Easter is just a sick joke to you

I was having a hard time today because it’s Easter and just on the other side of town my family got together for church and a picnic with games while I am stuck here in treatment. It wouldn’t hurt so much, maybe, if I were out of the state, but having them so close yet unavailable was hard.

Then, we took an outing to a park after lunch. Not the same park my family was at, but the park my family always went to while my grandparents were alive. The park that holds so many memories of them and memories of my late sister. And here I was, without my grandparents, without my sister, and without my family. I cried most of the time we were at the park.

After the park was a snack challenge. Because taking a van full of eating disordered people to panera and watching them cry on a holiday is someone’s idea of fun.

It’s been a long, hard day. I’m ready for it to be over. I’m ready to go home and binge and purge. I’m ready to quit treatment. 

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The Waiting Game

So I got my call from the eating disorder center.

They say I won’t be admitted until probably the first week of July.

I barely managed to get through the call. As soon as I hung up, I started crying. More like sobbing.

I barely feel like I’m hanging on right now, and waiting 3 more weeks seems like an eternity.

She said that I may need to be hospitalized between now and admission if things don’t improve, and is going to talk to my case worker with the county behavioral health center.

I feel like giving up.

When you stop caring

I just walked out of treatment. I have no idea what this means for me or recovering or really anything at all. Right now, I just don’t care.