover. I’ll do the other work, I focus on the emotions and feelings that lead to the eating disorder to begin with. I’ll sit with the pain. I’ll do most of the groups and stuff. I can do the work, but I won’t support big weight gains. That part I am firm about.
I also can’t promise that I’m going to go to every meal or snack for the next 13 days or whatever. I’m going to pick and choose what I eat. I’m going to PHP regardless, so I no longer have any expectation for myself to keep challenging myself. There’s no point in stressing out over going to meals and snacks that make me feel like shit, if the end result is the same. I’m going to PHP and I’m going to go with a positive attitude. I’m looking forward to seeing my friends there and I’m looking forward to moving on from the hospital setting. I’m happy with June 1st as a stepdown date. I’ll accept an earlier date if insurance gives pushback. I don’t care. I’m indifferent to the date at this point. I am so disappointed in Nurse Bailey yesterday and how I was treated, as some sort of burden. I need a friend to talk to and she told me to fuck off. I no longer feel that supported here anyways, I guess.
When it comes to what I eat and when I eat, I’m probably going to be skipping any meal or snack I’m supposed to provide for myself. I still don’t want to eat. That hasn’t changed. I do want to get out of here, but I don’t want to eat. I will likely be skipping dinners and snacks. I do not foresee myself doing any cooking or ordering in either. A lot of that has to do with trauma around Danielle. I just don’t see a way to push past that. I don’t want to cook. That was our thing and I don’t want to do it any more. And I don’t want to order in because so many of those foods are just poor food choices. Food doesn’t excite me any more. It repulses me. There’s just too much emotion tied to eating. That’s why, in my opinion, I can drink supplements much easier than eating.
In fact, if no one comes to get me for lunch right now, I’m skipping that shit and taking a nap. I don’t want to eat. I’m not concerned about meals. I have no incentive to eat, that incentive was my own goal setting and that has been removed. I’m actually very good at setting my own goals, I don’t need to have those goals set for me. Maybe they are seeing that now? It kind of sounds like they are. Uh oh, I hear Kiki giving the lunch announcement. I’m going to act like I didn’t hear it and hope no one pops in my room. Kristen is MIA for some reason. I think they move her back and forth between us and 2E since they only have one BHT and one nurse. That gives their BHT a break or something maybe. I really want to just take a nap instead. I’ll go to the next group, process with Amanda (hopefully). That’s a productive group if we do what we’re actually supposed to do and it doesn’t just turn into some kind of a bitch fest. Not that I don’t appreciate the ability to let it out regarding how we’re treated here and problems and what not. But, process is supposed to be about those hard to talk about topics that might typically be off limits during other groups and certainly at meals. It’s our one chance to say the tough things that many of us are thinking, but we’re not supposed to say outloud. It’s not as good as the APN process, because nothing was off limits there, but it’s still better than our average group. I do get a lot out of that one. I don’t “like it” per se, because it does take a toll emotionally. I guess any difficult emotion takes a toll, so where better to do that than with my peers. And I get so much insight from Priscilla and from Anelise. Kristen the enforcer just came to kick me out of my room. More on this later I guess.
BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP. MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE. MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE. THERE HAS BEEN A FIRE EMERGENCY REPORTED IN THE BUILDING. DO NOT USE THE ELEVATORS.
That was a fun lunch interruption.
Fuck it’s cold in this building. I’m wearing my heaviest hoodie and hanging in the hallway while everyone gathers for process. I just don’t want to process today. I don’t want to share 2-3 emotions with context. I just want to hide away. I want to sleep. I want to be cozy in my bed and close my eyes. If I go to process I will almost certainly fall asleep. I’m pretty annoyed about the sitting situation, too. Katy took my seat, I took Polly’s seat, Manon to my seat, I moved over to Ella’s couch and Ella doesn’t want to be rude, but she doesn’t like sitting with me for some reason that she hasn’t stated. I try not to take it too personally, maybe I’m annoying. I’m very fidgety and bounce my legs a lot and stuff. I just don’t like sitting alone and I earned that couch seat and Katy kind of jacked my seat and I’m kind of emo about the whole thing. Then I was fine with Katy as a couch mate, but Manon wants to sit with her roommate and that makes sense, but then that doesn’t leave me anywhere to sit because of the Ella situation and that makes me sad. And it also makes me not want to go to group. I feel left out and frustrated. I earned that couch seat. I earned it.I would take Abigail’s seat until she gets back or I leave, but I think Maddy likes that seat and I don’t want to push Maddy further out. It’s hard for her to go to group, so I want her to be comfortable.
