|
Post by Montblanc on Feb 18, 2018 6:54:29 GMT
You're already at the age stage where you'll begin maturing into a full adult. I hope you're well enough to resume your life in the outside world. Gotta be you to do the hard part girl, thankfully I managed to avoid a situation like yours, and I say this out of friendship and never pity. Once you come to accept yourself and your past you'll move on. Once you move on you can start assuming responsability again and will end up fixing what needs to be fixed. How ironic that in life it's the goal that drives us to walk, yet it's the path itself that ends up being important, with the goal being a secondary byproduct. Anyway, at least you still have yur humour and your wits bout you, this is nothing you can't overcome.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 3, 2018 23:32:39 GMT
(I have MANY, MANY more journal entries that will come with time, hopefully one later today, but skipping around the timeline a bit...damn reordering posts later is gonna suck...make sure you read the dates ! *blush*) Thanksgiving, 2017I'm in residential, of course. I agree to let one of my cute blonde friends 'Mae' give me a makeover. She is ecstatic! I'm basically a boy and hate makeup and this girl is a true artist. There's that common trope about makeovers and this was mine. I have no idea how people put this much effort into their appearance all the time.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 4, 2018 1:17:21 GMT
God, so many journal entries. Oh welp. Where were we? Oh yeah....
12/1/17
Last night I dreamed that I met this little girl - she went to AC Stelle Middle School, where I graduated from. She said hi to me and I told her how this used to be my school. And we exchanged complaints about how pissy the students could be. She told me she liked the "outlier" students, and we entered the school through the dirt path instead of the main entrance. I met a friend of hers, an asian girl with a mustache. Then we walked into school, and I told her how my class was the first graduating class, and I really felt my age, not for the first time.
There was some kind of event going on because all throughout the main campus these booths were set up where students were selling all different things like some kind of flea market. As we progress, it turns into an actual flea market just like the one I saw in Isreal. The girl is playing pokemon because I introduced it to her to it. But the game has some kind of error and she gets stuck in the game. INSIDE the game. The game is in some kind of VHS container and as I realize she's in there the shop owner clears the box away with some other inventory.
I beg him to let me have that VHS box and explain that there's a little girl inside. He gives it back to me and I pull a pokemon platinum cartridge out of the box and try to get her out and eventually I do. Suddenly we are in a hallway with her dorm close by. Why my old public school has a dorm now I'm not sure, but I sense it's about time for me to disappear. But the girl is my friend and I figure I ought to say goodbye properly.
In her room I begin gathering my belongings so I can leave. I notice the girl is now much more distant and she reminds me of an acceptable Calabasas doll. As I'm trying to gather my stuff the sun is quickly setting and more of my stuff keeps appearing and it's taking me forever to get it together. as I'm doing it I sense my welcome is being more and more worn out. I do something thinking it'll be fine but I rip this long slit open in my bag and something in my head sneers meanly about how I need to take better care of my stuff.
When I'm finally done I tell the girl I'm leaving. Her back is facing me and she's looking out the window and says "goodbye", like she is relieved to be rid of me. I'm sad because I thought she was my friend. I'm quick to get out the door, though. Feeling like a super creepy old adult, I'm upset. I wake up at 6:00AM, still upset and relieved to be out of that dream.
UPDATE: I'm at equine [horse therapy] now. I'm away from the horses and I'm huddled in a chair in the shade doing my own thing, writing in this. I see Ren in riding gear when I look up - her horse, Angelo, is saddled. I realize Dee [the horse instructor] is letting her ride today and I feel very sad, remembering when Dee let me ride. Of course I walked myself away from the horses so I didn't get the chance to ask. Marie is going to ride, too. I'm depressed. I don't want to watch.
UPDATE: I got to ride Angelo after all. My tendency to instantly shut down is really a problem.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 4, 2018 1:34:09 GMT
12/4/17 (my handwriting is always bad, but in this entry it looks like an elementary school student's messy scrawl and is just barely legible)
I'm tired today. I got to go home yesterday and spend time with Jules and my mom. The vibe there was homey, and nice. I'm going on my 4th week [in LV's residential for the 2nd time], and after a month insurance tends to pull the plug. I'll just try to roll with the punches....
