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Post by Caylus Ark on Jan 24, 2018 14:20:52 GMT
note: yo, originally this stuff was supposed to just be on a google doc, but, somebody asked if I'd be willing to share about where I've actually been and I think I said yes. Maybe this will entertain somebody. also: I literally hope somebody is entertained. humor is an important part of my ability to deal with existing. Also, perhaps once I begin talking, you will all realize why I have been so quiet for so long. there is really just no meaningful middle ground with this stuff.
(sorry I forgot the date. maybe 2 weeks back)?
It is so late into the night that early morning sun is groundhogging on the horizon. Venus gets into the picture on the daystar pedestal trying to out-blink sirius. The girl’s mom speaks sharply at her for being up this late, reading Emerson and writing whatever the fuck this is. The girl lives in a repurposed office adjacent to her mother’s bedroom, which is actually a repurposed garage, but you can’t tell at all. Her mother’s name is Suzi and now she’s guilt tripping the girl, whose name is Darrah Suzi is saying, “Did you take an adderall?” (the girl had taken two 10mg adderalls from her mom’s silver drug purse earlier this same night) The girl says, “No.” The girl says, “I’m writing”. Which is true. Her mom says, “Okay…you’re getting on your old patterns again.” with the most resigned and jaded nervousness. My mom gets very “nervous” and if I do old behaviors obviously it really stirs her up. I’m in a pickle though because I didn’t technically recover. I just left. I didn’t expect to find my old sleep patterns waiting for me at home either.
Now her mom is sad, and she says so before sliding closed the thin door that is supposed to somehow protect Darrah’s privacy and ability to freely use amphetamines late until the night...
She’s only been out of eating disorder/mental health treatment for two or three days and she’s already had every red flag “trigger” that the therapists had asked her to come up with.
She’s afraid of sleep. When she wakes up, she expects to find a nurse waiting patiently for her to change into her gown and get weighed. She expects it to be 6:00am-7:00am so she can get ready, eat breakfast around 8am, and then do groups for the rest of the day. People would watch her and take notes on her and gently redirect her if she began to pick at her skin until it bled. They would make sure she ate all her food and patiently argue with her about why paprika isn’t an appropriate condiment to put on tuna salad. She’d been doing this in Pasadena for three weeks at this one particular treatment center, but actually she’d been in treatment continuously from January 3rd 2017 to January 10th 2018, a whole year, in different treatment centers, at different levels of care. But always with a lot of people, telling her what to do, even as she argued with all their dumb minutiae, like not being allowed to prepare her breakfast while wearing slippers (some dumb toaster might fall on her feet).
Then she just stopped and went home. The correct order of things is - possibly Inpatient (IP), Residential Treatment Center (RTC), Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP), Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP), and then Outpatient, at which point you were on your own and expected to find an outpatient team. Darrah went from RTC straight out of treatment, which is never recommended by the experts, probably for the same reason as what Darrah is experiencing now, like waking up and hyperventilating because the time surplus is dripping into her chest and expanding like the wilderness, so that when she blinks her eyes shut she doesn’t know where she is anymore or what she’s supposed to be doing. Like one of those Dali paintings, which an old roommate used to have hanging up behind their kitchen sink, which was an awfully strange place to have a Dali painting. But what these strange panic attacks mean for the girl she begins to finally grasp.
“I’m completely institutionalized,” she realizes in horror.
HEADLINE: The “chaos magician”, Caylus Ark, has been institutionalized for, like, a year now.
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Post by Caylus Ark on Jan 24, 2018 14:24:26 GMT
1/24/17
The first day or two home from residential Darrah stayed up writing this document and getting high. This eager journey downhill actually did give her pause and a funny feeling of descending back into the “crazy” (weed always gives her this feeling, she hates weed) but she’d told herself at the time, “it’s okay because I’m writer and being unbalanced is just creative”, and that actually sufficed through the night.
By the next day she knew she had made a terrible mistake. The longer she stays here with the doors closed and sound slipping through the paper thin walls, the more she finds herself at odds with the way the yet-unpacked suitcases take up 2/3rds of the floorspace in this tiny room, and half of the cubbies underneath the TV are still occupied by her mother’s extensive collection of gardening books.
Somehow she brought herself to meet up with Charles for an hour one of those days. He showed her pictures from his band, Mom’s, performance, and explained how his stage shtick involved ketchup abortions and drag and maybe some kind of pretend poop but she can’t remember. It’s good to hear him doing what he loves. He also told her that as somebody who had experienced being institutionalized for a long period of time, the most important advice he could give her was to get into a routine. Being at home all day with no structure was the worst thing possible. She nods, as if there is actually some kind of alternative in mind, feeling worried.
The depression got heavier in magnitudes as the space around her seemed to shrink like the distance between her and her mom who frequently walked in unannounced. Her poor mom tried so hard to lift Darrah from her listless position on the couch where she slept or huddled in a ball, watching Naruto. She’d even taken her to Target and they’d put up reddish-orange curtains so that the light would filter through the room during the daytime, and that had made the vibe better, but it’s hard to salvage somebody’s mood when they’re so intent on shutting the light out in the first place.
