Looks like SP probably won’t have a spot for me until the end of next week, possibly the week after next. This is so frustrating. I know they can’t know for sure when they’ll have a bed available, but I feel like they’re just stringing me along. It’s been three weeks now of “We’ll have a spot next week.” Meanwhile, my whole life is on hold. I only buy a few days worth of food at a time, and I’m coming up with lies to tell my chiropractor and my kung fu teacher about why I’ll be disappearing for weeks.
I’m also told by their admissions person that I won’t have access to my cell phone or laptop. However, I’ve heard anecdotally from two people who’ve been there that patients were allowed to have computers. I’ll take mine, but who knows if they’ll let me keep it. If you want the address or phone number to contact me while I’m there, email me or leave a comment and I’ll email you.
I will say A is growing on me as a therapist. She doesn’t always quite get me, but she’s stopped treating me like I’m oh-so-fascinating. And she doesn’t get offended when I correct her assumptions/understanding of me. I also think she’s finally getting that I don’t need her to find the edges of what I can deal with and pull me back–most of the time, I’m pretty aware of what’s too much for me.
Plus I really like her dog. Any therapist who has their dig around for therapy has to be at least a half-decent person.
I’m still really ambivalent about the ED stuff. I’m still abusing laxatives and diuretics, and I know it’s gonna get interesting when I get to SP and can’t take 20 laxatives a day. Part of me says, “That sounds like a good reason to tell them what’s going on and get help.” Then another voice says, “Fuck that shit. There’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing. It’s my body, and I can do whatever I want with it. I don’t need anyone to fucking fix me.” And another: “They’ll make me gain weight even though I’m not even skinny. If I eat like normal people do, I’ll get fat again because my metabolism is totally shot. Maybe if I just restrict while I’m there, they won’t notice. I can blame it on my food allergies.” And, “You know you can’t just hide pieces and expect to get better. You can’t just have a side order of self-destruction and think you’ll be okay with just that much. God, haven’t you learned that by now?”
So I don’t know what I’m going to do with that. I feel like it’s kind of out of my control–like it’ll depend on who in my system is most in control at that point. Or maybe that’s a cop-out. I don’t even know right now.