Devastating. My brand new baby pink shirt and I somehow got MASCARA on it. Tide pen to the rescue. Yeh, sort of, but not 100%. I don’t think it’s noticeable to anyone else, but it is to me. I know it’s there. How depressing. Depression level, 11/10. Grrr. I had to change. We’ll use music for mood enhancement. And today it is Katy Perry. I want to dance and sing, if only in my head.
My dreams sucked last night, again. This time it was my father’s father, my brother, and Dad and we were eating dinner at what we now call a very retro table and kitchen. Spaghetti with hamburgers that I had to cut up myself. Yes, the combination is strange and I’m not sure of the reason. And I couldn’t stop eating. They were all impressed with how much I was eating. Plate after plate and I just couldn’t get full. It was such a weird fucking dream. I feel like my dreams are taunting me. At least it wasn’t Danielle this time. Thank fucking god, it wasn’t Danielle. Just more dead grandparent shaming. So, I’m writing the following letter to my dead grandparents:
Dear Dead Grandpas and Grandmas:
I’m still alive. You’re not. It’s 2026 and lots of things have changed in the 15 years since you died, probably because most, if not all, of your generation is dead. For instance, we had a black president that did a pretty good job. Turns out that being racist is not ok and we are getting better (although it’s not perfect) at judging people by the content of their character and not by some clan, tribe, skin color or whatever. We don’t live in clans anymore. That shit is so First century. As it turns out, race, gender, age, sexuality and anything else that you used to shame, have nothing to do with what type of person they are. And this is working out so well for me. Keep reading.
Science has taught us a lot and as it turns out, most of those old ways of thinking were wrong and based completely on bullshit fantasy land shit. Values have moved towards everyone being equal. We’re not there yet, but we want it. My generation and the ones that followed me are more accepting. Again, this is working out well for me. More on that in a minute.
So recently you’ve been visiting me in my dreams and it hasn’t been a friendly hello. You’ve been trying to shame me in your weird dream-like way. It’s creepy and it’s making me feel bad, so I’d like it if you’d knock off. Stay in your ghost land and out of my head.
As it turns out, sometimes our gender and our body don’t exactly match. So far the science is saying it’s probably due to hormone surges during pregnancy that occur after the body is formed (penis or vagina) but before our brains are done growing. It’s real. It’s happening. Actually, it’s been happening for thousands of years. The difference is that modern medicine has a way to support me and allow me to live authentically. Even though it’s somewhat controversial, it’s being accepted, slowly but surely. The main group of people pushing back are white nationalists and no one should align with their values, because they’re fucking nuts.
So anyways, I’ve picked a new name, Clara. I’m going through puberty for the second time, this time the correct puberty and I intend to live my life as this person, because this is who I am. If you don’t like it, that’s fine. But keep your opinions to yourself and stay out of my dreams. I have enough going on right now, I don’t need to be shamed and what you’re doing isn’t actually helping in any way. I’m proud of who I am and who I’ve become. I’m not angry all the time any more, I have a whole range of feelings and emotions that I never even knew existed. The world is brighter and when I look in the mirror, I see the person that I’ve felt like inside my whole life. My values have changed, too. Instead of success that I used to view as a title and the size of my paycheck, my values are empathy, love and compassion for my fellow human beings. All human beings, for exactly as they are.
I love you all and miss you all, but since you’ve died, the world has become a more compassionate place and we’re all better for it. Respectfully, don’t harass me anymore, please.
