“I can’t think if a time when you looked less alive.”
~Alexis on Fire
Not a bad day so far. That desperate, overwhelming desire to leave that I was doing battle with all evening has gone, thanks be to Christ. I am staying in hop-sital.
I am also feeling better today about the food that I have been consuming, for two reasons. The first is that Sweetface told me that she only gained 0.1 lbs last week, and while she doesn’t really eat any extras like I do, I still found this comforting. The second reason is that when I woke up this morning, I wasn’t a fat fucking slob - I could still see my abs in the mirror, and the jeans that Bf got for me in Vegas are still loose. So I am not quite as terrified as I was yesterday that I am ballooning out of control. Which really helps me stay put.
Not much to report, I guess. Last night I had to be put on the EKG machine again while I slept, and was told that I am on “modified bed rest”. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I do know that if we go outside, I am not allowed to walk with the others - I have to be pushed in a fucking wheelchair.
I KNOW! A wheelchair. ME? What the fuck?!
God, but I hope we don’t fecking go outside today. Being pushed around in a wheelchair like I’m some kind of fucking invalid? No, thank-you.
Breakfast was good for me this morning, since I wasn’t panicking as badly as yesterday about how many calories I was consuming. I ate my two bowls of oatmeal with vanilla soy milk (fuck they were good), and then I ate a bunch of the super-sweet, juicy cherries that someone had brought in for us. I ate maybe 10 or 15 of them, they were so good, and the only reason I stopped was because our time was up, and FuBu gets really pissed if anyone disobeys the rules.
That’s because she's a Lifer - she will never let go of her disease, and will be in and out of hospitals for the rest of her life. She was forcibly brought in and, against her will, had a feeding tube shoved up her nose. They had to shove a tube up her nose and into her stomach to force feed her, or she was going to die. She has graduated to Unit 32, but she is not here voluntarily, like the rest of us (except Sweetface, who is only 16 - but on her fifth hospitalization) - FuBu is a ward of the state, I guess is the term. She is, essentially, committed here.
So she gets really fucking pissed when someone doesn’t obey the rules, like last night when I opened that gluten-free fruit bar after snack time was up. She actually brought it up in group today, and I apologized to her sincerely. That was my eating disorder getting the better of me, and I let it - I wanted that fucking food, so I broke the rules.
After breakfast, I came back to the girl’s dorm room, crawled into bed, and went back to sleep for another hour. I woke up with maybe 20 minutes to spare before snack time, so I got up and got dressed, then just crammed a cap over my head and put on a little slap.
Snack this morning was perfect for me, an orange and a Nutrigrain bar, plus I had a cup of tea with a splash of soy milk. I felt satiated when I was finished but not too full, and now it is time for lunch and I am hungry!
Back in a bit.
I am just sitting up in bed, watching reruns of the Colbert Report from last week on my iMac - I just found out this afternoon that you have to pay for t.v. here! I’m not going to bother, since I can just watch Daily Show and Colbert Report online, and I’ve asked Dad for Sons of Butcher and Ugu for Flight of the Conchords. And Wang is going to bring those other shows that I haven’t seen before. So I will be able to divide my time each day between reading, writing and watching t.v. shows on my computer.
There is also a couple of AA meetings here in the hospital, one on Monday night, one on Thursday. I was thinking of going but struggling to get motivated, until it occurred to me right this second - I bet they will have real coffee there! So maybe I will give it a go tomorrow night. Even if they don’t have real coffee, it will be a nice break from Unit 32, and a confirmation of my commitment to my sobriety. So I am really going to try and force myself to go.
So. Lunch today for me was a tuna salad sandwich on whole wheat bread - and that’s it. I had a cup of tea after I had scarfed it down, but I knew that was not going to be enough food to hold me until snack time. So I did the same thing as yesterday, and had some Crunchy Os with a sprinkle of granola, two cups worth this time. I was pretty full when I was done, but I sat with it anyway, and now there is half an hour until Afternoon Snack, and my tummy is grumbling!
In Group this afternoon, we had to write a letter of encouragement to ourselves. Apparently, I was the only writer in the group - there was lots of moaning and groaning, especially from FuBu and Boy Ana.
“I’ve already done this a couple of times,” FuBu complained from the back of the room.
“This is stupid,” muttered Boy Ana.
“Yes, well, it’s up to you whether or not you wanna participate,” Joy said simply from the head of the table. “But that’s what we’re doing.”
“Does anyone else get to read them?” asked Boy Ana.
“No, these are just for you,” said Joy. “We’re actually going to mail them to ourselves in a card when we’re down writing them.”
Boy Ana took a sharpie, scribbled a couple of lines on a piece of paper, then folded it up and tossed it on the table.
“Done,” he announced, and folded his arms over his sunken chest.
“Well then, you can journal or draw or just sit there until we’re all done,” Joy told him.
Boy Ana sighed loudly. I rolled my eyes and turned away from him to start my letter.
Here’s what I wrote to myself.
