The last time you heard from me, I was in an outpatient program for an eating disorder. Well that didn’t last too long.
After a few weeks of this specific program, my counselor, given to me by the program, brought my mother and me into her office for a meeting about my progress. She ambushed us. Saying things about how because I wasn’t eating all of the food required by the program every day, I needed to move to an all-day program. HECK NO. Well, neither me nor my mother wanted that. So we promised I would eat everything that they required. By 5 o’clock the next day I was so extremely full I felt like I was going to puke. I had only eaten breakfast and lunch. There was no way I was going to eat dinner. We decided that this program was not good for me anymore.
So there’s that.
Now, my psychiatrist is trying to lower my anti-psychotic. It’s kind of scary because I’ve had to up my dose from what it was lowered to because I was getting easily irritated with my family. Whether that was the medicine or the vacation we were just on, who knows. I hope that I can get my medication back in order before I head back to school. Which is 3 and a half days away.
Last Sunday, I was baptized. I also renewed my virginity. The ironic thing is, I haven’t had a period in two months. I had sex about two months and two weeks ago. Now my mother thinks I’m pregnant. Great.
I have withdraw from my university for the rest of the semester.
I am now living with my parents.
I try to sleep in a twin-sized bed every night, but I fail.
My medicines are being adjusted weekly to keep me stable.
I want to die on a daily basis.
Nothing is happening.
Nothing will happen.
I’m just done.
YES, FOUR breakdowns today.
Everything is becoming too much to handle.
I am an assistant stage manager for a show at my university. We open tomorrow night so for the past week we have had rehearsal from 6pm-11pm every night. The show AND homework AND depression AND attempting to have a social life is going to be the death of me.
My breakdowns started when I realized I am paying over $30,000 a semester to be physically, mentally, and emotionally drained for a grade. For real.
1st breakdown was in class.
2nd breakdown was on my drive home from campus.
3rd breakdown was in my room.
4th breakdown was in my room on the phone with my mom.
My mom mentioned that it would be okay if I needed to come home. When I think about taking the rest of the semester off, I have many mixed feelings.
Part of me wants to have some time at home to relax and rejuvenate. To get in a better place.
Part of me does NOT want to leave because I’m afraid if I leave, I will never go back.
If I never go back, what will I do with my life?
I don’t want to be one of those drop-outs that lives with her parents and works at Chick-Fil-A until she’s 30.
I CAN’T be like that.
I just can’t.
I woke up numb.
I felt like something was off, like my body had been invaded, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on what it could be.
My medication is stronger than I’ve ever had. That scares me.
I wonder why I have these habits that make me ignore my own recovery…probably because the voices don’t have anything better to do than bother me.
They don’t want me to recover. They don’t want to go away.
They will always be in my mind. Hurting me. I will never truly be alone.