I got weighed today at the doctor’s. Only up a half pound. I thought it would be more but I guess not.
Dr. K will call Dr. P. Dr. P will call my therapist. They will “discuss” what to do next, I imagine.
I wrote a list of pros and cons of a “program.” Here it is:
“My reasons for not going into a program include the following: I have been in mental health day programs. They tell me a couple of months and it ends up being years. They tell me “We’re different!” and they’re no different from any other. Every time, I ended up worse than when I started. They make you dependent on the program to the point that “clients” fall apart on the weekends. At one program, my primary therapist repeatedly, long term, sexually abused me–not physically but verbally. I realize that this is exceptional. I totally lost my independence. I would be leaving Puzzle by herself for an incredible amount of time. Transportation to and from would be difficult to arrange–incredibly unreliable medicaid cabs. The program would probably “forbid” me from going to my graduate school reunion, and not excuse me from the program, and would result in my being kicked out of the program when I do go–and I will go. End of story.
“Advantages: After years and years of being in the program, a slim chance that I may get a little better, then relapse.”
So there you have it. No program. I don’t need to write all this to convince myself. No program. No program. No program.
I did stop bingeing. I am much relieved.
But I am left with a lingering depression that visits me at night. It seems to start in the late afternoon and linger into the evening when I go to bed. I don’t know why. It is a comfort when I can call my friends at night. That way, I am not so alone with my dark mood.