Hi all, not sure where to post this. Please forgive the morbidity that I constantly provide, but I don't ever feel safe talking to my therapist regarding honestly serious issues due to the threat of hospitalization and I think I've burdened my parents to the point of complete emotional desperation/exhaustion.
I've just been recently let loose from a residential treatment facility (approximately 2.5 weeks ago) that I was sent to and kept at against my will. I was there for four months and it was my third hospitalization in two years, although the other two were explicitly inpatient in an actual hospital. I've never had any interest in recovery whatsoever and continue to feel complete disdain towards the very notion of it. They diagnosed me with SE-AN rather than just AN and forced me to a higher weight than I've ever been at (around 104; I am honest-to-god crying even as I admit that anonymously and I'm not sure why); all it did was fuel the extreme suicidality that I've dealt with for the vast majority of my 20-year life. I'm accustomed to usually being somewhere in the 70-lb range, with my lowest being 54 at 5'4" (http://www.myproana.com/index.php/topic/176894-shameless-input-seeking-about-my-lw/#entry2128301).The last time I was let go from inpatient I was able to lose 12 lbs in a week from pure restriction and no exercise, so the day I got out I immediately returned to 300 calories a day or less. I have never had an issue with binging because I am so controlled by the fear that eating and weight instills in me, so it's been very precise, very consistent.
The first week I lost 7 lbs. Next week and a half I lost one, so according to the scale I'm 96. I have never had an issue with "starvation mode" before, so I'm not sure where this is coming from. My mother and therapist believe that I'm getting an inaccurate reading and that I weigh less, and based on previous experience I'm not sure I quite believe it either-- I've been constipated for over a week and a half, I'm very poorly hydrated and basically supply myself with liquid via diet Pepsi and the occasional cup of black tea, etc. -- but I'm still ruled by the number and am consumed by how mortifying I am. I think about nothing else and don't understand why I can't claw this off of me with the intake that I have.
I also think that I may be in the active process of dying, and not just from an "at-high-risk-of-suicide" angle. I find myself too tired to get up and out of chairs very easily. Often I have to physically force myself to continue to breathe because I seem to just forget to do it. I want to sleep constantly although often I just end up curled up (with various pillows positioned in places to make certain gaps seem wider, pressing into my stomach, other pathetic things like that) and not sleeping. My temperature always seems to be on the opposite end of what everyone else is feeling- I'm either obscenely cold or obscenely hot with nothing to warrant it. I'm so mentally and physically inhibited that I can't really exercise. There's all of the typical things, obviously- blue and brittle nails, the aforementioned terrible constipation, hair falling out, dry and flaky skin, weak and lightheaded, extreme bloat in the stomach that even I know isn't fat….the usual suspects. But this all just feels so akin to how I felt at my LW with some kind of additional premonitory feeling that something's "coming".
And I don't write this because that's something I personally fear. What I honestly fear more than dying is the idea of dying at this weight; it's so pathetic. I've been told that it was extremely unlikely and a "miracle" that I've survived my past experiences, so maybe this is just previous episodes finally catching up with me, but still. I'm absolutely a fucking shameful piece of trash. Nothing warrants feeling like this at all in the state I'm in. If somebody passed my corpse they wouldn't get it at all.
I'm subpar or a failure at everything! What does it say about me if even this can't be right? All of my interests are gone; I have no goals; I have no friends; I have no skills; I have no job or school to attend; I'm hideous, mean, spiteful, selfish, stupid, on the high end of any measure of insanity that you could come up with. I spread worry and confusion and anger and sadness with everything I say, do, touch. I've failed at killing myself and sparing everyone of my presence, yet I'm told that even doing that would be selfish and hurtful. I'm barely human. I just sit in the house all day crying horrendously, being terrified of and disgusted by myself and what harm I'm going to cause next.
And now I can't even succeed at the one fucking thing I'm good at. They just keep destroying it and destroying it. I have to rebuild myself again and again, and I find myself hating myself even more because I keep having horrible, intrusive thoughts of hoping that everyone at these treatment facilities would drop over dead or suffer even just an ounce of what they keep inflicting on me.
