Daily Archives: June 4, 2014

Guess what I found in the toilet?


That’s right, the potassium pills they gave me at the ER yesterday. Intact enough for me to read them.

I’m sure they did me a TON of good…


What a day


After sleeping all day yesterday, I still managed to sleep all night. I guess that’s what happens after hardly sleeping for a week.

I woke up this morning and went to the doctor for get medical clearance to do the partial hospitalization program. I was there for about 3 hours. (It involved blood work, a physical, urine test, orthostatics, etc.)

After that, I went over to my brothers’ where I was going to babysit my 4 month twin niece and nephew. Before they arrived, I had an intake eval with the eating disorder center over the phone. (I was supposed to have it this morning, but needed to go to the doctor for clearance and didn’t have time to get down there and back to my brothers’ between, so she suggested doing it on the phone.)

It went well. We mostly talked about how I’m doing with behaviors lately and what’s changed since being in the IOP. I told her my doctor is sending them a letter stating that she feels this is medically necessary. She said that after talking with the treatment team, they want me stay in their housing.

This would mean that instead of coming home in the evenings and going back every morning, I would be staying in their housing whenever I’m not in the program. This would be good for extra accountability and support, but I’m still nervous.

Because they want me to stay in the house, I have to wait to start PHP until they have a bed available. This means I won’t be starting until next week, or maybe the week after. I’m anxious about trying to hold on that long. I’m physically and mentally exhausted.

After talking with her, my mom surprised me with lunch. I freaked out (internally) but just planned to eat it and purged. However, just as I was finishing it up, my sister showed up with the babies. I wasn’t going to leave two 4-month old babies alone while I went to purge.

Luckily, I was so busy taking care of them and loving on them (and taking pictures of their beautiful faces) that I didn’t have much time to think about the food sitting in my stomach.

At one point, my nephew was sleeping and I had just gotten my niece to sleep. She was resting in my arms, head lying on my shoulder, and the sweet peacefulness of that moment just made my heart so glad. I don’t know when I last felt so happy.

I took care of them until 6:30pm, then went home. On the way home, it finally hit me what I’d done. I began to cry and dig my nails into my arms. I had a full out panic attack.

The first thing I did when I got home was to take laxatives and diet pills. Then I drank as much water as I could tolerate. I was very dehydrated. I had pinched my skin on the way home and it had stayed wrinkled up like that. My urine (which I realized when I got home, I had only gone once today, which was at the doctor’s office, which I forced) was dark. So I made myself drink.

Now I’m watching Netflix with my mom. I’m hoping to get up the energy to work out before bed, especially since I didn’t do anything yesterday.

In the morning, I go in for x-rays to find out whether I have Rhuematoid Arthritis.

I miss you, and I feel selfish


Today is the birthday of a friend. The first birthday since she died.

She died in September. She died when her heart stopped.

She was bulimic.

We were roommates.

Tears keep coming, but I won’t let myself cry.

I miss you.

Your death reminds me of my own mortality. It scares me. Especially after my visit to the ER. This makes me feel selfish because I feel like I should be thinking of you today, but I keep thinking of myself.

I can’t go on facebook right now. All our mutual friends are posting pictures and birthday wishes. I can’t see them, it hurts too much. I can’t look at your face.

I can’t think of how you died, and I don’t want to be reminded of what I’m doing to myself. I feel like I’m letting you down. We went to treatment together and we were going to fight this together, but now you’re gone and I am still struggling.

My cheeks are wet. My throat is tight.

Tomorrow I can forget.