Some days she’d wake up and spend an hour or two playing Xenoblade Chronicles before getting tired and going back to bed for the rest of the day. She felt foggy when her mom woke her up at 7pm to ask if she wanted dinner. But Darrah was pretty sure she hadn’t bothered with that, either; she’d just gone back to bed and somehow slept until late the next day. Other days she just started into fits of hysterical crying because the option of doing anything was just so, horribly overwhelming, and if we started down this pathway, the checkmarks just keep ticking - “I’m a loser” “I am living with mom at 25” “I am crazy” etc and that just made the crying even harder to control. Her mom would give her xanex at times like these, and it didn’t make the hole go away, but it let her bear it placidly with a ragdoll blankness and much less hysteria.
Yesterday she purged a starbucks mocha frappacino light and an egg white and feta wrap in the bathroom before going into her psychiatrist appointment where she got adderall and xanex from an old middle eastern man who tried to show interest in her eating disorder which he seemed to believe must have been caused by overly vain parents. It wasn’t untrue but nor was it that simple but she wasn’t going to explain it so she smiled and nodded politely and then when they ran out of things to talk about while he scribbled notes she stared at the carpet privately salivating at the prescription pad which would come at the end.
She invented a million possible obstacles that might come between her and filling her prescriptions, such as a lack of money or needing prior authorization from insurance or the pharmacy being out of stock of something, but in the end the only barrier were the 30 minutes needed to fill the meds. She was going to go wait at home but then suddenly she realized she could go to the mall food court and order mongolian barbeque all by herself, with nobody to watch her eat and see that in reality her self-control was a facade and she was capable of ordering noodles that she knew had 700+ calories. She sat down and started shoveling the noodles in her mouth even though they were still scalding hot and tried to enjoy the food but she realized she was just stuffing her face like some kind of broken circuit but it would be okay because the mall has family restrooms which lock where she could spend 10 minutes or so throwing up immediately afterwards, desperately because her stomach felt like it was about to pop and she was truly disgusted and she really, really needed to take that adderall xr like, now. And she arrived back at the pharmacy and she paid and got in her mom’s honda and took the adderall immediately, and hasn’t eaten since.
That was...not yesterday, but the day before that. She’s been up since then. Normally she wouldn’t be this careless with her meds (yeah, right) but she’d going back to Reasons inpatient tomorrow so it really doesn’t matter if she doesn’t sleep for a couple days. it’s not like she can take her amphetamines and benzos with her. Sometimes being on adderall is great and at other times she feels the overwhelming urge that there is something very specific and productive to be doing and everything she tries is not it. So there’s been creative genius here, some staring at walls, some reading, some refreshing demigod production’s homepage. And refresh. And refresh. Even though she promised herself she’d never get into that again, sleepless nights on fringe websites and the freefall into paranoid psychosis. (But it’s okay, she’s going to treatment tomorrow.)
The past maybe two weeks have got Darrah thinking, wow. I thought I just didn’t want to go back to society all this time, but as it turns out, I’m seriously a fucking mess.
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Post by Caylus Ark on Jan 24, 2018 14:29:19 GMT
I’m trying to suspend my expectations. I could be in full-blown panic mode right now. But what would be the point? At least I sort of know what to expect from Reasons. What I don’t know is what to expect from myself. I don’t know if my appetite will be under control or if I’ll be on the freaking binge/purge spectrum. All I know is that if I want to restrict my food intake I probably won’t be getting any coffee for awhile, but it’s okay. A caged rat just wants to be let back in her cage. I’m afraid of the wild. I’m distressed. (Clearly, the researchers observe.)
I’m writing because we’ve sort of agreed with ourselves that we can do this right now. I mean goddamn, I don’t know what this is even about right now. I want it to be something profound but it’s a Sanatorium of Rats. All those profound brain fodders that are nowhere to be found right now. I guess there’s irony in the fact that Caylus Ark spent 3 years researching mind control on Godlikeproductions only to subject herself to a year of psychiatric treatment in 2017. I know that it doesn’t sound like it would be the same thing, but there are some similarities. I mean I was stoked on noting the similarities in January when I’d never done this before. I was also entertained at all the people taking notes on me because I felt like this was very mind-control-handlery behavior. Not that I believed that the Bella Vita had some kind of mind control thing, but you have to understand Caylus’s main way of researching mind control was slipping into the sort of behavioral side of psychology. My education level regarding psychology has actually been a relatively… consistent challenge. Not just because I have to fight the instinct to assume I know it all already but because I’m constantly trying to manipulate these systems just to see if I can. It can be very difficult to treat someone for a psychological disorder if they’re, a psychologist for example. It’s also harder to be treated for an eating disorder when you’re a walking encyclopedia of calorie counts and contradictory theories of nutrition none of which are complementary with eating disorder recovery.
