I am feeling all kinds of out of sorts this week. My self-harm urges have been steadily climbing for the past couple of weeks and have basically hit fever pitch this weekend. ”Triggered” isn’t even the word. It doesn’t matter WHAT I’m thinking about — books, eating, schoolwork, email, friends — self-harm is the obvious answer.
I switched dietitians about two weeks ago because the dietitian on campus is pretty competent when it comes to EDs (and she’s free) but it has left me feeling unsettled. She’s not Lindsey and I’m just not comfortable with her yet. I know Lindsey said I was welcome to email her during the transition and after because she genuinely cares and wants to know how I’m doing, but I feel guilty emailing. And I don’t trust Janna enough to try and explain things. Maybe it’s because she had known me so damned long, maybe it’s because she had seen me bounce in and out of the hospital on multiple occasions — but Lindsey understood the self-harm aspect and how tied it can be to the eating. (My dietitian and therapist at CFC had a really good grip on this, too.) I don’t think Janna will know what the hell to do if tell her about my urges.
So dietarily, I’m feeling a little on my own.
And to make matters worse, my therapist hasn’t been answering my emails this week, which is rather unlike her, especially given the content of the email I sent her Thursday night (re: self-harm urges). The urges are getting really bad and are happening almost 24/7 at this point, but even so, I feel like to text her would be a violation. I have an entire fucking list of coping skills, right? That’s what they’re there for. Use them, you idiot. (For that matter, she didn’t respond to my text on Monday either.)
So yeah — I feel a bit like I’m doing this thing on my own for the week. I’m incredibly grateful for my amazing friends both in real life and in the blog world because I’m pretty sure I would have already lost it if not for you. But things seem distressingly on-edge right now. Even my attempts to get ahead at schoolwork (or hell, just keep up) are coming back to bite me in the ass and I don’t know how I’m going to survive the rest of the semester.
I love everything about my life up here: the courses I’m taking, the family I nanny for, the non-profit I volunteer at.
But wherever you go, there you are.
And it doesn’t matter how far I run, I’ve still got a mental illness.
I’ve just got to make it until Monday and keep the safety on this damned gun or there’s the possibly of serious damage at the next trigger pull.