I just don’t think I can process today. And I don’t feel like I have anything constructive to add to process. But mostly, I just don’t want to be around everyone. I want to take a nap instead. I’ve just had so many strong emotions for the last week. I don’t feel like I can contribute any more. I’m exhausted. Maybe this is one of my other big fears for PHP. It was briefly mentioned that there are even more groups in PHP and I’m already struggling to be in a group these days. Mostly because these groups hit pretty hard. They’re really targeted. Process is especially tough because someone almost always has a topic similar to something I’m already feeling. Then all the feedback and all the thoughts around the feedback really kick me in the cunt. I just don’t know what to do with myself.
Good news, my cherry coke shirt has arrived in the building. Not my leggings, not yet. But hopefully two of my new shirts. I need a shirt to wear with my green skirt too. I’m going to wear it without leggings if I can get my legs smooth enough. Not that it matters. We’re allowed to be hairy here. But, I will say, Brandon asked me about wearing skirts. So I was considering wearing my cutesy dress next Saturday, if he plans on coming. I might even do full makeup. But I’ll need a commitment from him before mid afternoon that he’s going to be here. I don’t wanna doll up just for the girls on the unit. That’s a lie, I do want to doll up, but I don’t want anyone to think I’m trying to be fancy or something. They take that shit really seriously, I feel like and they are going to judge my makeup hard.
Wow, I’m looking into the group room and it’s literally everyone in there except me. I’m an asshole, I guess. I just can’t do process and I don’t like the girl doing process today. I don’t remember her name, but she did it last week. I think they stole Amanda from us. I need to hear music. I need to cope with my anxiety. And besides, what’s my motivation for going to group, I’m not trying to get to phase 2 anymore. And definitely not phase III, so who fucking cares. Maybe the girls, but my team is over it. I’m stepping down. We have a schedule and nothing is going to stop that. If I skip lunch or dinner or snacks. If I skip groups. I’m repeating myself. I need a good editor. Or maybe this writing is just trash, I’m not sure.
Besides, I’m using the coping skills that I said I was going to use today, journaling and music. I’m still listening to “In Rainbows” on repeat today. I’m getting flashes of things I did with Danielle, both back when we were young and during our marriage. I miss our marriage so much. I miss our trips to Tagawa and planting the garden. I miss everything so much. Why can’t she just come home and be normal again? Here I am about to cry again. The death of a marriage is worst than the death of a human in a way. When someone dies, especially of natural causes or in a car crash or something, they’re gone from the earth. You bury them. You know they’re in the ground. But with the death of a marriage it’s so much worse. They’re still alive to the people they chose to keep in their life, but they are dead to you. She is dead to me. I’m not allowed to send her a message to see how she’s coping. I’m not allowed to tell her how I’m doing. I’m not allowed to be friends. We won’t get together, even occasionally. We’re apart. Alive, but apart. It’s so sad. I feel sad and I miss her, even if she was bad to me. I miss her. I don’t want to process this today. I don’t want to engage with difficult emotions. I want to escape them.
I need something to cheer me up. Do I need some friendly conversation or a game? I need a hug. I really just need a hug. I miss Kirsi, she left today and she was a reliable source of hugs. She and Polly, they were my gotos for hugs. I don’t think I have anyone here for hugs now. We’re just not on that level. Maybe that’s part of outgrowing Willow. The people that I trusted and that trusted me have moved on and that’s how I know it’s time for me to go, too. I am grey today. I am neither good nor bad. Negative or positive. I just am. I must remain neutral today. Neutrality, the act of committing to nothing other than existing in the space I exist. That’s where I am, a floating bag of molecules with no home and no feels. I am simply neutral. No strong opinions, good or bad. I just am. That’s how I survive the rest of the WIllow venture. I’m going to take some more hydroxyzine. I want more clonazepam, but that’s probably unlikely. Bailey isn’t going to help me out. The other nurse might, if I expressed my panic to her and try the hydroxyzine first. “Dear Nurse: I am neutral, neither good nor bad. To remain neutral, I need more benzodiazepines.” Or some weed gummies. I’d settle for weed gummies. I want to go home.