I’ve pretty much been unanimously been called a “complicated” (read: hopeless) case so yeah, go figure. And I mean hey, if nobody can get a handle on me, that puts everyone in the same boat. Because I absolutely cannot handle myself. I’m an impulse machine.The only difference is everyone else can leave the boat and I’m stuck here with moi. I picture a little rowboat tethered to the dock and me just sitting hugging my knees as everyone goes home waiting for a night with myself all bloodthirsty because things turned out badly, stuck on a boat and all. That’s just the sort of way things would really play out, too. Everyone would leave and my eyes would turn green and go sharp and feline and I’d have these claws suddenly and some very fierce drama would play out, either with me talking to myself in my head or just clawing at myself with cat paws until I was too cold to sit in the boat anymore or too bloody for strangers to leave me there. ...I digress. I know I have been accused of being sort of ‘delighted’ in my insanity, like I speak or write sometimes as if I’m proud of it. I’ve always denied it, but I realized that others just might not pick up on my humor. I feel so insane that what control I do have is basically limited to observing and remarking irreverently upon my behavior. Actually I’ve always used self-deprecation as a coping skill, specifically humor. Given that you’d think I’d be less sensitive to criticism but it doesn’t seem to be the case. It’s actually a really horrible mix of qualities to be as sensitive as I am and also as sardonic because I feel like perhaps my weird sense of humor is partly responsible for how, sometimes when I’m really, really awkward I just start grinning uncontrollably or laughing.
It’s not like I don’t wish I had coping skills. It’s really hard to take someone whose frequent reaction to stress is hysterical sobbing, panic attacks, starvation, vomiting, or hurting themselves, or drugs I guess, and tell them :okay, now, instead of doing any of that, like, color a picture. Because coping skills are probably the backbone of all eating disorder recovery anywhere, I’m not completely shocked that people (ie me) frequently relapse because there’s no way I’m going to tell myself an affirmation in a situation that would normally have me literally banging my head against a wall (I used to do that). So I’m going to be honest, I really have had some trouble buying into the coping skills aspect of treatment which is a bit of a problem because as I mentioned before it’s basically the most important thing you do in treatment, it’s all just the trauma of the treatment process itself and then coping skills when you aren’t being actively psychoanalyzed. Also, extra coping skills on the weekends if you’re in residential because the therapists don’t work on the weekends and the floor staff may or may not be good with handling meltdowns. NOT, mind you, that those people EVER get a guarantee there WON’T be one. Often they get nice docile groups of girls (a boy once in a blue moon) who, eager to please (it’s an eating disorder thing which some people have - hah, I don’t, but it’s pretty common), have their breakdowns at more appropriate times.
I’m going to come clean, I think a lot of staff hated me. Or maybe I’m just saying that because I know that many of them (also) loved me but it is more entertaining to think about the myriad ways in which they must have hated me. A lot of people, if I tell them how lax my mom was as a disciplinarian tend to feel some judgement towards her, but I bet you if it was their job to try and behaviorally normalize me they’d come out more sympathetic. Probably the most annoying part about me isn’t that I’m openly defiant (although I often am) or that try to break the rules (although I do) but really more than anything else that I am an intolerable know-it-all. Lauren said I should be a lawyer, but I barely notice that I have an answer for everything even when I’m not trying to be contradictory or argumentative. Gosh, let alone when I am trying to actually come up with an argument for something. I come up with fantastic arguments pretty often and I think it usually aggravates staff not because they are under any obligation to oblige me, but because it’s not very uncommon for me to just leave them at a point where they have no rebuttal because what I said makes more sense. And a lot of those times are situations where I’m not really even expecting a change in policy, but just trying to figure out their rationale. And I am very explicit about my need for wanting to know a facility’s rationale behind things which just further facilitates the likelihood I will find something about said rationale to poke a hole in (not that I’m so insufferable I will necessarily choose to do so).
When I was at Reasons this last time, I think they probably liked me the least of any of the places I’ve been to. I don’t know if this is because the other places had more time to warm up to me, but I don’t think so. I mean part of it could be that at Reasons I didn’t warm up...a whole lot. I was withdrawn a lot of the time, or having a temper tantrum, or a panic attack. Some kind of behavioral issue. Not to mention, usually I have some close friendships when I go to treatment, but in inpatient and RTC I didn’t get more than cordially close with literally...anyone. I actually had more relational issues with other clients then I’ve ever had probably in my life. That was my past RTC experience - good lord, what a nightmare for all parties, and awkward to boot. When they told me yesterday that they’re going to take me from inpatient to PHP I wasn’t all that surprised to consider that, perhaps, they weren’t too eager at the prospect of having me there again. I wasn’t trying to be such an unbearable human, but it’s not like I was that concerned with people liking me; I certainly didn’t.
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Post by Caylus Ark on Jan 24, 2018 15:01:23 GMT
author's note: this one sounds so *grimace* normal sort of really goes to show you how drastically my mentality changes between this date and the more recent ones
12/28/12
The year is nearly over. I've spent the whole damn time bouncing from treatment center to treatment center, from RTC to PHP to RTC to IOP and back up, down, all around. Then I made the mistake of thinking I ought to try inpatient. But by the time I got there, I wasn't coming off a streak of prolonged starvation, eg in one of my worse episodes of anorexia. Instead I'd already spent a month in La Ventana's RTC. The circumstances were not as I would have liked, and insurance stepped me down after merely 6 days.