I finally beat Chapter 12 on Fire Emblem: Conquest, which took me forever. Compared to that map everything seems relatively tame to me. I ate so much yesterday and it was so so uncomfortable. My legs look HUGE to me today. I didn't want to lose my Gameboy [if I ate they let me play my nintendo 3ds] so for the most part...I ate. But I also subjected myself to calorie counting certain meals and snacks and it freaked me the HELL out.
I also got my weighted blanket yesterday. It's fabulous, but my mom told me to "have the most transformative sleep of your life!". So, of course, I woke up like six times last night.
The mornings are bitterly cold here, but the sun comes out and crushes the cold with an iron fist. It's nothing like Christmas or December, really, and I have (self-diagnosed) reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder, meaning the gloom and cold make me happy and the sun makes me sad. Actually, living in SoCal [southern california], that really explains my chronic depression.
We're in process group and it's such a long fucking group. And there are only 3 of us right now since the rest went to go get labs done. I feel like I've been sitting here forever and there are still a little over 30 minutes left. And after that I have to do Snack. AND we have the lunch outing after that...
I feel like I'm in escapist mode right now. I am disconnected from my emotions and all I want to do is play Fire Emblem.
Sam is leading this process group. She is young and her wisdom is shallow. I don't think she understands [this disorder]. Let me check .... I was right. She isn't in recovery at all. I'm not surprised.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 4, 2018 16:48:01 GMT
(everything that looks like this is my commentary)
12/6/17
A new girl came yesterday. She's stick thin. I freaked out. I went outside with my iPOD, scratching myself and dissociating. When Christy finally came outside to find me, she thought I might be bleeding. I wish I had been bleeding. It would have made for a better story. I didn't expect to start crying hysterically, but I did, and I couldn't stop bawling until I went to sleep. And even today I cried during breakfast prep. (My insurance somehow thinks I'm borderline - is this why?) Christy was actually being nice to me, but of course she couldn't understand how upset I was. She kept telling me that I've "come so far with my recovery" and that "everyone is at different stages" etc, textbook answers. Miraculously, my mom was even worse. She asked me if any part of me saw the stick-thin girl as a "sick person".
NO. God. I hate that question. If I saw Mel as a "sick person" (stick person? haha), I myself would not be "sick". The honest fucking truth is that no part of me looks at her and feels remotely anything like pity or disgust. When I look at her, the only thing that crosses my mind is how she's everything I've ever wanted to be (as far as pertains to my ED). I think I want to go home. If AMA weren't such a horrible insurance strike I think I'd have left last night.
On top of that, I don't have any good friends here. Kar and Bright are besties. They're always laughing together. I wish I could laugh like that. They both laugh so easily. I think that's why they both go so well together. Stephanie hates me because I'm too "sensitive" in her opinion and she finds me frustrating. Ren hates me because since I came in we've really butt heads a lot.
UPDATE: my heart is beating so fast. Ren and the new girl were talking about ED inpatient. the new girl, Mel, was saying she was at Reasons BHC (behavioral health center) for 2 FUCKING YEARS (incidentally I completely misheard this, she said two WEEKS!). I mean, I must have somehow heard that wrong, but it doesn't matter. I had to leave the room. I went outside and smelled the ashes, which is bizarrely comforting. I was going to refuse to go to group, but after enough cajoling from Vanessa, I decided to come in - for so long as I could handle it.
She [Mel] is everything I failed to become all these years (I'm severely underestimating my disorder here). I can't even look at her. I was brainstorming in the shower this morning trying to figure out what to do. I decided if I wore my lion onesie and my sunglasses (all day), I might be able to deal. It makes it better, but not enough.
I wish I were a bigger person. I wish I didn't care. With others, in this past year, there were always a couple (or at least one) anorectic who had been gaining weight and who understood the feeling of seeing someone come in who is WAY, WAY thinner. Here, not a single person understood. There was no one to lean on for support. ONLY fellow suffers of AN [anorexia nervosa] understand this and how painful it is. For some of them, I'm sure they reach a point where they can be exposed to this without feeling like a gut wrenched in my heart.
