Slipping by and away

I can barely speak the disgust in which I feel towards myself. It does no good to berate myself over my eating. I've been restricting lately, but that is not the reason I'm upset. My husband, D., has been getting suspicous since coming home from treatment and so I hate some cookies today that I normally would not have. The thoughts of guilt and fat just churned inside my mind over and over and over. I felt so guilty I had to was it away through purging, so I ate some icecream and more cookies in front of him. To be blunt for the reader's sake, I also took food into the bathroom of which he does not know and sat on the bathroom floor and ate it so I could throw up more easily.

Now my throat is raw, I have no energy, and I feel ill. I feel like I'm headed to the condition in which I was in before I entered treatment. I've always told D. that my suicide would not be impulsive. It would be a well thought out decision. I'm not claiming I'm suicidal right now because I'M NOT!!! All I'm saying is that there are certain behaviors being undertaken and it is leading down a road that has a logical and rational and justified conclusion.

I'm disappointed that I'm not interacting much with my other members. Emily came out today. She makes me sleepy and as D. was driving us to therapy she swallowed me and I became so sleepy and fatigued. I dialogued internally with her and she backed off. But other than that, we really aren't talking. It's so much harder to be focused on recovery outside of treatment. I'm disappointed the IOP fell through. It would have been a difference, I do believe.

I've been out looking for other blogs by people with eating disorders or dissociative disorders and the screem starts to swim. I know of Something-Fishy (who doesn't know of them) and I've gathered some ideas for how to spend my time now that I'm out of work, out of school, and mostly out of options. Next week I start completely on my own and I worry for myself. If I can restrict and binge and purge with my husband by side 24/7, what can I get away with when he goes back to work?


I know it's not about the food. I know what it's about. I just can't look at it anymore. The transition from residential treatment to home is a bitter one. I'm starting to feel a little hopeless. Fuck. It's not about the food.

Itchy brain

My eyes hurt. There is a lot of activity in my head tonight. I wish I could just get real with it. But it seems that I just want to push it away with tranqs and analgesics instead of dealing with what lies beneath.

I fear that this post will be a toasted, scrambled rambling collection of disparate words.

I can't say anything other than how much I hate myself and I hate my husband and how badly and deeply and quickly it is falling apart. Okay, we've been out of treatment for ONE week and the m*fer is already asking about sex. I hate myself if I do, I hate myself if I don't. One is taking care of ourselves and one is punishment. I throw my hands in the air with a side-kick. Send it to hell...express.

my brain hurts

we cut last night. nothing big. but we bought the littles a gift, some kind of magnetic dress up dolls. eveything was going okay until then, but for some reason it offset the system. we wrote about it in the journal and i don't know what was written but it was significant. bottom line, we were in a state of hysteria. we just cut the tiniest little bit. but buying the doll set really had a huge impact on the system. so we've put off opening the littles the gifts until the older ones can reconcile it with themselves that it's okay for anyone who wants to can play with the dolls. but we were a mess.

doesn't it always start out that way...with the smallest lapse?

i always end up here.

we were able to dialogue with some members and that was spectacular because we hadn't dialogued since being discharged from treatment. i know where the f*ing Barbie house went. But that's my little secret.

i wish this could be easier for you, readers. I wish I could type out our story and make it comprehendable and connective; it's not that there is no wish to, but we have to keep in mind that we are just trying to jot down the random bits of information in our life so that hopefully if you or a loved one has a dissociative disorder you will know what they are going through. I don't have the necessary man power to keep the brain functional and write coherently.

the husband and i are fighting more. i'm getting really tired of his attitude regarding my behavior since returning from treatment. they are always going to imagine the worst, even if there is no cause for alarm. could i be doing better? sure.

but cut me some slack, jack.
we just got back.

my brain hurts.

What the fuck?

So here I am, at home, away from residential treatment, away from all support, so it seems. Yesterday, I saw the first person who is supposed to be on my treatment team and her reaction when she saw me was how great, strong, and healthy I look. What the fuck?

All she had to do was go to About.com and read under "What Not to Do" that you never comment on appearance. Fatal mistake.

To anyone with an eating disorder those words translate to mean one thing: I look fat.

I couldn't believe her. What was she thinking? I'm still livid. To all the readers who have loved ones who are recovering from any type of eating disorder, do not ever tell them they are looking healthy or happy or strong or better. It translates to one thing in the mind of someone with an eating disorder: FAT!!!!! She should know better. It only makes me feel so much guiltier for eating food.

So all the plans that were supposed to materialize for my aftercare have disintegrated. Maybe that's just pessimistic thinking. Fuck it. The IOP that I was to attend does not have enough members committed so they are offering me a hospital type setting for an IOP. Hell to the NO!!!!! First of all, I can get away with much more in an IOP outside of a hospital. They are seriously mistaken if they think I'm not going to lose weight, and I know what a hospital type IOP will lead to. The IOP will become a Partial Hospitalization Program which will become inpatient treatment which will turn me right back to residential treatment...not that I didn't love Yoda (my name for the all-wise therapist).

I am so pissed off!