I don't know why it is, but the worse I'm doing emotionally, the less I write. I guess it's part of the whole "too much effort" thing. I know that I should try to get in touch with my emotions and figure out why I feel the way I do, but when you're completely entrenched in your ED and depression, you just don't feel like that's a priority... getting through the day is. Trying to purge one less time is. Not entertaining thoughts of death is.

...

I posted the rest of my hospital journal just now (Here) with the intention of also adding what the hell happened that night and how I ended up at home, but I never got that far (I'm sure no one is surprised, I'm sure as hell not) but after typing all of that I was just not feeling up to getting into what is a LONG STORY. Bottom line is I spent 2 days in the hospital, one night, and yes it was fucking pointless. Since then I have had emergency dental surgery because my toothache ended up being really bad and I needed a root canal. I was in the most pain of my entire life, no question. My mom had Vicodin leftover from *her* root canal awhile back, and she gave me one and a shot of whiskey, lol. But at the time I was not laughing about it, I was in agony. That did nothing for the pain and I took another vicodin. Still my tooth was throbbing. At the worst point, the pain was so bad that is somehow affected my ARM. I still don't really get this... all I know is that my right side of my body (the effected tooth is a bottom right molar) went limp and weak. I couldn't lift up my arm without a lot of effort. It was all tingling. It was so bizarre... I also got very sick to my stomach. In the morning my mom finally was able to get me into the dentist. My dentist was reached at home through some kind of answering service I guess, and he drove into the office, on a Saturday morning, to meet with me. I was so grateful, I could have cried. He took xrays etc and determined that it wasn't just a cavity but some kind of really bad infection so he drilled, or something (who knows what they're doing in there, I was too out of it to give a shit), then pumped me full of antibiotic shots. I got a penicillin (sp) shot in my gum as well. He only had time to do that much and then we had to reschedule for the rest of the root canal. He said that the antibiotics should help the pain but that I would still be in "a lot of pain" so I got a Vicodin prescription and he told me how much I could take and it was even more than what the bottle said LOL plus he said I should also take Advil/Ibuprofen along with the Vicodin. At that time I had so much numbing stuff in me that I wasn't feeling any pain and was blissfully in denial that I would be in so much pain like I had been before. Man, when that stuff wore off... I was not a happy camper :( I took the Advil and Vicodin the second I got home, like he told me to, but a few hours later the numbing stuff had worn off and the drugs didn't help the pain completely and once again I was pretty miserable but this time I was also drowsy from the Vicodin yet I STILL MANAGED TO FUCKING BINGE AND PURGE. I truly am pathetic. It was not enjoyable. I was so hungry, I was like "I NEED TO EAT, NOW!" but it was painful chewing... I tried to stick with soft foods. I was so tired that I almost fell asleep sitting on the toilet between rinses while purging... it was at that point I realized just how stupid I was being and went to bed. The next week was a blur of Vicodin, alcohol (Mom kept me supplied with good red wine, hehe), and lots of appointments. I saw a nutritionist, whom I had seen once before a long time ago before I had Dr. Lowen (she wouldn't see me unless I had a medical doc, so I didn't go back), and that went surprisingly OK. Her name is Michele Vivas for future reference. I also had a doc appointment and got Dr. Lowen to OK my Colorado trip. I convinced her to write a note saying I was "medically stable to go to Colorado and ride horses" to show to my dad. Heh, just a bit of a stretch... I also had therapy, of course. And group. Did I go to group that week? Yeah, I think so. Oh well what does it matter, this is all in the past. Anyway, the week was boring, and I spent it b/p'ing on soup and smoothies and ice cream, packing for my trip, and worrying about what I was going to eat there. At the nutritionist appointment we decided I could do one of a few things... I could bring my own food, something my dad had also suggested, or I could attempt to just eat normally, or as close as I could. She told me about a patient of hers who went on a school trip to Europe and brought all her own food. Non-perishable stuff like cans of tuna, granola bars, and dried fruit. So at every meal, at restaurants, she would like, make her own tuna and eat it while everyone else ate the cafe food. Talk about drawing attention to your ED! I pondered this idea. Bringing like, a bunch of apples and