Thursday, July 20, 2017

Awkward night with my parents

So I don't remember what I said about how earlier this week I admitted via text that I was struggling. I did, so I knew that I needed to explain tonight.

But OK let me explain exactly as awkward it went. I got there and when they got home kept waiting for them to ask. I just don't know how to do that without being asked. We made small talk. We talked about restaurants and I brought up how my car air conditioning has been acting weird (like only blowing warm air when stopped). I really wasn't feeling well. I spent the morning in bed and hadn't eaten very much. We finally pick a place for dinner.

We got there and were the only customers in the restaurant. That means you always get watched by the staff, which makes both me and my mom anxious. I order and because I am trying to be vegetarian again, I ordered something with tofu. I am the unlucky vegetarian who has texture issues with tofu. Soft tofu makes me nauseous. I can eat it if it's fried and firm. This unfortunately ended up being really gross to me. While I am trying to eat it to look normal in front of my parents and not say I didn't like it in front of the employees who were all looking. I finally give up and try to pick out vegetables and noodles and indirectly say the tofu wasn't good. I do this while awkwardly talking about how I am doing. I admitted to not leaving the apartment and not eating anything but granola bars and popsicles. I talked about my therapist wanting to talk to them. I didn't actually say it's because she feels ethically obligated to tell them I am drinking myself to death. I mentioned treatment and we briefly talked about what happened with rehab and how none of us really was told anything at all. I am glad they did seem to agree about how they were wrong to just drop off my suitcase and not explain.

My mom did say some understanding things, which were basically that I have to set a time to get out of bed and get dressed everyday. That she knows it is easy to want to sleep all day otherwise. I also asked them to take me grocery shopping because I am really struggling with being in public. Well, I asked before the food really made me feel sick, but I went because I really have been struggling with it.

We get there, and I have no idea what to buy. It has been so long since I ate normally. She kept asking me things and saying I need protein and she doesn't want me eating the same thing every meal. Repetition is comfortable to me, although I know I should be eating better. I finally ended up with powerade, cereal, granola bars, mini bagels (which are admittedly an eating disorder food that I lived on in college), and some frozen meals. Now we will just see if I can actually eat these or the food will just remain unopened. I do wonder if my unbalanced diet has been causing my weakness and exhaustion.

The main highlight of the evening is that my car seems to be fine now? I have no idea how or what was wrong. I just know that it has been hot as hell here lately, so I really didn't want to end up with no AC. Just hoping it stays that way because I probably can't afford repairs

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Seriously scared

So I really don't know what's going on. I am not able to drink enough to sleep. I am not able to be sober enough to function. I don't remember telling my parents I would come over today, but I got a text at 5ish asking if I was coming. I didn't know what to say. I only said that I wasn't doing well and not able to function. He said they wanted to have me there because they couldn't do much with me here. That was about how honest I could be. I said that I couldn't remember that I was going anywhere today. I would come Thursday and try to explain. I tried to word the texts to give the impression I am very sorry and just not functioning. I said in my last post that my therapist was going to call if I didn't say I was basically drinking myself to death. I may have to tell them Thursday because I don't know how else to explain that I honestly don't remember saying I would be there tonight. I said I didn't remember I was leaving my apartment today. I think my messages were vague but enough to imply that I am not well. My dad said they understand, which gives the idea they know that I am unwell. I think neither of us know what to do, so I think I have to discuss this before I have therapy. That's terrifying, but so is laying in bed drunk because I am not sober enough to function but not drunk enough to sleep.

Monday, July 17, 2017

Not meant to be

This past week I have spent mostly drunk and blacked out. I got a phone call and checked my call history to see if they had called before. I then found out I called my psychiatrist at 8:57pm and 8:58pm Friday night. I don't have any memory of it. I don't know why I would have done that. I don't know if I left a message.

I am surprisingly tired for someone who has barely gotten out of bed for days. I almost cancelled therapy because taking a shower was exhausting. I honestly think something might be wrong with me. I am tired. My chest/abdomen was hurting earlier. I don't know if it's because I am living off vodka, Gatorade, and popsicles, or I might have something wrong.

Therapy was.. hard. Particularly hard. I was honest. I admitted that I feel hopeless. I admitted that I have started to think I am defective. That normal people don't spend so much time in treatment. They don't find life so unbearable that she has to drink to not be suicidal when nothing that bad has ever happened to them. It can't be my family because my brother turned out relatively normal. Except she pointed out that he was always loud about his anger. I kept all my feelings quiet. I never felt normal. I remember being sad or anxious or convinced I didn't belong from a young age. I always felt something was wrong with me and that I had to work to get people to like me.

