Nov 4

So about that last post! That was the night I took 5 Lamictal, 5 Zyprexa, drank Fluoride mouthwash, and cut my leg. I was pretty suicidal but I don't know if what I did actually legitimately counts as a suicide attempt. I just got really reallyy sleepy and dizzy, and had to keep reminding myself to breathe on the drive up to the emergency department. My parents were pretty freaked and I was too kind of, about the breathing part. I wondered more than once if my body had just had it.
But no charcoal drinking that time!! They just let me sleep off all the effects of the pills for over a day, laying in the emergency room hooked up to an IV and heart monitor. Oh and I didn't tell anyone about the fluoride. I figured I didn't drink enough to do any real damage.
After all that sleep and boredom when I WAS awake, I was taken back to the psych ward again. My fifth time at that particular one, and this time I was on the adult ward.
It was creepy as FUCK! The adults had disabilities, missing teeth, and alcoholism. On the unit I was in anyway. I was really freaked/grossed out. And they all told me I was skinny (even though the last time I was in that hospital I weighed fucking 115 at 5'9"--now THAT was skinny). And they said I was just "so young," I "have my whole life ahead of me!"
I know that dammit. And it's scary as fuck. Yeah, life is scary.
I purged like 8 times while I was there for just 4 days. Cuz I ate like a pig. Three meals a day with THREE snacks as well! Crazy fattening. But I couldn't help myself because I found it soo hard to starve at the time.
I was lucky to get out so soon, though. My last stay in 2011 I had to stay TWELVE days--and THEN I was transferred to a residential behavioral hospital (AKA the hellhole known as Brynn Marr, in Jacksonville, North Carolina). But enough about that.
So I got to go home, I got to keep listening to my music and texting/facebooking my friends. Everything went back to normal. No new therapist or psychiatrist--still seeing my same ones, and my same nutritionist as well.
I was pretty happy to be back home, ESPECIALLY when my friend whom I met in an eating disorder treatment facility moved back to North Carolina--around an hour's drive from where I live. Things were peachy. I got really close with her, I got back on track with school, I was eating "healthy".

Everything changed on November first. Truthfully, it had been starting to change, say, October 30th. My friend was not following her meal plan at all, she wasn't eating enough to keep the weight on. I was starting to get triggered, and I was slightly restricting my caloric/food intake as well.
Then Nov 1st, she told me that she had to go back to the treatment center. Her doctors and therapist, and the staff at the treatment center all agreed she needed to come back. She was almost back to her admission weight.
Everything kind of fell apart. I don't blame her at all! I just felt so hurt and alone when I heard the news. She hadn't been deliberately trying to lose weight. And yet she still needed to go back. I began starving myself again. Ultimately eating 500 (but probably less actually) calories a day. it's my way of fucking coping. Today she's being admitted. I am overwhelmed with the fact I won't be able to see her for a while, and I am overwhelmed with school. I do not have an overload of work--I just have French (which I need to study) and English (for which I have a research paper and presentation to get started on). Call me lazy, I'll admit it. I just DON'T FEEL LIKE DOING THIS SHIT.
My mood is in the toilet. I have only eaten several grapes today and it is 4:05. For dinner I plan on eating a slice of white bread, with an UBER thin slice of turkey. Less than 100 calories. (And yet I still want to eat even less, if not anything AT ALL.)
I don't know, I'm just tired of everything. I want my heart to fail, I want to die from this eating disorder. Of course, I'll probably end up back in treatment before that happens. But I'm fine with that too. As long as it helps me escape from the real world.
The real world is full of anxieties, depression, hopelessness, helplessness, and disappointment.
I'm too lazy to want to keep dealing with it.
I figure once I get skinny again, it will make everything better. In a negative way, but still better.
Just fuck everything.