The idea

So I should probably warn that this could be triggering in some way. I just feel like typing it out rather than keeping it in my head.

I have been brainstorming this idea for a few days. I am not sure when it started because it was originally just the general question in my mind "if I drank the way I used to, I wonder if it would now kill me?"
I  have been sober over a year, and I wonder if my tolerance is lower now. I was drinking amounts that could cause alcohol poisoning in some people.

So that's where this started. Could I actually drink myself to death? Could I drink a liter of vodka or would I pass out too soon or throw up or would I simply black out and wake up healthy. If I failed and wake up healthy, no real harm done. If I die, I die. The worry is making a mess of my apartment.. puking on things. So maybe I could get a hotel room. That way I would be where nobody could find me and where my apartment was not involved. I could bring liquor and food and make a night of it. I could if I want leave a note at the apartment of where I am, so when people come looking they can find me, but there will be a delay. I would leave food and water for the cats. I could plan it to where I have a week's worth of meds, so that can go along with the alcohol. I just have to stash them or time it right. The liquor is easy to get.

I've looked up lethal blood alcohol levels, though theoretically I was drinking to that before. I looked up local hotels. I haven't done anything. I haven't bought anything, so it remains an idea and not a plan. I just haven't mentioned it to anyone for fear of worrying them.

I did make a psychiatrist appointment for Tuesday, so that is sooner than I was planning to go. Maybe he can help. Maybe I will tell him. For now I am telling you. I am a bit frightened of myself these days. I don't intend to do this, but I have been sadder lately. I feel like there's nothing the doctor can do. I feel there's no point worrying anyone. But I remain alive. So that's something

Decisions, decisions

I wrote last post about the possibility of going inpatient for depression and all the various behaviors related to it. Saturday I sat down with my sponsor and another woman from AA to talk about this. The other woman is an occupational therapist and works in mental health, so my sponsor had asked her advice.. she's also just really nice.

I was actually happy that this woman agreed that inpatient wasn't necessary at this point if I did not have a plan to kill myself. Honestly, I had changed my mind about going by Saturday because things didn't seem that bad. We talked about it and I had to promise I would tell them if I did have a plan. If I say this, they will take me to the ER or wherever. I did mention the assumption that I would OD since I have so many meds in my apartment all the time.. so then it was decided that my sponsor would keep my meds and only give me a week at a time. Honestly, this is more for her to feel safe than me at the moment because she's been scared. I even said she could check my apartment on the condition that she not touch any diet pills she finds because I don't want her throwing them out.

We discussed coping skills to replace the cutting, which I haven't tried much. She mentioned exercise, and I don't think my sponsor looked entirely happy about that. I did at some point (because she had asked if there was anything I wanted to say or some similar question) tell my sponsor to stop calling me skinny. She said she meant it in a lighthearted way, and I basically said I don't see it that way. This unfortunately sparked a conversation about me not seeing myself realistically because she says I am the same size as her daughter (I am not) and smaller than her (I am apparently). Then the other woman kept saying things like how I definitely wasn't too small yet and how I am a good size now.. which translates to clearly not thin enough. It was my fault for bringing it up.

I did give my sponsor the pills.. well sort of. I gathered them yesterday but missed 2 bottles. I don't know how I missed the one that would have been right in front of me. The other was on the floor still in the pharmacy bag. I texted my sponsor about finding them and we agreed I would bring them to her tomorrow. I then began thinking of keeping a few. I got home and transferred 10 wellbutrin from the open bottle to a benadryl bottle, which is now on my desk. The prescription bottles are in my purse to take to my sponsor. I don't really know why I did this. I've also been brainstorming ways to answer if she asks "Is this all of them?" without actually lying. I have some ideas. What the fuck us wrong with my brain?

Maybe I will tell her. Maybe I'll just put them back into the wellbutrin bottle before giving it to her. Maybe I will throw them away. For now I am going to bed.

Rational thinking

I couldn't think of a good title today. I'm not really sure what I'm writing about. I just want to write.

I texted my sponsor today that I am considering inpatient but that I am concerned about cost and about being taken seriously. I guess it's the second bit I want to talk about.

