Detox again

Therapy with my parents was really hard. I expected that. I guess it went ok? I am not sure I am 100% on board with the plan for me. Everyone but me has decided that I should move out of my apartment as soon as possible. They want me to hire someone to clean and pack and put everything in storage. They are talking about me moving to sober living, and that's the main issue. I have lived alone for 6 years. I didn't have good experiences living with roommates in college. I don't want to move home while I find somewhere. It's not because I don't love my parents, but I am 30 and don't want them to have to take care of me.

Eventually, I think it became obvious that I couldn't handle all of the plan. My mind was so overwhelmed and it all felt impossible. I said that right now I need detox. I can barely climb stairs, I am not physically well enough to handle this. I am not mentally well enough to make a bunch of calls to arrange any of this. I am tired and scared, and I can't deal with the future. I have so many unpaid bills that are most of what's on my mind. I don't know how to act normal anymore. I am barely eating. I am pretty convinced that my potassium is low because I got so dizzy when I stood up earlier. My legs and arms are visibly thinner, but my stomach looks bloated.

So I am only thinking about the first step in the plan. Tomorrow I will go to the ER and admit myself for detox. I am not entirely sure if I will end up in the psych ward or if something is medically wrong. I will do what they tell me.

Then when my brain and body are a little better, I will figure out the rest. I am ignoring the medical bills. I am hoping that one of the people from AA who does cleaning can help with the apartment. I don't care if I have to pay. I just feel they're less likely to judge me for the mess. Still. I am not thinking about it. I am honestly just wanting to get some strength.

The plan is to transfer from the hospital to rehab. I don't know where. The agreement was that residential for the bulimia was the only thing that worked for very long, so logically it should help with alcohol. My issue is that the only time I managed to stay sober for long, I only slept on my sponsor's couch for a couple days and then stayed sober over a year. I have tried rehab twice. Once I went and stayed sober for like a week when I got home. The other I basically tried to kill myself. So I don't know what my best option is.

I also learned more about what happened with Dove Tree. Apparently they told my parents that they thought I was trying to manipulate them into something, probably getting kicked out of treatment. They told them I needed a higher level of care and implies I wasn't welcome back. I was told something very different. I was told that transferring to the crisis facility would make it more likely that I could come back. I was told I would have to meet with the treatment team. I admitted that I thought being suicidal was probably about wanting to get out and drink. It can't be that uncommon for someone to become severely depressed or suicidal when their main coping skill is suddenly removed. I was honest about it. They never bothered to be honest with me. My therapist is now trying to get what my mom paid (because I didn't have my debit card) refunded because of how unethical the way I was treated was. I was honestly planning to do it because I paid up front for what insurance wouldn't cover, and I doubt I was there long enough to owe anything.

I am not unwilling to go to treatment. I just can't handle the idea right now. My therapist was very good about saying this was not my fault. I didn't choose alcoholism or depression. It is good that I want treatment.

Dinner with my parents was a little awkward. I had barely eaten all day and was hungry, but after the appetizer I had no appetite. I ordered a veggie burger and after awkwardly taking bites, my mom finally told me not to eat if I didn't want to. She said if I haven't been eating, it was going to be hard to keep down. She had commented on grocery shopping with me to my therapist, so I guess she understands that I haven't been eating. I don't know if she understands that it isn't the eating disorder. I physically can't eat. I am planning to do what the doctors want in detox except that I swear to make them give me something for nausea because I don't want to spend tomorrow puking.

So tomorrow I will go to the hospital. I packed a bag. I just have to take the cats to my parents and then they will take me to the emergency room. Then when I am no longer focused on feeling like shit, I will decide the rest.

Checking the mail

I managed my main goal for today. I went to lunch with my friend. I took out a bag of trash. I checked my mail.

It was about as bad as expected (the mail). Collection notices, bills, and a lot of junk. The only good things were one thing saying that I overpaid a hospital, and they were crediting back $100 and something from the IRS saying I owe $0.00.. I didn't think I owed them, so that was odd. I think I didn't respond to some letter a while back saying they were looking to see if I did after I sent a check for something that they claimed I made a mistake on. Still, I get occasional fraud calls claiming to be the IRS, so I panicked at seeing the envelope. Tomorrow I will try to deal with the bill situation. Highest priority is one hospital that sent me a $10,000 bill that I have to contact my insurance about and ask what the hell that's about. I had a moment of clarity last night that sometime during the ECT treatments (where my memory is fuzzy) someone said something about insurance claiming I did TMS. I said that I didn't. My asshole psychiatrist made me see the TMS person to see if insurance would authorize it, and then I never did it because I couldn't afford the out of pocket cost. So it might be that or might be if the hospital tried to bill the insurance before COBRA kicked in, which means that they would have been told I had no insurance. The treatment date is from March, when I definitely did, so it may just be confusion. I also need to check my bank balance to see what I can pay (mainly rent and electric) and I think in therapy discuss if my parents can help with money.

