ocd.

i had 69 posts and i needed to make it an even 70.

ok that's all.

go read my
newww bloggggg

new new new

i made a new blog.
it's ugly right now but contain yourselves, i have a lot of homework to do (even though i've only had one class) so it will be gaw-geous in a few short hours.
it's been real.
but i hate this blog.

new ---> medativesdemoi.blogspot.com

scared of being scared. but home is sweet.

all anyone asks are these two questions:
1. so, what did you do for that month and a half?
2. so....you're better now?

umph. i don't want to answer either.
because what i did for that 51 days (a little over a month and a half. it's like a month and 3/4. let's respect the time, people.)...is so much more than the groups and sessions i sat in. and the dinners and lunches and breakfasts and snacks that i was told to put more food on my plate, put some food back, try and finish your meal, etc. and the evenings spent sitting staring out the window at the mountains on my phone with my parents, trying not to break down. and the times sitting, knitting and joking with people just as fucked up as me. the 51 days was more than sitting in that ugly striped chair in the corner or crying in front of everyone for the first time. it was more than the 6 scarves i knitted or 10 girls i got close to. i learned so much about myself. and i grasped 'why' this eating disorder surfaced. and this leads into the next question...because...yes, i'm better. but THAT DOESN'T MEAN I'M FIXED. in fact, my second to last night (which should have been my last night, but delta sucks)...i "acted out"...and did it again in the airport during the awesome 6 hour delay. but that doesn't discount my 49 days. i still went 49 days with no symptoms...except the few times i bypassed the 'healthy fat' station at meals....which hardly counts, in my opinion. i gained so much from those 49 days...(no pun intended).

i learned a lot. i'll leave it at that.

now, i'm laying in my bed and wanting nothing more than to never leave its safety. i don't want to go back to school. i'm afraid.

i'm afraid of trevor. i don't really like him. hardly even as a person. it was just nice...that someone finally cared about me...THAT much. he cared about me so much, that when i pushed away, he came after me. which was really nice until i realized i don't need someone to run after me. now it's just annoying and i have realized that he has sooo many of his own issues i can't deal with.

i'm afraid that i won't have any friends. i have chris and lucy, but i have hardly talked to either of them. what if they don't give two shits that i'm coming back? what if i don't meet anyone new? i need to have friends. i need to have those relationships. it helps...go figure.

i'm afraid of the cafeteria. i've done well food-wise since i've been home, but i'll consider it my 'step-down' program. my own decisions are partly made by the fact that my mom has the right stuff in the pantry. at my wonderful, 3x3 dorm....we generally have a great assortment of poptarts, cookies, cheez-its...and some grapes that have been in the refrigerator all semester.

i'm really afraid that i don't want to go back. i kind of want to stay in forsyth, and everyone has told me to do so...and i don't know if it's my defiance that's going back, or the part of me that's more afraid of staying home than going back to school.

because honestly.....i don't want to be at either place.

i'm thinking of transferring.

but on a happier note, i got my tattoo today, which i love.



christmas really sucked. i didn't like anything my mom got for me. which isn't her fault. it's all off the list i sent her, but since i didn't try any of it on, it all kind of looked shitty...which i would have known if i did a test run. but online shopping has never been my forte. i definitely need a mall drive-by.

which we're doing tomorrow, so that's exciting.

i just don't want to have my last day here. i don't want to admit that to my mom. i don't want to go coop myself up in that teeny fucking dorm room.

it's so suffocating. i'm so raw right now. treatment opened me up and i need to put myself back together...but going back to school seems like...(i'm getting a little crazy with this metaphor) throwing salt on the opened wound.

wahhh.

lskjfoiasl

i'm having trouble connecting.
and it feels like it's a waste..if i'm sitting in therapy all day either about to fall asleep or cry.
i don't know what the hell is going on with me.

and i'm still resisting meds. like an idiot.

this is so frustrating.

i wish i was at greek formal with trevor right now.
i'd be drunk. he'd be drunk. we'd be dancing. it's snowing there. everything would be fine.
but i'm in my sweats illegally on my computer in a house of people just as fucked up (and more) than me. and therapists. and a nurse. and nothing is fine.