I wonder if this is a rational fear. Honestly, I think it is in the sense that in a psych ward they do not take you seriously if you are not truly suicidal. They expect you to have a plan (I mean really I've always assumed I have enough meds in my apartment if I ever need one). If you cut, they take you more seriously if you have needed stitches. For an eating disorder, bulimics get little attention if they are medically stable. I have had people question why I was there when I was inpatient. My response sometimes didn't seem good enough to them.. but patients tend to like to compete for who's sickest (I've been guilty of this).

What is frustrating is that my stays in the psych ward and the ER visits to be admitted really fucked with my head. I was left convinced that I am not that sick if I am not planning to kill myself. I was left convinced the self harm was no big deal if I didn't need medical attention. I am still convinced that this is true..
Some sane part of me can tell that it is never normal to cut yourself, and this should be taken seriously. I know that when I am afraid to touch pill bottles or sit researching ways to die, that is not far away from being actively suicidal. I also am fully aware that I am using the cutting and eating disorder to keep those thoughts away.

But the problem is that I am only sometimes rational. Today I am slightly rational because I talked to one of the supervisors/bosses at work (she was daytime supervisor and is now manager or something) about the possibility of needing time off. The issue is if I end up not having enough PTO. She asked what was going on, and I realized I didn't know what to tell her. I said some mental health stuff and that I've really been trying to stay out of the hospital. I kinda said I am self destructive, and that was one of the points where I couldn't make eye contact. Anyway, I didn't know what parts to tell her because I know telling a normal person about cutting will worry them because it is a big deal to most people. Any mention of thinking about death panics people (whether it's a detailed plan or casual research). The eating disorder isn't relevant because I'm not interested in recovery.. but yeah. All of what's going on seemed like it would worry her, which made me think that maybe it should worry me more.
She was really nice. My supervisor wasn't there, which is why I was talking to her, but honestly I would rather talk to her than him. She asked what she could do and if work was stressing me out (which I said wasn't it). She said my health is important, so we could figure something out and tell her if there's anything she can do to help. I feel guilty because maybe I did worry her, but it is probably less than if she suddenly got a call that I was in a hospital..

However, now I'm back to thinking I shouldn't go. I'm also thinking I should cut my wrist again. I am going to dye my hair now and hope that passes.

Oh and on the topic of eating disorders, I need to work on hiding better. I haven't done anything truly eating disordered at work, but I said pretty openly (and not for the first time) that I kept getting dizzy when I stood up today. I'm assuming dehydration. I swear I thought I was going to pass out when I bent over while shopping. I had to grab onto a shelf after standing up. At work it happened a few times. I finally drank some coconut water (yuck) for potassium, and it got better.. but I am wondering if people might catch on to me being crazy someday. I also didn't eat today. I also was gesturing while talking and I think the scratches on my wrist were really showing, but the guy I was talking to didn't say anything.

And now I'll shut up.

An honest update (trigger warning)

So I feel like things are getting worse.. or are worse. At times I think it's fine, and then I get glimpses of reality.

One glimpse (I will try to keep it from being too triggering) was on Tuesday at work. Monday was slow enough at work that they sent us home early. Tuesday we sat around for quite a while (probably more than an hour) waiting for work to be available. Well that fucked with my head. I had been listening to Wasted by Marya Hornbacher as an audio book for the 3rd time in 2 weeks, and there's a line she says where her mom left her to make decisions and "Those decisions, I think, were primarily about whether to live or die, and I was making the choice by default"
And this seemed so accurate.. the eating disorder and drinking to me are that choice to die. Well, that inspired me to start looking on Google about how long it takes a person to starve to death and reading all these things about a certain way people with terminal illnesses can kill themselves rather than involving doctors.. and this is obviously all a terrible choice

I left work and bought binge food.  I binged and purged and all the while my head was still pretty bad. I realized what I read was not a viable option, so I thought about other things. I sat down to take my meds that night and was overwhelmed by the pill bottles in my desk. I just stared. I didn't even take all my meds because it was too much.
The next day I went to AA, and I don't know if physically I look poorly (I've lost 17lbs in a month but am not underweight by far) or just clearly mentally unwell because 2 people asked me if I was alright. One woman put her hand on my shoulder when she asked and then hugged me. The other guy just asked in a tone of voice that isn't the normal "how are you?".. if that makes sense.

