A lot of things

Let's see - the past week has been up and down.  I had the picnic at my partial program.  I spent four hours baking cookies all to be gone within thirty minutes.  I got upset because of the situation in my house and I'm sure they think I'm a big baby by now.  My mom bought food yesterday for the first time in a month.  I went to a party on Saturday for my friend Erica's daughter's sweet sixteen.  I pretty much sat there the whole time, zoning in and out of reality and drinking a lot of soda.  Erica gave me food to take home.  Lots of canned fruits and some cereal and pasta.  My birthday was on Sunday.  My grandparents came over for ice cream cake (yes, my mom bought a $13 ice cream cake but wouldn't go food shopping) and they bought hoagies for lunch and then they took my younger brother and I to spend the night.  I did some art while I was there and worked on knitting this baby blanket (yeah, didn't mention that I started one for my friend Ami who's not due until October but I have to finish it now because she's moving to Texas at the end of June) and they got us some food.  We went to Burger King for dinner on Sunday and had ice cream for a snack (they do that like, every night while they watch Jeopardy... old people).  Yesterday morning my grandmother made waffles for breakfast.  We all had one waffle, about the size of our faces, and I really struggled to finish because of my stomach.  It was too much after half of it (which would be a regular sized waffle).  We had Pizza Hut for lunch and then we came back home.  When we got home my mom and my older brother were out shopping so we hung out in my mom's room because she has air conditioning in her room and we don't.  I taught my little brother to knit (he wanted to learn for some reason, my mom's a little worried).  On Friday we told my older brother we're kicking him out so he flipped shit and then we talked and made an agreement that if he doesn't change and try harder and get a job when we move then he's gone, so we're hoping this will be motivation for him because he'll end up in a homeless shelter, seeing as he has nowhere else to go.  I really hope it works because I can't stand being around him a lot of the time, not only because of what happened when I was younger but because he's just an asshole most of the time and I don't know if he even realizes it.

I haven't gotten weighed last week because the scale at my partial is broken (it says everyone weighs 0.0lbs) so I really hope they get a new one.  The thing is, I don't think I've gained a lot, if I even gained any, because I've barely been eating due to the fact that my mom hasn't had food in the house and it's not like I can't start eating normal now that she does because of my stomach.  I still don't have my other stomach medication either.  I'm supposed to call the pharmacy and see if they sorted it out yet for me to take it (I think they needed to see if my insurance covered it or something), but I'd rather go in and find out that way, which requires my mom to drive me.

I can't really describe how life has been lately.  Crazy isn't the word for it.

Fucked up

WARNING: This post is going to jump around a lot and partly be in half-sentences

Eating more lately.  Mom won't go grocery shopping, we're shit poor and still have to find a place to move.  Losing internet soon because my mom can't pay for it and put a deposit down on a place.  Older brother and I got into a fight on Friday night.  I want to get out of here. Can't take it anymore, need to run, and can't deal without my eating disorder if I'm going to live in this house.  I can do it outside of the house.  But not here.  Don't know where to go, don't have anywhere to go.  Need to escape, run away, can't stay.  Feeling like my psychotic thoughts will come back.  Scared.  Don't want to resort to eating disorder, but makes me feel numb.  There's no food in the house. Had to order a pizza.  I ate the pizza.  Now I feel full, hate that feeling.  SCREAMING is something I'd love to do but can't.  No energy.  Emotionally drained.  NEED TO ESCAPE.  Can't handle it here.  But no job, no money, no car, license.  Nothing, I have nothing but me.  And I am two steps from breaking.  I wish I could just run away... that's what I used to do.  That's what I really want to do.  I need to get out of this hell.

Small update

Quick update points:  I was re-weighed the Friday after my previous weigh-in and the day I last posted.  The kitchen scale was totally off, of course, and I'd actually gained about .8 lbs.  And then again this past Wednesday.  The only thing is (TMI WARNING) I haven't gone to the bathroom in like, a week and a half prior to those weigh-ins.  Fortunately, my stomach meds are finally working again and I am.  Okay, enough TMI.  Anyway, I'm at precisely a 17.5 BMI and counting, so I'm gaining it back.  I'm doing better.  Trying to eat more, and actually, yesterday I stopped writing what I ate (after breakfast and lunch).  Problem is, I ate entirely too much (not because of ED, because of my stomach) and woke up with vicious stomach pain this morning.  Anyway, in other news, because of the stress of moving and all the tension in the house and the stress of having no job or money amongst all the other things that regularly stress me out, it's triggered my Bipolar.  I have Bipolar 1 which means I have psychotic features and it's very scary.  I've been going in and out of small episodes for about a week now.  But not the manic part, just the psychotic part.  I've never had just the psychotic part, and frankly, it's obviously more happy when coupled with the mania.  On Monday I had a bout of it at partial and they called crisis screeners because I was isolated in the corner of a small group room because I was "scared" of nothing in particular.  Well, people kind of.  I just got this overwhelming feeling that I wasn't safe and had to retreat from reality apparently.  Suddenly there were a bunch of people in the room trying to figure out what to do with me.  I'd just started taking my antipsychotic again after a month and a half of not having it, and I suppose it wasn't working yet.  Anyway, they wanted to send me to a hospital to get my meds re-evaluated, but I begged and pleaded with them, and they agreed to let me stay on the condition that I call them the next day (my day off from partial) and let them know I was okay.  Anyway, the last two days it's been a little better.