Now I am in Reasons RTC. They run off of the "Health at Every Size" philosophy, and you are much like to be approved to eat cheez-its and jelly bellies but denied special k cereal. I just trekked around vons on one of our few weekly outings. In a lot of way it was torture. There was a starbucks coffee bar there which I could not of course attend. There was wine I could not drink, acai berry juice I could not try, a book that I couldn't buy (it was Stephan King's It). I found myself thinking, "I can't wait to get out of here and drink my damned coffee and eat my organic food again".
The HAES thing makes it hard. It feels like they are not regulating what I "need" so much as pushing what they feel I need to "accept". It's nice to be able to eat all these foods I've denied myself since I was a kid, like M&Ms and cookies and fudge and pasta or what have you, but it seems like moderation isn't really a feature of the design. We have to eat something "deserty" (AKA sugary) every night for HS snack. On all snacks, we have "2-4 exchanges" with Alyssa (the dietician) recommending 4 - hah - and that's a lot of food. It feels like more than I need.
I vacillate, though. This is the strictest program I've ever been in and for the first time I actually want to get out ASAP rather then getting so comfy I want to stay sick and never leave. Given my predispositions against structure, this is probably the best thing for me. I hate it, and it makes me pissed off. But the problem with me is that I can manipulate everyone and then go down to lower levels of care and relapse. Strict is probably a good thing because my ED is really strong and needs containment.
However, with all these commendations for me eating my mealplan 100% (almost all the time - say 80-90%), I am constantly tempted to just "stop" again. That feels like the safe thing to do, if I'm thinking about it very "therapeutically". I could just stop eating my mealplan despite the behavioral contract punishments. Then, they would likely have to send me back to inpatient, and the horrible idea that I was not "sick enough" to be there would finally be perished.
There are certainly cons to that though. Consider: disgusting cafeteria food, uncomfortable beds, far less individual attention, more triggering patients, an ugly environment, and...yeah. Crazy people? I guess I can't list that, being so crazy myself.
It's just the urge comes up so routinely, like a weed that just can't be pulled up from all the roots. And yes, it's a matter of roots. the "root" of this issue. the "root" of that one.
But I think part of what keeps me from succumbing to the urge to go back to all that restricting, more than the displeasure of the hospital itself, is the fact that I miss a lot of things about being home and having my freedom. I want netflix shows to binge on a TV I don't have to share. I want to meet Julia's friends and go out with her. I want to be able to eat an amount that is moderate to ME, and that isn't forced with carbohydrates and tons of sugar. And have as much coffee as I want, and play ps4 again. I want my shit back. And I want to be allowed to eat my cereal with chocolate milk (supposedly, this is a "behavior").
And I want to drink healthy organic juices, and I want to play with my damn dog. And take walks...
And sure. There's a part of me that wishes to reserve that space, once I'm out of treatment. Something I haven't been able to do throughout this year, because I haven't actually "exited" the treatment process. And that is: to do the eating disorder right. Sure, there's a part of me...
But the question is, could I really do that to my mom? I might have to wait till I can move out, but... Given my lot in life, I'm not sure when or if that will ever happen.
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Post by Caylus Ark on Jan 24, 2018 15:03:35 GMT
author's note?life is a comedy of farces on a carousel , so let loose? it won't mean a thing 2 youu in the end anyway
11/08/17 (the night before going into residential)
Yesterday I got home and the power was surging off and on. The power guy was at the house and the sun had already set and the volatile state of the electricity meant amusing myself w/ technology is limited.
I had this fun idea, sitting in the corner of my bed next to the wall and at my bookshelf, to turn on my phone's voice recording and begin babbling. I deleted the first three but I was having quite a lot of fun with the fourth when ALL the lights in the house went off. While I commented on the sudden darkness into the microphone a speck of light on my desk drew my gaze. The more I looked at it, the less it seemed to be what it really was: a flashing LED indicator in a small strip of my laptop, alternating between a dim glow and faint, almost-gone light.
[author's note: there was really nothing 'weird' about this light, thinking back on it. the only weird part was how long I stared at it]
But the shadows were crawling all over. as anonymous men dragged cables and ladders through my backyard, swirling dark planks and making strips of darkness cross my room. Things had all just grown very surreal. Where was I? Who are these people (seriously)? What is this light (literally just a light you dunce)? It's so bright. It's protruding from its source and lingering above the closed laptop (I doubt this).
The dark complete, I slip awkwardly from my bed and crawl towards the light, watching it boldly. It seemed to possess a dimensionality of translucent polygons flickering in and out (...). I'm not afraid of you anymore, I told it (wtf ?).
Then I heard my best friend Julia whistling for me. Somehow I stumbled out of my room, spilled/almost fell on my face but just tumbled instead.
"You were just sitting in your room with the lights off, weren't you?" She knows me so well to accuse me of this.
"There was this light-" I say
Her response: "Aah, Darrah's having alien conversations in her room again, fuck!" She fits the scene so well, it's like she couldn't be real.