Lunch was pleasant. She hopes I can get help. She was understanding about my situation although not happy about the stuff like me cancelling my psychiatrist appointment last week, but I knew that wasn't rational. She laughed at my random thought yesterday that I should join the army but realizing there is no way in hell they would take someone as crazy as me.

I really struggled to eat. It wasn't just the food. It was like I was struggling at the idea of using a fork. The food I struggled with too. The toast was too buttery and the taste was too much. The eggs.. well I honestly always have been weird about eggs. Like I can only eat scrambled and only if cooked a certain way. I ate sausage. I have been eating vegetarian for a couple months except one trip to McDonald's. It honestly sounded good but somehow eating it was unpleasant. I guess I am staying vegetarian. I just feel weird making substitutions (the meal came with sausage or bacon) or not finishing meals in front of my friend who is a recovering anorexic. She seems to be doing well now but has generally in the past been hard to watch at meals. I remember once days before going inpatient she ate an apple dipped in salt. It was always an unspoken rule that when we ate together (me, her, and at the time two other people from support groups) we ate normally. I had a falling out with one woman when she wanted to do dinner but skip the support group (another taboo), and another woman once couldn't stay because my friend was upset that she said she had already eaten. I am only still friends with one, and I try to respect that my eating could be triggering. In the end, I managed half my meal because between the fork, the toast, and my exhaustion.. it was too much. I am honestly happy that I wasn't fond of the sausages because really do have an objection to eating meat. No offense to those who do, but I struggle with the idea that eating a pig is so different from eating one of my cats. I have struggled with the idea for a long time. It was only because my stomach was so screwed up and that I couldn't cook but had to eat, that I lived for a while eating only fast food. That made it hard to eat vegetarian.

On the topic of cats. Last night I heard Odd crying (if you've been around cats you know the meow that means something is wrong). I went and checked he looked fine. I went back to my bedroom and heard it again. I went to check again and Nermal had a plastic bag stuck on her head and Odd was standing there crying. It was really funny. I took off the bag and told them they were OK. Odd followed me to my bedroom and I gave him pets and told him it was ok. I have honestly never had cats that got along this well. Like he stands guard while she eats at my parents house. His name is really Odd Thomas and my mom calls him Thomas, but I have always found Odd more fitting.

To go or not to go

I have been feeling particularly unwell this week. I am used to being tired if I am too lazy to take my levothyroxine or spending so much time in bed. I am used to tremors. However, I have started having chest pains (very mild) and abdominal pain. Both stop when I am drunk and really just happen if I get out of bed and walk much. I don't know if it's the alcohol or poor diet or if I am simply a hypochondriac. I know I haven't been eating much protein and look like I lost muscle/weight. The abdominal pain could be my liver or just *tmi* constipation. The chest pain could be heart related or my imagination. I have had this kind of exhaustion and weakness before and had my potassium be low, but that was when I was vomiting a lot. I have had similar symptoms when I was not drinking but heavily restricting back in my eating disorder days.

I know no one can tell me what to do. I am just trying to work out if I can fix this with food and maybe pedialyte, or I actually have prescription potassium somewhere that I never took. I am trying to decide if I wait and see and avoid even more medical bills, or do I go to the ER. I hate the ER, and I owe money to most local hospitals. I also hate being trapped in bed and poked with a bunch of needles and asked all the stupid questions. I had a particularly bad time last time when in the middle of the night after days without sleep when the nurses decided to change the leads for my heart monitor and just basically undid my hospital gown and had my whole chest exposed and I just cried and nobody commented on me laying there crying or made any hurry to cover me up (I am very uncomfortable with people seeing scars and particularly how I pick at my chest). Plus I have therapy Monday and may well be back in treatment soon. I am honestly not that concerned with dying, but somehow I still worry. I don't like having no control. I don't like how weak I am. I don't like being visibly unwell.

So I don't know what to do. I have been eating more but for some reason sleeping less. I am trying to still rest. I am unfortunately drinking more.. more than 1.75L in 2 days because my response to sleeping less is to try to drink myself back to sleep.