Love Always,
Clara
The day continues. Breakfast was absolutely lovely. Tablemates today include Priscilla, Katerina (butchered spelling, so sorry), Maggie and Kylee. It’s a delightful table of Aries + one Leo (we think). Conversation topics included: Hellen Keller, Community, Ablism, this writing, Priscilla’s Mom’s seeing Nirvana play in her dorm right after they released Bleached, and so much more. I was so caught up in conversation, I almost didn’t finish my breakfast. Well, that and the fact that bagels that aren’t incredibly fresh take so damn long to chew. Not my fault really. Rose didn’t have her phone, so we asked her to just make up the Morning Cup of Joe and famous birthdays included her long lost twin, my long lost twin and Maggie’s long lost twin. So apparently, it’s all of our birthdays as well. SO EXCITING! I always wanted birthday twins. Since we’re technically out an MC today, Katerina(I swear I’m going to look up the proper spelling of your name and fix it) made a motion for more room time today. I quickly seconded the motion, took a voice vote and ayes clearly outnumbered the nays. The motion passed. Priscilla responded with, “I love democracy.” lol. It was just one of those cute moments during the day where the group felt very unified, even if this was a non-binding resolution to simply make our voices heard. Sunny and Sara laughed, but Sunny is probably pretty pliable to make something like that actually happen. This isn’t a pipe dream, last holiday weekend when we didn’t have an MC they actually did leave rooms open for most of the day. I really wish that was standard for weekends here. It would break up the, “Everyday is the same” feeling that we joke about, but is absolutely real.
It sucks when you see your friends struggling and Rose has had a rough few weeks. Yesterday they searched her room and took a bunch of stuff out. I don’t know what and it’s none of my business, so I didn’t ask. But, being the target of a roomsearch myself, I know how the invasion into privacy feels. They just took my belt and some headbands and had a reason to do so. It looked like they took a bin of stuff and I know that had to feel terrible. Rose was supposed to go on pass today and get her nails done, but she was absent from quite a few meals this last week, so they took that away from her and I’m sure it’s a massive disappointment. When I told her I was here if she needed anything, we just had the ground hog’s day talk and this was supposed to be her outing that was going to break up the monotony and claustrophobia that being stuck on the unit causes. I just worry, she was doing so well and then this week seemed really tough. That’s how recovery goes. “Not linear,” they say. We all know it’s true, but it doesn’t make the lows any easier. It still feels like a failure or like we’re letting someone down. Ourselves, our peers, our team, the nurses, the BHTs, or our family, etc. At least that’s my take on it. My true mantra is, “you only fail when you give up,” but a failure still feels like a failure. Failure brings out big emotions and some days we’re less resilient than others.
I really wanted to do a makeup trial today and get help for tomorrow. I’ll ask someone today if they’ll help me tomorrow morning. I want hair ideas too. The headband is cute and all, but isn’t there something, anything else I can do? I just want to look cute for Brandon’s visit tomorrow. He asked if I like wearing dresses, so I’m planning on wearing the cutest dress and I want the makeup and hair to match. I’m excited. I wish he was coming today, but he’s off hiking in the mountains this weekend, so I’m just grateful that he’s coming Sunday. Our visits have been really good as it has given us a chance to get to know each other, probably what I should have done months ago, but there was the whole weird Danielle jealousy thing that I was dealing with. She was actively going to her boyfriend’s house and playing house with him, but I wasn’t allowed to date. I could write a whole book on the things Danielle said and did in the months leading up to me being here. It’s a tragedy with tons of irony and some laughs mixed in. I don’t think I want to go there today. Maybe later. We’ll see.
It’s always interesting when we don’t have enough staff here. Today it’s Sara and Sunny, which is cool, they’re both nice enough. It should be a chill day, I hope. It’s a long weekend, which for the normal working world is a good thing, but for us here at the hospital, it means services are delayed, no therapist, no dietician and no mail until Tuesday. Three days may not sound like a lot, but it can feel like forever if you’re waiting on a package. I need toothpaste, I need my Kudos gift for Belle (I know what I want to get her, but have to order it.) I’ll have to make due with what I have for the weekend I guess. But hey, let’s look at the brightside, reframing and all… I’m going to set up the blog today, so I have to set up the server, pick a theme, and find plugins that I want to use. It’s been a minute since I’ve set up a WP blog, but I’ve done this 1000 times. The hardest part is the server setup, it’s a lot of linux command prompt shit that I’ll have to lookup. I still prefer to set up my own server vs. using managed options. I could reach out to Rico for help. He’s my Danish coder friend who does server management for my former boss, but that could lead to questions that I don’t want to answer. I’ve ghosted those guys and I’m not sure I want to reappear, especially right now. Priscilla is going to help me edit and post and hopefully guest post. I was going to ask Katy if she wants to guest post, too. Maybe see what Priscilla thinks, we’re keeping this lo-key for the time being. I’m projecting 80 hours of work to get everything up and looking nice. Also, since I can’t take pictures of people here, it’s against the rules, I need to figure out imagery to add to the site. Blogs that are all text are usually more utility blogs, for informational purposes. I want this to be more of a story of my journey and think some imagery is going to be necessary to make it flow. Also, still on the fence on
- Use my real name
- Use pics
I’m just not sure if I want to out myself like that quite yet. It could be dangerous. I mean, what if people actually decide to read this. Other problems to solve include the domain name which I think has to be the title of my writing.