[author's note: I don't know what in heavens name I could have meant by that last line, because there is literally nothing in that entire entry that fits anything]
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Post by Caylus Ark on Jan 24, 2018 15:21:40 GMT
[author's note: this isn't a very entertaining entry at all]
11/29/17 I want to hurt myself. I want to be sick. I want to be hospitalized. I want to know what it feels like. Marie left for inpatient yesterday. It was extremely emotional. I sobbed. She sobbed. I was crying because I would miss her. But another part of me was jealous. I know inpatient in a normal hospital is hell. But I need to know what an ED hospital is like because that's for people who are 'sick enough'. People that have successfully hurt themselves. [author's note: you won't believe how many times I have tried and failed to explain this concept to people. so don't ask]
No matter how long I've starved and how skinny I've gotten, I've never been physically ill (beyond low blood sugar or low blood pressure or whatever). But many I've known at a normal or overweight BMI have gotten super physically sick and been to inpatient.
But now I feel stuck. Since I've been in treatment 11 continuous months now and when I've gotten bad, they've sent me back to residential so I couldn't get as bad as I (wanted to) would have otherwise.
I can't just AMA (leave against medical advice) or insurance will crap all over me. I'm stuck in the cycle and I want to break it by getting SICK. But for that to happen I have to be "well" enough to LEAVE treatment. and I keep breaking down before that happens.
I couldn't even replicate what I did last time! I thought I would be here and simply not eat, but I started eating right away! (I'm referring to how the first time I was in residential at la ventana in july, it took me about a month before I started to eat) I'm VERY frustrated and ashamed and no therapist seems to 'get it' (I doubt any of you will either, unless you have eating disorders)
I keep thinking of ways I can be sick enough for inpatient, but it's just too fucking late - maybe if I started starving - sorry, continued starving - when I first got here almost 3 weeks ago. But now, even if I started doing 0% on my mealplan every day, I would be more likely to be dropped than stepped up.
So it's impossible right now (barring AMA which would be like shooting myself in the foot). That means if I still want I have to go through the cycle - PHP, IOP, AGAIN. And complete it this time. GET OUT of treatment this time. THEN start. It's very frustrating. I could go to psychiatric inpatient but ED inpatient would be IMPOSSIBLE right now (going to ED inpatient once you are in psych inpatient at Reasons is actually as simple as not eating food).
And there's a worse problem...I keep eating! my appetite is working against me. Maybe if it wasn't I could continue in my ED even after having been stepped up to RTC. Maybe I could stop eating right now and maybe I'd be stepped up. (spoiler alert: I continue eating and am stepped up anyway which in a hilarious twist of fate, nobody tells my family insurance has decided not to cover until several days have gone by)
[pretty soon, you will start to notice a very contorted double bind in my logic process, if it is not already obvious]
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Post by Caylus Ark on Jan 24, 2018 16:45:24 GMT
[author's note: I might leave out some juicy stuff about crushes and a love life. you can see my insanity but like hell if you witness my banal thoughts. I won't even admit to having banal thoughts, so, there.]
11/30/17
we're in nursing group and it's pure torture. Ren explained in detail how critical she was in hospital care. Korrin, the nurse, is saying that every person is different and it's possible for some people to have medical complications after even a few weeks of having an eating disorder.
(Ren is a amusing kind of overweight black girl whom I adored [and alternatively at times hated and fought with] and whom I am surprised to find out at one point was severely anorexic and underweight. When I first got there they had her on so much klonopin that she'd have her eyes closed at the table for 8pm snack, trying to scoop spoonfuls of m&m/almond/cranberry trailmix in her mouth but sometimes missing and hitting cheek instead. she was very entertaining to talk to at this time of the evening because she was literally delirious) (I remember that I just wanted to turn into a rapidly sloshing popsicle during this group. I mean, I was writing in my journal so I could zone out because I felt so emotional about it. Writing in a journal during groups at Reasons, by the way, would NEVER fly.)
Why do I fantasize about being hospitalized ? It's making me want to stop eating again and the worst part is I feel like I can't [stop eating]. The thing w/ the voice in me is saying, "even if you stop eating now, you will be healthy".
It's because I'm protected by the green man. (Did I mention this to you guys? I've always known this.) He's the one who protects one's destiny.
I feel like if I stopped eating that would be a big gamble because it might get me stepped down prematurely. (sometimes, if you are not showing a willingness to actually get better over the course of treatment, they step you down sooner because they just sort of give up on you. sort of makes you wonder how I've made it this long)
Update: I need this thing right now, we just had snack and I ate it despite a huge war in my head. Because mainly "that" part reminded me that I could go a really long time not eating and my labs still show nothing wrong.
The worst that I can be in RTC with the time I have is low blood sugar or bad fluids ie dehydrated and need an iv and be in and out. And I realize I would need patience to go through treatment and finish it this time[I'm assuming I mean if I DID get stepped up?]. However...I'm debating lunch...
I just want to know what it's like to be sick "enough". Ren got so sick she was in the ICU. And Marie...
(I'm still sad I only new Marie for a couple days. She had Bulimia and she was 18. Her Bulimia had been very dangerous for her so she'd been in and out of the hospital. Marie read auras and she had experience with 'entities' which was refreshing because it made her fun to talk to. I asked her many times what my aura is and she generally said like blue/green which she felt like was very calm and grounding - which I think she sees because that is my effect on her, which makes me feel happy. I grow rather attached to Marie and I tend to take care of her for the five days she's around. She'd never been to residential treatment center. also because she was a bit chubbier I think she was expecting people to be mean to her, because I feel like that might have been the case for her before. When she left because she was having severe gastrointestinal issues I was honestly a mess and she was such a sensitive young girl that seeing my bawling like that made her start bawling too. They way the nurse Korrin put it was "if you can't eat" (eg because you are too busy pooping and throwing up) "you can't be here" which I guess was a logical thought.)