I did manage to leave the apartment today. I had lunch and saw a movie with my family. I was exhausted and shaky and sweaty by the time the movie was over, so I didn't stay for dinner. I could tell my dad was worried, but I needed to get to the liquor store and couldn't risk being too late. I know need is relative there, but liquor stores close Sunday so I couldn't wait until tomorrow. I get sick enough only being sober during the day.

I did not manage to check my mail or email. I didn't pay any bills. Tomorrow my goal is to check my mail and have lunch with a friend. It might be awkward because I told her I would write her in rehab and then eventually texted to explain what happened because I didn't want her to worry that I hadn't. She was grateful to hear from me and was worried. I know her from eating disorder support groups, so she is more understanding than most about mental illness. I have visited her in treatment and written or called when I was. I just still hate admitting relapse. I am still going to go. Wish me luck.

Awkward night with my parents

So I don't remember what I said about how earlier this week I admitted via text that I was struggling. I did, so I knew that I needed to explain tonight.

But OK let me explain exactly as awkward it went. I got there and when they got home kept waiting for them to ask. I just don't know how to do that without being asked. We made small talk. We talked about restaurants and I brought up how my car air conditioning has been acting weird (like only blowing warm air when stopped). I really wasn't feeling well. I spent the morning in bed and hadn't eaten very much. We finally pick a place for dinner.

We got there and were the only customers in the restaurant. That means you always get watched by the staff, which makes both me and my mom anxious. I order and because I am trying to be vegetarian again, I ordered something with tofu. I am the unlucky vegetarian who has texture issues with tofu. Soft tofu makes me nauseous. I can eat it if it's fried and firm. This unfortunately ended up being really gross to me. While I am trying to eat it to look normal in front of my parents and not say I didn't like it in front of the employees who were all looking. I finally give up and try to pick out vegetables and noodles and indirectly say the tofu wasn't good. I do this while awkwardly talking about how I am doing. I admitted to not leaving the apartment and not eating anything but granola bars and popsicles. I talked about my therapist wanting to talk to them. I didn't actually say it's because she feels ethically obligated to tell them I am drinking myself to death. I mentioned treatment and we briefly talked about what happened with rehab and how none of us really was told anything at all. I am glad they did seem to agree about how they were wrong to just drop off my suitcase and not explain.

My mom did say some understanding things, which were basically that I have to set a time to get out of bed and get dressed everyday. That she knows it is easy to want to sleep all day otherwise. I also asked them to take me grocery shopping because I am really struggling with being in public. Well, I asked before the food really made me feel sick, but I went because I really have been struggling with it.

We get there, and I have no idea what to buy. It has been so long since I ate normally. She kept asking me things and saying I need protein and she doesn't want me eating the same thing every meal. Repetition is comfortable to me, although I know I should be eating better. I finally ended up with powerade, cereal, granola bars, mini bagels (which are admittedly an eating disorder food that I lived on in college), and some frozen meals. Now we will just see if I can actually eat these or the food will just remain unopened. I do wonder if my unbalanced diet has been causing my weakness and exhaustion.

The main highlight of the evening is that my car seems to be fine now? I have no idea how or what was wrong. I just know that it has been hot as hell here lately, so I really didn't want to end up with no AC. Just hoping it stays that way because I probably can't afford repairs

Seriously scared

So I really don't know what's going on. I am not able to drink enough to sleep. I am not able to be sober enough to function. I don't remember telling my parents I would come over today, but I got a text at 5ish asking if I was coming. I didn't know what to say. I only said that I wasn't doing well and not able to function. He said they wanted to have me there because they couldn't do much with me here. That was about how honest I could be. I said that I couldn't remember that I was going anywhere today. I would come Thursday and try to explain. I tried to word the texts to give the impression I am very sorry and just not functioning. I said in my last post that my therapist was going to call if I didn't say I was basically drinking myself to death. I may have to tell them Thursday because I don't know how else to explain that I honestly don't remember saying I would be there tonight. I said I didn't remember I was leaving my apartment today. I think my messages were vague but enough to imply that I am not well. My dad said they understand, which gives the idea they know that I am unwell. I think neither of us know what to do, so I think I have to discuss this before I have therapy. That's terrifying, but so is laying in bed drunk because I am not sober enough to function but not drunk enough to sleep.

Not meant to be

This past week I have spent mostly drunk and blacked out. I got a phone call and checked my call history to see if they had called before. I then found out I called my psychiatrist at 8:57pm and 8:58pm Friday night. I don't have any memory of it. I don't know why I would have done that. I don't know if I left a message.

I am surprisingly tired for someone who has barely gotten out of bed for days. I almost cancelled therapy because taking a shower was exhausting. I honestly think something might be wrong with me. I am tired. My chest/abdomen was hurting earlier. I don't know if it's because I am living off vodka, Gatorade, and popsicles, or I might have something wrong.