eating nothing else. But I decided that would just really suck... everyone would know, obviously. The ranch staff would know as well, that I was not coming to meals. I didn't want anyone to know I have an ED you know? I just wanted people to pretend I was normal for this week and not make a big deal out of what I ate. Plus the only thing I really would want to eat if I could just have safe foods or whatever, is salad, and how would I manage that? I'd have to bring a cooler stocked with a huge amount of lettuce, and keep replacing the ice in it to keep it cool. Uh, yeah right. Plus, since I know my dad talks about me frequently to my aunt/uncle (about my health and crap like that) it's not like they wouldn't be watching me and seeing how I look, what I'm eating, etc. I didn't want to give anyone an opporunity to scrutinize my weight, so I just fucking ate. And I ate a lot. I am still in shock at the amount I ate, and did not purge. I purged whenever I could, honestly, but this was not often. The plumbing in the cabins is not great. It's the sort where you have to flush 3 times to get all the food particles to go down, so that's really damn obvious... to be in the bathroom 10 minutes (got to wait for the toilet bowl to refill before you can flush again), and flush 3 times. So I only did that a few times, when the only people in the cabin were my stepbrothers or cousins and were occupied with stuff, or when I had the cabin to myself (not often). I also puked outside in the bushes twice. But I just felt really guilty. I love DWR (Drowsy Water Ranch, where I was) so much... and felt somehow like I was "corrupting" it by puking there, in the trees. Plus I was always scared someone would come by, since I wasn't all that hidden. So basically, I purged very little, and ate quite a lot. I suppose by normal standards it wasn't a lot. The mountain air does something to your appetite. Also, all the horseback riding (2 trail rides/day, which can be 2.5 hours each, plus an all day ride where you ride out in the morning, eat lunch on the mountain, and return around 5pm). Not that I don't already have a huge appetite! But anyway, though I ate a lot, everyone else ate even more so at least that helped a little. It was really awful physically though. I got edema, of course. I brought diuretics, but not enough, since I was so seriously bloated all over. My legs were twice as large sometimes, swollen with water. My hands were constantly puffy and huge. Even my wrists were swollen. Also, I was extremely, EXTREMELY constipated. I was eating 3 meals a day, and snacks... it was like 20 meals plus daily snacks, and I didn't shit ONCE. All that food was seriously inside me going nowhere. If I had been purging that's one thing, but I couldn't! I mean a little but not enough to alleviate all the food bloat. I kept on eating apples trying to help things "get moving" but that did nothing but make me MORE bloated and my stomach hurt. I would wake up in the morning praying that I'd get to take a shit before I had to go on a ride. Seriously, that was like my first thought of the day: Will I finally crap today?! Sad, but true. I've gone longer than a week w/o a BM, but never while eating so much food. So it was like the equivalent of me not going for over a month while restricting or something... since it was so much food. The apples would cause me to wake up with literally gut wrenching cramps in my abdomen, yet I still couldn't go. And I didn't have any laxatives. I thought I had brought some, I had intended to, but I hadn't. You have to realize the remoteness of where I was, too. There is a town not too far, but it's tiny. And yes they have a drug store but I didn't want to say like "Hey dad, I need some laxatives, can you drive me into town?" !!! He wouldn't let me drive the rental car since you have to be 25, so I was reliant on him or my stepmom to take me into town, and I was too embarassed to explain my "situation" so I just had to deal with it. Uggh. But, the good news is that when I got home I had intended on taking a huge amount of lax but I didn't have to cause the next day I was finally able to go. I won't go into detail since I think I have talked enough about shit already (What can I say I think it goes with the territory...), but now I am much more comfortable and amazed to find that I don't think I gained any fat. I don't know how that is possible... but somehow my ass got more toned and I gained a little muscle on my thighs, and my arms and waist are still the same measurements. I am happy to be home, yet depressed to find I am just the same (duh) and still not able to conquer the horrible b/p cycle. I was homesick but not in the traditional way. My friend Sarah (<"http://upforair.diaryland.com">upforair) described it perfectly: "i never really miss anyone. i've never gotten home sick like other people do. i miss the ease of my own room, i