I get it I get it.

My thoughts, ideas, and observations don’t matter. My feelings about these things are irrelevant.

They only exist to be unceremoniously smashed into the floor and ground under the heel.

I get it.

I should just shut up and agree with people.

My life would be so much easier.

I feel so disgusting.

I told my dad what my low weight was, and that I was malnourished going into treatment. He almost didn’t believe me…

But he still is all weird about my meal plan.

I don’t really expect him to understand it at this point, I just wish he could be more positive about it for my sake…

Because this is really.

fucking.

hard.

Also my nutritionist today told me to pay attention to when I feel full and stop eating then… I’m definitely not ready for that… I mean I was just discharged from resi and only because my insurance cut me off…

So I’m going to just continue to stick to my meal plan like it’s word is law.

I like to think of my meal plan as like, a prescription medication for my ED. It doesn’t make it go away completely, but it heals my body and keeps my mind in the best possible place for fighting this… Even if I do feel like shit all of the time. :P

discharge

So my insurance decided for me whether I was ready to leave resi treatment or not. Joy. I don’t have access to a PHP or IOP because they’re just too far away. I’m moving soon and I can move somewhere that’d be possible, but as of right now I just have my outpatient team.

I’ll be honest with you, I hate my meal plan, and I loathe being so full all of the time… Like right now. It’s uncomfortable and bothersome. But I’m sticking to it because lord knows I’m not capable of making decisions about food on my own right now. I’m actually surprisingly ok with the weight gain… I guess I’ve decided that I’m going to hate how I look no matter what I do… But I don’t like the act of eating, and keeping food in me.. And I don’t like feeling full.

But I’m very motivated to recover. I need to keep that fire lit. Writing affirmations, listing motivations, reducing behaviors like body checking and such. It’s been and will continue to be a long and difficult path, but now I’m better armed with tools and inspiration.

My dad has issues with my meal plan. It frustrates me because he doesn’t understand eating disorders at all, and he knows it. Yet he has the audacity to openly criticize my meal plan when he knows that a nutritionist who is used to working with people who have eating disorders designed it for me.

He keeps getting annoyed/picking on me because I’m supposed to have a dessert after dinner… And it’s not like I want to eat desserts every day… (Because BELIEVE ME, I don’t.) BUT. That’s on my meal plan and right now my meal plan is law. I tried to explain to him that I can’t go cutting back on it, because first it’s cutting dessert, then it’s cutting an exchange here or there, and next thing you know I’m restricting again… But he just doesn’t get it.

So, I gave up on trying to get him to understand. I just asked him not to talk about it anymore because it makes things more difficult for me. I know what I need and I know that my nutritionist is trustworthy.

One of the women at resi gave me some really good advice today. She told me not to get too caught up with getting people to understand exactly where I’m coming from, because it’s a waste of energy, frustrating, and really, who cares? Why should I let it effect me? I know what I need for recovery and that’s that. If my dad doesn’t agree, whatever. He doesn’t understand any of this anyway.

Assessment today for residential treatment… (Or whatever my insurance bumps me down to I guess)

Is it normal to be so nervous over this?

I mean, I guess it makes sense to be… The next month or so of my life is gonna be heavily effected by whatever we decide today.

Part of me is worried that I’m not sick enough to recieve any higher care at all (Or at least, get insurance coverage for it.)

and the other part is worried that even if I do get more care, I still won’t find it in me to get better.

And I mean

I do want to recover

sort of

but hell

It’s hard to even want to recover. The moment I say that it’s like every goddamn demon in my head rushes in to strangle the thought.

But..

I’m tired of this. I want to eat like a normal healthy person goddammit. I want to eat well and keep it in me. I want to still have teeth and hair left when I’m 30.

My aunt accidentally smoked our salmon tonight..

Just a little bit.

There was some grease in the oven or something…? The fish wasn’t burnt but something sure as heck was.

She kind of smoked the house too… It’s good thing the temperature is nice outside because I opened alla the windows.

Kind of amusing… Buuut cheap salmon isn’t my favorite thing… (And it’s not my tummy’s favorite thing either apparently.) If we’re going to be eating inexpensive fish I’d gladly take canned tuna over questionable salmon… (And my dad has a job now so there isn’t really any reason to buy suspiciously under-priced fish.)

My family recently converted from vegetarianisim and none of us know a thing about buying or preparing fish… I bought a book but I doubt anyone’s looked at it yet. Maybe it’s time for me to study… I don’t even like eating fish that much, my dad’s the one who is a fish fin- err… fanatic.

You know, I have a friend who fishes a lot, loves seafood, and has a dad who is a chef. Maybe I can get him to give me some tips to bring back home. Haha.

My anti-depressants weren’t really working, so my doctor was like “let’s try increasing your dosage”.

Day one with 10mg more in me than usual and it’s almost like I’m a different person…. Is that even possible? My head feels just… Clearer? Lighter? Something like that. The point is I’m less depressed… Which is good.

I told my best friend about some recovery stuff, and he was so happy to hear that I’ve been doing better. It made me feel a lot better about it. I still feel this need to be sicker… But I don’t like making him worry, and I do like making him happy. I know he’ll still care about me whether I’m struggling or not, so I have that, even if nothing else. He knows how ridiculous I get sometimes, but he has never stopped supporting me even for a second. I don’t know where I’d be without him.

*implodes a little*

My doctor was pushing PHP on me super-hard last time I saw her.

She sent me info for a place, so I sent them onea those intake application things.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. I feel like they’ll just look at my info/talk to my therapist and be like “oh he’s not really sick enough for this level of care” and send me on my way.

But also…

…What if they don’t?