Doomsday
Today is a special day. It's not my birthday, it's not the first time I first used a behavior, no, none of those. Today was the day I thought I would end my life.
"Doomsday" was what it was labeled as in my phone to be exact. Friday, November 2nd. For no other reason than that it felt right. It felt right about six weeks prior when I was in a pit and needed to create some light at the end of the tunnel. However in this case, I was carving my own hole in the tunnel because the end seemed too far out of reach. I needed something tangible to grasp to. A date that allowed me to tell myself, "you just have to push through to this day, and if it is all still too much, then I could call it quits". It was a comfort to my soul as it gave it a potential eternal resting place with a name plate. It was never that I really 100% planned on ending my life that day. Some days I was more set on it than others. But about four weeks out, my thoughts about this date began ruminating and were occasionally invasive which, as I previously talked about, resulted in a pow-wow with my therapist.
Ever since that session we have talked about this date and how I was feeling toward it routinely. During this time in last week's session, she told me that she would be out of the office on Thursday and Friday, my doomsday. Fear struck me instantly. I was also hit with an "are you fucking kidding me?" sense of laughter. "Of course this would happen to me", I thought. Someone who's sensitivity to the thought abandonment is high, who already feels unworthy of care, was essentially having to face the validation of these fears head on.
I thought the hard part of my session this week was going to be coming clean about the prevalence of my behaviors recently. I wasn't initially planning on doing so when the episodes occurred, for I thought I could just pretend it didn't happen and continue to put on the facade of trucking along though recovery. But the it's nearing presence and talking about it with a friend resulted in a compelling feeling to tell the truth. What was holding me back was that didn't want to jeopardize my place in this program because I had come so close before to having to go to res. I feared and half-expected to be sent away after disclosing myself. However my status in IOP was put in jeopardy before I could even sit down in the office that day, and it was not by my doing.
It was halloween on Wednesday. And right before I was schedule to see my therapist, dressed as a pirate, she said she needed a few minutes to check in with the program director, dressed as princess Tiana, about my insurance. To which I responded with a more than a hint of sarcasm, "That's good". So I sat. And sat. What was actually less than ten minutes felt like a lifetime. I knew they didn't talk about your insurance unless their was something to talk about, and typically getting approved for more days doesn't qualify as that something. Upon walking into the office I had a feeling I wouldn't be receiving good news; I was right. I was told that they would be conducting a peer to peer review the following day. I immediately began recalling the times back in residential when the same situation occurred and I was denied further treatment at that level of care.
Essentially what this means is that my insurance had not approved more days for me in IOP, so a peer to peer review is carried out. My medical doctor specializing in eating disorders would vouch for me when talking to the medical practitioner that is working for the insurance company who would be trying to back the claim that I have been in treatment too long.
In the meantime, I wouldn't be able to go to treatment the following day: Thursday. I had to ask this to be clarified out of disbelief. I had not been out of treatment for a day since May other than weekends and holidays. Luckily, I would get to come in the evening for an aftercare support group open for the public that occurs once a week. I wouldn't be completely on my own that day.
I was devastated. I felt an overwhelming sense of abandonment and hopelessness. I felt completely defeated. I went on to explain that while all of this was happening, my behaviors had gotten worse. I didn't know what to say or think. I wanted to cry but I was still processing everything that had just been relayed to me. I was asked to sign a safety contract, again, for this upcoming weekend regarding Friday and the days around it. While my therapist typed this up at her computer I sat there on the couch, practically in the fetal position, staring out the window. The more I thought, the more I felt. My chin would quiver and my eyes would water every few seconds, but I was quick to shut it off. That is, until I started talking, or trying to at least. We discussed the worst case scenario of discharging next week and going to outpatient. I expressed my concern with possibly not having an eating disorder specialist for an outpatient therapist. She said in response that I will have a specialist because if I don't I would likely end up in residential very, very quickly.
All I do anymore is go to treatment. I wake up, try to occupy myself until four o'clock without using behaviors (often failing to do so), enjoy the support I have from 4-7pm and then go home and wait until I am tried enough to sleep just to start all over again the next day. Without going to treatment, without seeing my therapist there, I have little desire or will to fight against the dark cloud that is mental illness hanging over my head.
My insurance has been notorious for stepping me down through levels of care before I am ready. It is a large part of why residential wasn't beneficial, the reason that my first step down to IOP had to be appealed in order for me to rightfully go back to PHP, and why this situation is happening now. It's not just my insurance though. Throughout my time in treatment, I have seen this happen over and over again to more clients than not. It is completely unethical and you forget how much it effects your recovery until it is happening to you.
I see things going a few ways. I can get more time in IOP, not much, but a little. Enough time to get a plan in place for outpatient treatment and be prepared for the transition. The transition will still be hard, it will probably break me before I grow from it. Hopefully I can grow from it. Still, I would be grateful for any more time I do get in treatment. On the other hand, if I am denied more time and have to discharge next week, I have to be honest, I don't think it will go very well. I think I will be really sad and lonely. My throat tightens at the mere thought. I am reluctant to write that this disease could also kill me if I don't get the help I need because I can already hear people saying, "just eat then!" and things of the sort. 4% people who have bulimia will die due to a complication from the disorder. And as morbid as it is, if I can't get the help I need, I would rather this happen sooner than later. I am suffering, and if the support system I currently have in place is instantly ripped from my fingertips, I don't know how I am gonna keep my head above the water.
