I have an assessment tomorrow at noon with an eating disorder treatment facility in California. Part of me thinks I’m insane for even considering treatment again, especially since in my current state (restricting, making medicines ineffective), I’m pretty sure this whole thing is going to end with me in a body bag one way or another. (I mean, if we’re being honest, isn’t that how everyone’s story ends?) At any rate, I guess I’m doing this and I guess it’s a good thing?
I am finding it difficult to believe that I need to go back to treatment, even though it’s so blatantly obvious to everyone around me. My behaviours and thoughts are the worst they’ve been in over a year and I’m steadily dropping weight. My self-harm urges are through the roof, and I’m convinced the only reason I haven’t acted on them is because I’m currently on time off and able to drink myself into oblivion. Lord only knows how things will go when I’m back to work on Friday morning.
Speaking of, work is a total clusterf**k. I don’t even have the energy to explain all the drama, but suffice it to say that my job is being made infinitely more difficult by things coworkers are doing and saying. The boys are being disrespectful past the point that I can handle and I had to step away from the group and bawled behind the shower house on Sunday, and all the while the kid who called me a “f**king b*tch” was laughing and telling me how he was going to get me fired and he was glad I was crying. Awesome.
This post doesn’t even make sense. Welcome to my world. My brain is fried.