I slept really well last night, I think. I mean I woke up a gazillion times, but I always fell back asleep, until about 5:30 AM. That’s when I realized that there is no escaping it, I have to pee. The amount of liquid this place pumps into you is unreal. Add that to the list of reason to get the fuck out.
I’ve been thinking really hard about if I want to go to PHP at all. It’s basically going to be the same program with more groups and you sleep in an apartment. The apartment houses 4 people, with 2 bathrooms. And then a van picks you up every morning, early and you stay until 6:15pm. I mean, I don’t know… I think this is going to be one giant train wreck and a waste of my time. I feel like being here has been a giant waste of time, if we’re being honest. A huge part of that is my team, I just don’t like them. I told them as much. I think Alina is a really crumby therapist. Her solution for everything is, “How can we challenge those thoughts?” I probably mentioned that yesterday, but it’s worth noting again, because if I knew how to challenge the fucking thoughts I would be doing it already, I’ve had good therapist and I’ve had bad therapist and Alina is somewhere in the middle, but on the not so great side of that. She’s nice enough and I think she’s genuine, but I don’t have a connection with her and I don’t trust her, so I’ve stopped telling her much of anything. I don’t know, this is why I think I’m broken. I feel broken, like my case is just too complicated. I’m not doing what they want me to do and I don’t care. I’m not better. If I walk out the door today, I’m just going to do exactly what I did before, but worse. I’m going to go harder and faster than ever. And PHP, meh. More groups, yuck. More intense, “programming,” gross! The last thing I want to do is go to more groups, I just can’t handle the thought of more fucking groups. Maybe it’s because they challenge my thoughts? Maybe it’s because I’m just claustrophobic? I don’t know, I can’t say for sure. But I know that I don’t want to be here anymore and I don’t want to participate in this nonsense anymore. If I’m going to eat, I want to eat real food, not hospital food and I want to pick and choose when I eat. I want to get Dutch Brothers and Redbull. I might even start vaping again, just a fuck you to my health.
It’s not death I’m seeking, I want to live. I’m just tired of spinning plates. I don’t feel like I’ve grown or made any real progress. I don’t think my thinking has changed and I feel like I’ve wasted everyone’s time, so there’s guilt that comes along with that. I’m not a good influence and I feel like I’m being punished in the cafe by being stuck in the very back corner as far as humanly possible from everyone else. It’s gross, I hate it. I’m tired of asking for permission for everything and arguing over simple stupid stuff. My SH/SI are improved, but they’ve been improved before, only to get worse again as stress picks back up. And then there’s the whole thing about staying in the apartments for PHP for a month and trying to go home. How am I supposed to go home and get back to PHP everyday? Danielle took the other vehicle we have, so I’ll have to get the van out of storage and drive it, which sounds absolutely insane or take Ubers/Lyfts, which actually sounds even more insane. Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation.
And then there’s body image. Just from 2 days of fasting my stomach looks flatter and I feel better about my image. It’s not like I’m just getting an ass out of all this eating. And I’m tired of eating, everyday, 6 times a day. It’s too much and it’s not sustainable, so I’ve already failed. I’ve already relapsed in my head. I don’t know what they’re going to say to me today, but I’m committed to PHP, I’m not trying to get out of it, which is probably what Dr. Parsley thinks. No, really, I’m not trying to stay in this hospital for one extra day. I’m counting down the hours now until I’m free.
I don’t care about Phase II and Phase III, I failed to make either one and I’m totally good with that. I don’t have consistency and there lies the problem. At home, before I came here, I could sustain myself for a week or so, but then I always reverted back to not eating. What’s changed? They’ve failed to motivate me to do anything differently. Sorry to be such a negative Nancy, but I just don’t see how this has been worthwhile at all. Betty is the only person I’ll talk to when I leave here, no one else wants to hang out with me. So fuck it. Fuck it all. That’s what I’m taking into rounds today. But with a smile and a polite tone, no more exploding or taking my frustration out on the team. That does literally nothing. I need to fill out my rounds sheet and make sure I put clever answers on there. DO NOT BE A BITCH. It’s like the number ONE rule here.