The only other thing that's really going on in my life is me seeing Rusty, but not "seeing" him, just hanging out but with sex.  I don't know what's going to happen.  Other than that, I'm going to see today if I can apply for SSD so I can have some money.  I'm sure with my record of ten hospitalizations in the last 7-8 years, half of them for ED and the other because I suppose I'm just crazy, I can get something.  That's all for now I suppose.

The bittersweet feeling of Weigh-in Wednesday

Sorry it's been a few days.  I want to talk about a lot of things.  I went to partial yesterday and it was weigh-in day.  I don't know why, but I had a feeling the nurse, Johana, wasn't going to be there.  My feeling was right.  I went into my case manager's office and asked who was going to weigh me.  She said since Johana wasn't there, no one could go in her office (where the scale is).  I told her it's really important to me that I get weighed the same day every week.  She told me to go on the scale in the kitchen.  I don't like that scale because it's an analog scale and the one in Johana's office is digital and measures by .2 increments.  She said go on the scale in the kitchen and come back to tell her what it says.  Frustrated, I went in there and took off my jacket, shoes and jewelry.  I noticed the scale wasn't calibrated, so I searched for a reset button on the back.  I found it, but couldn't find anything small enough to press it in.  Fair enough.  I saw that it was over by two pounds, so I would deduct that from whatever it said when I stepped on.  I took a deep breath and stepped on the stupid scale.  Taking off the two pounds, I'm 98lbs.  I wasn't sure whether or not to believe it.  I though I'd eaten a little more this week.  I went into Shumayl's (my case manager) office and reported the weight.  She said, "Oh, that's what you weighed last Wednesday, right?"  I said, "No, last week I was 103.8.  I lost 5 or so pounds."  She gave me a disappointed look.  I told her I don't know how accurate it is and she said on Friday Johana will be here to re-weigh me on the digital scale.  For the remainder of the day at partial, all I could think about was if the scale was right or not.  I started individual therapy there with the intern, Joanne.  She's nice, but she's a little too bubbly for me.  We talked about the eating disorder, seeing as that's why they decided to give me individual for 6-7 weeks because basically I feel like an outcast.  Another thing that happened (you'll have to excuse the jumping around, my thoughts are very scattered) is that after I got weighed I decided to sign up for lunch.  I originally signed up for PBJ but then decided to change it to spaghetti & meatballs (and asked for no meatballs) because it has less exchanges.  I ate it, and I also ate a granola bar that I'd brought to make it look good.  I came home and was very tired.  I made some phone calls and ate three more granola bars.  I was trying to do well, but it was really killing me.  I took a nap because I was wiped out from God knows what.  I was awoken at least four times because people decided it was a great night to blow up my phone, which because of that, has no minutes now.  The last person to call me was Rusty (my ex, in case you guys forgot, that I lost my virginity to at age 13 and that I've been seeing the last two weeks).  He wanted to hang out after he got off from work at 11:30.  I said sure, and he asked me to stay over.  After confirming with my mom, who really couldn't care less, I told him yes.  He picked me up and we went to WaWa because I needed cigarettes and something compelled me to get a hoagie.  I got the hoagie and my cigarettes and 40oz of diet Mountain Dew.  I ate the hoagie, which was worth about 7 or 8 exchanges, and we went back to his house.  I had a Coke Zero and we watched a movie.  After the movie we had sex of course, because for some reason I can't go over there without us having sex.  And in between all the movie watching and sex and cigarettes, I weighed myself on his scale.  He has a Weight Watchers scale, digital of course, and .1 increment measurements.  Well I stepped on it at first and it said 107.3.  I freaked the fuck out in my head while he said, "Good!" AS IF.  No, this shouldn't make me upset.  No, no, no.  But it did.  I weighed myself every time I went in the bathroom (about three more times), and the lowest it got down to before I went to bed was 107.1 so I was pissed.  I couldn't sleep at all, got maybe about ~3 hours, then finally decided to stay up around 9am this morning and weigh again.  104.3 it said.  Okay, this is horrible.  Now if I get weighed tomorrow they'll think I'm lying about it saying 98.  The ED solution: don't eat today, exercise like crazy.  He dropped me off and the first thing I did, after buying a Powerade Zero at WaWa, was run.  Even though I have exercise-induced asthma, Ed didn't care.  I had to run.  And I did it for as long as I could until I just couldn't breathe any more.