I think I know that I am much sicker than I ever thought. I have always thought that I would never live this long. I always knew that I wasn't cut out for life. I was terrified of the idea of living to 80 or 90. Most people want a long life. I stayed alive for other people. I stayed alive because my parents don't need to know they made a defective child. They didn't deserve me. They didn't do anything to me to fuck me up. I have heard that losing a child is the worst thing that could happen to a parent, and they don't deserve that.

I don't know how to explain this to them. I don't know how to tell them that their daughter is this crazy. I lie to them by default because they thought (or pretended) I was normal, and I need to be normal. Yet now my therapist has decided that she is ethically obligated to talk to them. She says that I am slowly killing myself, and she has to tell someone. Now I either have to tell them or she will call them when I see her next week. She says that I need treatment. That I need to go somewhere that can handle dual diagnoses. She is upset that Dove Tree didn't tell her or me that I was being discharged. They took me to a 24 hour facility 7 hours away from home and gave me no other options. Of course I wanted to be closer to home. I was terrified and alone and unprepared and 24 hours after trying to hang myself with a shoelace not prepared for sobriety.

I don't know what will happen now. I seriously doubt that I am able to find and keep a job. I don't have the money to support myself through more than next month. I would need 2 months notice to move out of my place. I don't know if I have the energy enough to clean and pack anyway. I honestly don't care about my stuff except the cats who seem to still love me despite living in this hell. Or I can choose death. I keep thinking of what to do with the cats. How do I make sure they survive. I know my thinking is fucked when I start thinking of dropping them off at my parents and wondering how to make sure people (friends, therapist, etc) know I am dead. I wish I could just drop off the cats with a note to not go in my apartment and be done. I wish I could explain that there is just something wrong with me, and I wasn't meant to live. I wish they would understand that it's not anyone's fault. I am just defective, and I have been fighting for years to live. Maybe that means I shouldn't.

I am doing my best to keep going because I know my family will never understand that. They will blame themselves. They will try to see where they went wrong. They will hurt. I would rather be the one hurting. I can't be the one hurting others. They will be left hurting, and I won't be at all. There is just something that goes against nature to choose the possibility of not existing. I may believe in God, but I know that I might be wrong. Eternity has always scared me, but I also know it isn't natural to do something and risk not existing at all.

I am rambling. I am tired. I am scared. I am fighting that urge to say fuck everyone else because I am not able to function. Instead I am drunk because I am so fucked up that consciousness is too hard. At least when I am drunk, killing myself is too much effort. I would rather stay in bed. I am not imagining this conversation with my parents is going to be pleasant, but I will need to know if they can help me with money. I also just hope that I can try to explain that I really can't function. I am not just choosing to drink. I am actually so crazy that I can either drink (or cut or purge) or be suicidal. They didn't make me crazy, but I also didn't choose to be crazy. I have kept myself alive for 30 years when I remember being suicidal at 12. I guess that also probably means I can do it a bit longer.

Sorry for so much depressing talk. I don't have anyone else to talk to and feel like I shouldn't keep this shit in my head.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Lost day

I am no stranger to blacking out. It just hasn't happened in quite a while.. until yesterday. I know I started drinking early. I don't think I left my apartment. I really don't remember much of anything that I did. I checked my phone to see if I texted anyone. I had 3 emails from my mom that I hadn't read. I can remember Sunday, but yesterday is a blank. My only clear memory is waking up to sheets covered in vomit, showering, changing the sheets, and going back to sleep. I also set my alarm for a couple hours before I needed to get up, so today didn't start well.

I had therapy this morning, and I was already feeling off. I couldn't bring myself to explain that I couldn't remember what happened yesterday because it seemed really pathetic that I have been back in my apartment since Sunday and I am back to blacking out. My therapist is already bringing up rehab, but I need to somehow get my shit together and find a job.

I went to my parent's house after that. I had lunch with my mom and brother, then we saw a movie and had dinner. I barely ate dinner because my stomach was not too happy. I also was shaking a bit today.

I am home now. I brought my cats back to my apartment. I feel bad taking them back to the mess that is my apartment, but Nermal at least seems happy to cuddle.

I am doing therapy twice a week now. I am hoping I can do more than stare at the floor and try to piece together memories of the past few days when I go Thursday. Tomorrow I need to manage to buy some groceries and try to do something productive.

