It\u2019s been a productive morning thus far. I woke up from a nightmare at 2:30 am. My favorite grandfather was sitting across from me at a table telling how ashamed he was of me. I guess that\u2019s something I\u2019ve always really feared, even when I claimed that I wasn\u2019t scared of anything. It\u2019s a hell of a way to wake up, my first reaction was to cry, but that\u2019s exactly what he would have been ashamed of when he was alive. I cried the day we found out he had cancer and he laughed and gave me a hug. But I could tell he was embarrassed, his 15 year old grandson was crying like a woman. Imagine if I made him call me Clara, his granddaughter. He would have disowned me. Much the way I think my father would react and why I never plan on having that conversation with him. Since I couldn\u2019t cry (about the dream), I just got really pissed off and decided to walk it off. Anger is a hell of a motivation to do something that you\u2019re explicitly told you\u2019re not supposed to be doing. I walked a little over 4 miles and was able to move quickly enough to get my heart rate elevated. In other words, I\u2019m building muscle and burning fat pretty rapidly. I would imagine if I skip a few more meals and keep up the exercise I\u2019ll start dropping weight pretty quickly. I can\u2019t imagine I\u2019m consuming that many calories anyways. Definitely under 2500 calories, with the skipped meals. It\u2019s not like they tell us this shit, so it\u2019s all a guess. But I\u2019m pretty good at estimating this kind of stuff.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What fueled my anger? It\u2019s shit \u201cmy team\u201d keep saying. Stuff like, \u201cyou\u2019ll take cooking classes and learn how to cook.\u201d Bitch, I already know how to cook. I\u2019m good at it. I just never want to do it again. That was something Danielle and I did together and now it\u2019s ruined. My kid has a G-Tube, so it\u2019s not like I\u2019m cooking for anyone but myself anyways. Or they say things like, \u201cwe\u2019ll order in something you really like.\u201d Dumbass, I lived on Postmates for 6 years. I don\u2019t like anything. Nothing is appealing. It all sounds gross. I don\u2019t want to order in, ever again. It\u2019s gross. No. Just fucking no. If this is PHP, I\u2019m going to walk the fuck out. Oh, and that meal I\u2019m supposed to cook for myself\u2026 ain\u2019t happening. No snacks, no meals for myself. Fact. You can get my weight to 500lbs, I’m still not going to do it. Eating was something I did with Danielle and now she\u2019s gone. You want to talk to my mother? FUCK YOU. NO. My mother is not part of my medical decisions. I\u2019ve been on my own since I was 9 for the most part. She doesn\u2019t get to have a say now. I love her, but NO. The only person that I would possibly listen to would be Danielle,, but she doesn\u2019t want me in her life any more. So\u2026 I guess we\u2019re just fucked, huh? It\u2019s not like Brandon has that kind of sway over me. He can give me opinions and I\u2019ll nod and stuff, but he\u2019s not going to convince me to eat more or to do anything for that matter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now don\u2019t get me wrong, I\u2019m still going to try today. But a few things are certain. If there are changes to my meal plan, I am walking out of the cafe. If there are changes to PM snack, I\u2019m skipping dinner. If you try to serve me a parfait, I’ll walk out of the cafe. I just can\u2019t trust that it hasn\u2019t been tampered with and I already don\u2019t know what ingredients are in it. We were supposed to be rebuilding trust, so the unannounced changes yesterday really fucked with me. It just felt like such a shady move. I agreed to 135 lbs. And even though I do kind of like Dr. Parsley, he kept trying to push higher and I am not going to agree to that. I need to know that we are working on the same goal before I agree to any changes. Frankly, if you keep trying to make me go up on weight restoration goals, I\u2019m going to go lower. Keep testing me. You won\u2019t win this fucking game with me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
7:02 AM and I\u2019m already showered, dressed, teeth brushed and waiting for meds. The med line is kind of short this morning, which is really weird. Did everyone just stop caring about meds? It\u2019s cool, I\u2019m supposed to take Buspar every day at the same time. Apparently, it\u2019s really important with this med. Dr. Parsley neglected to tell me that, but I conducted my own research. I could really find much other than, it takes 2-4 weeks to start working too, so we\u2019re not going to really know if the lexapro or buspar are effective. Probably should have waited on starting a new med, but I kind of bullied him into it. To be fair, I did warn him on day ONE, I can say whatever needs to be said to get what I want. I mean, I am winning. I guess. I don\u2019t know, maybe I\u2019m losing, because I\u2019m not doing the things they want me to do. I\u2019m doing things my way. So that\u2019s kind of losing, I guess. I don\u2019t know. Maybe there is no winning. I\u2019m broken, remember? I don\u2019t feel any less broken today than I did yesterday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had an interesting and somewhat extended conversation with Nurse Brandon last night. He\u2019s kind of cute and I think he likes me, but I’m usually wrong about these sorts of things. Anyways, he was grilling me on last night\u2019s dinner and snack. \u201cDo I want to go to PHP?\u201d Yes!. On June 1st, I am committed to going to PHP with zero resistance or further negotiation. \u201cWhy did you leave PM snack?