Part of me is reluctant to talk to Hyde about this, because I'm just going to hear the same shit over again about "focus on yourself" and "everyone is at different stages. I want to rip the fat off my skin, just remove huge chunks like a lion taking a big bite of prey. I want to skewer my disgusting thighs to punish myself. My size 0 jeans now produce a muffin top. I want to suck the "muffin" right out of my top with a vacuum hose.
and all the self harm I can do is pitiful scratching. I want a razor so I can bleed. Maybe I can get one from my mom.
UPDATE: I heard wrong. It was 11 days [Mel's stay] In the past in treatment, I've tended to come out of my shell more and more, but this time in RTC feels more like the opposite. I feel more alienated and isolated everyday. It's sort of my fault because I always just play my 3DS. But, I also think I'd prefer to engage, if there was anyone I connected with.
Yesterday at lunch I asked a would-you-rather question about whether you'd rather "be taken too seriously all the time or only be seen as a party-er". I chose the latter and Bright the former. Then she said teasingly, "that's why we're opposites". I grant her that. But looking around the table, I was overwhelmed by the feeling I was the "opposite" of almost everyone there.
Plus there is a new doctor. His name is Dr. Carp, and his treatment philosophy is to take people's meds away so you can "deal with the anxiety". He's this freaking Danny-Devito-looking john, minus the funny part. His hair looks like a toupee. He talks to you with this haughty self-satisfaction
UPDATE: I couldn't finish the entry. I had another breakdown. I don't know if I'm in the place to process this.
|
|
|
Post by Pman on May 5, 2018 19:56:08 GMT
( everything that looks like this is my commentary) 12/6/17A new girl came yesterday. She's stick thin. I freaked out. I went outside with my iPOD, scratching myself and dissociating. When Christy finally came outside to find me, she thought I might be bleeding. I wish I had been bleeding. It would have made for a better story. I didn't expect to start crying hysterically, but I did, and I couldn't stop bawling until I went to sleep. And even today I cried during breakfast prep. ( My insurance somehow thinks I'm borderline - is this why?) Christy was actually being nice to me, but of course she couldn't understand how upset I was. She kept telling me that I've "come so far with my recovery" and that "everyone is at different stages" etc, textbook answers. Miraculously, my mom was even worse. She asked me if any part of me saw the stick-thin girl as a "sick person". NO. God. I hate that question. If I saw Mel as a "sick person" ( stick person? haha), I myself would not be "sick". The honest fucking truth is that no part of me looks at her and feels remotely anything like pity or disgust. When I look at her, the only thing that crosses my mind is how she's everything I've ever wanted to be (as far as pertains to my ED). I think I want to go home. If AMA weren't such a horrible insurance strike I think I'd have left last night. On top of that, I don't have any good friends here. Kar and Bright are besties. They're always laughing together. I wish I could laugh like that. They both laugh so easily. I think that's why they both go so well together. Stephanie hates me because I'm too "sensitive" in her opinion and she finds me frustrating. Ren hates me because since I came in we've really butt heads a lot. UPDATE: my heart is beating so fast. Ren and the new girl were talking about ED inpatient. the new girl, Mel, was saying she was at Reasons BHC (behavioral health center) for 2 FUCKING YEARS ( incidentally I completely misheard this, she said two WEEKS!). I mean, I must have somehow heard that wrong, but it doesn't matter. I had to leave the room. I went outside and smelled the ashes, which is bizarrely comforting. I was going to refuse to go to group, but after enough cajoling from Vanessa, I decided to come in - for so long as I could handle it. She [Mel] is everything I failed to become all these years ( I'm severely underestimating my disorder here). I can't even look at her. I was brainstorming in the shower this morning trying to figure out what to do. I decided if I wore my lion onesie and my sunglasses (all day), I might be able to deal. It makes it better, but not enough. I wish I were a bigger person. I wish I didn't care. With others, in this past year, there were always a couple (or at least one) anorectic who had been gaining weight and who understood the feeling of seeing someone come in who is WAY, WAY thinner. Here, not a single person understood. There was no one to lean on for support. ONLY fellow suffers of AN [anorexia