Thursday, July 6, 2017

Home again

So I am home again after 9 days inpatient. It was kind of a frustrating stay. I went in and did the assessment not knowing if they would admit me since I was not at the time suicidal. The person doing the assessment didn't hesitate about saying I need inpatient.

Not going to lie, but I told both my therapist and psychiatrist that I didn't think I needed to be there. My therapist showed me my treatment plan which estimated my discharge date as July 8th or 9th, and I got really upset. I finally had to request to talk to her individually to explain my logic about wanting to go home. I basically said that the things I need to talk about (my job, what happened with rehab, my plans for after this) were too complicated to explain in the few minutes I get in group. I didn't want to try to explain to strangers and start talking about something and thinking about something I wouldn't have time to really process. She was reasonable once I said that. I have trust issues, and my therapist says I can usually tell from the start of someone can be trusted. I didn't trust her.

I ended up being right because there was at least once during my family session she said something I don't think she had a right to say, like asking why I thought I didn't need to be there. My expectation is that what is said in group stays there unless I give her permission to tell my parents. I should never have agreed to the family session.

My parents went on about needing boundaries with me and me needing to be independent. It is not my responsibility to set their boundaries, and I pay my own rent and bills. The most I really ask is if they can give me a ride to the hospital. They can say no.

They brought up me being dishonest and not trustworthy. They mentioned not being able to ask questions without me thinking they're being intrusive. I never said that. I mentioned having reasons not to talk to them. I can't fix what I have done. All I can say is that I will try to act differently. Me sitting and apologizing won't work.

My mom brought up me coming to their house and knowing I had been drinking and their fear about me driving drunk. I awkwardly defended myself by saying I don't drink before driving there. I drink when I get there. Then my dad said they worry about me leaving and being drunk. I gave up because I was not going into detail about how much I drank and knowing how much would metabolize while there. I also was not going to explain that driving in withdrawal isn't safe either because then they would guilt me for that.

Then my therapist did what they always do and asked them if they had gotten counselling. My mom says my dad doesn't like the idea. I really have no desire to do family therapy with them until they get help or show some initiative by seeing a therapist or going to AL Anon. I can't teach them boundaries or communication or maybe not blaming me for my problems and for relapses. My dad even said he thinks relapse is a choice, which is bullshit.

So basically it went as expected.

My depression is better. I think the medication is working. I did admittedly relapse with the eating disorder while there. 4 out of 9 days I ate nothing (not consecutive) and in between there were a couple days where I purged all meals. I was honest about it.

I don't know what will happen now. I am going back to my apartment either tomorrow or Saturday. My roommate inpatient asked the other day if I would stay sober. I said I didn't know. She's like "but you said you were an alcoholic. That's what alcoholics have to do, not drink". I explained that I wasn't there for alcoholism. I was there because I tried to hang myself with a shoelace, which despite what I said the rehab people considered a suicide attempt. She laughed and then apologized. I was fine with it. I have gotten a variety of responses to my attempt to explain that I wasn't trying to kill myself. I admit that while I still believe this, but logically can see that really it was still not sane behavior.

I don't really know about sobriety. I want to drink again. I even fantasized about getting a hotel room and having a clean, relaxing place to binge drink and eat for a couple days. Like a vacation. I intend to go back to AA, but I don't know that I want to be sober.

I am happy to be out, but I am still not letting myself think too much about the future. I need some time. I did start new anxiety medicine after freaking out during group. Basically a patient was being disruptive, and the tech leading group raised his voice at her and lectured us about not letting other people affect our treatment. I don't do conflict or loud noise. I ended up leaving and sitting on the floor of my bathroom with my fingers in my ears because I could still here him and crying. I finally calmed down when he stopped talking and sat crying on my bed. It was a mess, so the next day I asked my doctor to change my anxiety medicine. He added one more medication today despite my protest about not wanting to be on too many medications. I finally agreed to try it. We'll see.

I am also happy to sleep in a normal bed tonight. The last several days my joints and back have been hurting. My feet hurt from the shoes I war and how I insist on sitting with my legs crossed (I don't know the politically correct term for what they used to call indian style) even though it makes one foot fall asleep and the other hurt terribly. It's really stupid. I also had headaches that were mainly the result of either hunger or purging. So basically I need sleep.

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

"I hope you don't kill yourself"

Well, I am back at my parents house. I am still unsure what I am doing. They still haven't really said anything about me getting kicked out of rehab. My mom doesn't seem obviously angry, so I am hoping they understand that I was kicked out for depression not for being stubborn or non compliant.

