So I’ve transitioned to outpatient. I met with my new outpatient therapist yesterday. I didn’t feel an instant connection with her, but I didn’t hate her, so that’s good at least.
The transition has been harder than I expected. I need to get into a better routine. I haven’t been eating consistently, and that’s been leading me to binge and purge a few times since I discharged. Today is the first time I ate breakfast in a while. My new therapist challenged me to set a schedule for my meals and to stick to it for the next week, so that’s what I’m going to try to do. Hopefully I can cut down on the binging and purging this way too.
Tomorrow I need to pack. Friday I’m going to Albuquerque for the weekend with my three brothers. We’re driving down Friday morning and driving back Sunday night. Luckily it’s not a long drive.
I got a phone call from a coworker wanting to catch up. We talked for a while. I opened up about why I’ve been absent. She asked how I’m doing now. I lied and said I’m getting better.
Yesterday I was able to some food. It was a small amount, measured and planned, thought out carefully for reintroducing my stomach to food.
While it was more like this:
It felt more like this:
Then, right before bed, I ate a bowl of cereal, and promptly purged it. This morning, I ate a very small amount of granola and yogurt. It’s not sitting well. I want to purge, but I’m trying to keep it in.
I’m going to try to eat a couple more times today. It’s not “meals” as defined by my meal plan, but at least it’s something.
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.