No therapy has ever helped. Electroconvulsive therapy did not help. No drug has ever helped. Those so-called anorexia "specialists" and their claims that weight gain would heal my emotional distress and thinking process was an absolute fucking lie. No ounce of desire to stop hurting people or tiny bit of rational thinking I possess has ever helped-- for instance, everything on the Internet and in literature I've read would suggest that I either need to gradually up my calories or zigzag them in order to kickstart my metabolism and continue to lose weight, but even with that knowledge I am too afraid to eat anything more. I was physically shaking as I picked apart half of a 50-calorie low fat cheese stick a couple hours ago. I cut myself with a rusty X-acto blade as punishment for eating a 10-calorie SF Jello a few days ago. I am so fucked in the head and beyond salvation. I'm honestly terrified of myself.
My mom was crying really horribly in her room last night. I went in to see what was wrong- she'd just talked to my grandmother and was, at first, talking about how she was so scared of the day that she wouldn't be there to call her anymore. But then she grabbed me and followed that up with "But my daughter's going to die before my mother and I can't do anything about it! I don't know what I'm going to do!" I tried pretty pitifully to assuage her that I wasn't going to die but she called me on that bullshit and just kept talking about how certain she was.
We usually just argue, but that was a lot worse. I'm total scum.
If I die, I'm horrible; if I don't die, I'm horrible. I don't know what to do at all. I won't outright kill myself because I've been through the aftermath of that failing and I don't need to inflict any more damage(so please don't call services or anything, I just felt like I…needed to get this out here? Or something), but what the hell am I even here for? The main thing I want is a number and I can't even get that. At least I have some tiny sense of self when I'm thin enough.
Anyway. Huge kudos to you if you took the time to read this. Any feedback at all would be appreciated- if starvation mode is valid/why it is I'm not losing weight, if you've ever felt the same way, if there's any way at all to at least get my basic interests back again, what your thoughts are, I don't know. I'm sorry. I just feel really alone and I'm really sorry to be so needy.
I've just been recently let loose from a residential treatment facility (approximately 2.5 weeks ago) that I was sent to and kept at against my will. I was there for four months and it was my third hospitalization in two years, although the other two were explicitly inpatient in an actual hospital. I've never had any interest in recovery whatsoever and continue to feel complete disdain towards the very notion of it. They diagnosed me with SE-AN rather than just AN and forced me to a higher weight than I've ever been at (around 104; I am honest-to-god crying even as I admit that anonymously and I'm not sure why); all it did was fuel the extreme suicidality that I've dealt with for the vast majority of my 20-year life. I'm accustomed to usually being somewhere in the 70-lb range, with my lowest being 54 at 5'4" (http://www.myproana.com/index.php/topic/176894-shameless-input-seeking-about-my-lw/#entry2128301).The last time I was let go from inpatient I was able to lose 12 lbs in a week from pure restriction and no exercise, so the day I got out I immediately returned to 300 calories a day or less. I have never had an issue with binging because I am so controlled by the fear that eating and weight instills in me, so it's been very precise, very consistent.
The first week I lost 7 lbs. Next week and a half I lost one, so according to the scale I'm 96. I have never had an issue with "starvation mode" before, so I'm not sure where this is coming from. My mother and therapist believe that I'm getting an inaccurate reading and that I weigh less, and based on previous experience I'm not sure I quite believe it either-- I've been constipated for over a week and a half, I'm very poorly hydrated and basically supply myself with liquid via diet Pepsi and the occasional cup of black tea, etc. -- but I'm still ruled by the number and am consumed by how mortifying I am. I think about nothing else and don't understand why I can't claw this off of me with the intake that I have.