nervosa] understand this and how painful it is. For some of them, I'm sure they reach a point where they can be exposed to this without feeling like a gut wrenched in my heart. Part of me is reluctant to talk to Hyde about this, because I'm just going to hear the same shit over again about "focus on yourself" and "everyone is at different stages. I want to rip the fat off my skin, just remove huge chunks like a lion taking a big bite of prey. I want to skewer my disgusting thighs to punish myself. My size 0 jeans now produce a muffin top. I want to suck the "muffin" right out of my top with a vacuum hose. and all the self harm I can do is pitiful scratching. I want a razor so I can bleed. Maybe I can get one from my mom. UPDATE: I heard wrong. It was 11 days [Mel's stay] In the past in treatment, I've tended to come out of my shell more and more, but this time in RTC feels more like the opposite. I feel more alienated and isolated everyday. It's sort of my fault because I always just play my 3DS. But, I also think I'd prefer to engage, if there was anyone I connected with. Yesterday at lunch I asked a would-you-rather question about whether you'd rather "be taken too seriously all the time or only be seen as a party-er". I chose the latter and Bright the former. Then she said teasingly, "that's why we're opposites". I grant her that. But looking around the table, I was overwhelmed by the feeling I was the "opposite" of almost everyone there. Plus there is a new doctor. His name is Dr. Carp, and his treatment philosophy is to take people's meds away so you can "deal with the anxiety". He's this freaking Danny-Devito-looking john, minus the funny part. His hair looks like a toupee. He talks to you with this haughty self-satisfaction UPDATE: I couldn't finish the entry. I had another breakdown. I don't know if I'm in the place to process this. Thank you for posting the videos and sharing some insights into your life Darrah.
Wanted:
Seeking person to share ultimate reality experience. Objective, create and alter reality for the masses by overlaying a role-play experience into the embedded matrix of belief. Outcome, a more balanced and customised reality experience.
To all interested applicants, this will be a most difficult and challenging experience. You will be met with heavy pushback and resistance at every turn until enough momentum is reached and critical mass of the mind is achieved. If successful we will have Unicorns once again.
Disclaimer: This advert is actually part of the beta testing for said reality experience prototype
|
|
|
Post by Montblanc on May 6, 2018 11:04:51 GMT
Hmmm, I never saw a real life person with drill curls, interesting. Jk. Good to see you back, and you do look nice with make up on those pics, but realistically your friend went a little overboard there
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 6, 2018 14:32:01 GMT
This was uploaded two days ago...I really love this woman.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 6, 2018 18:12:59 GMT
This was uploaded two days ago...I really love this woman.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 9, 2018 17:55:56 GMT
12/7/17
I had a session with Hyde which drained the fight all out of me. I'm eating again, and I'm talking to Mel, even though she was a cheerleader captain in high school and was probably one of "those" popular girls. I mean, she's nice. She's just one of those people that was born perfect.
I spent so many years believing, or convincing myself, that I didn't care about popular kids in high school. But was I just in denial? I was always an outcast. But, it is true I have gifts of my own. They just don't feel real to me right now. And I can't stand looking at myself.
Today is the day the mannequins have to be turned in. Mine looked great but at the last minute I decided I wanted to show her feet in the waters of the ocean and I don't know that I did a very good job of portraying that.
I took my glasses off. I intentionally did not wear contacts because I wanted the option of taking my vision away if the little twig we've taken in here becomes too much to look at.
I got in trouble for taking artistic leadership over the mannequin. I t has been mostly evident with Ren, because she constantly suggested ideas that go against my vision, and I've been stubborn about maintaining it.
Corrin yelled at me today (for the umpteenth time since we started) about how this was a group project and I need to let other people do their ideas. I'm perfectly okay with suggestions, but Ren insists upon her suggestions, and I'm the only one speaking up against the idea even though others don't like it either. They only say so when Ren straight out asks them.