Also, as I think about posting this, I really kind of get anxious. I mean, some of it is just ranting, some of it really negative and some of it probably just sounds like rambling and doesn’t really serve a purpose. I’m so ADHD and I think it shows in my writing, because sometimes my thoughts can be all over the place and I’m not sure it makes sense to a normal person that’s reading it. With that said, I’m actually very proud of this content, including the negative thoughts. Life isn’t kittens in baskets with bowties. It’s up and it’s down, back and forth, good and bad. Authenticity counts and I think that’s what separates great artists from mediocre or poor ones. Grit is relatable. I have grit by the truckload, but I think I also feature a bowtied kitten or two sometimes, too. Happiness or success can be relatable, too, right?
I remember one of the conversations I had with Connie when she was here was how clicky it was, especially my first couple of weeks here. She told me how when she first got here, it wasn’t like that at all. It was something developed with a few of the patients that had been here 3-4 weeks before I got here. Most of them ended up leaving AMA. Connie left shortly after to go back to Boston, where she had a fancy job at a major insurance company. She got her master’s from Cornell and was super smart. I admired her a lot, but at that point I was having trouble connecting with people here. As the names of patients have changed, so has the inclusivity, IMO. There is this really beautiful feeling of unity among everyone here now. I love that and I love feeling like I’m right in the middle of the chain binding us all together. It’s unique, I haven’t really ever been around this before. I feel very comfortable and so supported. A few days ago when I missed all those meals, Betty said I was missed and I think others shared that sentiment. I had so much self-doubt and I was wrong.
10:15 and it’s snack time. This is the time of day when anxiety starts to snowball. I want to try and sit in the discomfort today. Maybe I can harness that energy instead of fleeing from it. It’s game time, [insert some stupid sports analogy here]. Why are sports analogies always football, baseball or basketball? Why not women’s figure skating or gymnastics? Fuck the patriarchy. What if this nervous, anxious energy is the part of my brain where all my creativity comes from and I’ve been silencing that part of the brain, everyday. “Sit in the discomfort.” Embrace it. Feel it and let it dissipate. It’s the motto of therapists, dieticians,MCs and BHTs alike. Even the psychiatrists and therapists say this. But then, the therapists give you coping skills and psychiatrists give you drugs to bring your discomfort down to a, “Manageable level.” And who determines what that level is? My threshold for anxiety is virtually zero right now and the only relief I get is when I’m sleeping and I’m not “awake” in my dreams or I forget them as soon as I wake up. I’m on 4 medications to manage anxiety, hydroxyzine, lexapro, clonazepam and buspar and I swear I’m still 8/10 before lunch. And group is so hard when anxiety gets higher than 8. The energy is mostly positive in group, but I as a group, we all grow more restless with each meal and snack. And maybe it’s that energy that I’m picking up on? I very much believe that tiny, micro expressions and body language that signal to everyone else that anxiety is higher.