I did mention the whole thing about researching things online to my sponsor because I hadn't texted her about taking my meds since I hadn't. I said I didn't want to make excuses, but then I don't know if the rest of what I just explained is an excuse or just an explanation of what happened. It wasn't like I just decided to skip them. I was scared to touch the bottles. Anyway, she asked if I had considered going inpatient to sort out my meds. I said no. I don't think I'm bad enough for them to take me seriously or to justify spending the money.
I honestly would like to go.. it would be a nice break. It would need to be somewhere that won't force me to eat and has vegetarian food.. I'm half afraid if I let my sponsor drive me, she'd tell them I have an eating disorder so I have to eat.. but most psych wards don't care. Still.. I'm not actively suicidal, so I don't need to go. I still am cutting daily.. but  I've convinced myself it's no big deal. I am however still obsessed with cutting my wrists and am just brainstorming ways to hide it. Probably not sane.
I am considering inpatient, but I am very afraid nobody will think things are that bad.. and I'd have to tell work at least something to see if I could get time off. My mind says if I want to go, the simplest thing would be to try to kill myself and plan to fail.

So yeah.. today is less bad. I bought new scrubs (size small!) and had dinner with my parents. Now binging.

**Editing this later.. so in the middle of binging and purging I decided to scratch my wrist a couple times with a dull utility knife. Scratches because they don't even qualify as cuts.. and I was right, I like how it looks. Now I just have to stop at that.. and hope that tomorrow they aren't noticeable.. or maybe I don't care.

Therapy

Normally I see my therapist on Thursday, which is one of my days off work. I've been going every 2 weeks. She was gone the past few weeks, so she offered to see me earlier this week rather than waiting the extra days until Thursday. At the time it made sense, I regretted it when the time came.

I am getting tired of seeing her. I do talk about things, but she has been pushy about things lately. Like for quite a while, she has been pushing eating disorder treatment. She wants me to do a certain outpatient program, but at times she has suggested inpatient or residential.

She's been saying this since the eating disorder was not nearly as bad. I mean now she might be right about needing it. These days I might be going crazy. 

Then she asked about cutting, and I kinda lied about how often I was doing it. She decided this meant I definitely should go for an assessment. In my mind, most outpatient programs want nothing to do with you if you are cutting frequently (not to mention the suicidal thoughts). I've always had to lie about it or they would start pushing inpatient, so why even bother? Plus, I don't want to go anyway. 

She also wants me to see a dietitian. I mentioned I have meal plans at home I could follow. I just won't. What is a dietitian going to accomplish if I don't want to eat? I know plenty about nutrition from prior treatments. I know how much I should be eating. I just know that the crazy shit in my head is quieter if I am not eating or eating less. I know that I am losing weight despite how my therapist claims starving doesn't work because of that starvation mode crap. 

I definitely feel crazy though. Last night work was so slow they sent us home early. I almost started crying before leaving because I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to binge (or eat at all) so I ended up going to AA, but the idea of going home was upsetting. I'm starting to think I'm more suicidal than I think I am, or maybe just scared of myself. Today I finally made an appointment with a different psychiatrist. I've seen her before, and she wasn't as terrible as my current one. Of course, the soonest appointment is the end of February. So I get to be miserable until then.
I don't know what else to say. I know I need help of some sort but I don't know what. I am not convinced my therapist is right. I can't seem to tell anyone else the whole truth of what's going on, and I'm not sure if I should. Maybe it will get better on its own. I can just hope for that.