The "thing" [dragon?] reminded me that there would be be tons of stick-thin people in inpatient and it would annoy the hell out of me. True (it's honestly not true). So it's like I'm pushing like hell against the tide of fate and it's just plain not working.
It's like my tactics in Fire Emblem. If one approach isn't working, I need to try a different approach. I keep putting off the end of treatment because I'm afraid to confront my reality, ('my reality' includes 'being' caylus ark, by the by) but I have come a long long way since I first started. I have Julia now. I don't want to keep her waiting. I talked to my mom last night, and she said when I get out of here I can get a kitty and I can pick it myself.
Update: I'm really nauseous. I didn't eat lunch but that's not why. They plated one starch and I knew I had 2. I spoke up and told Cheren and she brushed me off. My emotional distress at asking and being denied made it impossible to touch lunch. I heard the sound of the printer flaring up and I knew it was my updating mealplan showing 2 starches. But Cheren didn't say anything to me. I had to check the mealplan binder after lunch to confirm.
(okay. I feel like I should chime in here. basically I spoke up that my mealplan had more food then they'd given me. Cheren didn't believe me. Cheren was practically the only strict person at La Ventana. Well she didn't believe me and I felt humiliated because you don't with a diagnosis of anorexia simply ask for more food. we aren't supposed to even like food and it's actually a shameful secret when we do. so immediately I decide: I'm going to punish Cheren, because I know that I'm right about the amount of food she had served me. Well, she gets that I'm upset and she tells me fine fine she will check BEFORE lunch if I'm right rather than waiting until after. I say, "I don't care anyway I don't want extra bread". I make sure that she is absolutely, 100% clear about the fact that I do NOT want more bread. I'm pretty sure me making such a big deal about how little I care about whether I'm right is probably why she decides it's probably for the best if she just says nothing. But apparently in this entry I don't let her get away with that, either.)
I mentioned my appetite has been really fighting my ED, but every time my emotions get pricked, my appetite becomes zilch. (not eating is also a very effective way of letting staff know how upset you are at them, which is of course exactly what they are trying to get you to not-do-anymore). It's just not there and I don't have to fight it at all.
Outside RTC I start restricting and my appetite is kind of mind to mostly control. (up until that point, it had been) Here, the emotions are so insane and when they are hungry they scream and eat and when they are triggered they wash away everything and the food looks like sand.
I reflect back to the previous day in treatment. Oh, this is fun. I really butt heads with this nurse, Christy. She is actually a bitch though. She is one of those people who should have never ever become a nurse, particularly in the mental health field.
My anger yesterday was a terrible force to be reckoned with. Every time I vent about it staff redirects me. (redirect means: change the subject) But, I'm always with staff. So it's like there is never a time to talk about it. I just spent like 20 minutes in the group venting about it. I had been trying to avoid my negativity, but it all just came pouring out like today's bizarrolong entry.
My emotions are fucking intense and terrible right now. I feel like expressing the emotions scare away my peers, but containing them is killing me. (you think your peers are scared now? just you wait.) Christy (bitchy nurse) yesterday hung the phone over my head all day. Her and Heather. (Heather is a quiet albino floor staff whom I didn't trust) At the end of the night, I spoke to my mom - finally - and after 25 minutes Christie was sure to remember to make me get off the phone. (our phone time each day is a maximum of 30 minutes.) Julia had been asking me about the human consciousness game on the iPhone (biocentric game, I have absolutely discussed it here) and I couldn't remember the name. Finally at snack the name of the game popped into my head. I wanted to tell Julia real quick. So I went into the office to ask for the phone.
Christie and Heather decide to ambush me here. (Okay I forgot to mention that there is an instigating event, which is that I call Christie some variant of stupid bitch in conversation to my mom when Christie told me to get off the phone. I didn't know she'd heard, but it was reactive and I regretted it) Christie picked up the phone and acted like she was about to hand it to me. Then when I went out to grab it she retracted her hand and held it behind her back. She demanded to know why I was so upset with her [why I called her a stupid bitch on the phone]. So I explained to Christie how she has been making me feel provoked and taunted. Especially then. Right then, where she does that thing where she is about to hand me the phone and then hides it behind her back like a little child or a bratty older sibling. Why does she always do weirdly condescending shit like that?
Then Christie says, "You've already had 2 15 minute phone calls." I tell her, "No, I've had 1 25 minute phone call [and several missed calls that went to voicemail because I haven't been allowed to use the phone all day]" I clarify, "That means I have 5 minutes left." I figured she is always so on top of the rules that she couldn't argue with this. Then Heather jumps into the conversation to retort sassily, "But every rule has exceptions", and she looks very satisfied because she's actually throwing back in my face something I'd said earlier. I'd been telling Christy that in some situations I believed that obvious exceptions to a rule exist and I believed that the way these two harassed me out of getting to use the phone until 8:00 at night when I'm supposed to have phone privileges at 4:30 was them being fuckity with the rules.