Our group ice breaker was, “Name a famous scientist,” and I went with Marie Curry and her work with radiation. If I remember correctly, she conducted the gold foil experiment alongside her husband. She died from radiation related cancer I think. I’m pulling this out of my 11th grade education, so I make no claims to accuracy. Sunny says Einstein solved eating disorders with the falling man experiment. A person in a vacuum that’s falling doesn’t feel their own weight (until they hit the ground). Going up 11.2 km/sec2 you feel crushing pain and experience the pain long enough to no longer feel the pain.
E = MC2
Eat = more consistently squared
I feel sick. It was a good analogy, but it’s heavy and hard to swallow. I’m supposed to experience the pain long enough that I’ll not experience the pain any longer. I guess I’m not at or through the acceptance part of the analogy yet, because I find it hard to believe that I can exist without pain or the eating disorder. Belief is a motherfucker. For a lesson about sitting with the pain long enough to reach the weightlessness of outer space, that sure was fucking painful and my brilliant idea to not take the clonazepam before hand… I don’t know… I am feeling beaten down. Why? Because I can’t escape the facts and the facts are that the “joys” that the eating disorder gives me aren’t counterbalanced by the weight of death, which is much heavier. But then I go back to the fact that I know the eating disorder wants to kill me and there are days when I feel totally okay with that. Somedays I even ask for it. I didn’t have to come here to learn or accept that part of it.
Then there are days like today where I wake up feeling mostly rested, shower and get dressed. And from the moment I see my peers, I’m happy to be alive to see them. I’m happy to be alive to talk to Juniper and even my Mom. I’m excited about coffee and the conversation that comes with it. I’m excited to sit at the Aries table. I feel like I’ve found my people. I feel appreciated and wanted. People other than Danielle are interested in me. Girls that aren’t afraid to challenge my thoughts and aren’t intimidated by me. I love that. I feel at home and everything happening feels so normal. These are good days and perhaps I’ll struggle less today. I feel hope and hope is a motherfucker, too, because it gives you the internal reasons to persevere. It’s been a long time since I’ve had hope. A really long time. This feeling of normalcy, I don’t want it to go away. I want to catch it with my eyes, ears, nose, tongue, fingers and stuff it in a bottle and put it high upon a shelf, so it’s safe from being stolen, but I can use it whenever I want. Why am I feeling this way? Because there are people here that understand me and that’s something I convinced myself couldn’t exist outside of my relationship with Danielle. Even though I know that at the end of it all, she never really understood me and she wasn’t interested in getting to know me. She’s poser and authenticity means nothing to her, it’s not her value. Well, it is mine. I’m claiming it for the first time ever. I proclaim that my values include being my authentic self, regardless of the consequences, because everyone deserves the chance to express themselves as their brain sees and feels they should be, so long as they don’t harm others in doing so. And being that this is one of my core values, I will no longer accept anyone in my life that doesn’t share this value and express themselves authentically, because I want to be surrounded by positive influences that not only accepts my authenticity, but celebrates it with me. We should cherish ourselves and each other. I feel cherished, because I have friends that accept and relish in my authenticity. They bring out the most authentic me and we celebrate that. We admire each other’s courage and strength and thereby form a connection which is the foundation of the support that I’ve longed for and needed. This feels good. It feels real.
I’ve taken too much bad advice from Danielle, who in the end thought I was dumb, a waif, a cunt, a bitch, a slut, a whore, vain and superficial, all because I wanted to express myself as a girl differently than she expresses herself. Her advice was bad and I never should have taken it to heart. Yesterday in therapy, I was on the cusp of crying, because I thought about my lost connection with Danielle. I wish I had cried, because that pain was real. But what is even more real is how I feel now. I’m not alone in this world. There are other people that understand and appreciate me and I don’t have to feel shame or guilt anymore. That’s a burden worth shaking off of my shoulders. Those feelings weren’t my values, they only kept me from being authentic. Danielle’s harsh criticisms didn’t fan my flame, they tried to extinguish it and came really close to doing just that. But Danielle is a phoney that feels threatened by authenticity. Maybe she is smart, but she’s not smart enough to recognize the things that make me unique are my most authentic qualities. I am NOT broken and I never was. My heart aches for Danielle, but not because I miss her, but because I know that the real authentic Danielle is a cold narcissistic bigot that offers this world nothing but her hatred of others. She always told me she was a bad person. That may have been the most authentic thing she ever told me about herself. The rest was just a mask and watching that mask fall off is a disgusting reveal.