\u201d Because my meal plan was changed without my knowledge or consent. And frankly, something was in that shake that tasted really bitter. Whether or not it was put there on purpose, I can\u2019t say. But it was gross and the taste stayed in my mouth for at least 20 minutes after I got up and left. \u201cWhy didn\u2019t you go to dinner?\u201d Because I was pissed about the meal plan change. How can I trust any part of the meal plan if you\u2019re making changes without informing me first. I did not agree to the C+. I\u2019m not agreeing to C+. I\u2019m not agreeing to trying to get my weight to trend up. I don\u2019t feel comfortable with it. So, you make all the changes you feel like making and I\u2019m going to skip all the meals that I don\u2019t want to eat. Furthermore, I\u2019m going to exercise in the early morning hours, before there\u2019s really anyone here to mess with me about it. Night BHTs don\u2019t give a shit. And I\u2019m going to do so in a way that doesn\u2019t draw attention. If I must, I\u2019ll pace in my room and just do wind sprints back and forth for an hour to get my heart rate up. I don\u2019t trust you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Enforcer, Kristen, is here today. That means no sneak off into my room, she\u2019ll have that shit locked before breakfast. I might skip lunch though, because she\u2019ll come by and tell me lunch is ready and lock the door. This is horrible. My ED thoughts are so strong this morning. I guess. I should turn this around. What would the opposite action be? But the eating disorder says, \u201cFuck opposite action\u201d, \u201cremember your goals\u201d, \u201cthey aren\u2019t the same as \u2018your teams\u2019 goals\u201d. And all these things are true, aren\u2019t they? Isn\u2019t the ED correct? I\u2019m so confused. I thought I knew what I wanted. I felt like I was seeing the light and then the rug got pulled out from under me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat are your safety numbers today?\u201d FUCK, I don\u2019t know. I usually just make some shit up. I guess that\u2019s what you\u2019re supposed to do. I said, \u201cFour and Four\u201d as though those have any real meaning. I\u2019m not actually thinking about killing myself the fast way. I\u2019m back on the starve myself to death train. Do you think that\u2019s why my dreams were so weird? Because I\u2019m back in suicide zone. It\u2019s a shitty place to be. Or maybe it was really my grandfather speaking to me. I think he would be ashamed and I would be banished from the family. That\u2019s part of the reason for me waiting so long to \u201ccome out\u201d. I\u2019ve literally been waiting for anyone that I thought would care to die. My dad is the last person. It\u2019s not that I want him to die. I love my Dad. But I don\u2019t want to disappoint him. And he would feel ashamed. I\u2019m kind of done with shame. Fuck shame. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
30 minutes fly right by when you are waiting for meds. Well, technically I\u2019m no longer waiting. I took my cocktail of pills and two puffs of nasal spray. I do like sitting by the med window though. It\u2019s less lonely than by the community room. No one really sits down there in the morning any more. And I don\u2019t want to go back to my room. I\u2019ve already made my bed and gathered my daytime wants and needs. This is the most active area for the next 15 minutes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Anelise is the most darling little thing. I think she\u2019s 18 or 19 years old and really sweet. This is her 5th visit to ERC, so clearly she\u2019s been doing this since she was a little. She says, \u201clet me know if you need anything\u201d. And I\u2019m pretty sure she was talking to me. I said, \u201csame\u201d I really wish there was more we could do to help each other. If I could take their pain and their trauma and then just end it all myself, I would. But that\u2019s not the way the world works. We all have to \u201csit in our pain\u201d, which means, suffer. But we\u2019re supposed to let those thoughts come and then go. That\u2019s where we get stuck. We have the pain, we feel it. Then we feel it again and again and again.. Until we break. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
[Note to Self: Scan in pages from written journal while computer was charging]<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ohhh and the nightmares persist. I sleep and they hound me and I wake and they hound me. I just left snack early to take clonazepam. I sat down in the cafe and from the door everything looked like it was back to normal. I thought. One strawberry shake, no additional supplements. Whatever. \u201cI\u2019ll drink it\u201d, I thought. But when I get over to the table, a closer examination makes me realize that it\u2019s not a shake at all. It\u2019s some sort of strawberry smoothie. Not that I have anything against smoothies, in most cases they are fine. I\u2019ll go to Smoothie King or whatever generic smoothie shop there is and watch them make my made-to-order smoothie, usually a couple of fruits, some protein powder, maybe something for energy. Whatever. But this is a hospital setting and I have no idea what\u2019s in this thing. They already tried to scam me once during snack yesterday. I made it known to Brandon last night the reason I didn\u2019t want to eat dinner or finish snack wasn\u2019t about PHP. It\u2019s not. June 1 is a perfect date to discharge. I\u2019m happy with that. But I don\u2019t like changes being made to my meal plan without my knowledge or consent. I freaked out. I left. I feel bad and guilty. It\u2019s not a good look, I\u2019m supposed to be having recovery oriented thoughts today. That was one of my smart goals. But I can\u2019t do that if they keep changing my meal plan. I didn\u2019t agree to a smoothie instead of a shake. I don\u2019t even trust the shake, to be honest. But the smoothie is so thick and you could literally put anything in there and I would never know. Was that the plan? Ramp up snacks and try to trick me into eating them. That doesn\u2019t seem like a very \u201cteam\u201d like thing to do. It just makes me trust them even less. And it\u2019s a weekend, so there\u2019s no getting a hold of Courtney. We can\u2019t even see what the meal plan looks like. All the BHTs have is what\u2019s circled on a sheet, which is taken from what we planned for the week. I was already so apprehensive about meals. This is just one more strike against, \u201cmy team.