Therapy was.. hard. Particularly hard. I was honest. I admitted that I feel hopeless. I admitted that I have started to think I am defective. That normal people don't spend so much time in treatment. They don't find life so unbearable that she has to drink to not be suicidal when nothing that bad has ever happened to them. It can't be my family because my brother turned out relatively normal. Except she pointed out that he was always loud about his anger. I kept all my feelings quiet. I never felt normal. I remember being sad or anxious or convinced I didn't belong from a young age. I always felt something was wrong with me and that I had to work to get people to like me.

I think I know that I am much sicker than I ever thought. I have always thought that I would never live this long. I always knew that I wasn't cut out for life. I was terrified of the idea of living to 80 or 90. Most people want a long life. I stayed alive for other people. I stayed alive because my parents don't need to know they made a defective child. They didn't deserve me. They didn't do anything to me to fuck me up. I have heard that losing a child is the worst thing that could happen to a parent, and they don't deserve that.

I don't know how to explain this to them. I don't know how to tell them that their daughter is this crazy. I lie to them by default because they thought (or pretended) I was normal, and I need to be normal. Yet now my therapist has decided that she is ethically obligated to talk to them. She says that I am slowly killing myself, and she has to tell someone. Now I either have to tell them or she will call them when I see her next week. She says that I need treatment. That I need to go somewhere that can handle dual diagnoses. She is upset that Dove Tree didn't tell her or me that I was being discharged. They took me to a 24 hour facility 7 hours away from home and gave me no other options. Of course I wanted to be closer to home. I was terrified and alone and unprepared and 24 hours after trying to hang myself with a shoelace not prepared for sobriety.

I don't know what will happen now. I seriously doubt that I am able to find and keep a job. I don't have the money to support myself through more than next month. I would need 2 months notice to move out of my place. I don't know if I have the energy enough to clean and pack anyway. I honestly don't care about my stuff except the cats who seem to still love me despite living in this hell. Or I can choose death. I keep thinking of what to do with the cats. How do I make sure they survive. I know my thinking is fucked when I start thinking of dropping them off at my parents and wondering how to make sure people (friends, therapist, etc) know I am dead. I wish I could just drop off the cats with a note to not go in my apartment and be done. I wish I could explain that there is just something wrong with me, and I wasn't meant to live. I wish they would understand that it's not anyone's fault. I am just defective, and I have been fighting for years to live. Maybe that means I shouldn't.

I am doing my best to keep going because I know my family will never understand that. They will blame themselves. They will try to see where they went wrong. They will hurt. I would rather be the one hurting. I can't be the one hurting others. They will be left hurting, and I won't be at all. There is just something that goes against nature to choose the possibility of not existing. I may believe in God, but I know that I might be wrong. Eternity has always scared me, but I also know it isn't natural to do something and risk not existing at all.

I am rambling. I am tired. I am scared. I am fighting that urge to say fuck everyone else because I am not able to function. Instead I am drunk because I am so fucked up that consciousness is too hard. At least when I am drunk, killing myself is too much effort. I would rather stay in bed. I am not imagining this conversation with my parents is going to be pleasant, but I will need to know if they can help me with money. I also just hope that I can try to explain that I really can't function. I am not just choosing to drink. I am actually so crazy that I can either drink (or cut or purge) or be suicidal. They didn't make me crazy, but I also didn't choose to be crazy. I have kept myself alive for 30 years when I remember being suicidal at 12. I guess that also probably means I can do it a bit longer.

Sorry for so much depressing talk. I don't have anyone else to talk to and feel like I shouldn't keep this shit in my head.

Lost day

I am no stranger to blacking out. It just hasn't happened in quite a while.. until yesterday. I know I started drinking early. I don't think I left my apartment. I really don't remember much of anything that I did. I checked my phone to see if I texted anyone. I had 3 emails from my mom that I hadn't read. I can remember Sunday, but yesterday is a blank. My only clear memory is waking up to sheets covered in vomit, showering, changing the sheets, and going back to sleep. I also set my alarm for a couple hours before I needed to get up, so today didn't start well.

I had therapy this morning, and I was already feeling off. I couldn't bring myself to explain that I couldn't remember what happened yesterday because it seemed really pathetic that I have been back in my apartment since Sunday and I am back to blacking out. My therapist is already bringing up rehab, but I need to somehow get my shit together and find a job.

I went to my parent's house after that. I had lunch with my mom and brother, then we saw a movie and had dinner. I barely ate dinner because my stomach was not too happy. I also was shaking a bit today.

