I have to go back to the ED hospital. My therapist is making me go.
My “eating phase” that began at the end of January lasted about five days. Then, I admit, I went back to starvation.
The starvation has been very bad. I cannot concentrate. I cannot think straight. Today I went into a store and the cashier might as well have given me back the wrong change. I was completely unable to count it. I nearly got lost in Boston. I had trouble on the stairs. I was scared. I had a bad cold. After two weeks had passed and it hadn’t gotten any better, I feared that I had pneumonia and would die, because I do not take care of myself. But the cold went away. I took NyQuil every night. I still take NyQuil every night, even though I don’t have a cold anymore. I don’t know why. Maybe just because it makes me feel good and it’s comforting.
I don’t want to go to the hospital. No way. But my therapist was on the verge of pink-papering me. “Pink paper” means she sends an ambulance to force me to go. I’m going on Monday, two days from today.
I feel totally empty. Like there’s nothing. Like everyone else has a life and all I have is this fucking ED. I feel that it has been forced upon me. I was worthless before the ED came. Maybe that was why the ED was such a temptation. I am worthless now. The ED is making me worthless. I have no future.
At least I can bring my knitting with me to the hospital. I am progressing with the sweater, and I have made further changes to the pattern. I think these are all the changes I’m going to make for a while. I will finish the sweater in the hospital and either start another, or make a matching hat. It is one of my few comforts.
Well, I am sort of packed, and getting ready, preparing myself. I wish I could call the whole thing off, but I guess that would probably tick off my therapist and a few other people. I’m due over there at 11. I’m dropping Puzzle off at 8:15. Jeez.