I know it’s been a couple of days since I’ve written. As I was saying last time, things had become increasingly busy for me for most of last week and right up until yesterday afternoon when I arrived at the hospital. I think it was a good thing for me to have so much going on because it managed to keep my general anxiety down and mostly I could ignore what was going on. Monday I struggled and the day felt like I was constantly trying to get a grip on the tears. As soon as one episode past and I thought I was going to be fine, another wave overwhelmed. It was a long day but thankfully my colleagues were amazing and are random enough people to distract me from the battles going on in my mind.
I wasn’t ready for the Tuesday. I wasn’t ready for admission. I wanted to freeze time and make Monday last forever just so I could put it off but even I don’t have the ability to manipulate time.
My admission began yesterday afternoon but It doesn’t quite feel like I’m here yet and it hasn’t sunk in that I had let it get to the point where I’ve needed to come in. Treatment has always felt like a concept for other people and one that my situation has never really felt like warranted the necessity of it but here I am just beginning round 2. I am finding that it’s easier to smile throughout and try to be pleasant, offer all the insights that I currently have about what’s going on and what I want but to be fair, I am pretty clueless on the whole understanding front. I know what I’m supposed to say and feel and yet whether those things are truthful or real is beyond my comprehension. The ward itself is nice enough. A lot of the staff has changed but it’s nice to see that they are all still trained to delivering a high quality standard of care and what’s more they are friendly in their demeanour. I’ve talked to a couple of the other patients and they too seem to be pleasant enough. Part of me wants to hold back though, limit the contact with the disorder that has ripped my life to shreds but it is hard to do that and not feel anything but fury for it when I see how much damage it is doing everywhere I turn. The others remind me of my anger constantly and I worry friendships will only make that worse. The food is hard. I don’t know what I was expecting in regards to how I would cope but I didn’t think that I would find stage one to be so overwhelming. I sat there with this food and wanted to cry or throw the plate across the room because this half portion seemed horribly terrifying. What is it going to do to me? What if I can’t cope with it? What if something bad happens? What if…is playing around in my head a lot lately. I want to be well but am I prepared to pay the price that it will take for me to get there? If not…then what would the price of staying where I currently am is? Already I know that I cannot live with the rest of my disorder forever, that I would rather end my life now then have to listen to the constant noise and screaming that is with me all the time. My self-esteem is down the toilet, my body image is horrible and most of the time I look around me right now and feel like a complete whale. Maybe that’s why I feel like an imposter on the ward. It’s hard to feel that my place is justified when my weight feels too high. This is probably something that I am going to have to get over at some point. For now the plan is to engage as much as I can. Take one day/one meal as it comes and try to stay as possibly connected to the people I my life that have belief in me. That way I might be able to have some belief for me of my own.
I hope you are being good to yourselves.