6;56 AM and at least Kiki is here this morning. Let’s go out with a bang. I ordered my matching pants and I should get them tomorrow and monday, so yeah for me! Everyone is in a pretty good mood this morning, except Betty. I think she yelled at Rachel last night. The thing about Rachel is that she has to get insulin at a certain time, so we all normally let her cut the line for meds if she’s due. However, Betty just had one med to get, her sleep med and I get the frustration. She was tired and was first in line and didn’t want to wait for Rachel’s shot since it takes 10-15 minutes. However, for something like insulin, the timing is really important and everyone knows that. Besides, we all will get our meds eventually. I saw the drama going down and I made a b-line straight for my room. I should have gone back out and talked to Betty, she’s my friend, but I kind of just wanted to stay out of it. We talked this morning and I said what I thought… Everyone was tired and grumpy. Everyone wanted to get their meds and go to sleep. Except me and Priscilla, I let everyone go in front of me and I was last, until Priscilla popped out of her room and waited until I left the window to get her meds. I guess she wasn’t feeling social. Ok, I get it.
I hope I got cereal this morning. The sugar buzz goes great with my coffee, my coffee with vanilla soy, and my americano with vanilla soy. That’s right, I make three drinks out of my ONE cup of black coffee. However, I do always take 2-3 sips of the black, bitter coffee first. It’s delicious. I miss coffee. I wonder if our apartment has a coffee maker? That would just be too cool, so I’m guessing no. But hey, here’s to hoping and something else to maybe, potentially look forward to. Maybe I can put that on my rounds sheet. I feel like I’m missing key information for my rounds sheet. My nutrition goals are pretty much non-existent, which is weird for me, because usually I create my own goals. But my goals are really counter to some of my core values, namely, being a great parent for Juniper and providing for all her needs.
I almost always walk out of breakfast feeling the positive energy of the morning. Everyone is in a pretty good mood and feels refreshed. We’re almost all excited about our coffee or tea. I was in the back corner with Raine and Sarah and I love them, they totally get my vibe. Neither are overly positive or super judgy. However, I think our table is going to merge with the middle table. Katerina asked Sara if we could merge and she was agreeable. My intention for the day was, “Do my best with bites, sips and breaths.” Grateful for, “Katerina and her positive energy.” She finds something nice to say to nearly everyone. A compliment or a shared thought, stickers for Sarah and encouragement. She sent me a link for these pants that everyone is wearing around here, so I could fit in with them. She’s really cool and I will miss her at PHP. I would love it if we could remain friends after I leave. She said the sweetest thing, “I wish I could get you for kudos, you always say the most interesting things and give interesting answers.” She’s also a part of our Aries club, so maybe it’s just that we share astronomic energy. Is astronomic even a word. Ok, Sarah was my kudos and gave me the sweetest picture and message and I love it. It’s so kind. I’m going to get it laminated and take it with me to every meal. She underlined, “You are NOT broken.” I want to cry a little bit. It’s so sweet. I wish I could feel this energy all day long. I wish the positive vibes would continue all day and my anxiety would just chill the fuck out today.
Sarah is so cute, she’s from Austin, TX and has the coolest hair and a great smile. She’s funny and she wears the cutest shoes and jeans. No one else wears jeans but her and me. And her shoes, two pairs she alternates, one red, one black. Both super cute. She’s legit, not put on and not overly enthusiastic, but not negative either. I feel bad, I was such a bitch about the shower her first morning here. She didn’t hold it against me, which shows so much character. She’s authentic as fuck, too.
Oh, fuck here comes Alina. Whew, not for me. I’m not ready for rounds. Three people staring at you awkwardly and drilling you on your feelings, emotions, success, challenges, and nutrition. Ugh. It’s too much. It reminds me of being at the hospital with Juniper and the care conferences with Danielle and me sitting across from 10 doctors, all trying to convince us to do things that we didn’t want to do with Juniper. During the rounds I don’t even have the advantage of a companion. It’s just me and my answers to all of their invasive questions. I know Dr. Parsley thinks I’m trying to get out of PHP and I’m not. I am ready, but I do feel like it’s going to be a train wreck. Not trying to be negative here, just brutal honesty.