\u201d Aren\u2019t we supposed to be rebuilding trust? Is changing things behind my back really the best approach for doing that? How can they possibly think that this is going to fly?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So, I zoomed out of the cafe and went straight to nursing. First, the PRN. Relief from rising safety numbers is coming. Then I went to the exam room and I think I talked to Bailey. She\u2019s a good nurse. She advised, \u201ctake the PRN\u201d, and asked \u201cwhat else helps?\u201d A cold pack it is. Then she grabbed my computer, so at least I can write until the clonazepam kicks in and my anxiety rate comes down. Why am I having so many meltdowns? It\u2019s weird. They did this once before, a smoothie instead of a shake, and I just drank the fucking smoothie. It\u2019s not a big deal. But the idea that Courtney planted in my head that there could be extra ingredients in my snack really makes me apprehensive, neigh, skeptical about anything I\u2019m putting in my body that comes from the kitchen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m already wrecked, because one of the dinner questions was, describe your dream home. Of course, no one could know that this question could trigger me. But my sense of home is so fucked up right now. Home was with Danielle and Juniper and the chance of ever going \u201chome\u201d again is almost 0%. I don\u2019t see any scenario where that could ever happen. And that makes me feel so incredibly sad. I want to scream. I want to punch a pillow. I\u2019m begging my brain to let my heart cry. I feel the tears behind my eyes, in the pit of my stomach and up through my chest. I feel the sadness and it is consuming today. Today, I don\u2019t want to start a new chapter. Today I want the old chapter. Danielle is the one person that could tell me, \u201cyou can do this. Finish what you started.\u201d and I would. But she\u2019s gone and from the looks of things, she harbors no happy feelings toward me. She doesn\u2019t want to be my friend. She doesn\u2019t want to hear my sadness or joy. She wants me to vanish. I want to vanish, too. It\u2019s days like today that I want to evaporate into another state of matter. One without the responsibility of living life. I think one of Polly\u2019s last dinner questions was, \u201cif you could be a marine animal, what would it be?\u201d My answer was something along the lines of a claim or some other sort of creature that sits at the bottom of the ocean and collects and filters particles. I\u2019m relatively safe from being eaten and my job is super simple. Today, I want to be a clam and I want my shell to be closed. I don\u2019t want to work today. I don\u2019t want to feel the pain because I haven\u2019t figured out how to release it from my stomach and my heart. I haven\u2019t figured out a way to diffuse the thoughts. I just sit and it just hurts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s so lonely here sometimes. I\u2019m not in group because I don\u2019t feel safe right now. My SH\/SI numbers are on the rise. Maybe 6\/6 or something. Who knows? I can\u2019t stand the thought of sitting in group. This is going to sound super stupid, but I was sitting on the couch that Polly and I shared and Katy came in and took my seat. So I took Polly\u2019s seat. Then Manon came and took my seat, so I slid down to Ella\u2019s couch. I asked and she said it was fine. But then this morning, she moved back to the table with Kirsi. I get it, Kirsi is a really sweet girl and I want to sit with her, too. But having a solid couch mate for group is so important, so Ella moving really hurt my stupid feelings. I guess I just feel rejected. I want to belong so badly. And in so many ways I do. But then shit like this happens and it makes me feel so lonely and unlovable. That broken feeling all over again. It just feels like I\u2019ll never be loved again. I feel unwanted and rejected. And that stimulates the heartbreak all over again. Then all I can think about is Danielle and wonder if nice Danielle will ever exist again. I miss nice Danielle so much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Let me explain nice Danielle and mean Danielle. So, when we first got back together in 2018, there was nice Danielle. She was beautiful and happy and so in love with me, we cried if we had to be apart for three days. I was traveling back and forth from Seattle to Denver and Seattle to LA. Each time, it felt like we were going to be apart forever. But I always came back. Then we moved to Denver and were so happy. We just enjoyed each other\u2019s company for what it was. There were no expectations. I think at this point, she really did love me for who I was and accepted me and all my strangeness. If I close my eyes, I can still see nice danielle with her beautiful long brown hair and dark brown eyes gazing at me, wearing her red Cornell hoodie as we shared cigarettes and couldn\u2019t stop talking. At this point, she was highly medicated with lithium and her bi-polar disorder was pretty well managed. She\u2019d occasionally cry for no reason and her Dr. told her she needs more sleep than the average person. So she would nap throughout the day and we\u2019d spend mornings and nights together. