Daily Archives: May 26, 2014

Bread and butter

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Today hasn’t been great. I will tell more about it after the family “festivities” have ended. For now, I am eating bread and butter.

(My bread has no where near that much butter on it.)

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So that hurt. Ow.

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A sad, yet telling look into the mind of anorexia.

Right2Recover - Journey through the Trenches of ED Recovery

Just wrote this after I came back from an obsessive 11-mile jaunt that brutally mauled my hips. It’s about the repetitive thoughts churning about in my mind all of the time, which is why the title of the poem is a word not actually found in the work itself. It’s meant to be read in more of a spoken word style, but my parents are home, so there’s no way I’m recording this now.

Churning

While millions of Americans gorge on cheeseburgers,

I struggle to swallow a slice of cucumber.

While countless college kids order deep dish delivery,

I have nearly forgotten the taste of that horror.

While all too many fathers pat their distended bellies after a ‘good meal’,

I sit in silence clutching mine, hoping it doesn’t open its mouth and betray my hunger.

In front of the mirror, I recoil from the bod.. –

No. The ugly…

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Nope

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My appointment with my outpatient counselor didn’t go well.

Last week, I had told her that, because of my experience with the hospital this last time when I checked myself in for feeling suicidal, I would not tell anyone again.

Today, she basically said that she needed a commitment from me that I would tell her if I was feeling suicidal in order to work with me. I told her I guess we can’t work together.

So now it’s half past 9, we talked for 20 minutes and now it’s over and I’ve walked out of the center for the last time.

She mentioned that my insurance doesn’t want to pay for any more IOP, so outpatient is really my only option. I told her it was fine, I just won’t seek treatment right now.

I explained that outpatient just isn’t enough for me right now and that it just makes it harder. And since I can’t (won’t) commit to telling her when I’m feeling “unsafe” there’s no reason to continue. I left tge appointment early. We had talked the subject through and it was just getting awkward.

It was weird, leaving through those doors knowing I wouldn’t be back. I guess I had held onto a sliver of hope that somehow I could finish out the IOP. Now I know that hope is gone. Treatment for me is over. Officially, definitely, over.