This is yourself. Well, obviously. The date is September 1st, 2010, and you are currently living in a hospital, on a ward for Eating Disorders. This is an exercise that you have been told to do, but hey - you might as well make the most of it.
Last night was pretty rough. It was your second night in here, and you were ready to run, do you remember? Mum and Dad are both out of town, you were scared of the calories you were consuming here and thought, “If I leave now, I’ll have TWO DAYS to binge and purge as much as I want before Mum and Dad get back!”
The thought of all that delicious, sugary buttered toast, the endless bowls of cereal, plus whatever you could afford to get from the grocery store, it was all so tempting, wasn’t it?
All of that nearly took you out of treatment, on your second day.
But you didn’t go, and I am so fucking proud of you for staying. I know all this is scary and frustrating, and lots of times the eating disorder is telling you that you don’t need to be here. But the doctors and counselors here think you do, and if you’re completely honest, deep down you know that you do, too.
So stay and fight for your life, because that really is what you’re doing. All these things you do to yourself, the drugs, the alcohol, the dancing, the purging - they are slowly killing you, and you know it. But if you stay here for just one month, take a chance and let them help you, you can actually get better, I promise you. You are a wikked chick, Kage, stop hiding behind all this other stuff and embrace who you are. You are (reasonably) intelligent, funny, compassionate and kind, and, as you will soon be able to agree without lying through your teeth, these things are more important than how you look, or how much you weigh.
Stop wasting the best years of your life, torturing yourself. This is your chance to finally accept help, and to get better.
Please stay, and fight for your life.
Pretty cheeeeeeesy, but whatever. That was the assignment.
I made the card to accompany the letter to myself, but then decided to only mail the card to my parents house. I wanted to keep the letter to myself in my bedside table, so I could read it when I felt like running for the hills.
The card was pretty basic:
I really, really hope that you are reading this AFTER having completed the inpatient Eating Disorders Program.
If yes, congratulations! Go and get that tattoo!
If no, then please, please continue to seek help. You are a very sick girl, no matter how much you might try to deny it.
I’m not there yet, but one day soon I promise, I won’t hate you so much.
Trying to love you (Ugh! Barf,)
Group finished shortly after that, and just like yesterday I thought we only had half an hour until Afternoon Snack, when in fact we had an hour. I got into my bed and pulled up The Colbert Report, and watched the most recent episode online, but I had already seen it last week at my parents house. So I am just going to keep watching them from that date backwards, and the Daily Show too, until I get some other stuff to watch from my friends and family. I really want to get my hands on Sons of Butcher, but after Dad making that massive payment on my Enmax account so Bf and Baby wouldn’t lose power, I cannot and will not ask him again. I can wait until I am out of here and can get them myself.
Actually, it just occurred to me - Gita texted yesterday, in response to my desperate message about selling my costumes.
“Hi Kage, I owe you some pay. Don’t bother selling your costumes just now, it will be too stressful for u to do that.”
I know it’s not going to be a lot of money, and I wanted to save it up for the tattoo that I am going to give myself for a graduation present when I move from Inpatient to Outpatient in another four weeks. Argh, I hate not having any money, but like Randy said, not matter how much I get it will never be enough. I am an addict, it will always just be more! more! more!
Huh. Funny how things happen sometimes. Just as I was in the middle of writing that, a social worker walked into our dorm room, and asked for me.
I had told the nurses on my first day about the abysmal state of my teeth. They had asked if I wanted to see my own dentist, or the hospital’s.
“I can’t afford to go my dentist, I’ve just declared bankruptcy,” I said with a grimace.
“You’d still have to pay for the dentist here, though,” she said.
“Really? It’s not subsidized at all?” I inquired.
“I really don’t know,” the nurse admitted. “But I will put a call in for you to see a social worker, if you like.”
“Please,” I said, and promptly forgot all about it.
I was just sitting here, worrying about money, when the social worker walked in. She also said that they can’t help me with my teeth, but that she could help me apply for financial support (welfare) while I am in the hospital.
“Could I get it if I have declared bankruptcy?” I asked her.
“I’ve honestly never had to deal with that before,” she said, and patted my hand. “But I will look into for you, and come back with some paperwork.”
Oh, thank God, I thought. I really needed the help right now. Left to my own devices, I’d prolly just eat the paperwork, throw it back up again, then wonder where my cheque was.
Phew! They were half an hour late with our dinners tonight! It was like the fucking apocalypse in here, everyone was so pissed.
Just finished Group for the evening. Twas okay, I guess. Kinda boring. We went and sat outside, and LynnLynn gave us a sheet of paper with a bunch of song titles on it, and we had to choose what two song titles described how we were currently feeling.
I chose the titles “Let It Be” and “Against All Odds”, the first because I absolutely cannot go anywhere near the situation with Bf right now, because I cannot be sure I won’t use or try to hurt myself. And “Against All Odds” because I have tried and failed to get better so many times before. I admittedly have never been hospitalized before, and I am hoping that the severity of the situation will not be lost on me, for once.
