Monday, 10:30 am

My check in time at the residential treatment program.

And may I just say that I am so overwhelmed about how I feel right now. Overwhelmed to the point of actually just not even being able to feel a thing. Which is pretty damned overwhelmed.

For almost three weeks now (well, come Tuesday at which point I'll be away) I've been staying with the twins and their mothers. I guess the old adage, "no news is good news" applies in this instance because things have been relatively easy here. Only two mothers have been in the house for three straight days during the entire length of time I've been here. But I haven't even sat for the girls very much. Just a few occasions when the girls were sick or parent needed to go shopping.

We've played endless amounts of Candyland (one of my all time favorites to be honest) and it's been, if not relaxing, certainly not chaotic. And I'm getting a lot of rest. Which begs the question, why isn't this little vacay from the trauma and turmoil of my family relaxing? Well, because even when you're away, they come right along with you.

I haven't seen Jay in almost two weeks, but we have plans to visit with each other on Sunday before I leave. He has no clue about what's about to happen (of course not, the plan was just finalized 90 minutes ago) but thankfully he's about to start spring break on Monday for THREE weeks. During which he will spend the entire time with his father. (Unfortunately, his father did call this morning and asked if I wouldn't mind keeping him during the day and I agreed not realizing things would happen so fast). But three weeks at his dad means it will be very easy for him to put his Titi in the back of his mind with all the four wheeling and monster truck rallying he's about to do.

The finances of this whole thing are just pretty amazing. There's no better word for it. The facility charges $900 per day and my insurance covers 80% of that. At a minimum of 30 days -- well, you can all do the math. I'm not even sure how my therapist worked this out with them because -- I'm only going to come out of pocket for a very very very small fraction of the expense. And so -- thank you PB for employing me for the last few months so that I could afford to do this. And a thank you to my mother as well, my sponsor, my therapist who I suspect really used up any stored favors on this deal, and everyone who's managed to sit with me during this really really difficult time.

I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack, which of course means that I'm not about to have one. Because you know, if you've had them, that it doesn't feel like a panic attack,it just feels like you're dying. And I don't feel like I'm dying. I feel scared out of my mind. About going to this place. And living with those girls. Or women, I suppose. About being in an environment where there's schedule activities from 7:00 am until 11:00 pm. Every single day -- except Sundays. The only day for visitation. I'm a little on edge about the fact that I am not allowed to bring my laptop. Like what the hell! Why not???!?!?! I'm a BLOGGER! I will definitely need my blog.

And there's no smoking allowed. Or gum chewing. There's only two hours of free time in there during that SIXTEEN hour day for me to use my cell phone and who even knows who'll be available to talk during that time.

I am not looking forward to three to four group meetings a day. Like, really? But -- here's the thing. I'm really looking forward to what happens afterwards. I'm really looking forward to being able to live my life. I'm really looking forward to having something to look forward too because it's been a really long time, you know. Gosh, that's what has my heart beating a little faster than normal. The excitement of seeing food as food and nothing more. Of being able to get dressed and go out into the world and claim what's mine. Of making peace with food and clothes and image and anxiety and my body and my mother and my father and my sister and MYSELF. Returning home (well, not my mother's house) and building a life for myself that I can appreciate. One with Jay. And Chewy. AND my laptop. And my cigarettes. :)

And then there are all the things I'm afraid of. Crying in front of others. Telling yet another therapist my story. The body image group. The meetings with the nutritionist who I'm certain will at some point experience my wrath. Or at several points. Of the doctors seeing my body. Of being the FATTEST one there. Yes, the capital letters were entirely necessary. Of that boulder on my chest being there and not being able to binge and purge it away. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. 100%. You have to eat 100%. How can they do that? I mean, really. We have eating disorders. 100%?

I'm really tired. But feeling a little hopeful. Eager to feel renewed.