12:49, I barely made it halfway through lunch and got up and left. I’m way too sensitive, but Sara kind of snapped at me and it really hurt my feelings for some reason. We were talking about extra room time. I realize that she’s just enforcing the rules and I wasn’t mad at her for saying after dinner, she would open rooms back up. That’s what we always do, but I was just telling her last time we had a holiday weekend like this and we didn’t have a real MC, they let us have a little extra downtime. I think it was Easter weekend. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, but she got really defensive and snapped at me. Now is one of those moments where I can feel the cry in my chest and behind my eyes, but I’m not crying. I want to, because I want that release and that flood of neurotransmitters and hormones. I want to feel better about the situation. I got up and excused myself from the table after I ate my green bean salad, one square of my grilled cheese, and drank my water. I just didn’t want to sit within sight of Sara’s gaze for the rest of lunch. I’m sorry if I let Maggie and Katerina down. But this wasn’t just normal discomfort, my feelings were actually hurt. Sara asked me if I was ok after we were out of the cafe. I know she didn’t mean anything by it. I can be realistic and honest and say, she was just reacting in her natural way. But that didn’t make it any less hurtful. She snapped like I said and did something wrong, even though I know I didn’t. I won’t let this spoil my day. I took some hydroxyzine and I may curl up next to nursing for the next group or maybe I’ll do the opposite action and go to group.
The extra room time feels warranted today because our first group ran over and I just didn’t feel like I got a chance to rest. My brain feels over stimulated and my body feels tired and weak. I feel less energized than I did before lunch and a little nap would do me good. Sorry Dr. Parsley, but I need some rest during the day. I’ve been using this routine of being up at night and then having downtime during the day for a while and it works. Maybe not as well as just getting a good night’s rest, but it works. Also, I want to hide. I don’t want to face the group since I got up and left. Danielle would call me a pussy or some other horrible name, but my feelings are valid and my emotions are real. I don’t feel bad. I’m ok not completing lunch. I plan on going to snacks and dinner. I need some music to put me in a better headspace, so I can rejoin the community for the rest of the day. I’m thinking Lorde and maybe listen to one of her albums instead of the “It’s Lorde” playlist. Maybe a start and a finish will help me feel a range of emotions and feel a sense of closure, for lack of a better word, around how I’m feeling right now.
This is my safe space, right outside the nurses exam room. Over the last week, when I felt down or weak or sad, this is where I would come sit. I don’t even want to check in with the nurse, I only trust Nurse Brandon right now. Nurses Bailey, Marie and Alana all seem to be on some weird wavelength that just doesn’t feel good to me. I blame Nurse Bailey for this. Again, probably just me being too sensitive, but it’s how I feel. I’m disappointed and let down. Trust is such a huge part of this whole eating disorder thing and not just for me. It’s something I’ve heard a lot of us say, over and over again. And Nurse Bailey broke my trust. Intent vs. impact, I know she didn’t mean to, just like I know Sara wasn’t trying to be hateful to me. But the impact is the same, regardless.
Maggie just came up to me, “Clara, what’s the code for the cabinet?” Well, since you asked, it’s 1824. I’d suggest jotting it down and hiding it in your room somewhere. It’s not that I intend to get into the cabinet when there’s no staff present, I still make them open it for me. I mean, they left the stupid keycard sitting on the desk and this is the 2nd time in two months that it’s gone missing. Last time it reappeared from out of nowhere on the floor, outside of the sharps cabinet. I found it. I guarantee I won’t be finding it this time, even if I find it. Geez, not going to make myself look guilty. But even staff have to admit that it’s convenient that I know it. I mean, fuck, yesterday they were already cutting down Splataaaah time by 15 minutes and the card was gone. If they had to message around to all the right people to get the code, that shit would have taken 25 minutes and we have bodies that need to smell and look beautiful. There’s no time to waste in the morning. We have places to be, bitches.