Music: Lorde – Melodrama. It speaks to me, the whole thing, every song has some feeling that fits me. I’m sitting outside on the patio and it’s really nice outside this morning. Rose is busy making sidewalk art. She’s quite talented. I have to tell her that I’m getting her polar bear picture tattooed. I might get Sarah’s picture tattooed, too. Or her words, I needed to hear them.
I feel so broken. Why am I not getting better, why do I fall for the same old tricks from her, my brain, over and over? Just being honest, I knew I’d finish breakfast, but I won’t finish snack or lunch or dinner or HS snack. I’m just so tired of eating and it’s not serving me in any way, other than my core value of taking care of Juniper. But, I think I can be anorexic and take care of Juniper, I just have to consume enough food to not make myself sick. One therapist said that a lot of patients wind up back here 5 or 6 times before it clicks for them. I guess that made me feel like I don’t stand a chance this time around. I know they didn’t mean it like that. It’s sort of like when you leave rehab and they tell you that you’ll probably relapse, but you’ll bounce back much faster. It was true. I relapsed for two weeks and then quit that shit for good and I’m better for it. But anorexia is different for me. I mean, part of it is about my identity as a girl. I’m already at a disadvantage, because testosterone cursed me with a boyish face and body. I hate to whine about that, but it’s just being honest. I think I’m complicated because I have body dysphoria and dysmorphia at the same time. In case you don’t know, the difference is with dysphoria, your brain is tricking you into seeing things that aren’t real or flaws that aren’t there. With dysmorphia, you see your body as it is and it causes distress. Since I want my body to be more feminine, having a bigger body makes me feel more manly, less feminine. I love how fragile the eating disorder made me. I’m scared that gaining the kind of weight they say I need to gain is going to make me a rectangle and look like a man again. Part of it is paranoia, I guess, but part is reality. I already hate my face and my hair. My face looks too much like a man’s face and I don’t know if I trust FFS to help. I’ve seen mostly poor results. And my hairline looks a little masculine, too. Fortunately I’m not balding, that would be a deal breaker for me. But I’d like to have them move my hairline up .75 inches or so, so I can pull my hair back when it gets long enough. I wish I could make it thicker, too, but I don’t think that’s really possible. I’m stuck with “fine,” straight, blonde hair. Maybe once I can put in a pony tail I’ll feel better.
I just honestly don’t think my team is equipped to deal with me, I don’t think they know what to do with me. I don’t think Alina understands the complex nature of my dysphoria and dysmorphia. I’m glad I’m going to go to the gender clinic at UC Health in a month or so. They’ll probably have a better idea about how to best treat me, it’s what they do. On my first appointment I will meet with an endocrinologist, psychiatrist and psychologist. A busy appointment for sure. I need to be healthy for that appointment, so we can talk about surgery, my primary reason for going there. That’s something I have to remember, I have a reason to do it for myself, this recovery thing that is.
What am I feeling? Misunderstood. Why? Because my brain is already complicated by ADHD or whatever it does that makes it weird or different or eccentric, however you want to phrase it. I don’t think like most people and I know that. I dress funny, I think differently, I talk differently, my thoughts are spacey and sometimes I’m all over the place. Well, if you’ve read much of this journal, you can probably see what I mean. I go from subject to subject and sometimes the transition doesn’t make much sense to outside observers. I go back and forth on whether my neurodivergence is a blessing or a curse. The rapid fire thoughts are just pervasive and intrusive to my everyday life. They make it hard to make friends and have relationships. My social awkwardness doesn’t help with that either. It makes me want to hide. I’m afraid that what I say won’t make sense to anyone. That’s why I keep going back to Danielle brain. I did it this morning. She and I could talk for hours and hours and we may have jumped from one subject to the next, but we always understood each other. At least until she started talking to him. Then all of the sudden, we couldn’t relate to each other anymore. Or maybe it was the hormones, maybe they ruined my brain, she said so at least. She said that a lot actually. A large part of that broken feeling comes from all the put downs, criticisms and lies Danielle Gauthier told me. She was so verbally and emotionally abusive and yet, I wake up every morning wishing she was next to me still. It’s such a fucked up conundrum. Why do I long for a relationship with someone that was just mean to me, sometimes for no reason? I think I answered that, because when we clicked, we were such a solid unit. But she hated me in the end. She hated my body, she made fun of my brain, like I wasn’t smart enough to be her friend. I wasn’t hipster enough, my record collection, much too small. So stupid. Oh, and she hated the sex. She claimed it was different immediately after the first estrogen shot, which is silly because my levels were still cis male levels for months, especially testosterone. And the progesterone, the drug she said I betrayed her by taking… it’s not like I started working immediately. And then there’s the, “I’m not attracted to women,” odd, because when she came to Seattle she had been only seeing women for some time. She told me she was really a lesbian. It doesn’t make any sense, I just don’t get it. I guess one theory that I have is that she’s ashamed of her sexuality and self-hate, self-bigotry is a thing and it’s a motherfucker.