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But two Thanksgivings ago her psychiatrist, Judy, told her she didn\u2019t think she was bi-polar any more. Apparently that\u2019s a thing? I don\u2019t know. But also, her liver and kidneys were going to shit because of the high doses of lithium. So she and Judy began experimenting with different medications to try and replace lithium. And they found one that helped with the depression, a new med (i forget the name), and she began taking that. I was supposed to help watch for mania, but mania for Danielle isn\u2019t necessarily typical. It\u2019s not impulsivity or uncontrollable shopping sprees. When Danielle is manic, she becomes very, very aggressive. She becomes mean. Top this off with the fact that she started drinking again. Something she did very little of because when we got together, I told her I didn\u2019t like how she treated people when she drank. She\u2019s a mean drunk. She does the weird picking at people thing. I got so embarrassed once in an Uber in Seattle, because she was essentially making fun of the dPolly and I suppose he hadn\u2019t caught on. So she stopped and we just smoked weed. But, back to mean Danielle. Two thanksgivings ago, we went to Tennessee for Thanksgiving and we ended up getting in this huge fight. All I remember is I came back to the hotel. I had eaten some mushrooms, so I was all mellowed out and she was sleeping. I climbed into bed and tried to cuddle with her, something we did all the time. But she got irritated with me and accused me of being wasted. We had plans to go out with her friends that night and we were all going to eat mushrooms together. She had eaten some, too, so I thought, Okay, we\u2019ll start this party off a little early. And I ate slightly more than her. Anyways, I climbed into our shared bed and laid down next to her and started playing with her hair, like I always would. And she woke up, got really mad at me. We had this huge fight and I remember just feeling so distant from her. This was the first time I remember her being truly abusive to me. It started with criticisms of me. I was telling her how beautiful she looked and how much I loved her and she was telling me all the things wrong with me. It was so hurtful. But, I did what I always did when she was emotionally abusive, I tried to appease her. She would criticize and I would promise to fix it. This went on for several hours. Then she got really mad at me and said she was going out without me. That should have been the end of it, but\u2026 the trauma bond is real. She said all these hateful things and I begged her to stop and to be nice. When you\u2019re trauma bonded with someone, the abuser will say or do really hateful or ugly things and the abused feels like the whole world is collapsing around them, until the abuser eventually says, \u201cit\u2019s ok\u201d and makes up with the abused. So as she is trying to leave, I am begging her to stop and talk to me. I just needed her to tell me that everything was ok. As the abused, I just needed the chaos that was happening around me to be settled. She and I were in a small suite of a hotel room and I was afraid she\u2019d leave without making things ok and that felt like the end of the world. So I did something stupid and illegal. I blocked the door and sat in front of it. She tried pulling on the door, but it wouldn\u2019t budge. So she started punching me in the face. This was the first time she had ever hit me like that. Out of anger. If you ask her, she\u2019d say out of fear. Maybe it was both, I don\u2019t know. But I blocked the punches and eventually, I just opened the door. I guess we were making quite a lot of noise. Anyways, she walked out of the hotel and the hotel counter lady asked her if everything was ok and she said no. I didn\u2019t have any shoes on and I followed her. I was just trying to get her to stop being angry and talk to me. I didn\u2019t touch her or block her path, I just walked in front of or beside her. She eventually goes into a gas station where she tells the attendant, \u201cthis person is following me and trying to hurt me.\u201d And being the badass redneck that he was, he said, \u201cNo one\u2019s going to hurt you here little lady.\u201d At that point, I knew there was nothing else that I could do, so I left. They called the police who showed up at the hotel a while later and arrested me for the initial not letting her leave. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
We got the charges thrown out, but she left for several days for Kay\u2019s wedding in South Carolina, Kay being her best friend. When she came back, she had covid and the flu. She fully intended to leave me at that point, but I took care of her while she was sick and we eventually made up. She rode home in the back of the van on the bed and we spoke very little. But that was the birth of mean Danielle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So now when I think about Danielle, I try to picture nice Danielle, the kind, caring, empathetic person that tells me everything is ok. But my thoughts many times go to mean Danielle, who looks very different from nice Danielle. She has short hair with grey streaks and her face carries this anger that cannot be calmed. As time went on over the two years since, mean Danielle became more and more prevalent. Mean Danielle was okay with hurting me, both emotionally and physically. Mean Danielle is erratic. She yells at me. She calls me names. Cunt. Bitch. Pussy. Nothing is off limits. Mean Danielle gets mad over minor comments made on Christmas morning that mean absolutely nothing. Mean Danielle tells me, \u201cdon\u2019t touch me.