It sounds like Sunny is talking about a movie for group. I think that’s a solid enough reason to skip out on group and hang out next to nursing. Maybe I’ll watch that Kevin Bacon show. It’s getting pretty good, for the sort of cheesy, ex-FBI-agent-with-a-drinking-problem-and-lack-of-self control-gone-rogue-but-must-be-present-to-find-the-genius-seriel-killer-slash-cult-leader. Yes, it wreaks of network TV. And is the role waaaaaaaaay to shallow for award winning Kevin fucking Bacon? Yes, it is. Besides, he plays a better bad guy than a fallen super hero seeking redemption. But, none-the-less, I’m in too deep now and that’s all I’ve got. And as far as missing group goes, we always start movies in there and then everyone just kind of quietly gets up and starts doing their own thing, mostly in the hallway or if they can get their room opened, in their room. I’m not exactly ducking out on everyone, because they’ll all duck out 10 minutes into the movie. Maybe it’s the G rated movies that we all find kind of annoying. I mean, I like watching G rated stuff with Juniper sometimes, but I don’t typically watch Hannah Montana love stories for funzies. I’m not even complaining, I’m just stating a fact. I want some depth if I’m going to commit my eyes and ears to the screen for an hour and fifteen minutes.
Okay., they did open rooms for a few extra minutes, after the last group. I guess that’s what Sara was trying to say. She just said it in a way that made me feel small and insignificant or like I had said something wrong. After the years of hearing Danielle talk down to me, maybe that’s part of the reason I’m extra sensitive when people use a harsh tone with me. It’s me, not them, I need to grow thicker skin. I can work on that, add it to the list of imperfections that could make me feel broken, but in light of my recent revelation are part of who I am.
I have the ever so slightest bit of guilt around my ED behaviors today. I guess I’m restricting, calorie counting or some other dumb ED behavior. But it kind of feels like justice for being talked to in such a harsh way. I think patience and understanding are two of the main components when working with the mentally ill. We have compounding issues leading to our ED and even just raising your voice or saying something with a condescending tone has a real effect. We are, after all, real people.
Something worth mentioning and that I’m rather proud of is my much improved front kick which I’ve developed in the Splataaah in toilet stalls. It wasn’t something I planned on learning, but I do give my 11 months of taekwondo complete credit. Learning it again was like riding a bike. Why the front kick you ask? Are perverts looking beneath the stalls, trying to catch a glimpse of the no-no square or panties on the floor? No! Eww! It’s because these toilets have a flush button that is on the wall and when you push it with your hand, sometimes it squirts water at you. Also, unwashed and unsanitary hands have no doubt touched the button and there’s no telling what a bacteria culture might grow, should it be swabbed and plated or whatever. I think it’s part of ERC culture and almost a rite of passage to develop a solid front kick to flush the toilet, after it’s properly checked of course. I was hesitant at first, I mean it’s been decades since I’ve really tried to kick anything. And I wear shoes that mostly slip on, so there is the very real concern that a shoe could wind up in an unflushed toilet. But facts are facts, the buttons shoot toilet water down and sometimes directly at you when you push them. I know it’s clean toilet water and probably nothing to be afraid of, but it is toilet water and I’m not a plumber, so I think that’s gross. I think I first noticed Rose doing the toilet flush kick on my first day here. And I was left wondering, why not just use your hand and give it a push. But then, upon my first use of stall #4 it all came to light, there’s something not quite right about these toilet flushing mechanisms. Rose was right. These toilets must be flushed with a kick and a kee-yaaa. Only, I don’t really do the kee-yaa part, because that would be weird and everyone in the bathroom would wonder what the hell is wrong with me. “It’s my training. I was a yellow belt 4 stripe almost ready to test for my green belt. They emphasized the importance of belting out a loud ‘kee-yaaaa’ whenever you do a punch or a kick.” But I fear that, alas, no one would appreciate my formal training from when I was 8 and I doubt it would catch on with the rest of the group. It would make me an “other,” and that’s simply something I don’t want to do. So if you find yourself at ERC and ready to make a flush, don’t feel bad using your feet, but don’t bother with the kee-yaaa.