I talked to my old school counselor on the phone.  She really helps me because not only does she understand and justify how I feel, she also kicks my ass about it, which I need.  I'm still waiting for a call from Ollie, but I don't know when that's going to happen and I'm sure she's not jumping to call me anyway because she knows I'm doing bad.  I feel ashamed to be in a relapse.  I was supposed to do well.  I want to do well.  I need to break this cycle.  I need fucking help and nothing now is helping and I want to quit but I can't.  I am so stuck and it's my fault and no one can help me if I don't want it, but I do and don't at the same time.  I don't know why, but I think maybe I'd be more likable at a lower weight.  Not a dangerously low weight, but a lower one.  But the problem is I get there and don't stop.  I want to rip my hair out, I fucking hate this shit, I FUCKING HATE HAVING AN EATING DISORDER AND I CAN'T FUCKING TAKE IT AND I WANT IT TO GO AWAY FOREVER.  AND I HATE MYSELF BECAUSE THIS SHIT IS ALL MY FUCKING FAULT AND BECAUSE OF THAT PEOPLE ARE RELUCTANT TO HELP ME BUT I WANT THIS FUCKING SHIT OUT OF MY HEAD, I FUCKING HATE IT, I WANT IT TO FUCKING STOP.  I don't know what to do next... I'm sorry.

Update and some poetry... again

So I lost more weight (only like, 1.8lbs, but now they're upset because I'm under 105).  I've been trying to eat a little more and I think I have.  I've done 30-60% of my meal plan since Wednesday.  Yesterday was  my last day at work, and instead of working 3-8 like I was scheduled, I worked 3-11:15 so I got a few more hours.  I got my permit on Thursday.  My mom was a nervous wreck today trying to teach me to drive her stick, and I failed miserably not only because it's been three years since I've tried, but because she was panicking the whole time and I was under a lot of pressure.  So I give up.  I'm saving for an automatic and learning on that.  There are too many things to do and pay attention to on a stick and it's hard to learn that.  Anyway, today was mother's day and we all cleaned out her car.  I got her a card and an expensive candle that was $11 (and it was small).  I went to the bank yesterday and found out they closed all my accounts but the lady who helped me was really, really nice and stayed 30 minutes past closing time to help me open a new one.  We went to see a potential house today.  The woman is going to give us a call later this week and my mom said we'll go there if we're approved.  It's really nice.  Three bedrooms plus a full basement and attic that serves as a fourth bedroom.  It's in the city and on a main road, but we live on a main road now so it won't be much different.  There's even a garage (we don't have one here) but it's single-car so when I get my car I'll have to park somewhere on the street if there's any freaking room.  It's right across from a cemetery so I think my older brother is a little freaked by that, or at least he thinks ghosts are going to come into our house or something, I don't know, he's on something.  Tomorrow my aunt is picking me up to see my father finally and then I'm going to partial but I'll only be there for the last group and I'm only going because it's mandatory and it's a private group that you have to be eligible for.  It's a DBT group.  I've only been there once but it's really good and I like the counselor who runs it. Also, I just wrote a poem that I want to share, and that will be the end of the post:

An Angel's Message


As I wander through the halls in my mind
I find several doors neatly aligned
Some are half open, others need a key
The rest are unmarked and leave my mind intrigued

Most of them are white,
Others are run-down
But at the end of the hall,
One more was to be found

Small in size, I was unsure
As I'd never seen this door before
It wasn't there earlier, I recalled
So I got on all fours and prepared to crawl

The knob seemed to stick
As if it were older
And as I crawled through
I suddenly felt colder

As I set my eyes on memories
I had to stop and stare
And then what caught my eye
Was the sign that read "BEWARE"

Curious, I was, just like a kid
A box read "DO NOT OPEN"
But of course, instead I did

The light that shone through the window
Quickly grew dim
And then I felt the energy
That could only come from "him"

I turned quickly to face him,
The evil from my past
With an evil grimace on his face,
He shouted to me, "Run fast!"

The door grew taller
As I fled from the scene
And without thinking, I brought myself
To a door with a screen

This door was locked
And I held no key
So I took a chance and knocked
As fear washed over me

To my surprise it opened,
A room filled with light
I feel to my knees
And cried with all my might

"Here you are safe,"
A voice suddenly said
"Who are you?  Where am I?"
I thought I might be dead

Before me was an angel
Her halo shining bright
"You can never go back."
I knew she was right

I told her of my troubles
And how I feel alone
She said, "I will always be there,
and never far from home."

I asked her what I should do
And told her I can't deal
She said, "Your life is up to you,
and only time can heal."

Confused, I asked her more
But she said she had to leave
And suddenly I'm outside the door
With a note hanging from my sleeve

"You control your life,
don't let it control you."
I closed the note and smiled
Because I know just what to do

Life fucking sucks at the moment

I'm officially laid off, I have to look for a new job, I filed an unemployment claim, we have to move, I have no money and neither does my mom.  My mom isn't eating and she's drinking too much; we almost got into an accident last night because she decided to drink WAY too much and then pick me up from work; I had to take care of her last night and force her to eat something because she hadn't eaten in two days;  I have too much to do and too much on my mind; I have to go to the DMV on Thursday to re-take my permit test; I still haven't studied much of the book; I get weighed tomorrow and I'm doing shitty on my meal plan; They're going to be mad because I lost weight again (we'll just see how much tomorrow); I can't have a fucking second to think about shit; I'm overwhelmed; I still don't have meds because of insurance issues; I have 25 days to finish this scarf for Erica's daughter and no time to do it; I WANT TO EXPLODE.  There's your update.