\u201d and hits me if I do. Mean Danielle bit my lip and then beat the shit out of me, breaking my ribs, blacking my eyes. Mean Danielle is who is living in Tennessee with her boyfriend, abandoning her family. Mean Danielle cares only about money and power. Mean Danielle doesn\u2019t believe in me any more. I don\u2019t like mean Danielle, but I tolerated her, because every once in a while, I got nice Danielle that wanted to hug and kiss me and tell me that everything was going to be okay. That we could never be apart for ever, that we love each other too much. It\u2019s thinking about nice Danielle that makes me so sad. I\u2019m crying as I type this, finally, because I love and miss her so much. I know it\u2019s the cycle of abuse. I know I\u2019ll never have nice Danielle back in my life and it\u2019s that loss that causes so much grief. She says that Clara killed Michael. And maybe that\u2019s the case, but mean Danielle killed nice Danielle. My heart is broken. I am broken. I will never be the same. Mean Danielle took my soul and left it to wander the earth, lost and incomplete. I know that mean Danielle doesn\u2019t love me. But I still love her. I would have stuck by her forever, even through the abuse, the violence, the lies. I would stuck by her. Why wouldn\u2019t she stick by me? We promised each other, good or bad, heaven or hell, we were bound. And now she\u2019s gone on with her life as if I never existed. No one can replace her. No one shared the energy that we shared. I will never feel that close with someone again and even if I could I wouldn\u2019t want to. It wasn\u2019t worth it. My life feels ruined along with my heart. I suffer and these thoughts aren\u2019t being diffused. They linger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So of course I have an eating disorder. I have trauma and I don\u2019t know how to undo all the damage that the trauma has caused me. I feel the pain. I\u2019m at the bottom of the well and the person that would sit with me until we could make our way out abandoned me forever. I can\u2019t fucking kill myself, that would make me a monster. I have Juniper to think about. But I can punish myself. I can refuse food. I can focus on my body. These aren\u2019t recovery oriented thoughts, I know. But they are my thoughts. And right now, I just want to sit at the bottom of the well and let the water flood in and drown me. At this moment of the day, I don\u2019t want to recover at all. I want to let the eating disorder do what it was designed to do, kill me. I want my body to slowly shut down and I don\u2019t want to wake up. I want to be buried here. I thought I would be buried next to Danielle, but now I\u2019ll rest alone, forever. The final heartbreak to the tragedy. I\u2019m crying now because I\u2019m feeling these hard thoughts. I hate pain. I hate loneliness. I miss my friend so much. She understood me. I\u2019m broken, i\u2019ll never be understood again. Why did she have to leave? I just want her to come back and save me. Save me from myself. Save our family. Come home. Sleep in our bed. Wake up next to me. I desperately want to feel that safety that she gave me. I felt so safe. I had a home. I want her to hold me and tell me she\u2019s here. I want her to tell me she loves being my wife. I want her to hold me. I want to feel her skin on my skin. I can still feel our connection. Every day and every night, it\u2019s there. She haunts my dreams. I wake up crying. She was my one true love. Our souls are supposed to stay together. I can taste the tears as they run down my face and into my mouth. They are heavy. These are heavy, dark thoughts. These tears weigh a ton. I feel no relief, just more anguish. Just grief. Why did nice Danielle have to go away?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t want to eat today. I want to hide in my room, like a closed clam. I don\u2019t want to do groups or eat meals. I don\u2019t want to feel like I belong to this community, because it\u2019s not my family. It\u2019s not home. I want to dissolve. Right now, I wish I had my belt. I wish I hadn\u2019t asked for help. I wish I had my escape hatch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I fantasize about being in our bathtub, the water filled with red rose petals from our garden. My body is still, pale and silent and the water is red with blood and roses. I want Danielle to see that image of me forever. She can move, but she has to carry the burden of my romantic death with her for life. She took away my soul, so I want to give her a final image of me. Pale and without breath. My heart no longer has any blood to carry and I\u2019m finally at peace. Maybe we will find each other in the next life. Maybe our atoms somehow rejoin each other to create something new and beautiful. A molecule that is a new work of art. One that doesn\u2019t end in tragedy. I don\u2019t think I\u2019m going to get better. I think I will die, either from this eating disorder, or from my own hand. I don\u2019t think I can heal. I don\u2019t think I can close this chapter and start a new one. I think my story reads, \u201cThe End\u201d. and the crowd stands up, silent and makes their way out of the theatre, feeling the anguish of the main character. Applause would be inappropriate in the same way that it would be wrong to applaud at a funeral. Just a silent goodbye. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