I’m the only one here wearing sunglasses, which does have me greatly worried about the unprotected status of everyone else’s retinas. Don’t they know, per Danielle’s dumb ass, this could cause a much unwanted separation. I mean, Danielle said it, so it’s probably bullshit, but it is a great excuse to bust out the Gucci glasses. And with recent trend of dressing up every day, I finally don’t feel like a fucking asshole for wearing ultra mod pink Gucci’s when I’m catching some rays on the patio. I don’t mean to brag, but these things are fucking bangers and look so fucking good on my face. I could be wearing a Burger King work shirt and one of those cardboard crowns that they give and these glasses would still make me look cool, like I know something about fashion and Burger King that nobody else knows.
I just wish my hair was longer. I’m going to grow it down past my shoulders for the first time ever. I think the longest I’ve had it was to my shoulders and even then, it wasn’t cut right. I also want to commit to you all, here and now, that I’m going to spend a little more time out in the sun this summer. My hair bleaches out to white if I just let the sun do its job; And even if I don’t stay outside enough to get a tan, I get these really amazing natural highlights. That’s what I’m thinking about right now, natural fucking hair highlights. That and finally wearing that dress tomorrow. Brandon better show up. I have no reason to think he won’t, he’s been here every weekend and only came one time when they wouldn’t let him come up. I was as guilty for not getting him on the list as he was for showing up 20 minutes late. But the fact that he was here still meant a lot to me. It’s the thought that really matters. And tomorrow he should make it on time. Also, they might give us a little extra time tomorrow, because it’s a holiday weekend and we’ll probably be short staffed again. And sometimes they forget about us in the telephone room, which is, in fact, the best room to find yourself in, should your boyfriend come for a visit. I do have a list of concerns:
- My good concealer is still in my confiscated stuff and unless Corrine was here, I don’t think anyone else is going to go into my luggage to help me find it. So I’m left with those 2 concealers that just aren’t that great.
- My gel eyeliner pen sometimes gets a little out of control and I end up looking like I have a black eye.
- Without proper concealer, it kind of looks like I have dark spots under my eyes which is a little depressing
- I get really nervous doing makeup with the other girls. They’re all so much better at it than me. I want to ask for help, but I’m terrible about asking for what I need.
- He doesn’t come until after lunch and my makeup could use a little refresher by then anyways, which is not allowed.
- Don’t touch my eyes all day. And no crying, at least until after the Brandon visit.
Conclusion, I’ll just ask for help. I know Betty will help. It’d be neat if Belle or Priscilla helped with my eye makeup, it’s such an important part, maybe the most important part. It’s going to be fine. I don’t know why I’m so excited about this visit. I guess it’s just because it’s the last visit before we get to actually see each other outside of the hospital in over 2 months and I’m wearing something special that I bought just for him.
It’s 7:03 and the day is coming to a close. All the stress that builds until dinner time is finally over and it’s just one snack left. The snack that I’m going to pretend I’m asleep for and try to skip. It’s just cookies and milk, but I’m trying to shave off as many calories from the day as I can without drawing too much attention. Yes, that’s the eating disorder, but it’s also me, the human, that doesn’t want to gain weight. I’m not comfortable with it. Not even another .5 lb. My team knows that. They know I’m going to fight kicking and screaming to any meal plan increase. I don’t know what’s so magical about PHP that they think they can suddenly get me to change my mind and start eating more and suddenly think weight restoration is a good idea.