Dinner was a bit of a tough one tonight. I had to eat a whole-wheat bun with one pat of butter, and a veggie curry mush thing, both of which were absolutely delicious. But because I was about to endure our longest break, which is between dinner and Evening Snack, I didn’t think it was enough food. I had a cup of tea, and then I had a Nutrigrain bar, and then I made another cup of tea, and I think that’s where I went too far. I have spent the past half an hour holding onto my sore tummy, cursing myself for overeating again.
The other notable thing that happened today is that Grave, the nutritionist, came in to review my menus with me. They have noticed that I am adding food on to every meal, and apparently they don’t like that; they want it to be on your menu. That way you can’t just graze the cupboards after, you have a set menu and eating becomes more mechanical.
The only thing I had to change today was my snacks. I had written down fruit for every single snack, but when the time came, it wasn’t nearly enough food. So I had to review my menus for the next week, and add something to each snack. Each day, I added the same things - Rice Krispie square, Nutrigrain bar, and then either pudding or yogurt. I will have one of these with a piece of fruit at every snack time, plus three meals a day.
I hope it’s not too much food, but I am trying to console myself with the thought that I want to get out of here! I am here for one month, and then I am at Day Program for three months. I won’t be dancing for a while, and I have no boyfriend - so who fucking cares if I gain some weight while I am in here? I need some fucking energy to get through this, and if I become suicidally despondent from the weight gain, well, I know how to fucking lose it, don’t I? So why not just try, eat lots of good, healthy foods so I have the energy to win this fight for my life?
Ah, that’s enough rambling for now. In an hour and a half, I have to take my first shower here, and I am not looking forward to it. The shower is in it’s own little self-contained room with a sliding door that I’m not even sure locks. There are just so many fucking freaks around here makes me very nervous about disrobing in such a creepy little room (for no money).
The ones that stand out the most? Okay, on our side of the hall, literally living in the hall, is an alcoholic with a completely bruised and blackened face. All of it. He has no idea how this happened to him. On the other side of the hall, which is where I was for the first night, there are two that I can't stand - one is this shriveled up old prune of a woman, who just lies in her bed (also in the hall, what the fuck?) and cries over and over, “I don’t know what I’m going to do, please help me, I’m in agony, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” The other is a person with Down Syndrome, who just yelps every 3 seconds, on the dot.
I don’t walk down that hallway anymore. I’ll take the bruised and beaten alcoholic, thank-you very much. He's very quiet and pensive, prolly trying to remember what the fuck happened to his face.
Okay. I am gonna work on my 'last day of detox' entry for half an hour, and then I am going to watch some Colbert before I get in the shower.
Whoo hoo! I just had a contest with myself - how much food could I cram in my face in twenty minutes time?
Just finished Evening Snack. All I had waiting for me was a small container of grapes, which I ate pretty quickly. I wasn’t sure what my extra food was going to be, but I knew there would be one!
And then I found out that we are getting weighed in the morning. Not only that, but you get rewarded for how much weight you gain. If you gain a kilogram in one week, from Thursday to Thursday, you get an eight hour pass for Sunday! I am too late to be eligible this week, but the girls said something about getting a two hour pass off the ward - you have to stay at the hospital, but you get to leave the floor, and you can SMOKE and DRINK COFFEE and maybe even sneak a little binge in!
Though who knows? I am in really good spirits right now, and every hour that I am here I seem to be getting a little bit more comfortable about gaining some weight. The truth is, I don’t want to be a fucking lifer anymore. I want OUT. And the only way to do that is to give up my compulsive habits around food, and let them teach me to eat normally again.
Anyway, in honor of the fact that we are being weighed in the morning, I served myself a bowl of Crunchy Os with granola, even though Grave told me earlier today that I wasn’t allowed to do that anymore. But FuBu eats granola with every meal, so, I reasoned, why the fuck can’t I? And then I went back and had another totally full cup of cereal, and managed to cram it all in my mouth before the twenty minutes was up. Though just barely.
Other than that, had a good night tonight; wrote for a bit and then watched a couple of Colbert episodes in a row, which prolly explains why I am in such a good mood. Oh, and last night, while searching for Sons of Butcher on YouTube, I came across another program that my boys were staring in! It’s called Massive Explosion, and it’s absolutely terrible, but at least I get my hit - though I gotta say, I like Dave Dunham WAY better as Sol Butcher than as Kim Hollandaise. Maybe I won’t follow through on my plan to go to Hamilton and ask him out on a date.
Though really, I could gain a whole lotta weight, and I bet he’d still say yes, since he is a bit of a bigger guy himself. I actually like to think of him every day right now, and the fact that he wouldn't give me a second glance, being as emaciated as I am. BURN! If I wanna ask Dave Dunham out on a date, I better start eating, and get my weight back up.
Anyway, right now, all the matters is getting better, and getting the fuck up outta here.
Anyway, right now, all the matters is getting better, and getting the fuck up outta here.