week one

It's a little shy of hell here to be completely honest. There are nine girls, including myself, with the entire range of possibilities for eating disorders, and anxiety, and depression. Before last night, I actually thought things were going okay. Or as okay as they go for someone like me. Someone who's fairly accustomed to restricting all day and binging and purging at night and is then put into an environment where she's more or less presented with food six times a day. SIX times a day. Three meals. Three snacks.

It's painful. At this moment, the source is more physical than emotional although I can feel the emotions rising as I type this. The day starts with a 7:30 weigh-in, shower, breakfast, clean up (yes, we pay this place and then we clean up. hilarious) there's the interpersonal effectiveness group or art therapy and then there's snack time then individual therapy than lunch then...oh yeah. Aren't you just exhausted by reading all of this. So besides those two groups there's food and feelings, dbt, mindfulness, yoga, and ed med. Oh right. There's a morning walk but I haven't been cleared for that because I have not completed 100% of my food on any single day.

Which is like...duh. Did anyone actually READ my intake information? Did they expect that I would be able to?

And I haven't even gotten into the drama. And there really is drama. But let me back up and use a little wise mind and say that initially I thought, "Oh God, I don't need to be here" and now I realize that I do. Very much so.
Just by the look of my struggle it seems I've truly been awakened by just how serious this illness or disorder or disease is. Not that I'm glad to be here. But I need to be. I want this out of my life. It's just hard. Capital H.

My psychiatrist is visiting Sunday. Thank God. Because I have no friends in the area who know where I am and it's so incredibly lonely here. Lonely because...oh yes, back to the drama.

Seven of the girls hate me. Or not necessarily me, but my eating disorder. Yeah. See, I don't exactly see it as restricting since I'm eating at the meals. But there have been times when I've finished less than 50% or 20% or 10% (although in this instance I firmly believe the nurse was abusing her authority and just really pissed off at me because I told her to never talk to me again. Ever.)

Yes. Personalities really come out when you're confined to a house and never allowed to be alone. Forced to eat -- or supplement meals with those boost or ensure shakes. Forced to go on field trips with the girls out to lunch at a restaurant or visit BIRDHOUSES.

So my anxiety is probably at an all time high based on a day to day basis. Thankfully they've increased my meds on that front so that I can actually eat the meals but I was backed up for THREE days which made eating physically uncomfortable for yet another reason. The directors believed I just needed some space away from the girls (because I struggle with eating in front of others because I believe I'm too fat to eat and don't deserve food) and while that worked, they sent me back to the table out of fear that they were encouraging the eating disorder voice.

My food consumption continued to dwindle (I know it seems like -- what? You've only been here a week, but don't forget, SIX times a day) and the girls were pissed Because they were eating everything and my restriction was triggering their eating disorders and so just imagine a house full of women, some of them menstruating, all of them with eating disorder personalities and there was a blow out so huge that MTV could have filmed here and made us all a lot of money.

Someone saw me hide and throw away a candy bar. (Yep. They force us to eat everything) and it really pissed her off. She started telling people in the group (not the therapists who stay overnight to keep watch) but the residents. Then an apple mysteriously appeared in my cubby. (NOT MINE!) And I was confronted about this and it was just awful. It turned into a screaming match and there were tears (none of which were mine of course) :) and ultimately after an hour and a half it ended with me calling her a bitch. Oh yeah, and saying that she was just jealous that she didn't throw her own candy bar out. Or maybe it was her eating disorder that was jealous.

In a rush of emotions she starts to pack her bags saying she cannot live in such a hostile environment and I ultimately apologized. Umm...like this, "I apologize for calling you a bitch. I shouldn't have said that. I don't think you should leave because we have a conflict. It's unavoidable. It's life." I left out the part where I felt like I still actually think she's a bitch. But I would have felt extremely guilty had she actually left for home after seven weeks and her second go around at residential.

The clinic director says my food consumption has to be at 100% next week or they'll just admit me to the hospital. Since apparently...they can do that. Because you know -- the not eating, the purging (it's only happened twice) -- puts the facility at risk of liability if I'm not actually doing what they claimed they could do for me.

My roommate was also one of the girls who attacked me in interpersonal group and so that makes things difficult. Although, I think, maybe I won't be so forgiving and I won't try to join the community since it's clear they're furious with me, that I won't continue to be a bitch. Or...at least I'll try. I'm afraid I've definitely inherited my father's rage and wrath. Not to mention, I'm totally unforgiving and it obviously makes things worse.

Not a fan of my therapist. But she's a hardass, which is of course, what I need at this point. I've talked to Dixie everyday (except today) and she's coming out to visit next week although the people who work here aren't happy about it. But I feel as if it's my only family, you know? And I need that. I need to be able to talk to her. To see her.

And finally, there's a cat here. Who's like a dog. Who curled up on my lap and let my pet him for twenty minutes while I cooled off last night after the mtv drama. And I opened my heart to a kind of furry little creature that I thought I hated. And while I suppose most of them still scare the shit out of me...this one brought me an incredibly amount of solace last night. And for that tiny bit of grace -- I am entirely thankful.

I miss you all. We only get internet access for an hour a day. There's one computer shared by all of us and so it takes some time to edge my way in here. But I really really do miss you all and I actually feel even more...I don't know. For those of you who are farther along in recovery...I admire you. I really really admire you. The struggle. And I'm so proud and in awe and of course, still concerned, because I know it's something that never completely goes away.

With love and hugs.

Erin