Yeah, honey, I’ll come get my things, but I can’t let go.
I’m waiting for it, that green light, I want it.
Maybe I should make a Danielle pros and cons list. Maybe seeing it written out will make me feel better about reality. Or at least help me to accept reality. I don’t know if I’m ready to do that today though. That’s going to be consuming and I feel anxious just thinking about it. What am I getting by hanging on to this romanticized vision in my head? Distress, sadness, anger, longing. Those are all negative and I’m doing it to myself. Ugh. I hate it, but it’s so hard to shake these stupid fucking thoughts. The memories are deceiving, I romanticize the good parts and push the bad parts to the side. They are still there, affecting me, but I pretend that they didn’t really happen or that they aren’t that big of a deal. Both are untrue. I’m lying to myself, because the truth hurts so badly. She’s a bad person, a really bad person. She can’t help it, her brain is sick and I want to fix her. I desperately want her to just wake up and realize she needs help and get it and come home. I know, all fantasy.
I wake up every morning and stare at a blank page. I add the day and the date and I think, I don’t really have that much to say today. And then the thoughts just start pouring out of me, like a gatling gun, firing bullets in a rotating order at a rapid pace. But I don’t know if any of it matters, if they actually make any sense. But if I do this for me, like how we wrote that play, then it doesn’t matter if it makes sense. I don’t have to make sense. I don’t have to have order in my thoughts, they can be a never ending spider web. But is that why I get so anxious? Is that the reason I struggle with relationships so badly? I don’t know. Do I wish my brain was more stable, more normal? Sometimes and sometimes I like being weird. Priscilla said it was a good thing, so did that model girl APN, drug rehab. She called me the “weirdest person there” as a complement.” It is until someone sees you as a “weirdo” which is different, but people sometimes conflate the two. I also feel like relating to people can be more challenging, because I just don’t understand what they’re saying or that they don’t understand me and my responses. It leads to sideways glances or even being cut out of the conversation. And then there’s the interrupting thing that I do, which I really hate. It’s usually just me being excited because I have a thought to contribute that I think makes sense, so I talk out of order, because I’m scared I’ll forget it before I can say it.
The community group is the worst group that we do here. It’s much less about mental health (although it does have parts of it that are based on mental health) and usually just turns into a bitch fest and gets everyone worked up about shit that we can control or change while we’re here. For instance, the package policy, we could have bitched to Lily about how unfair it is and she would have said she understands and that she’d bring it up at the next meeting and then nothing would have been done. It’s always shit like that and it doesn’t actually resolve anything, but then everyone comes out of the meeting all riled up and complaining. It can completely change the energy of the whole unit and for what, literally nothing. NOTHING.
Wait, it’s David’s group. Is it community? I don’t know. Procrastination. It was procrastination. He’s been trying to get us to do that stupid group for a month. We finally just got it over with. It made me hella anxious and I hated it. I sat through it, but I hated everything about it. Reading about it, thinking about it, talking about it. It sucked. Fuck procrastination as a concept and an inaction. The anxiety has kicked in full force. I’ve taken the drugs to slow it down. My body feels anxious all over. I wonder if leaving this place and being able to move around more than an L-shaped hallway will help with anxiety.