Cuz' the others don't really care how the mannequin turns out. And I do. I was the one outside for hours with her [the mannequin, I think I named her coralyn] when everyone else had long gone inside. I saw her poetry. I named her. I wrote a tribute to her that first night I was with her. Staff looked at her silently, unable to praise her half-painted skin. I insisted on working hard on more coats of paint when others wanted to leave her unfinished.
And then everyone loved when it was painted fully silver. I had to lead to get it this way. Artistic vision needs a director, not a democracy. We have a mannequin at php that everyone worked on. it's a terrible mishmash of streamers, kiss marks, and clashing colors.
So yeah, maybe I am being selfish. But creating her has been the most therapeutic thing I've ever done here. I'm protective of her. And now when everyone tells me how beautiful she looks (whereas before they dismissed her as creepy...) I just say "thanks".
I look enormous and gross, and my stomach is pooching over my size 0 jeans, my thigh are meeting or juuuuust about. Hyde is right that the intensity is different/lessened now when I look at Mel, but I'm not sure for how long I can handle this. I still feel like I'm bursting from my seams, but the girl sitting next to me is a sea of beautiful bones. I think what I am giving Hyde is a leap of faith. I'm keeping the ED in my pocket. I can always AMA. In the worst case scenario, I could always lose weight when I'm out of treatment.
That's what I keep telling myself. Kerry always used to say, "Just hold off. You can always use your behaviors later. So just give this a try first." Of course I have been holding off 11 months now, but...
I just don't get why I torture myself with these jeans. It's just plain mean. And I can't stand how "healthy" I look today. Oh lord, and my face. It's so broken out in red and tainted by scars. I look like a speckled mutant.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 9, 2018 19:03:55 GMT
12/8/17
Insurance has finally concluded I'm a lost cause. Today has just been a string of increasingly depressing news. Me and Syd were talking about something, because Gabe's excursion with the coffee machine didn't begin until 5 minutes before breakfast and resulted in overflowing burnt coffee with remnants of coffee grinds inside. I was saying it was "the most depressing things I'd heard all day", and Syd laughed, saying, "It's not even 10:00 yet; the day is bound to get way more depressing than this," she half-joked.
Her words proved prophetic. After a jarring session with [the dietician] LD that left me too emotional to sit in for snack, Hyde saw me all bundled up on the couch with my sunglasses on.
"Well, if you're not doing snack, we're going to have a meeting," she told me. There is something defeated in her tone. At the time, I registered it as disappointment in me. In retrospect, it's obvious that she was preparing herself to deliver bad news. Insurance has denied me, she says. I recoil with a tinge of familiarity at this process, which at least I tend to move through with less and less sensitivity. But then she added, while mentioning my "lack of progress", that there was a possibility they might step me up, which I was not expecting. I was blindsided by that.
"Where to?" I murmured from the shell I'd made out of my sweater. "Most likely, Reasons [BHC], because there aren't many ED inpatients around here.
The infamous Reasons I'd heard so much about. After all that whining about ED inpatient, this feels ironic.
I could have dealt with the proposition I was stepping down, since it is a familiar process and there are obvious advantages. I could have dealth with the proposition I was stepping up, even despite some (to me, obvious) reservations.
But when I asked Hyde how likely it is these polar opposite possibilities will manifest, she said, "You won't like the answer." Me: "Okay..." "Fifty-fifty".
I threw up my hands in despair. It could not possibly be more uncertain than this. And if there's one thing I truly disdain, it's uncertainty.
After discussion, Hyde and I agreed that stepping up was probably better than stepping down. But she can only put her word in edgewise. The rest would be up to them [insurance]. So it was not merely a matter of preparing myself for a transition, which is hard enough as it is, but preparing to deal with one of two entirely contradictory transitions - one which would free me to engage in my ED, and the other which would strictly forbid that.