I am home now. I brought my cats back to my apartment. I feel bad taking them back to the mess that is my apartment, but Nermal at least seems happy to cuddle.

I am doing therapy twice a week now. I am hoping I can do more than stare at the floor and try to piece together memories of the past few days when I go Thursday. Tomorrow I need to manage to buy some groceries and try to do something productive.

Home again

So I am home again after 9 days inpatient. It was kind of a frustrating stay. I went in and did the assessment not knowing if they would admit me since I was not at the time suicidal. The person doing the assessment didn't hesitate about saying I need inpatient.

Not going to lie, but I told both my therapist and psychiatrist that I didn't think I needed to be there. My therapist showed me my treatment plan which estimated my discharge date as July 8th or 9th, and I got really upset. I finally had to request to talk to her individually to explain my logic about wanting to go home. I basically said that the things I need to talk about (my job, what happened with rehab, my plans for after this) were too complicated to explain in the few minutes I get in group. I didn't want to try to explain to strangers and start talking about something and thinking about something I wouldn't have time to really process. She was reasonable once I said that. I have trust issues, and my therapist says I can usually tell from the start of someone can be trusted. I didn't trust her.

I ended up being right because there was at least once during my family session she said something I don't think she had a right to say, like asking why I thought I didn't need to be there. My expectation is that what is said in group stays there unless I give her permission to tell my parents. I should never have agreed to the family session.

My parents went on about needing boundaries with me and me needing to be independent. It is not my responsibility to set their boundaries, and I pay my own rent and bills. The most I really ask is if they can give me a ride to the hospital. They can say no.

They brought up me being dishonest and not trustworthy. They mentioned not being able to ask questions without me thinking they're being intrusive. I never said that. I mentioned having reasons not to talk to them. I can't fix what I have done. All I can say is that I will try to act differently. Me sitting and apologizing won't work.

My mom brought up me coming to their house and knowing I had been drinking and their fear about me driving drunk. I awkwardly defended myself by saying I don't drink before driving there. I drink when I get there. Then my dad said they worry about me leaving and being drunk. I gave up because I was not going into detail about how much I drank and knowing how much would metabolize while there. I also was not going to explain that driving in withdrawal isn't safe either because then they would guilt me for that.

Then my therapist did what they always do and asked them if they had gotten counselling. My mom says my dad doesn't like the idea. I really have no desire to do family therapy with them until they get help or show some initiative by seeing a therapist or going to AL Anon. I can't teach them boundaries or communication or maybe not blaming me for my problems and for relapses. My dad even said he thinks relapse is a choice, which is bullshit.

So basically it went as expected.

My depression is better. I think the medication is working. I did admittedly relapse with the eating disorder while there. 4 out of 9 days I ate nothing (not consecutive) and in between there were a couple days where I purged all meals. I was honest about it.

I don't know what will happen now. I am going back to my apartment either tomorrow or Saturday. My roommate inpatient asked the other day if I would stay sober. I said I didn't know. She's like "but you said you were an alcoholic. That's what alcoholics have to do, not drink". I explained that I wasn't there for alcoholism. I was there because I tried to hang myself with a shoelace, which despite what I said the rehab people considered a suicide attempt. She laughed and then apologized. I was fine with it. I have gotten a variety of responses to my attempt to explain that I wasn't trying to kill myself. I admit that while I still believe this, but logically can see that really it was still not sane behavior.

I don't really know about sobriety. I want to drink again. I even fantasized about getting a hotel room and having a clean, relaxing place to binge drink and eat for a couple days. Like a vacation. I intend to go back to AA, but I don't know that I want to be sober.

I am happy to be out, but I am still not letting myself think too much about the future. I need some time. I did start new anxiety medicine after freaking out during group. Basically a patient was being disruptive, and the tech leading group raised his voice at her and lectured us about not letting other people affect our treatment. I don't do conflict or loud noise. I ended up leaving and sitting on the floor of my bathroom with my fingers in my ears because I could still here him and crying. I finally calmed down when he stopped talking and sat crying on my bed. It was a mess, so the next day I asked my doctor to change my anxiety medicine. He added one more medication today despite my protest about not wanting to be on too many medications. I finally agreed to try it. We'll see.

I am also happy to sleep in a normal bed tonight. The last several days my joints and back have been hurting. My feet hurt from the shoes I war and how I insist on sitting with my legs crossed (I don't know the politically correct term for what they used to call indian style) even though it makes one foot fall asleep and the other hurt terribly. It's really stupid. I also had headaches that were mainly the result of either hunger or purging. So basically I need sleep.