These are my thoughts. They aren\u2019t recovery focused today. I don\u2019t know how to be recovery focused when all I feel is pain. To my community, I\u2019m really sorry. I\u2019m letting you down. I don\u2019t mean to, it\u2019s just me. Broken me sitting alone, at the bottom of the well, crying as water fills the hole and drowns me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I asked for support. I asked for laughter. I asked for conversation. I asked for check-ins. I need support. I don\u2019t know what that looks like beyond those things. More clonazepam? I want to be asleep and at peace. Let me sleep, Kristen. I don\u2019t want to eat. I don\u2019t want to recover today. I thought I did, but I don\u2019t. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But what if this final sleep that I crave so much is full of nightmares, recurring fucking nightmares. What if my energy leaves my body and I become another being that seeks that same fucking things that I seek now. Acceptance, love, home. What if it goes from bad to worse. Fucking life. Why can\u2019t you give us some hint at death. Why can\u2019t we scientifically analyze where our life force goes once it leaves our body still, pale and cold. Once our eyes glass over and our body stiffens. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now I\u2019m sitting in bed, hoping no one calls me out for lunch and I\u2019m just wondering about this supposed joy that every one keeps bringing up. Broken me can\u2019t feel anything, especially joy. But if I were to recover, then I could feel joy. But to recover I must sit with the pain and diffuse the thoughts and the thoughts won\u2019t diffuse, no matter how hard I try. This is why giving up looks like my best chance. But these aren\u2019t recovery focused thoughts. How do I make my thoughts recovery focused? I partition of the pain that I\u2019m feeling. I\u2019ve felt it now. It hurt. Now I have to find contentment in the things that I still have in my life. Juniper, for one. She is joy. She is a shining star on a clear evening in the mountains, where everything sits silently. Where all the sky is lit by the moon and the stars and there\u2019s no man made light to pollute the beauty. Where the universe is visible to my naked eye. Juniper makes me happy. I miss Juniper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I want to make a new family. I want Brandon to be part of that family, but I don\u2019t know if that is realistic. He\u2019s great and he really cares about me. But he\u2019s committed to so many different things that make him happy. Danielle said, I\u2019ll never be enough for him. And while I know she was just trying to hurt me, I also think she was partially right. He\u2019ll spend weekends with me, but his life is complex, too many moving pieces. But I want to give him a shot. He wants to get to know Juniper better. He\u2019s come every weekend to see me and cheer me up. We snuggle, we kiss and we talk about life. He\u2019s a good listener. He shares with me his struggles and successes. He\u2019s balanced. But I\u2019m only one stone on a scale that has 1000 stones. I guess I\u2019ll just have to see where we end up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At least when I think about him, I can stop crying and I get butterflies in my stomach and tingles all over my body. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I guess all this nonsense about, \u201cI\u2019m here all day\u201d and \u201ccome back if things get worse\u201d etc is complete bullshit. I am ripping out my hair and actively trying to come up with something else besides my belt (they took it) to hang myself.Like this isn\u2019t a fucking joke and I\u2019m not doing it for attention. And here I have no accountability to Juniper, she\u2019s taken care of, so it\u2019s bombs away. I\u2019m just not quite sure what to use. I asked Bailey for help and she told me to go see the med nurse. I\u2019m not even sure of her name, but she\u2019s really bad at her job. She said, \u201clet\u2019s do a check in, would that help?\u201d And I told Bailey told me to piss off, which is true. So we go outside to do a check in and it\u2019s all shallow, superficial questions. I\u2019m trying to explain what\u2019s going on in my head and she\u2019s just saying, \u201cyeh, that sounds tough\u201d and \u201cwell maybe you\u2019ll learn to like it again\u201d or some stupid fucking bullshit. No. Just fucking no. I don\u2019t know how either of the nurses could be more dismissive. And I guess someone briefed them on me and said I\u2019m worried about going to PHP or something and that\u2019s why I\u2019m skipping meals. No, you fucking idiots. I\u2019m fine with going to PHP on June 1. That\u2019s great. What I\u2019m not happy about is my meal plan and the bullshit Courtney pulled over this weekend. What I\u2019m not ok with is gaining more weight. What I want, and I keep telling you this, is to quit and relapse. Like, 100% relapse. In fact, I would discharge tonight if they\u2019d let me. I know they won\u2019t, but if I could walk out the door with all my stuff, I\u2019d do it tonight. I\u2019d agree to go to PHP and just never show up. That\u2019s kind of my plan anyways. Sign me up for PHP and then just not go. Not eat. Relapse. I don\u2019t want recovery. At least not today. And if I still had my belt, I would absolutely hang myself right fucking now. Plan. Intent. It\u2019s all there bitches. And you\u2019re telling me to try a hot and cold pack. Fucking brilliant. How do I make this any more clear? So now I\u2019m just left with the question of, what can I use in lieu of a belt. Sheets would work, but I\u2019d need a way to cut them. I don\u2019t think any of my strings are strong enough, like from hoodies or whatever. I\u2019m drawing a blank here. But I am a crafty motherfucker, so give me enough time and I\u2019ll figure it out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Do I need to have Kristen print my suicide note in 22 pt font and make a few copies? What do I need to do?