I know. It’s horrible. Oh well. I just need space to be awful right now.
I’m staying with a friend’s family while I wait (wait. weight. haha.) to get into treatment. It looks like I should be good to go for residential at Monte——. It’s weird, being in such a dual mindset. On the one hand, I’m anxious to go into treatment, so that I can start getting a handle on myself, but on the other hand, I’m still here, waiting, wanting to drive myself down the scale, drive my food into the toilet (I got mad at myself earlier when I realized that I could have finicked with things and gotten away without eating dinner), drive my vitals to crap – so that I’m the worst I could possibly be when I do go into treatment. Because the worse I am… the more I deserve help.
I know. Fucked up, right?
It’s hard to tell what I’m losing and what I’m gaining right now. Eating disorders’ll do that to ya.