I feel like the whole group room is staring at me, the outlier that didn’t go to process. It’s too crowded in there, the group room.. I’m already panicked. I want to lie down. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to forget everything I’ve learned. I want to run through the doors. I want to climb up the walls. I want to sing. I want to dance. I want to run down the hall, shouting like a madwoman. I want to jump on the furniture and kick this puzzle next to me. I want to crush glass. I want to smoke a cigarette. I want to vape. I want to roll a blunt and smoke that. Kristen just locked my room. I’m stuck out here for the remainder of the day. Chances of getting to skip dinner just dropped dramatically. And I can’t go to dinner, but not eat. That’s a bad look. Not showing up though. That just looks like I’m having a rough day. Kristen is so good at her job, damnit. I can’t sleep on this couch. I’m going to go lie down in the corner by nursing. I want to give up. Neutrality, the act of convincing yourself that you’re indifferent to all the things that matter most to you. Be neutral, Clara, be neutral.
I get the rules and the structure here, it’s one thing I actually like and feel like I’ll be missing when I go to PHP. I know they’ll try to give me structure, but I plan on flunking out, maybe. Anyways, the one thing I haven’t figured out is why they keep it so fucking cold in here all the fucking time. The thermostat says it’s 72, but there’s no way. It’s more like 65 and I’m layered up as much as I can be, but my nipples are starting to hurt and once they start to hurt it’s like the point of no return. My whole boob just hurts and to get it to stop hurting I need something like a small heater, the sun or a blow dryer to get them warmed back up. No one gives you a warning about these things before you grow them. I mean, fuck, I’ve bumped them into walls and counters and door ways and it’s so painful. Don’t laugh, that shit hurts. If you’ve had them most of your life, I’m sure you’re used to it, but for me, having them for only 9 months or something, I’m still learning the best way to protect them. Once I have surgery, at least I won’t have to worry about the between the legs thing quite as much, but that’s a way off. I’m sure having a vagina comes with it’s own disadvantages that no one is going to share with me until after the fact, too. I look forward to the experience, I suppose.
I had to ask Bailey for meds and it’s like it’s such a fucking chore for her. Well, guess what, your other nurse is on break or something, so you have to do her job. God knows I won’t check in with you. I wouldn’t want to burden you with my mental illness problems. You, the psych nurse, are doing this to make a difference or maybe just for a paycheck. I’m leaning towards a paycheck in your case. Wow. I guess I’m still processing that reaction from yesterday. It was such a fucking ridiculous reaction. Such a bitchy thing to say to someone that was reaching out for help. I don’t always have all the right words Bailey, but I know I’m in trouble and I know I need support and you’re telling me to piss off. Oh and the nurse you sent me to, she’s a condescending cunt. She literally just made me feel like an idiot with superficial bullshit lines of questioning. If you’re not trained in doing checkins or whatever, maybe don’t offer them shits. She literally just made me feel worse. And now I’m still ruminating on that shit.
“Hi Monica.” She waved as she Kiki walked by. I want to hide and skip snack. I just don’t want to eat today. I want to skip dinner. I might just hide in the corner or something, maybe behind the group room or something. If I pretend I’m asleep they can’t MAKE me go. I know, I know, I’m supposed to be recovery focused, but I’m feeling those urges. To restrict. To cut calories. To drop weight. I didn’t exercise this morning, but not because I didn’t feel the compulsion. It was mostly because I slept like shit, again, and didn’t have the energy. Depressing as fuck.
Group is out, no more hiding. They moved the wheel chairs that were in the corner by the exam room. They were perfect for wedging myself in and curling up into little ball. Maybe I will go behind the group room and lay down flat. The question is, are the fancies done pulling patients for the day or not. It’s 2:19 PM, so we’re getting close to quitting time. I know Alina leaves at 3pm and I can assume the other follow suit, but who knows. Also, I don’t want to miss mail time. Fuck, I want to go to my room. Why’d she have to lock it?
Sleep. Journal. Eat. Sleep. Journal. Eat. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. I’m going to skip dinner and HS snack tonight. I just don’t want the calories and I don’t want the group exposure… and it’s not like I can just not eat in the cafe. If I go in there, I’ll be expected to finish my meal. Me getting a supplement at this point is just kind of silly. But I do make a statement if I no show for a meal or snack. So that’s the plan.