miss my bed/my space, i miss my neighboorhood and the gym, i miss all the kids, i miss the famlies, i sort of miss my mom belive it or not.." I was homesick for the choice of what to eat, when to eat, and being able to purge. I was homesick for my soft bed, not the uncomfy mattress in the cabin. I was sick of my steprbrothers, and sick of my dad. If I spent another day with them I think I would have really lost it. I cried many times for stupid reasons. I think I probably cried at least once/day for the last 4 days of the trip. Each time it was a stupid reason but I think that underneath that surface reason was another underlying emotion... probably. I think I only missed my mom because I see her as the lesser of two evils: I'd rather be with her than my dad. I'd rather be in her house, my house, than with him. So I wanted to go home for those reasons. Yet I love the ranch, and there I felt almost free. I was eating, I was even enjoying it for the most part (minus edeam, constipation, and worrying I'd gain weight...), plus I was with my cousins, who I love, and riding, which I love. I love horses. The ranch is beautiful. It was a bitterswet trip. But even though I love to ride, it was so painful that I was wishing I had my old body back, just for the week. I bought padded bicycle shorts. Well, my stepmom bought them for me. One day we went into town since I was having so much trouble with the riding on my ass bones. So she bought me these specially padded shorts that have padding in the crotch and butt area that cost 50 bucks, which is insane. They didn't help that much to be honest, but it was better than nothing. I hate the thigh muscle that I gained though. It makes my thighs bigger around, and I don't care that it's muscle, I just want it gone. I can tell I've lost a little since I've been back though. I'm still afraid of the scale. I might weigh myself today because I'm so curious as to what I weigh. I know I have gained... I had to have, yet I really look the same. It's hard for me to admit this since I just feel really fat right now, but all my clothes fit the same. I saw Deirdre today and the first thing she said was "So I take it you didn't eat while you were gone? You look like you've lost weight" Man was that good to hear! It's bullshit though, but oh well. Anyway, so I kind of want to know how much I gained since I guess it was mostly muscle or water weight or something, yet I am still not sure I could handle it mentally... Michele was pushing for me to weigh myself but personally I don't think it's a great idea. Yeah, I saw Michele today. It was decided we would start the wheels in motion to get me into a residential place. I agreed to at least get myself on a waiting list. Since I don't *have* to go, and I can leave whenever I want since I'm 19... I am willing to at least go to a program, if I get to choose it, and see if it's any good. I have a lot of hang ups about it, like "I'll go, but I'm not gaining past ** pounds, and if they try to make me, I'll leave" but you know what? They (Lowen, Deirdre, and Michele) will just have to take it or leave it. I don't care what anyone says is "healthy" I am not going to get up to 115. For me, that is NOT the minimum I need to weigh to be healthy. I am extremely small boned and never weighed more than 101. That was after Thanksgiving pigging out, too. So screw 115!! As I tried to explain to Michele, I think it's unfair to ask me to get up to a weight that is even higher than I ever was BEFORE becoming anorexic. If you're a person who was 200 pounds then became anorexic and lost 100 pounds, and then went IP and had to get up to a target of 130, at least you still have the knowledge that you weigh 70 pounds less than you used to, you know? To ask me to not only return to my pre-anorexic weight, but to weigh even MORE, is just too much. I can't, and I won't. The number I have in mind at the moment, that I won't go above, *might* be able to change, but there is no way I'd ever tolerate 100 or more. Because on me it's just positively chunky. NO ONE ELSE, just me. I have borderline love handles at 80 pounds, so imagine how bad they get at 100!! It was awful. I don't know what else to say. What am I leaving out? Oh, one thing is that Danielle, the girl from group, isn't at Remuda yet (she's going to a residential soon, when insurance/finance is sorted out) and I am contemplating going there instead of Renfrew just so I could be there with her. Because it would be nice to have a familiar face. But I do NOT want a religious place, which Remuda is... but at the same time, my pessimistic mind is saying "Well both programs won't help you, so why does it matter which you go to? Just go to the one with horses!" (both Remuda and Renfrew are covered the same amount on my insurance, I believe) Yeah, I'm logical that way. Anywho, I guess I'll talk to her about that on Monday at group.