I called another rehab yesterday. The person on the phone said that insurance is not likely to pay for residential since I am sober, but I set up the assessment.

I went today. I initially didn't mention last week's behavior when asked about suicide attempts. I just mentioned the thoughts. I finally at least mentioned the shoelace. I didn't mention the belt. The counselor said he would recommend residential, but that he needed to talk to his supervisor based on the recent suicidal thoughts.

He came back and said because of the eating disorder and suicidal thoughts he would have to recommend a different facility. He said insurance may not cover any chemical dependency program because I am 13 days sober. He said the other option is a psychiatric hospital I have been to several times. Then he said "I hope you don't kill yourself" and I must have some purpose in the world or something like that.

Is it just me or is "I hope you don't kill yourself" a weird thing to say to someone after turning them away from a treatment center?

So I guess tomorrow I will try the other place. I honestly don't want to go back there. It's the place where I managed to self harm quite a bit, but I have some bad memory associated with every psych ward at this point. I just don't think my parents will let me go home without going somewhere.

The thing that bothers me is that I am not suicidal now. I don't know if I need inpatient. I might end up that way if I go home. I might drink if I go home. But right now I am ok. So I feel ridiculous going inpatient. I guess I will see what they say. I mean so far nobody seems too convinced by my "I wasn't trying to die" defense for last week's behavior.

So tomorrow I will re-pack my bag with psych ward appropriate clothes and call the facility. It's also the place where the cafeteria woman kept giving me grief about how the dietitian (who I never spoke to) didn't put in my chart that I was vegetarian and acting like I was trying to pull something. I stopped going to meals eventually. Hopefully, she doesn't still work there. I probably won't update if I get admitted. I will if I don't.

Sunday, June 25, 2017

Belts and shoelaces

I have had an eventful week. Not in a good way..
So I went to detox June 13th. The detox unit had no therapy and no psychiatrist. Basically we sat around watching TV or in my case reading in my bedroom. The depression was terrible. The eating disorder was terrible. I was there 6 days.

Monday, I got to residential. It was overwhelming from the moment I arrived. I was already having suicidal thoughts at detox. There they removed anything with cords from the room after I mentioned considering strangling myself. My roommate convinced me to tell someone at residential I was still suicidal. I talked to a counselor and he ended up sending me to this 24 hour observation unit, where you basically sit in a recliner in a room where nurses watch you. Then you talk to a psychiatrist via video/phone/Skype like whatever. He put me on Zoloft.

I went back to residential. I really did my best to be honest and do what I was told. The depression and suicidal thoughts kept getting worse. I started obsessing over ways to do it. I had no intention of dying. I just wanted to know what would work.

Wednesday, I tried to choke myself with a belt. I decided that I couldn't pull it tight enough. I told my counselor and had to sign a contract saying I wouldn't try to kill myself.

Thursday, I figured out a way to hang myself with the belt. I told some other patients who insisted I talk to staff. I did have to talk to the on call counselor. He believed that I didn't really intend to kill myself.

Friday, I did my best to not be alone.

Saturday, I spent a couple hours just lying in bed unable to nap. The thoughts wouldn't go away. This time I tried using a shoelace. Unfortunately, it tightened faster than expected and left an obvious mark on my neck. My roommate saw and said if I didn't tell, she would.

Well, I was sent for observation again. This time I was told that I would have to convince the team that I would do things differently if allowed back. I called today and nobody bothered to call back even though they said they would. However, they dropped off my suitcase with all my stuff, which I took to mean that I wasn't going back.

I called my parents to see if they would come get me. I know that I need either residential or inpatient, but I would rather go closer to home and not 7 hours away. I spent the day reading and waiting.

My parents haven't really said anything since they picked me up. I know the ranch called them. On the phone, my mom said they told them that I shouldn't go home or stay with them. They said I need residential. If it comes up, I plan to explain that I did what I was told, I complied with my meds, I went to group, so it is not my fault that my depression got so bad that the suicidal thoughts were constant.

I don't know the plan. I can try another rehab, but after what they may view as 3 suicide attempts (although I argue that they were just an experiment) in a week, I am not sure they will take me. I am considering a psych ward to get the depression under control. I would rather do that and then AA. My parents may not agree, but it's my life.

I may or may not write again before I go. We are staying in the town where I was in treatment and driving home tomorrow. That gives me time to think it over.

12 days sober though