lksfjoasifljk 31 more days. ahhhhhh. fml.

howdyyyyy from arizona!

do they say howdy here? seems like they would...since it's a desert. and there are cowboys in the desert. hmm. anywho.

residential is shaping up to be quite an...interesting experience.

the good news is that i haven't purged or binged or cut since i've been here. and. i don't know if that's an accomplishment...because i can't. well. i could. but...it doesn't seem like progress since if i left i'd go right back into it. i still think of eating boxes of chocolate poptarts and stealing my roommates ID to get milk to wash it down with, then purging in our room...trying to be quiet. and it seems like such a terrible chain of events now that i think back on it. but i still..yearn for it. and that kind of freaks/creeps me out. that's why i'm here though. and it's been less than a week. so it has to get fucking better. i'm banking on that.


i had to tell 'my story' last night. and...it kind of hit me, what the therapist was saying. i know that i have had a guard up my whole life, but it never seemed to be as big of a guard as i thought. and i'm starting to realize all the shit i have to work through...and she made it seem like it was a big deal, and that it mattered that i'd gone through it...that i wasn't just making it up. and i always have feared it...that i'm lying to myself and everyone and i could just stop at any point. but it's not like that. it's a real problem and i have real issues to work through. and they matter..it's not petty bullshit that a 13 year old came up with. well, not all of it.


the best thing in the world for me, though, was yesterday at the gym.
i have been going to the gym....obsessively at school. and, i have always gone at night after a bunch of purging, or in the morning after a bunch of purging. so, my heart freaks out and palpitates after less than a mile. the doctor said that i should run again and see how it is after proper nutrition.


i did last night and i ran a little bit over a mile. and it was freeing. and amazing. and it sounds stupid. because it's just a mile. but. yeah. it meant a lot to me.


i'm still struggling with connecting.
but according to the therapist from group last night...i should be struggling with connecting, and it's not surprising. but i need to work on it rather than isolate myself and do little dumb puzzles in my puzzle book from the fabulous minnesota airport i was in for five hours.


i don't know. it's the beginning.
so i guess this is to be continued.
this week has been up and down, and all over (so i should probably take those meds seriously...haha.)
so. maybe. it will....i don't know what. start working for me? yeah. it will.

Finally.

I guess it's about time I update with my actual final concrete plans. I've been waiting to have this for a while--certainty.

I'm leaving at 9:10 a.m. Monday morning for Mirasol in Arizona. Lay over in Minneapolis. Arrive in Arizona at 1:35 p.m. I'm extremely nervous, anxious, and scared.  I have been crying for the majority of the week. Especially when I got the e-mail of my flight itinerary from my dad.

I can't stop thinking about the fact that I'm actually leaving.

This is always what you hear about in health class in middle school.
They teach you about consequences of behavior they believe to be dangerous.

They say that a sip of alcohol will make you addicted and you'll end up in rehab.
A hit of marijuana, and you'll end up in rehab.
One cigarette, and you'll get lung cancer.
Sex out of marriage, and you'll get pregnant.
Eating disorder, and you end up in a residential treatment center.

I was always afraid that was where I'd be. I was always afraid I'd get 'thrown in' a residential center.

I'm less afraid of it in the sense that it's punishment.
It's fear of letting it go, it's nervous fear.

I've done plenty of stalking of the website.
Plenty of judging the therapists by where they got their undergrads and doctorates.
I have the weekly schedule memorized, and I've watched the virtual tour so many times I definitely already know my way around.

The uncertainty of the other girls is what is tripping me up the most.
I know it will be fine. Becuase they'll understand me and they have all been in my position of the first day there before.

I'm afraid of after. If I waste all of the money and effort that's getting and keeping me there.
But I won't know until I try.
I won't know until I try wholeheartedly.

I really really really AM ready to get better. I'm ready to let go of the bullshit.
But I'm afraid because it is something I'll always have in the back of my mind. It will never simply 'go away'...it doesn't work like that.

I'm sad I'm missing the holidays. But there will be more.

I'm trying to be positive, and it's coming through a lot more right now than it has been lately.

Sigh. See you all in 47 days.

<3

lkjaslkfj

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