A lovely evening

Thought I'd share my fun night. I was sitting watching TV and heard a bunch of yelling from the apartment across from mine. This is my neighbor who seriously needs to invest in curtains and a shirt to cover his beer belly because yuck. Classy guy. Anyway, I ignored it. Eventually it got louder and I could hear he was telling someone to leave. The other man was obviously drunk and telling my neighbor that he was the shit and various things. I started watching through the peephole at some point mildly concerned since the guy was clearly drunk and possibly going to be getting into a car. Well the neighbor says to leave and he's going to bed and slams the door. The guy starts beating on the door and yelling. Eventually, I hear him beating on a different door. I become more concerned and am listening to hear if anyone answers from whatever apartment he's at now. Finally, he beats on my door and starts trying the doorknob. At that point I am in the kitchen and dial 911 because that's scary. Either eventually he's going to get into an apartment or someone is going to open a door. I also wondered what would happen if anyone was outside and encountered him. I then sit watching TV once I can tell he isn't right outside (he went downstairs). I heard the people across the hall come home and him say something to them. I haven't seen the police but I heard them ask those neighbors if they saw someone because they got a complaint. They said which way he had just gone and agreed he was very drunk, so at least I'm not the only one who saw him. Shirtless guy has come out of his apartment and looked around a few times. I was a little afraid he was coming to my door at one point, but definitely not answering for him right now.. probably not going to be popular if they arrest this friend of his. Oh well. Not sure if he was looking for drunk guy or if he heard the police. I did tell them which apartment the guy came out of.

No idea what ended up happening. The police never came to talk to me, which I am kinda happy about. The drunk guy never came back. I did discover this morning that he puked on the stairs, which I heard my neighbors mention to the police. 

So that's my interesting story. Just thought I would share. This shit is why I lock my apartment as soon as I walk inside. Not that it's happened before, but I know how classy my neighbors are. 

An eventful and slightly (very?) upsetting day

So today was the day I had planned with my sponsor and another friend from AA to clean my apartment.. it had been planned for last Saturday and then postponed (for which I had been super grateful at the time). We planned for 10:30AM, which is kinda early for me these days.. but I let her choose the time since I generally would choose to sleep the day away.

Well the first upsetting bit.. the rather large one, is that my sponsor shows up with her daughter. Her daughter is 13 (I think? or 14) and I have definitely met her before.. I've eaten with them.. I've gone to her daughter's choir concert once. I've slept on their couch before. But I would have liked some choice in her showing up at my apartment. I was worried enough about how much judgment my sponsor would have about it, but her daughter has never been inside it before and this was just not something I was expecting.. anyway.. yeah. I wasn't happy with that but couldn't really make them turn around and leave. My friend came too. My friend started in the kitchen and my sponsor and her daughter started in the living room.. I hovered in the kitchen because I really did not want to be around my sponsor during this.. so it stayed like that for a while except when I needed to give opinions on things being kept. Her daughter mainly organized the bookshelves and was in charge of carrying trash bags..

Oh and when it came time, her daughter (being the strongest of us oddly.. ) got the honor of shoving the couch down the stairs. Yes.. we did just shove it down the stairs. Then of course retrieved it and quickly carried to the dumpster area because really I could get in  trouble for that but nobody was watching.. and it's not like nobody else in the complex ditches furniture (though nobody has loudly slid anything down the stairs before).

So the couch is gone.. my fridge is cleaned out.. it looks fairly empty except the big pile of food by the kitchen that needs to be put away or thrown away. I am leaning toward thrown away.. but my sponsor suggested maybe only an item a day and no rash decisions (it's nothing that will spoil). Dishes are washed and just need to be taken out of the dishwasher. I have one chair left in the living room that I actually sat in tonight.. first time I've sat anywhere other than my computer desk in god knows how long.

So progress..

The other upsetting things though.. my sponsor.. I very much wanted to smack her a couple times today, and this was again in part because her daughter was there. At various points while we were doing things or talking about things (like food in the apartment or kitchen things) she'd say "You don't eat" or "But you don't eat" and I would stop whatever I was doing and look at her and say "I eat!" because it fucking pisses me off. I don't know why it bothered me so much.. but 1. it clearly isn't true 2. I don't want my eating disorder to be the topic of discussion randomly and I definitely don't want false things to be said about it. Then there were other things.. like her daughter found my old FitBit on the bookshelves.. and she asked if it was a Fitbit and my sponsor was like "Yes, have you met Beth?" which I am guessing is again a reference to the eating disorder or some related obsession? But again joking about the eating disorder to her daughter.. and I tried VERY hard when I ate at their house or stayed at their house to act normally so as not to pass on unhealthy behaviors. Then one of them found a pair of jeans in the living room.. that were originally hanging on the exercise bike but I think had fallen off. My sponsor commented on how small they were and how skinny I am. I said that they don't fit yet. I said I bought them too small for when they would fit (didn't include that the reason that they're hanging there is as a constant reminder of how fat I am). Well then she's like "Oh they will fit." and goes on about how skinny I am and how they wouldn't even fit her daughter.. and I'm sure her daughter is thinner and the jeans are a US size 9, so not a small size. .. Fast forward though to tonight, and I finally tried them on after months and months of not touching them because they wouldn't have fit (I couldn't even fit my size 10s) and they do fit.. so I guess she wins that argument. Not going to tell her because it still wasn't appropriate.