I met with my team and it went about as expected. Courtney chastised me to go to every meal. Fuck that. Okay, I will. But not because she wants me to, because I want to talk to my friends. I’m going to miss them, I like being here, even though I’m on lockdown. It just feels comfortable and if I could keep it like this forever, I’d do it. I’m not looking forward to all the freedom. Some, yes. But not all of it. The thing I didn’t tell my team is that I’m already in full relapse, that I’m going to try and skip going to PHP, that I’m going to skip every meal and snack that I can. That I’ve already quit and I don’t care anymore. How this is already a trainwreck. How pushing me to PHP isn’t going to get me to accept a neutral body image or be ok with gaining a bunch of weight. No, this isn’t going to work. I know. I know. Too negative, but I just don’t know how this could possibly be the right move and I don’t want to go, even with all the pros outweighing the cons. It’s not logical, but that’s ED brain for you. She’s a bitch and doesn’t make fucking sense. I guess that’s a reason for recovery, but fuck recovery. Fuck me. It doesn’t make sense and I don’t know how it ever will.
I’m also a little nervous about the apartment situation. It’s four people in an apartment, 2 per room. 2 bathrooms. So how will I be handled? Will I be othered? I’m going to assume that I’ll have my own room and bathroom. Ok, dope about the bathroom situation. Dr. Parsley wanted to pull my pros out of me. No, dude, those are mine. You don’t get the details. Keep my answers shallow and vague. I don’t trust them at all. It’s very nerve wracking being quizzed about these types of things, they aren’t all things I want them to know.
I keep having visions of Danielle Gauthier and I doing stuff we always did together. Going to Safeway, driving in the car, going to NAPA, driving to dog training, going to Target, getting groceries, getting coffee, getting energy drinks. The list is just so long. I’m about to cry again. I miss her so much. Danielle Gauthier, I miss you so much. You fucking bitch, you’re making me cry again and I hate you for it. It’s every fucking day. I want my normal back so badly and I hate myself for that. I want my marriage back. I want my friend. Why did my friend leave me? She promised. YOU FUCKING PROMISED ME. You betrayed me for a shiny object. I miss you every single day. You were my why. I don’t want to live forever without you. I’m so sad. So desperately sad. I miss you so much. I miss your eyes, your voice, your touch, your brain, your thoughts. You kisses, I miss your fucking kisses. Your snuggles. I miss them so much. Stop making me cry. When does this stupid hurt stop? When? How long do I have to wait? Why would you do this to us, to our family? I fantasize about you coming to visit me, to tell me you’re coming home, to work out how we can make it work. I hate the distance. I hate the space. I really love you still, you’re the only adult human I’ve ever loved. I want to sing our stupid songs together and go on adventures with you. Why? Why would you do this? What do you get that you weren’t getting? I gave you everything you ever wanted and more. You had everything you wanted. Why would you rip it apart? I just want to quit, quit everything. Quit breathing. Quit remembering you. I want to hold your hand. I miss holding your hand. I want to try again, one more time. Just one more and I’ll make it work. We can do anything together. We can do this. Fuck eating. I’m done eating. I just can’t go on anymore. I have no reason. I miss you so much. I’ll take 1000 bad days for a good one with you, it’s worth it.
I disgust myself. What the fuck? I want to let go of this hurt, but it just keeps finding its way back into my head. How can I live without her? She was everything to me. Our marriage was everything to me. It was special, it was different. Fuck eating. I’ll never take another bite. Fuck it. I hate myself. I hate myself. I am broken beyond repair. I’ve been crushed by the weight of mental health and grief from loss. I’m crumbling from the inside out, starting with my brain going to my last bone in my toe. It’s disgusting. I’m disgusting… My whole body is missing her. She was my home. It was the only home I’ve ever had and I want it back. I need it back. I’ll never be happy again.