What am I feeling? Indifferent. Why? Because my actions at this point have literally no bearing on anything. If I eat, if I don’t, if I show up, if I don’t, if I go to group, If I don’t… it doesn’t matter, the result is the fucking same. If I try and hang myself, if I slit my wrists, if I crush a cyanide capsule between my teeth or put a gun to my head, the treatment plan is the same. I’m not getting any special privileges, like going out on pass, but I don’t really want to go out. I don’t like being outside of here. I’m not losing anything. I don’t have a goal. Well, I do, it just isn’t their goal. I actually want to lose weight while I’m still inpatient. Not having a goal is how I wound up on the 7 year college plan. It also led to at least 4 years of hell after school where I just tried to survive. I don’t have a plan. I’m going to live in the apartments here for at least another month. I’m going to skip as many meals and snacks as possible. I’m going to find a way to exercise as much as possible. I’m going to try and drop calories. Oh no, am I being negative. Let’s reframe. I don’t want to see fat me when I look in the mirror, so I’m going to do something about it.
Why the fuck is it so cold in here? It’s like 40 something degrees outside today and I swear their thermostats don’t work or something. I know what 72 degrees feels like and this ain’t it. My nipples are hard as rocks and hurt like fucking hell through a bra, a shirt and this thick ass hoodie. This shit is torture. Part of the reason I want to be in my room is because it stays slightly warmer in there and I have access to blankets and additional clothes. Why do they want us to freeze our asses off? I should pace for a couple of hours just to fucking warm my body up.
They’re having the last group right now and I’m hanging out by the nursing station where no one can see me. Why go to group? There’s no upside. It’s just more stress and zero upside. I don’t want to think about hard thoughts and hearing others cry is just too heart breaking. No, I’m out here, recovering in my own way. I’m writing down my thoughts. All the fucking thoughts that pervert my mind. Mr. Negative & Miss Sweets doing their battle of good and evil. Let’m do what they do, I’m just a tourist taking snaps and posting them to this page. I do want my packages though. I should have at least 3 today. So I’ll chill down here by nursing and wait until I see Kiki carrying the massive box of packages down for distribution. Then I’ll make my move and try to use that as an excuse to get into my room where I’ll hide until after dinner. Hopefully it’s Brandon in meds again tonight, then we can get our meds at 6:45 PM instead of 7:15. After everyone takes off for the cafe, I’ll wait 20 minutes, then come sit by the med room so I’ll be first to get my meds and watch Euphoria. Get my meds, change into my PJs and fake sleep or really sleep, whichever, until after HS snack, wash my face, brush my teeth and go the fuck to bed. Another ground hog day done. Wake up and do it again. Yeaaaah! Tomorrow is Tuesday. You know what happens on Tuesday? The same fucking shit that happened today + everybody gets labs drawn. I’m hoping my bloodwork comes back whacked the fuck out. I don’t think I restricted enough for that to happen, but I can always hope. I want them to step me down at a lower weight with fucked up blood, just as a fuck you. FUCK. SO NEGATIVE. Let’s reframe. I want them to look like fucking idiots that don’t know what they’re doing. I’m tired of this shit. VIOLA! Look at that. A little reframe and everything feels much lighter.
My hands are ice cubes and so are my feet, despite wearing socks today. There is no saving my appendages from the cold hallway. I don’t think I’ve restricted enough for it to affect my bloodflow. I’d be super surprised. Okay. Nuff yappin. I’m taking another nap until mail time.
Mail time success, I got all three packages without delay. In fact, everyone got their packages without delay and it took staff only minutes to hand out to giant crates of packages and watch each one get opened. I got so much cool shit. 2 pairs of leggings, a really cute polo-esque shirt and a cherry coke t-shirt that reminds of the Dr. Priscilla shirt Audra Esker used to wear in high school. We can have a talk about Audra Esker some time, but that time is not now.