Well I was furious by the way because I was being goaded by this lady who is being paid to be the adult. She looks ready to throw down herself. But the part that really strikes me as total bullshit is the fact that it's two-against-one. I say, "that would be very mean and spiteful." I'm thinking I only need ONE minute, FFS. But I really think at this point for me it's about the fight more than it is getting in touch with Julia, because I literally hate both of these woman at this moment. Heather says, "No! I'm standing up for Christy here," she huffed with firey resolution in her eyes and something that would have seem more noble to me if I didn't literally feel myself growing taller and taller and growing scales and horns.
I growled that they were ganging up on me which they deny awkward talking over each other because they very obviously are. I felt like I was going to breathe fire. Note, I haven't actually flipped out. I want to and I'm not really sure I can stop myself. ... ... "Do you know how hard this is? Do you know how hard the past few days have been? Why are you torturing me? Why are you holding the phone over my head? this is hard. Treatment is Hard. and you know what? at the end of the day, you two get to go clock out, go home, and take a breather. You get to chill, and I don't. Right now, you could give me the phone and it wouldn't be breaking any rules. It would be completely valid by the rules and you both know it. But you're using it as a chance to yell at me and lecture me and play take-away."
I didn't yell, but I had been...very...very...firm. and I was now drilling a death glare into christie's soul through her eyes and you could tell I'd gotten through to her a bit. My voice did tremble and perhaps she saw me as vulnerable, emotional, uncertain. I wonder how she normally saw me. She says, "I know treatment is hard..." approaching the obvious "but..."
and then she said something which I completely forgot because I'd been so hyperinvested in my own tangent that when it was over my mind just detached like a big old fart out a butthole I guess. She concedes me my five minutes while making sure to mention she'll come and grab it out from my hands if it's any longer and I try not to feel so pissed off that she has to throw that in there and not just be an okay human for once, but I literally keep my whole mouth shut.
Christie didn't meet my eyes when I returned the phone in well under five minutes. Heather was awkwardly avoiding any notion of interaction and couldn't seem to decide if she was going to pretend to do paperwork or pretend to check her email. I want to say that I didn't care enough to check. I didn't start screaming which I consider a pretty huge victory.
Stop. Okay. Story done. Shannon didn't let me have cinnamon on my apple. Apparently it's a condiment. I didn't lash out. I just lost my appetite again. It seems my sensitivity just takes less and less pressure to fall into a tailspin. I sat at snack writing and writing in this thing like nobody else was sitting there, least of all the snack itself.
I didn't know I had so much fire in my belly until I belched it out last night. and how I realized how cruel I was to myself all the time because that dragon I showed is always haunting me. but it was something else entirely when it came out on somebody else like a skeleton fumbling out the closet. leaving just a pink raw thing with access to my - wait, that is my heart.
(I went through a big authority-challenging phase when I was in residential at La Ventana this last time. When you've been at a treatment center long enough that they all know you pretty well and - if you would believe this - generally liked me, maybe there's a tendency to feel a bit too comfortable, but I just was being sort of contrary and self-righteous and some of my manipulations were successful.
We had target outings pretty often at La Ventana, a practice which nearly ended because of me because when we go to target I slip away from the group and misbehave, ideally by ordering starbucks while nobody is around. Because I usually get away with this, I had been becoming used to it and one week the Resident Advisor (floor staff) wasn't having it. I knew I wasn't going to get my coffee but I kept slipping away from her instead of staying with the group
because I'd become so pissed off I was suddenly being asked to FOLLOW the rules that it was making me really feel like I needed some space from the group. So, the target trips become a bit more of a dilemma and I start thinking they'll definitely enforce us staying together as a group the NEXT time we go to target, but this doesn't happen. The next time we go to target everybody slips away and does their own thing until we leave and nobody gets in trouble, probably because whoever was in charge that night would have gotten written up.
But they didn't know how to control us. I just don't think there was quite enough training.
Something I'm trying to communicate is asking, why do I feel the need to be so obstinately and deliberately rebellious ? At this time in La Ventana, it became very hard to suppress, like a physical urge. You're supposed to get better in treatment but I become convinced that my emotions starting in November take a sharp steep downhill. I start getting panic attacks and having meltdowns and all this anger and peer problems which hadn't really been the case. I try explaining this but it doesn't really make anybody feel better, myself included.
When you think about it, the rebelliousness really makes no sense - I am paying them, so why do I feel the need to get away with misbehaving? The thing is I really don't know, other than acting out familiar parent-child relationship roles, what I get out of this arrangement. So I begin getting angry at how upset I am all the time, and then I really start to go downhill...)
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Post by Deleted on Jan 26, 2018 23:12:50 GMT
What a mess, Caylus Ark - however, keep on writing, and may it helps you to sort yourself, as it sounds that anyone who should be of help, isn't.
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Post by Wordisthebird on Feb 3, 2018 12:37:14 GMT
We all have problems. Do what ever it takes . Never give up . The world is watching You. Your time to Shine.