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I DO NOT FEEL SAFE. I HAVE VERY HIGH SI. I\u2019M NOT JUST TRYING TO GET ATTENTION. I HAVE A HALF-WIT dumb PLAN and I HAVE INTENT. Oh. but I guess those are the right questions to ask me, because, \u201cShe\u2019s anxious about going to PHP.\u201d Seriously? Who the fuck briefed these assholes on me. They did a terrible fucking job. And now I don\u2019t want to go talk to Bailey because I feel like I\u2019m annoying her. She was a bitch just a minute ago. Like, what the actual fuck? I don\u2019t know what to do. Urge surf my suicide attempt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jesus. I feel so alone right now. I feel like no one cares. These fucking nurses. They were supposed to be the ones that care. And they don\u2019t care. I don\u2019t know if they just don\u2019t think I\u2019m serious or what. But it hurts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s 6:01 PM – I ate dinner. I didn\u2019t want to, but I did it. I plan on skipping HS snack. I\u2019m going to try and get my night meds early and fall asleep before snack. If the night nurse is who I think she is, I\u2019m also going to try and talk to her. I can\u2019t remember her name, but she\u2019s really fucking nice. She\u2019s a little bit older and will take me seriously. I\u2019m so disappointed in nursing today. Why did Bailey blow me off and act like I was an annoyance? It\u2019s crazy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dinner questions were fun. It never takes more than one guess for the whole community to guess me. It\u2019s kind of funny. I only answer if I can come up with some elaborate, ridiculous answer. I\u2019m funny. It\u2019s a fact. I write funny answers that are sweet, but also capture my personality. My idea of a perfect date, a shopping spree and fashion show for Brandon, who compliments my purchases. My ideal house, a home with love, laughter, companionship and a reasonably sized, but not obsessive, vinyl collection.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I feel like I\u2019m literally waiting for nursing change, so I can have a real conversation. What a fucked up scenario. I’m ratting Bailey out and she\u2019s going to get in deep shit. Like what the actual fuck. I deserve to be heard and taken seriously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I guess it’s the depression today. All the writing that I\u2019ve been doing. It is a lot to process. But I don\u2019t feel better. I actually feel worse. I feel lonelier and more abandoned than ever. I feel hopeless and lost. I want to die. I don\u2019t have a solid plan. But I have the intent. I shouldn\u2019t have told on myself the other night. I should have kept the belt for just such an occasion. But, aye, there is the difference. That nurse actually did her job and gave a shit. I just need someone to hear me. And Jackie, if that\u2019s her name, sucks. She just placated me and hug- boxed me. I don\u2019t need someone to try and make me feel good. I need someone to sit in the well with me. To validate me and take me seriously. Jen is here tonight. I plan on bringing it up with her that Bailey told me to piss off. That was really fucked up. You work in a psych ward. Maybe you should take patients seriously. I am high risk for fuck\u2019s sake. And I\u2019m very impulsive. And I\u2019m extremely fucking resourceful. I\u2019m very high stress right now. I\u2019ve got big changes coming up. I don\u2019t care about going to PHP you fucking twats. I care about not feeling safe. I care about not dying. It\u2019s such a weird predicament to be in, because I want to die, but I don\u2019t want to at the same time. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I just had a nice chat with Nurse Brandon. I like him, he\u2019s legit. He was asking about safety numbers and I told him my SH\/SI was 10\/6, which it is. I\u2019m not making this up and it has nothing to do with the step down date. I am happy with the step down date. Seriously, motherfuckers, I negotiated that date and it\u2019s a date that I am absolutely committed to and want to step down. I want to get the fuck out of here. I want to see BF Brandon and spend some real time with him. I want to see juniper for more than an hour a week. But in terms of is the SH\/SI real, yes it\u2019s fucking real. I am goddamn high risk, you fucking twats. I think Nurse Brandon believes me, which is nice. He wanted to chat more about it, but there was a line of like literally everyone on the unit. I asked him to make a note in the fucking chart, I am happy with the goddamn stepdown date. The SH\/SI has very little to do with that at this point. What it does have to do with is my failed marriage and losing my best friend and feeling alone, even when I\u2019m sitting with a big group of people. It has to do with not wanting to gain a bunch of weight and lose my figure. It has to do with not being ready to take on this divorce. This divorce is going to be a nightmare. It\u2019s literally me fighting with my best friend and the love of my life over the division of everything we\u2019ve worked on and everything that mattered for the last 8 almost 9 years. That\u2019s what it\u2019s about. It\u2019s about all the above bullshit that I had to sit with today. I sat in the pain and I\u2019m still sitting in it. It\u2019s about knowing that part of recovering from this illness is going to be facing things like