What we will talk about right now is how Kristen was on my fucking ass today about going to snacks and meals. I tried to hide at every meal and she came and found me every single fucking time. She actually came back from the cafe for lunch to come and get me. Then at dinner time, I thought I was being sneaky- there’s this spot kind of behind the group room that’s all tile/stone and the carpet is grey and if you lay down really flat, it’s almost impossible to see me on the mirror or the cameras. Kristen walked straight over, “Clara (she says my name right, OMG!), it’s time for dinner” and smiled. I can’t help but really like Kristen. We all do. She’s really good at her job, she’s ultra professional. But at the same time, she doesn’t really act like she’s an authority figure. It’s weird. I think we all just respect her, so she never really has to speak harshly or be rude. But she does draw a line in the sand and won’t let you cross it. It’s interesting. But it’s rare that she’s not smiling and making some kind of friendly conversation, especially in the cafe, at the most stressful times. She won’t let there be awkward silence. And you can tell, she really cares about each and every person here. It’s not put on or fake, it’s legit. I think she has a really big heart. That’s not to say that she didn’t drive me crazy today, tracking me down for meals. I wanted to skip lunch and dinner, but what am I going to say when she comes and finds me, even after everyone is already in the cafe? I can’t be mad at her, she’s doing her job. I’m sure there is a note in my chart or something telling them to come find me. I’m going to ask her if I get a chance. But she’s really derailing my weight loss plans. She won’t be here for HS snack, however, so I plan on ducking out of that one. It’s Mahalo Frank and Shawna (I think). Mahalo Frank is just so chill, I doubt he’ll be on my ass. Shawna is really nice, too. And she’ll try and get me to come, but if I act like I’m asleep, she won’t MAKE me come. “Clara, you coming to snack?”, she’ll say. Me: “No” and she’ll go about her business. I just feel like I’ve eaten way too much today already. I feel gross. It feels gross. I feel gross. But if I go, I have to eat whatever is in front of me, unless it’s something challenging. If it’s challenging, I can refuse. And I’m done with the supplement shit. In fact, if I get a muffin + Supp. tomorrow, I’m not drinking the supplement. Fuck that shit. It tastes like ass. Plus, that’s an easy way to shave a few hundred calories off that snack. Those muffins are already calorie dense enough. I need to call Juniper now, before she gets too sleepy and goes to bed.
They always make us do these affirmation type things every week and one of the questions is, name something you’re proud of this week. I am really proud of how I have been trying to treat Mom with more respect, patience and kindness. I’m giving her more grace, even when she messes up. I’m communicating my feelings better. And I’m holding my boundaries much better. The big example of that I can give last week (or maybe on the weekend), she asked how my day was and I said, “it’s complete shit, it sucked”, because it was and it did. It’s one of those situations where I just needed to be heard. And she did her bullshit, “Well maybe tomorrow will be better.” No, STFU. That was my first reaction. I told her I hate it when she does that. She responded with some shit about how she’s a positive person. I told her she was full of shit and I had to go. But when I started thinking about it, I really felt frustrated because when you tell someone your day sucks, you just want to be heard. By responding with, “tomorrow will be better”, you’re completely invalidating what that person was trying to say. Who gives a shit if tomorrow will be better. Maybe it will, maybe it won’t, but today…the day we’re talking about sucked. A few minutes later, when I figured all of this out in my head, I told her exactly that, “When you respond to ‘my day sucked’ with ‘tomorrow will be better’” it makes me feel completely invalidated. She actually heard me for once. Instead of arguing or saying, “Sorry, but…” she heard me. It clicked for her and she actually apologized and said she would try to not do it again. That is the first fucking time in my adult life that I think she actually got it. I told her no big deal, and we moved on. That’s how this shit is supposed to work. Instead of getting so frustrated and angry, I need to be measured in my responses and explain my actual feelings. If I do that, hopefully she can understand why it’s upsetting. I know that she’s not doing it on purpose, but both the “maybe tomorrow will be better” and “I can’t help it if I’m a positive person” are invalidating statements. I don’t know. I just thought it was neat, almost a breakthrough moment in our communication and I was really proud of both her and myself.
I think that’s enough jibber-jabber for today. This laptop is dying and I need to go get in line for meds, if I want to get them early enough to sneak back in bed before snack. Plus, I’ve got Euphoria to watch. Shit is getting good. Really fucking good.
I hate weird stares. Did I just get a weird stare? I’m too paranoid, I guess. I don’t know. I feel like I am. I’m watching this banger of an episode of Euphoria. It builds and builds and builds and at the end, someone is going to die. Rue, Jules, Cassie, Maddie, Nate? Someone has to die this season, because there’s just too much happening for a every mother fucker to not die.
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