Now despite all this talk about throwing in the towel, wanting to is not the same as planning to. At one point I may have been passively planning to, but I have realized how much more harm than good it would do. I am not willing to make that sacrifice. I know I won't be alone no matter what happens, but it still feels like I will be, and that's what is leading to this sense of such hopelessness. Thank goodness I am learning how to make the majority of decisions out of my wise mind (a combination of both the emotional and logical mind) and thus I am able to keep myself safe.
This is the hardest post I have yet to share. I am afraid of so many things. I am afraid people will see me as weak for having these thoughts because that is how I perceive myself. I am afraid that because these thoughts are being denounced that people will no longer care for me and disregard any struggles I have in the future. I am scared that people won't take me seriously but I am also scared that they will.
This week flew by and it brought a storm with it. The storm has led to some good conversations and connections, though. I am grateful to all those who have stood by me through this, especially my therapist. Obviously this is an unresolved issue but I felt compelled to express where I am at and where I might be going.
Glo
Essentially what this means is that my insurance had not approved more days for me in IOP, so a peer to peer review is carried out. My medical doctor specializing in eating disorders would vouch for me when talking to the medical practitioner that is working for the insurance company who would be trying to back the claim that I have been in treatment too long.
In the meantime, I wouldn't be able to go to treatment the following day: Thursday. I had to ask this to be clarified out of disbelief. I had not been out of treatment for a day since May other than weekends and holidays. Luckily, I would get to come in the evening for an aftercare support group open for the public that occurs once a week. I wouldn't be completely on my own that day.
I was devastated. I felt an overwhelming sense of abandonment and hopelessness. I felt completely defeated. I went on to explain that while all of this was happening, my behaviors had gotten worse. I didn't know what to say or think. I wanted to cry but I was still processing everything that had just been relayed to me. I was asked to sign a safety contract, again, for this upcoming weekend regarding Friday and the days around it. While my therapist typed this up at her computer I sat there on the couch, practically in the fetal position, staring out the window. The more I thought, the more I felt. My chin would quiver and my eyes would water every few seconds, but I was quick to shut it off. That is, until I started talking, or trying to at least. We discussed the worst case scenario of discharging next week and going to outpatient. I expressed my concern with possibly not having an eating disorder specialist for an outpatient therapist. She said in response that I will have a specialist because if I don't I would likely end up in residential very, very quickly.
All I do anymore is go to treatment. I wake up, try to occupy myself until four o'clock without using behaviors (often failing to do so), enjoy the support I have from 4-7pm and then go home and wait until I am tried enough to sleep just to start all over again the next day. Without going to treatment, without seeing my therapist there, I have little desire or will to fight against the dark cloud that is mental illness hanging over my head.
My insurance has been notorious for stepping me down through levels of care before I am ready. It is a large part of why residential wasn't beneficial, the reason that my first step down to IOP had to be appealed in order for me to rightfully go back to PHP, and why this situation is happening now. It's not just my insurance though. Throughout my time in treatment, I have seen this happen over and over again to more clients than not. It is completely unethical and you forget how much it effects your recovery until it is happening to you.
I see things going a few ways. I can get more time in IOP, not much, but a little. Enough time to get a plan in place for outpatient treatment and be prepared for the transition. The transition will still be hard, it will probably break me before I grow from it. Hopefully I can grow from it. Still, I would be grateful for any more time I do get in treatment. On the other hand, if I am denied more time and have to discharge next week, I have to be honest, I don't think it will go very well. I think I will be really sad and lonely. My throat tightens at the mere thought. I am reluctant to write that this disease could also kill me if I don't get the help I need because I can already hear people saying, "just eat then!" and things of the sort. 4% people who have bulimia will die due to a complication from the disorder. And as morbid as it is, if I can't get the help I need, I would rather this happen sooner than later. I am suffering, and if the support system I currently have in place is instantly ripped from my fingertips, I don't know how I am gonna keep my head above the water.
Now despite all this talk about throwing in the towel, wanting to is not the same as planning to. At one point I may have been passively planning to, but I have realized how much more harm than good it would do. I am not willing to make that sacrifice. I know I won't be alone no matter what happens, but it still feels like I will be, and that's what is leading to this sense of such hopelessness. Thank goodness I am learning how to make the majority of decisions out of my wise mind (a combination of both the emotional and logical mind) and thus I am able to keep myself safe.
This is the hardest post I have yet to share. I am afraid of so many things. I am afraid people will see me as weak for having these thoughts because that is how I perceive myself. I am afraid that because these thoughts are being denounced that people will no longer care for me and disregard any struggles I have in the future. I am scared that people won't take me seriously but I am also scared that they will.
This week flew by and it brought a storm with it. The storm has led to some good conversations and connections, though. I am grateful to all those who have stood by me through this, especially my therapist. Obviously this is an unresolved issue but I felt compelled to express where I am at and where I might be going.
Glo
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