Stepping up would test my sensitivity to the stickly thin to the extreme (because there are lots of stick thin patients in inpatient, more there than anywhere else). Stepping down on the other hand is just a total crapshoot, but I doubt stepping down would amount to much more for me than a rote enacting of recovery that would move me through the mill so I could seek some "high-functioning" doppler of my disorder.
Stepping up, I'm certain, would be so triggering, that each meal could prove inedible. But I've always been curious, to the point of insensibility.
50/50 odds. But are odds ever neatly random? Do I really have no control? But something occurs to me: I can control whether I eat. The dangerous thought burns at the back of my throat. Would they step me down if I started doing that badly? Would they still do that...?
Maybe it's inconsequential and I'm deluding myself.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 10, 2018 2:41:57 GMT
Ten dollar target item. I found it in the kids section though.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 10, 2018 17:59:00 GMT
Back when I was a little girl...before I learned to wall off all of my emotions and become a cold snark, I used to love acting. I once played the cowardly lion in in the wizard of oz.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 10, 2018 23:19:27 GMT
To jumble the timeline again, I worked in Culver City for a week back in 2015... never working there again.... Lol. But that's a story for another time. Still, when someone says "Culver City" I get the heebie jeebs. My mom just picked up a client there... Culver City - I am a link, click meMy Oz. Lol. I'm going to write some really weird fiction one day. Thanks a lot, mom...
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 13, 2018 15:45:47 GMT
11/7/17When your heart is trying to speak and the language does not compute it tries drawing a crude picture for your eyes Alas, I think at the time both the pro ductcess and the art in question made the anxiety worse.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 13, 2018 16:11:05 GMT
My rendering skill gets the job done but I don’t feel that surprised that I tend towards cybernetic port-holes when the option exists to go online...you can’t blame me entirely I am operating with stone age biology, but a post-modern attention span; youtube knows what I like better than I do...so i just give it more playlists to profile my tastes and ride the wave of literally infinite music. If I don’t like it i change the song...mostly. I doubt google thouht much about singularity before it bought youtube and broke consciousness
|
|
|
Post by crystallyn on May 14, 2018 21:58:06 GMT
11/7/17When your heart is trying to speak and the language does not compute it tries drawing a crude picture for your eyes Alas, I think at the time both the pro ductcess and the art in question made the anxiety worse. sweet drawings, is this a free flowing type thing? I should post some of mine, they look similar and I honestly have no clue what it all means. Thanks for sharing!
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 15, 2018 0:01:25 GMT
11/7/17When your heart is trying to speak and the language does not compute it tries drawing a crude picture for your eyes Alas, I think at the time both the pro ductcess and the art in question made the anxiety worse. sweet drawings, is this a free flowing type thing? I should post some of mine, they look similar and I honestly have no clue what it all means. Thanks for sharing! This one was a prompt in a creative expressions group. It was something like, "draw a picture of a BRIDGE to your future - your journey forward, what will it look like?" My biggest issue in that picture is that there is a giant wall of fire preventing me from getting away from the freaking giant evil dragon behind me. My only path forward is literally immolation - that, or be consumed. At the time I drew it I felt - hopeless. What could I do? No way forward...but now I see that wasn't quite true. ONE way forward, only...the only way. It's a linear bridge. I have to go through the fire, because I have to get to the other side. I think. Sometimes my art is my unconscious...trying to give my future consciousness a message when it is ready to receive it.
|
|
|
Post by Caylus Ark on May 17, 2018 13:11:24 GMT
a long time ago I was a stupid adolescent and I took videos of all the stupid things around me and all the stupid people none of whom I talk to anymore and all of which I thought because I was a foolish cutie pie that I would be friends with forever. nostalgia, meet music video.
|
|
|
Post by ydobon on May 23, 2018 3:11:49 GMT
A few thoughts...Just as one thinks there are shortcuts on the road to enlightenment, one must also communicate in a similar fashion. There are many chapters, w/o having unnecessary setbacks, and there are many avenues available. Perceived intelligence diminishes as one detours on their road of life. Choose wisely. Careful what one wishes for, as they might just get it.
|
|