cooking and ordering food. It\u2019s about knowing that after a few weeks, I leave the apartments here, where I\u2019m surrounded by supportive people, well, mostly supportive people, and will be doing this alone. Nurse Brandon sees that. And my response was, I have to leave sometime. I can\u2019t stay here forever. No, talking to Alina or whatever the fuck her name is, doesn\u2019t help. I have high SI. I am high risk. There is tons of research on this. Even after transition, risk of SI remains really high, especially when you combine the social aspects of shit. Including marriage, family, and friends that either choose to accept you as you are or don\u2019t. Danielle didn\u2019t. She rejected me. Not just as a romantic partner and spouse, but as her friend. That\u2019s why I have high SH\/SI. That\u2019s why being safe is so important for me. I\u2019m not in a good place. I\u2019m going through hell and I\u2019m about to do it on my own again. And that thought is terrifying. But I’m not choosing not to eat because I think they\u2019ll let me stay longer. Actually, it\u2019s quite the opposite. Dr. Parsley is committed to the step down date that we agreed upon, so I figure, who gives a shit what I eat and don\u2019t eat, or if I gain or lose weight. The date is going to stay the same. So I don\u2019t even really have to try any more. I can just give up now. Up until the point where Alina and Courtney cornered me in a room and gave me a 2 week plan to get me out the door, I thought I was setting goals and working towards them. But apparently my goals weren\u2019t good enough, so \u201cmy team\u201d made goals for me. Fine, so be it. I\u2019m on board with the plan. But I\u2019m not going to continue going to meals and I\u2019m not going to eat shit I don\u2019t like. I\u2019m going to eat what I want. I\u2019m going to go to meals when I fucking feel like it. There\u2019s no point in caring anymore. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
And frankly, it was the meal plan change without my knowledge that made me not eat those snacks. First it was the weird shake + supplement and the bitter shit that I bit into. Then it was the change to a smoothie without my knowledge. I don\u2019t know what\u2019s in that shit. I think we covered this already. And I don\u2019t trust it at all. So no, I\u2019m not going to eat it. And then there\u2019s also the fact that our target weight goals are not the same. They think they are throwing me a bone by making my target weight 140. They\u2019re not. I said 135 and I mean 135. Keep pushing me to go higher and I\u2019m going to fucking quit. Fuck them and their goals. I feel disgusted by the thought of being 140 lbs. I\u2019m not going to be happy about it. So, my active goal is to lose as much weight as I can in the next 16 days or whatever. I\u2019m going to skip any meal or snack that I can and I\u2019m going to over-exercise as much as I can. I\u2019m going to walk 4-6 miles per day, which is about what I was doing at home with the step counter. And I\u2019m going to try and make a calorie deficit. I\u2019m not going to get on board with their plan until Courtney and Dr. Parsley agrees that 135 is an appropriate target weight. 135. Not 137, 138, 139, 140. One Hundred and Thirty Five. That\u2019s it. That\u2019s all I\u2019ll agree to do. Anorexia sucks. I want my body autonomy back. I want to be the one making decisions about how much I should eat and when. I want to make decisions about how much I should weigh and how I want my body to look. Is that the eating disorder talking? Maybe. But I don\u2019t care, I\u2019m past the point of caring what they think is appropriate. And unlike most of the other girls here, I don\u2019t let my parents dictate to me what I do with my health care. It\u2019s my body and my decisions. As I said, the only person that I cared about what they thought was Danielle and she fucking abandonned me. So, fuck it. I\u2019ve already started my relapse and I\u2019m going to dive in head first the moment I\u2019m free from here. I\u2019ve gained nothing from being here and I\u2019m ready to go home. I\u2019m only agreeing to PHP because they are insisting. Sure, sign me up. I\u2019m not going to go and I\u2019m not going to eat. I don\u2019t want to eat. That\u2019s my real mantra. I don\u2019t want to eat. I can be hungry. I can live on 500 calories a day. I can make 10,000 steps a day. I\u2019m going back to where I came from and I don\u2019t care if it kills me. I\u2019ll be happier dead. But NO, I\u2019m not trying to delay my step down date. I AM FUCKING HAPPY WITH MY STEPDOWN DATE. That\u2019s a date I chose and that\u2019s the date I\u2019m committed to stepping down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now, about this HS snack. Fuck it. I\u2019m going to sleep. I\u2019ll see you all at 2am, after my nightmares wake me up again. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It\u2019s been a productive morning thus far. I woke up from a nightmare at 2:30 am. My favorite grandfather was sitting across from me at a table telling how ashamed he was of me. I guess that\u2019s something I\u2019ve always really feared, even when I claimed that I wasn\u2019t scared of anything. It\u2019s a hell […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-26","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-journal-entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=26"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26\/revisions\/27"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=26"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=26"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=26"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}