Am I supposed to feel sad that I just had cucumbers for lunch? I ate all the cucumber slices they gave me and I’m relatively satisfied. I have no real nutrition goals anymore other than eating as little as possible. Try to count calories as best as I can estimate. Ignore all hunger pains and feel fucking numb. Make me numb and take away my pain. I think with all the crying earlier, my willingness to process just went from 4/10 to a 1/10. I need to distract myself for the rest of the day. Maybe I’ll watch the shitty cop show. Really all I want to do is hear Lorde’s beautiful voice on Melodrama. It’s just as close as I can get to describing my feelings of grief, loss and being broken. Being othered. Being forgotten. Being betrayed. Being lied to. It’s as close as I can get to knowing what I am feeling is normal and that we (Lorde and I) we’ve been through it, together we’ll come out the other side of this. I just wish she, or anyone really, would tell me when. How much must I endure, how long must I sit with the discomfort. And how the fuck do I diffuse these thoughts, these fantasies. I want to cry some more, but I think I’ll just wait. What’s the fucking point?
It’s enough to make me stop eating completely again, which is what I am planning at this point. Fuck food. Fuck getting better. Kill me. Kill me now. Come at me bitch. She hates me anyways and isn’t speaking to me, so fuck it. I quit, I give up. I don’t want to play any more, I just want to go back to my house and starve myself to death. I was close before, I’m not going to let anyone stop me this time. I’m just giving up, completely. I am broken. I am and I have nothing left to offer this world. She’s taken everything I care about already. Fuck it. FUCK IT.
I was able to restrict > half of dinner. Anorexia 101 – EAT SLOW. Duh. Take tiny, tiny bites and chew each bite 20+ times. Drink water in between each bite. ****le sigh**** I don’t know if I really even know why I’m doing this. I do know the only thing Courtney said was make sure I go to meals, which probably means I have to attend a certain amount of meals for them to step me down to PHP. I don’t want to go. I’m so sad. I love Katerina and Priscilla and all the girls here, and Cole and Trevor, too. I’m comfortable here. I know, it’s weird. It’s a hospital, but really the restrictions aren’t that bad once you get used to them. The staff checking the toilet after you go never gets any less weird. But otherwise, I kind of like it here. I like the nursing presence. I like the 24/7 on call Drs., both Psych and Medical. I sometimes like the groups. But my favorite parts of the day are Splataaah when we get up in the morning and when we get ready for bed. It’s like this little social event. I told them (Katerina and Priscilla) I was leaving Monday and they both said they’d miss me. It was so sweet and made me feel really good. That whole sense of belonging thing that I’ve been talking about. But I have their contact info, I just have to figure out how to stay in touch. It’s all social media, all the time now. That’s how most of the girls connect. I’d also like to keep in contact with Rose and of course Betty.
But yeh, the truth is that I don’t want to leave and if I do leave, they won’t put me back on this unit most likely, which completely defeats the purpose of coming back. I’ll miss my friends and the community that we have here. We all have our struggles and we have our tough days, but the vibe here is so amazing. It’s really supportive and uplifting. But I’m pretty sure I could skip every meal all weekend and they’d still make me go to PHP. I’m sad. I’m distressed, actually. Home. I feel at home here, even though it’s a hospital. I remember when Rachel had to go to the ER for something relatively minor and she came back and said, “I got home at 11:30pm” or something like that and from that moment forward, that’s how I see it, too. It’s home. The apartments will be fun, I’m sure and I’ll make new friends, eventually. And I have a 50/50 shot of being in a “pod” with Polly or Rebecca, so I’ll know someone, regardless of where I go. Not going to lie, if they were to put me in Polly’s apartment, we would have a fucking blast. Same for when Priscilla and Katerina make it to PHP. I would love to be in an apartment with either of them, they are the coolest.
Literally, I think I could fast with nothing but water all weekend and there’s no way they are letting me stay here. They would probably move me to a different unit before they let me stay here any longer. And I did commit to Dr. Parsley that I would go willingly. To be fair, I made the pros and cons list and it has lots of pros. Some of them really positive and others like smoking some fucking weed. I miss weed and I intend to get stoned ASAP. I don’t know about drug tests in PHP, but I know I’m an adult and it’s legal for me to buy gummies and pre-rolls, so… I’m going to feel it out. If it’s doable, I’m going to do it.