Well, I go to a meeting after this.. and I decide not to share because my head is kinda in a fucked up place. My sponsor decides to announce "I just want to share the Beth did something really brave and awesome today" or similar wording.. and didn't say what I did obviously because this was not something people were meant to know about. My apartment was a personal thing. But then a woman asks me what it was, and I have to say in the meeting that i don't want to talk about it.. and I feel worse. If I explained that i cleaned the apartment, I would have to explain why that was significant.. and explaining why that was significant involves telling people that I'm a worthless pig.. so no.. I don't want that to be discussed in a meeting.

After the meeting I was upset and started crying.. and it wasn't that. My sponsor asked what the fear was about (she keeps asking that). I said I don't know, but that was kind of a lie. The real answer is that I didn't think I should tell her. The only honest thing I said is that I'm afraid of myself.

I complained about the things my sponsor said about me eating to my friend after my sponsor had left the apartment. My friend said to me that she didn't know what to do to help, but that I needed to keep telling people things so that they would know when they need to help (paraphrasing obviously).
And that's where the fear comes from.. because I'm not doing that. I am too scared or feel too worthless to tell people a lot of the shit that goes through my head.. sometimes because I just don't know what I need to tell them. These days I have all kinds of recurring thoughts that I know are not normal. Like I was staring at my wrists in the car thinking "My wrists are skinny. They would be pretty if I cut them" and I've thought that before.. thought repeatedly that I have such little wrists and that I should cut them.. and then it passes.. and I don't tell anyone, and I don't do it because it would show and people would notice, so instead I cut where they can't see.
The thought that has come to me a couple times since we started talking about cleaning is that I used to lay in bed thinking that I wouldn't want to kill myself and have my parents come to my apartment and see it like it was. I wouldn't want them to have to clean it. I wondered at night if I could hire someone to clean it when I died.. or if they would.. or if they would forever remember me for that mess. Well, now it isn't going to be that mess anymore. I need to clean a few more things (sweep and vacuum and put food away) but then I don't think it will be the kind of mess that changes how you remember your daughter. And I don't know how to feel about that.

So I was at my sponsor's house for a little while.. and then she left to go to a meeting and I went to Target. I went to look at chairs and ended up just buying binge food. I got home and parked my car and started crying before I even got out. So I texted her that.. what my friend said about telling people things.. and the thought about cleaning.. and that. She said that change is difficult. She asked later if I needed to sleep at her house, but I said I was fine.. honestly I was in the middle of binging and purging by then and all I cared about was the food in front of me (and the adorable kitten trying to steal it too).

Then go figure.. a while later (while still binging because this went on a while) my friend called.. and I had trouble hearing exactly what she said but she said when she wanted to kill herself or when she tried to kill herself she thought about her parents finding her stuff.. and she wondered if I was feeling the same way. It is remarkable how similar our brains are.. so I had to explain that yes I had those thoughts but I had texted my sponsor and I was doing ok and I promised I would call someone before I ever did anything.. but it was reassuring in a way to know I wasn't alone in that thought.. and also in a way to feel like I got caught thinking that? if that makes any sense.. like she figured it out.. so even if I hadn't been able to say anything.

Because definitely lately my brain is fucked up. The only way to silence it seems to be binging and purging.. and I just can't afford to do that all the time. Starving at least seems to change the topic to less dangerous things.

But on a less terribly depressing note.. here's the kitten when she was falling asleep on my back. Then she slid off onto my lap, woke up, and started trying to eat the muffin I was eating..