Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Lessons Learned, Bridges Burned (part 1)

I didn't realize how long it had been since I've written. I guess that goes to show how fast time goes when you aren't really aware of it. I wasn’t aware at the time but I was probably slowly slipping back into aspects of my ED starting in May. The end of school wasn’t terrible but once I walked out of my last final I fell apart. I was really depressed and needed to call off work because I had such high self harm urges. The fact that I apparently couldn’t have a job without having to call off every few weeks because of a mental breakdown. All of the sudden I realized I might not be able to function in society. If I cant hold down a semi decent job how was I supposed to make money and live in general? I just kept thinking if I cant do this then how am I supposed to work in the field I want to? I seriously just kept thinking I was screwed. I really thought I would never be able to make it. I’m still really worried about that.

While looking back on this last year I realized that although I had done well for two years, to some extent I was still just holding things together. I was happier and healthier but at the same time there were still things I had to ignore because I had to be able to do school. I realized that before I went to grad school in the fall I needed to work more on the trauma in order to be able to really live in recovery. I started looking into river oaks and had to wait for weeks to hear if insurance would cover or if I could even get in. My ED started spiraling because I felt like I was waiting to hear so I would know if I was going to live or die. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to go to river oaks and I knew if I didn’t use a coping mechanism I would fall apart completely. I started restricting and purging and it got really bad in the three weeks before I went to river oaks. I had to down play just how bad things were to my therapist because she said she wouldn’t let me go if I was in my ED. I finally got to river oaks and freaked out the first day because we couldn’t use our cell phone. It got a lot better and I did a lot of work around several traumas. I had Dianne this time, which was much better than before. The second week I was really triggered by a client who had a flashback. I went into flashback myself and ended up self-harming with something I had snuck in. Obviously it wasn’t a good decision obviously I got in trouble- I was put on SVC for awhile. I felt bad enough already- I hated myself and was terrified about getting kicked out. I saw Dr. Lowe the next day and he was really mad. Everyone fought for me to stay and I got to, but after that I felt like I was always walking on eggshells and felt like everyone hated me.

For the next few days I just had to wait to see if they would kick me out or not. I knew on some level it would make sense but I also knew this was my last chance to really do trauma work. They let me stay but my psychiatrist would hardly talk or look at me the next few weeks. Eventually I was set to discharge and was really excited because I got a lot of work done on my major traumas. A few nights before I was supposed to leave however, I started realizing that although I had done an amazing amount of work there were still many parts of me that still wanted to die. I knew it wouldn't be soon and that it would be my ED or addictions that would kill me, but I still knew I would ultimately die from my unhealthy coping mechanisms. The nurse's and other staff told me i wasn't ready to go, that i had more to work on and i should stay. My therapist here said that too. But I knew my psychiatrist wouldn't fight for me to stay so i thought the only way I could get more work done and really save my life would be to say i was suicidal so they wouldn't let me leave and insurance would be more likely to keep covering me knowing I was struggling that much. BAD IDEA. I should have known that but I've never been able to trust anyone else to care about me. I decided to take matters into my own hands but my psychiatrist got pissed and sent me to another building. I discharged from there a few days later. The way he told me to leave was shitty. He walked out on me at one point. I felt like I did after getting kicked out of another center. I wanted to die more than ever. I can't go too much into that experience but it was really really hard and after I got back I continued to fall apart.

I was using more ED behaviors, I started drinking and self harming. I decided to go to iop more so to try to find motivation than anything else. I was getting stuck with the feelings about the treatment centers that had hurt me so badly. A part of me wanted to die just to prove a point. To show that people who are supposed to care can be the ones to hurt you more than anyone. So I started iop. I started grad school. And the next entry will talk about how amazing my semester went- at least on the outside. I finally had the most balanced life I ever had and it kept me from going backward. Unfortunately it also didn't move me forward so I stayed stuck in a pretty bad place.

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