I didn't drop off the face of the planet

FYI...Long vent-y post. Just feeling a little frustrated and its a better idea to write all my frustrations out rather than stuff them, which is what I usually do.

Things have been kind of rough. And it doesn't help when some people aren't giving me constructive support *cough* Mom *cough*. Like, "well everyone gets depressed...that doesn't mean they decide they want to go and kill themselves...so you just need to learn how to deal with your issues better." Ya know...I never thought about that! Or wait...yes I have. *rolls eyes* But if it were that easy, believe you me, I would have had this fixed long ago. Same thing goes with the food. If I could 'just' eat...I WOULD.

Or just comments insinuating that I should be better by now and its a failure that I'm in treatment. Which doesn't help things at all cuz I already feel guilty about being there because I don't feel like i need it...and it isn't me saying that out of pride, I really don't think I'm sick enough to be there anymore. My weight is higher than ever, I'm eating, there are tons of people with more and worse problems. I don't even think I am in denial or that I am rationalizing things. I have been doing well food-wise, it is just emotion-wise...I kind of had a breakdown. Sure a lot of it had to do with food, not eating kept me numb and then now I have all these emotions I don't know how to deal with. But if I didn't do well at one meal, I was back on track the next one.

I know everyone I am in treatment with must think I am bulimic or a compulsive overeater. I can't even say how much I weigh now. When I came in I was 103. And you know what the sad thing is? I feel like I would be happier if I were that weight again. But when I was that weight, I hated myself, because treatment had made me get to that weight. I was convinced I would die if I got to 100 pounds, and 102 pounds was the dreaded 75% of my goal weight. When I was at that weight, I wanted to weigh 87 pounds again (I'm 5'8''ish). But when I was 87 lbs, I wanted to be 75 lbs. I hate this stupid disease!!!

I'm also so sick of comments asking me why or criticizing me for wanting to run away from treatment.

Lol...but speaking of that, Tina, my individual therapist from there said that if she gave me a penny for every time I said to her that I wanted to run away, she thought I wouldn't need insurance to pay for all this. Which is saying a lot haha...one day there is like $1,500. She is a nice therapist...but thats about all. Last week I was really pissed off for some reasons and she asked me "Are you angry?" I said "Yeah," but the whole time I was staring at an electrical socket for at least 5 minutes waiting for her to actually say something. And considering sessions are like 40 minutes long...

Anyways I realllllllllllllllly miss my T. Like I said...Tina is nice, but sessions don't really compare. Idk, I feel like I can say pretty much anything to my T; and I mean thats really significant for me. Trust...its always been a no-no, so to be able to say what I am thinking and not being (very) worried she will be like 'WTF?' is amazing. So I end up blurting out random things I am thinking about and usually end up ratting on myself if I do something I am not supposed to. Lol. I guess it just really sucks having things I feel like I have to keep inside and never say aloud ever. Maybe its my way of checking to make sure I am still 'ok.' Maybe I do know that saying what I think she wants to hear isn't helping me at all and it wastes both hers and my time. Maybe I should stop psychoanalyzing myself haha.

But seriously, this is the first T that I actually tell whats going on, good or bad. But she's earned that right. My first T...well she told me that I was going to die if I didn't go back into the hospital and couldn't see me anymore. She yelled at me more than once and made me cry (but that really isn't saying much, N asks me every week if I cried in therapy. The answer is always a resounding yes).

Though it really bugs me b/c I really have NO idea what she is really thinking about everything I tell her, I am really worried she thinks I'm crazy. I mean I told her this and she asked if I wanted to ask her what she thought and she said she didn't think I was crazy, but I mean, seriously like she is going to say, "Yeah sometimes I think you are totally mental and wonder why I took you as a patient." I guess maybe I care too much about what others are thinking about me. Am I justified in that though? Probably not, it is most likely transference. But what if it isn't?

I guess I just don't know why I'm there right now; how the treatment is different than previous ones, how it will help me. All I am doing is gaining weight it seems. Plus all we do it seems is eat, sleep, and poop (TMI? lol). At least on weekends anyways. The groups we have are all good, but I've heard most everything a bajillion times. My clothes aren't fitting anymore. And my depression is a little better, but it hasn't gotten too much better. And I'm not too fond of the idea of having to take medicine if I'm really anxious and wanting to SI, cuz all that does is make me tired. But I don't actually have a choice. One of the down-sides to being in a mental institution is my doctor has the power to say (insert polish accent), "Well if you are asked to take your Seroquel because your anxiety is too high but won't, we will have to give you an injection of Haldol." Sooooooooo no shot in the butt for Megan.

And Dr. C is really getting on my nerves. To say the least. Not only does he say every morning *insert polish accent; "So Megan, whats new in your life?" (Nothing you freaking moron! I'm stuck in a friggin' hospital for crying out loud!) "Are you glad to be alive or would you rather be dead?" (I don't know.) "What if I don't know answer did not exist?"

So now he wouldn't let me go to the bridal shower, he wouldn't let me get off early on New Years Eve and I had to be there New Years day and now he doesn't want me to go to the wedding rehearsal (I'm going either way...shhh it's a secret...) and getting off for the wedding (I am one of three bridesmaids...and the ONLY one not related to the bride or groom) is contingent on me 'making weight' tomorrow and Friday. I'm sick of putting my life on hold. I mean he wont listen.

I asked to get off just a few hours early. I said I would leave after supplements, and he could meet my mom in the waiting room to make sure I didn't do anything, and he could call my friend and ask her what I ate. I followed the stupid contract he made me sign. But noooooooooooooooooooo, that isn't their policy. But plenty of his other patients get to go home early!! WTF??? I am seething right now.

On a brighter note...I've been having fun with my PHP self-evaluation sheets. All my answers are so boring, so I decided to be more creative. And as a result I got a drug test yesterday...LOL.

Any thoughts that worry you? "I don't know how many licks it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Roll Pop."

Any community issues? "There are zombies under my bed and I think they're gonna get me!" <--A nurse actually asked me, "Do you really think there are zombies under your bed?" LMAO

What did you do last night? "Licked a sparkplug, sniffed a stinkbug and painted daisies on a bright red rubber ball" (Its from a song)

What are your goals for treatment today? "To fight the war against plaque."

Well at least I thought it was funny. I am so incorrigible though. It gives me something to do during the 45 minute ride in.