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Post by Caylus Ark on Feb 4, 2018 2:15:41 GMT
What a mess, Caylus Ark - however, keep on writing, and may it helps you to sort yourself, as it sounds that anyone who should be of help, isn't. This mess, is my life. I have more to write when I have more time. It seems some minds just have this burden to bear...
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Post by Deleted on Feb 6, 2018 12:43:36 GMT
What a mess, Caylus Ark - however, keep on writing, and may it helps you to sort yourself, as it sounds that anyone who should be of help, isn't. This mess, is my life. I have more to write when I have more time. It seems some minds just have this burden to bear... You should be tenacious enough to get through your twenties, and achieve the tools to lift your burden over time. It may never fall off completely, but it can get lighter and lighter.
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Post by billusion on Feb 7, 2018 21:27:04 GMT
i know you from glp. thanks for opening up about your real life.
you have a brilliant mind and brilliant communication skills
you are young and take yourself very seriously. this too shall pass.
this world is a circus, even compared to when i was in my 20s.
you are doing just fine. just don't get lost in the mind and don't take yourself too seriously.
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Post by billusion on Feb 7, 2018 21:43:44 GMT
did i tell you you are pretty awesome for somebody in their 20s?
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Post by billusion on Feb 7, 2018 21:53:29 GMT
forgot to add...i have had body issues my whole life...fat but also anorexic and still thinking i'm fat. getting older helps with those issues as the older you get the less you give a shit
i'm in LA LA LAND by the beach by the way..
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Post by Stimulants on Feb 8, 2018 5:19:02 GMT
forgot to add...i have had body issues my whole life...fat but also anorexic and still thinking i'm fat. getting older helps with those issues as the older you get the less you give a shit i'm in LA LA LAND by the beach by the way.. Sounds like an addict on chemicals. Lol. Nothing wrong with that in moderation.
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Post by billusion on Feb 8, 2018 6:23:40 GMT
forgot to add...i have had body issues my whole life...fat but also anorexic and still thinking i'm fat. getting older helps with those issues as the older you get the less you give a shit i'm in LA LA LAND by the beach by the way.. Sounds like an addict on chemicals. Lol. Nothing wrong with that in moderation. when i was young i was fat and my parents gave me a shirt 'i can't believe i ate the whole thing'. what kind of parents would allow their own child to wear a shirt like that? what siblings would allow their sibling to wear a shirt like that? i didn't realize back then but my parents were being scripted by the same thing. a nasty vile piece of shit that does that to children. everything starts with the parents. now ask yourself the question who or what is scripting the parents? i know what is scripting most people is a vile piece of shit. yes, it is a hive and it doesn't give a shit about you. the addict is an addict through no choice of their own. their bodies and minds are being controlled by the hive. when you get a thought ask yourself 'where is that thought coming from?' i ended up pretty anorexic looking at some point. got addicted to starving myself or exercising fanatically. it's a perfect trick. dissociate children at a young age so they get externally focused and obsessed with what is outside themselves. it sure gets them treating this shithole world as real. it isn't funny either. it's deadly serious for those with eating disorders
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Post by billusion on Feb 8, 2018 6:41:02 GMT
it's all about control. body issues are ALL about control.
look at all the people nowadays that are obsessively working out to have a six-pack, thinking it will bring them love and the perfect job. they look like freaks now...
you should google for youtube videos with interviews of karen carpenter right before she died from anorexia.
Caylus says in another thread 'she can't be mind controlled' but she is totally mind controlled as she has an eating disorder.
when i lived in the netherlands people were all about appearances and presentation because it's a shame-based culture....it's all about the externals and what people think about you. the netherlands is the ultimate shame-based controlling society(matriarchal). so controlling they've mastered controlling water with dykes.
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Post by billusion on Feb 8, 2018 6:47:14 GMT
women are shame-based. they shame others with gossip and judgment. they are vicious. go look at the comment section on dailymail.co.uk
why do you think women wear make-up? they epitomize the false self (ego)
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Post by billusion on Feb 8, 2018 7:06:57 GMT
it used to be said that Queen Beatrix was the head of the Bilderberg meetings and she would actually choose the Pope. accurate? who knows...
but The Netherlands is ground zero for Hive Control in this world. the bee hive symbolism at the Vatican shows you.
The Netherlands is a matriarchal society. the men used to go out on ships while the women stayed home and controlled the household.
The Netherlands (low lands) is the ultimate shame-based controlling society.
Queen BEE-A-TRIX. House of Oranje. ground zero for the hive that controls this world.
so now you have Facebook and Selfies and 6-packs to get people focused outside themselves.
YOU HAVE PISSING CONTESTS ON WEBSITES LIKE GLP where people are just like dogs, trying to alpha male each other.
eating disorders are with controlling and shame-based people. it originates in matriarchal shame-based controlling societies like The Netherlands. shame-based controlling people epitomize women but also the FALSE SELF (EGO)
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Post by Deleted on Feb 17, 2018 20:42:17 GMT
Yo, Caylus Ark: Determining toward equilibrium (ie. work out or resolve the differences) is all you need to know regarding everything in your life. And hang in there, let time roll ie: above statement. Caylus Ark, if it weren't for you I probably wouldn't figured out the physical or material reality reason. Much respect for you for hanging in so far:
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