Yes, on Friday I graduated...the hospitalization program that is. I guess I'm cured, Forevermore I will never want to kill myself, burn myself, throw up my food, hide my food, restrict my food, dissociate, become a completely different woman, or deign the being of my existence.
So I've graduated. I was hoping for some words of wisdom or a little booklet telling me times of important meetings. All I got was a list of medications and told where to sign. It was so anti-climatic. I did cry, though. When it was time to say goodbye to my case manager the tears just started flowing. It felt good, but at that split second, I wanted to beg them to keep me.
I know the "apron" strings have to be cut sometime. No one ever feels ready to leave when they go. In fact, I was advocating, lets say rather strongly, to be discharged. I was no longer gleaning anything from the program. But I find myself on the other side of the locked hospital doors and I don't know what to do with myself.
It's almost a bit of shell shock.
I have appointments lined up. I'll see my therapist 3x this week; I have A.N.A.D. to go to on Wednesday. There's another group that meets on Tuesday. Hopefully I will see my dietician, although she's been flaking out on me and I'm not sure she really wants me as a client. I will see my psychiatrist in 2-3 weeks, if I choose to go back to him at all. I just feel the way he mismanagaed my prescriptions was improper and didn't always look out for my best interest. So, I might be shopping for a new psycho-iatrist.
I'm supposed to be gettting my hair slightly cut today. It's long, naturally curly, blond highlights, with some peek popped in there for fun. I don't plan on getting too much taken off, but I've had so many process treatments that the ends are really looking shabby. Nothing cheers me up more the getting my hair done or going to Sephora, the makeup store. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE that store. D. hates it because I drop more money than we have in that store, but WTF!
I've been so stressed out this weekend that I've been binging and not purging and I have the way I feel. I've already put a stop to it this weekend by have breakfast according to my meal plan. However, with the water park only a month from opening, it's a foregone conclusion that I will lose weight. I tell myself it won't be like before, but no one can be a functioning anorexic.
So now I'm trying to find something to fill my time up during the week other than working out. There's my therapy sessions. There's the Golden Girls. I've been to Hobby Lobby so many times just trying to find some inspiration but I don't know what project to take on. It is all so overwhelming.
I guess I could start with the science experiement growing in my kitchen sink, or the accumalating dog hair convening on my hardwood floors.
I guess I could apply for jobs but that terrifies me. They always ask questions I'm not available to answer: "Why did you leave your last job?", or "Where do you see yourself in five years?" I don't see myself in the next year, much less times five. I feel all that I'll be able to do is get a job that requires a paper hat and asking "May I take your order?"
So I have to go to plan B: B all that I can be, find my future in the army. Add music.
Happy graduation.
So I've graduated. I was hoping for some words of wisdom or a little booklet telling me times of important meetings. All I got was a list of medications and told where to sign. It was so anti-climatic. I did cry, though. When it was time to say goodbye to my case manager the tears just started flowing. It felt good, but at that split second, I wanted to beg them to keep me.
I know the "apron" strings have to be cut sometime. No one ever feels ready to leave when they go. In fact, I was advocating, lets say rather strongly, to be discharged. I was no longer gleaning anything from the program. But I find myself on the other side of the locked hospital doors and I don't know what to do with myself.
It's almost a bit of shell shock.
I have appointments lined up. I'll see my therapist 3x this week; I have A.N.A.D. to go to on Wednesday. There's another group that meets on Tuesday. Hopefully I will see my dietician, although she's been flaking out on me and I'm not sure she really wants me as a client. I will see my psychiatrist in 2-3 weeks, if I choose to go back to him at all. I just feel the way he mismanagaed my prescriptions was improper and didn't always look out for my best interest. So, I might be shopping for a new psycho-iatrist.
I'm supposed to be gettting my hair slightly cut today. It's long, naturally curly, blond highlights, with some peek popped in there for fun. I don't plan on getting too much taken off, but I've had so many process treatments that the ends are really looking shabby. Nothing cheers me up more the getting my hair done or going to Sephora, the makeup store. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE that store. D. hates it because I drop more money than we have in that store, but WTF!
I've been so stressed out this weekend that I've been binging and not purging and I have the way I feel. I've already put a stop to it this weekend by have breakfast according to my meal plan. However, with the water park only a month from opening, it's a foregone conclusion that I will lose weight. I tell myself it won't be like before, but no one can be a functioning anorexic.
So now I'm trying to find something to fill my time up during the week other than working out. There's my therapy sessions. There's the Golden Girls. I've been to Hobby Lobby so many times just trying to find some inspiration but I don't know what project to take on. It is all so overwhelming.
I guess I could start with the science experiement growing in my kitchen sink, or the accumalating dog hair convening on my hardwood floors.
I guess I could apply for jobs but that terrifies me. They always ask questions I'm not available to answer: "Why did you leave your last job?", or "Where do you see yourself in five years?" I don't see myself in the next year, much less times five. I feel all that I'll be able to do is get a job that requires a paper hat and asking "May I take your order?"
So I have to go to plan B: B all that I can be, find my future in the army. Add music.
Happy graduation.
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