Yes, I want to be healthy and I want recovery, but no I don’t want the changes that come with it. It’s so weird because I’ve been through drug rehab and all that bullshit about having to go through all those layers to be pain free… non-existent. I went to rehab because I was tired of waking up and figuring when and how I was going to get cocaine for the day. Then I had to figure out how to do it and not get caught or bitched at. I had to try and keep a job where it was really fucking obvious that I was blitz out of my mind. And that shit was expensive as fuck. $9000/month for over a year. And it wasn’t even a good blow. Shit was cut all to hell and probably had fentanyl in it. The only thing that really feels familiar is that I was willing to let the drugs kill me, just like I was willing to let the ED kill me. Similarly, I don’t want to die from drugs or an ED. But that doesn’t mean that I have acceptance. And with drugs it was so simple. Go to rehab, 29 days later I checked myself out AMA and went home. I had one relapse 6 months later that lasted 2 weeks and cost about $2500, just before Christmas. Then I told on myself. I call Danielle and told her what was going on. She came and got me. She didn’t yell, she didn’t fuss, she just told me she loved me and was glad I came to her. I haven’t touched the shit since and I haven’t even really been tempted.
But this eating disorder gives me something so much better than a 15 minute high. It gives me the confidence that I really wanted. It makes me feel the way I want to feel all the time. This eating disorder is so much harder to quit than drugs. Danielle said I’d fail at this. That I’d say whatever I had to say to get out of here and then I’d go right back to what I was doing. I’m still here, I asked them to let me stay longer. And now I’m committed to going to PHP. I don’t want to, I want to quit and go home. But I’m going. I just hope the lightbulb goes off sometime soon because I’m getting tired of lying to myself and saying I want recovery when really all I want is to stop eating, retrain my brain to ignore hunger again and start losing the weight that I’ve gained while I’ve been here. I’m waiting for that, “Eureka!” moment that has yet to materialize. When do I get my moment?
It’s not tonight. Tonight I’m refusing HS snack. Sorry to disappoint my Aries kindred. I really like being in there with them at our table. It’s a special group, they really are my people. But if I go, I’m going to eat my snack and I don’t want to eat the snack, so I don’t want to go. Ohhhh. Such a conundrum.
I ate some cookies, I took a few sips of milk, but I was mostly able to restrain myself to about ¾ of one cookie and 2 sips of milk. I drank all my water and all my tea to take up as much of the 15 minutes as I could and once time had elapsed, I stopped munching, save 2 very small bites. It’s really the fluids, the tea in particular that allowed me to slow down my eating and restrict. I like to have control over how much I eat. It gives me a sense of power and accomplishment. I feel kind of bad if that influences anyone else, but I just wanted to cut my calories today and given that it’s a long weekend, I won’t have to answer for it until Tuesday. So I would count today as a success. I ate all of my breakfast, because I like breakfast, even though bagels aren’t my favorite. I ate my broccoli and one square of grilled cheese for lunch. See above, I got upset with Sara and probably for the wrong reason, but it was a real feeling and I left the cafe because I couldn’t handle it. I attended dinner and completed it, it was just a PB&J which is pretty easy.
Tonight we had girls night in Splataaah with eye masks courtesy of Ella which was so fun. I feel so included. Priscilla said it made me look so cute. Why are you so nice to me Priscilla? I have such a girl crush on you. Not romantic, totally platonic, but just fascinated with you and your brain. You’re so much fun to be around. I hope we get to sit together at meals all the rest of this week. I just love hearing what you have to say. Your hot takes on literally everything. And I know I’ve said it already, but I LOVE when you challenge my thoughts. You’ve never made me feel weird or awkward and you let me be young and fun with you. I hope we can be friends after we’re out of here. You just seem like someone that I could find myself texting with or sharing my window shopping sprees. You’ve got such a great style, cute makeup and an adorable smile. And you’re soooo charming. You’ll make a fantastic ambassador, no doubt. For your age, you’re already so worldly and cultured. You appreciate the old and the new which makes you unique for someone your age. I adore you. Thanks for making me feel so included. You’re a unique special person with a wonderful brain. It works overtime. I’m gushing, but I feel like you’re my people. It’s hard to find my people.
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