I kind of want to cry right now, actually. I just really don’t want or need another big change in my life right now, it could send me over the edge. I don’t know. I don’t know if the SH/SI numbers are going to hold at 0,0 with all the changes. And I could do terribly over there. I don’t know. I know I don’t have much motivation to get better right now. I really want to restrict all my meals. If I didn’t like the people I’m sitting with so fucking much I would have skipped all my meals today. They’re all so sweet and genuine. I know, I’m gushing again. I just love our little community here. Anusha said, “Once you finish here, ERC is just going to be a flash of a memory and you’ll forget all about it.” Maybe she’s right, but I kind of hope not, these people are my friends. And this is the most authentic that I’ve been able to show up anywhere, including home and be appreciated.
My intention is to call juniper and tell her good night and then get in the med line. That shit is getting serious as of late. With the fight last night, everyone is on edge, I’m sure.
We had HS snack. I probably ate the equivalent of ¾ of a cookie, some tea and some water. Cookies are one of the hardest things for me to restrict. I love sweets, so part of the restriction for me is about self-control. I feel like if I give into my urge to eat them really quickly and not think about it, I’ll lose all control over my eating. I guess this is something to talk about with Alina and Courtney in PHP, assuming I’m still going. I’m going fast all day tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday with nothing but liquids. I’m also going to try and skip as many meals as I can tomorrow. Maybe not, I want to sit and talk with my friends. It is harder to restrict when there is peer pressure and I want to be a good example, but I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to eat. I want to get back down to 124 lbs. I like that size.
I think I found a new way to style my hair with a beret that doesn’t look weird. I’m going to try it again tomorrow after I wash and blow dry it and I might use the flat iron to give it more body or whatever. That’s kind of exciting, I really want to do anything besides a headband. Anything. But I don’t want to wear a wig, even though Belle makes them look so cool. Ok, maybe I’d wear a colorful one, like Katy Perry style. Pink or blue or something bold.
Night time spa is my favorite time of night here. I think I said the same thing about the morning splataaah, too. But night time is a bit more chill, there’s less rush, because I’m not worried about a shower, makeup or hair. I just wash my face, brush my teeth and moisturize. “You’ve got to moisturize girl,” per Priscilla. She’s so right, it’s crucial. Danielle Gauthier used to love to make fun of my moisturizing, but suck it biotch, I have some sexy ass legs and my arms and hands aren’t half bad either. Anyways, spa… it’s pretty laid back in there, we all chit-chat and get ready for bed. Splataaah was the thing that made me most nervous when I first got here, before people got to know me. I felt like I was invading a private space, but I’ve gotten very comfortable with being in there, I belong in there. I get so many great tips and tricks. I just love the vibe. Sometimes Ella will play music for us and even show off her sick dance moves. Fuck, I’m going to miss being with this group of girls, they’re really a great group. I’m glad I’ve stayed as long as I have here and gotten to know so many people. I’m glad I stopped being weird about new admits and started seeing them all as a new opportunity to make friends. And the less standoffish that I’ve become, the more the group has overall accepted me.
I worry about being alone in an apartment room and about being with new people. It’s intimidating, but if I take the same approach as I’ve taken to new admits, then it’s just a new opportunity to meet new friends and get to know them. And, bonus points, I’ve learned so much about girl dynamics that I didn’t know when I got here. The things these girls have been learning since kindergarten, I just didn’t know. But I’m a fast learner and I’ve picked up so many different cues and social norms.
8:58 PM and it’s lights out I guess for now. It’s storming outside with real thunder and lightning, something that is pretty rare here. The rain will be good. I’m so sad going to bed tonight. But sleep will help and tomorrow is a big day. I’m going to tour the PHP building. And I want to write everyone a little card of encouragement. They are so sweet. I know I keep saying it, but I genuinely care about each and every person’s story here. The things that bind us together and the things that are different, but the struggle for recovery is the same. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done for myself and the battle hasn’t even been won yet. Okay, bed time. Night everyone.
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