If I Had a Million Dollars…

I posted this as my Facebook status earlier today, and it was actually really interesting to see the responses from my friends (the few who commented).  In all honesty, it was a thought I had as I was struggling through the afternoon, playing out the past few days and weeks and months in my head.  What would I do if money were no issue?  

What would I do if I could take months off work?

What would I do if I didn’t have to worry about paying my bills?

What would I do if I just didn’t have to worry about anything else in my life?

The answer, for me anyway, was simple.  I would go back to treatment.  In a heartbeat.  Tomorrow morning.

I wish I could do it.  I wish I could find a treatment center, and just go until the process is over.  I am failing miserably at doing it here.  I can’t focus on anything and I’m constantly acting on behaviours at one end of the spectrum or the other.  I spend more time than I’d like to admit in morbid fantasies in my head.  And I feel like it is never, ever, ever going to get better.

I feel hopeless.  Unfixable.  Worthless.  Wasting time and space that another human would be so much more worthy to occupy.  

So maybe, if I had a million dollars, I’d try treatment one more time.  Give myself the benefit of the doubt that all this is just part of being sick.  Believe for just a moment that this, too, shall pass.  

But I don’t have a million dollars.  

And I’m running low on hope.


12 thoughts on “If I Had a Million Dollars…

  1. I’m not sure how I came upon your blog but I’m here. I’ve been following for awhile. I agree, I’d probably pick treatment, REAL treatment also. It would be hard as hell but hopefully would get me to the point where I wasn’t afraid to actually live. Right now I’m terrified of making any potentially life-changing decisions for fear of not completing them or being able to live up to them because of the ed. It’s always interfering.

    Didn’t mean to go all into that but I want you to know that you’re definitely NOT ALONE. I’m in your corner, fighting right along with you.

  2. I like your answer. And I know there comes a point where you can’t do it on your own out-patient, where you need to go back somewhere where others can supervise you and take care of you – no matter how pathetic you might feel agreeing to such a thing. You are beautiful, Jess and I’m sorry I’m not a better friend sometimes. I feel so privileged to be your friend.

    • I feel privileged to be your friend, too, dear one. I am so glad you are in my life. And for the record, if I had a million dollars, you’d be coming to treatment right along with me. There is no one I would rather sing showtunes and play bananagrams with.

  3. Things probably seem pretty hopeless right now – but the fact that you can admit how bad things are, and that you would still be willing to put that money towards treatment, are really positive signs. It means that you haven’t given up on yourself, and that is an incredibly valuable mindset – hang onto it! You are worth another shot, even if that doesn’t involve an expensive inpatient stay.

    • Thanks, Kaylee. I feel like I’ve given it a million “shots” and get SO down on myself when I think of how much time and money have been “wasted” in the year and a half since I entered treatment. But I suppose as long as I’m around (aka alive) and have some small measure of hope, then that IS positive. :)

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