I also think that I may be in the active process of dying, and not just from an "at-high-risk-of-suicide" angle. I find myself too tired to get up and out of chairs very easily. Often I have to physically force myself to continue to breathe because I seem to just forget to do it. I want to sleep constantly although often I just end up curled up (with various pillows positioned in places to make certain gaps seem wider, pressing into my stomach, other pathetic things like that) and not sleeping. My temperature always seems to be on the opposite end of what everyone else is feeling- I'm either obscenely cold or obscenely hot with nothing to warrant it. I'm so mentally and physically inhibited that I can't really exercise. There's all of the typical things, obviously- blue and brittle nails, the aforementioned terrible constipation, hair falling out, dry and flaky skin, weak and lightheaded, extreme bloat in the stomach that even I know isn't fat….the usual suspects. But this all just feels so akin to how I felt at my LW with some kind of additional premonitory feeling that something's "coming".
And I don't write this because that's something I personally fear. What I honestly fear more than dying is the idea of dying at this weight; it's so pathetic. I've been told that it was extremely unlikely and a "miracle" that I've survived my past experiences, so maybe this is just previous episodes finally catching up with me, but still. I'm absolutely a fucking shameful piece of trash. Nothing warrants feeling like this at all in the state I'm in. If somebody passed my corpse they wouldn't get it at all.
I'm subpar or a failure at everything! What does it say about me if even this can't be right? All of my interests are gone; I have no goals; I have no friends; I have no skills; I have no job or school to attend; I'm hideous, mean, spiteful, selfish, stupid, on the high end of any measure of insanity that you could come up with. I spread worry and confusion and anger and sadness with everything I say, do, touch. I've failed at killing myself and sparing everyone of my presence, yet I'm told that even doing that would be selfish and hurtful. I'm barely human. I just sit in the house all day crying horrendously, being terrified of and disgusted by myself and what harm I'm going to cause next.
And now I can't even succeed at the one fucking thing I'm good at. They just keep destroying it and destroying it. I have to rebuild myself again and again, and I find myself hating myself even more because I keep having horrible, intrusive thoughts of hoping that everyone at these treatment facilities would drop over dead or suffer even just an ounce of what they keep inflicting on me.
No therapy has ever helped. Electroconvulsive therapy did not help. No drug has ever helped. Those so-called anorexia "specialists" and their claims that weight gain would heal my emotional distress and thinking process was an absolute fucking lie. No ounce of desire to stop hurting people or tiny bit of rational thinking I possess has ever helped-- for instance, everything on the Internet and in literature I've read would suggest that I either need to gradually up my calories or zigzag them in order to kickstart my metabolism and continue to lose weight, but even with that knowledge I am too afraid to eat anything more. I was physically shaking as I picked apart half of a 50-calorie low fat cheese stick a couple hours ago. I cut myself with a rusty X-acto blade as punishment for eating a 10-calorie SF Jello a few days ago. I am so fucked in the head and beyond salvation. I'm honestly terrified of myself.
My mom was crying really horribly in her room last night. I went in to see what was wrong- she'd just talked to my grandmother and was, at first, talking about how she was so scared of the day that she wouldn't be there to call her anymore. But then she grabbed me and followed that up with "But my daughter's going to die before my mother and I can't do anything about it! I don't know what I'm going to do!" I tried pretty pitifully to assuage her that I wasn't going to die but she called me on that bullshit and just kept talking about how certain she was.
We usually just argue, but that was a lot worse. I'm total scum.
If I die, I'm horrible; if I don't die, I'm horrible. I don't know what to do at all. I won't outright kill myself because I've been through the aftermath of that failing and I don't need to inflict any more damage(so please don't call services or anything, I just felt like I…needed to get this out here? Or something), but what the hell am I even here for? The main thing I want is a number and I can't even get that. At least I have some tiny sense of self when I'm thin enough.
Anyway. Huge kudos to you if you took the time to read this. Any feedback at all would be appreciated- if starvation mode is valid/why it is I'm not losing weight, if you've ever felt the same way, if there's any way at all to at least get my basic interests back again, what your thoughts are, I don't know. I'm sorry. I just feel really alone and I'm really sorry to be so needy.
I am here for you if you need someone to talk to. Please, try and stay safe, I know it seems pointless, but you have a reason for being here and it isn't pain and torment. Try and hang in there.
