Week Five

Today I'm very sad. I guess it was inevitable. After 25 years of marriage I don't normally blink an eye when spending time apart from my significant other - but this is different. We've been apart a month and will now be apart another 2-4 weeks. Which in the big scheme of things will become a blip on the radar, but today we're surfing the blip.

The Land of Oz

One of our tasks in group therapy today was to "create three characters to live in your own 'Land of Oz'. Give them each something to search for that YOU are searching for through your eating disorder (NOT related to weight). Give reasons why the Mighty Wizard would say that you already have what you are looking for."

Week Four

Today I am afraid of recovery. I've been in this place before - where I've felt the beginnings of change and then become overwhelmed with the fear of that change and what it might herald. so I rush back to the safe and familiar.

Word Therapy

As I may have mentioned once or thrice, I suck at art. And the thought of doing art therapy leaves me feeling cold and slightly nauseated. However, it is also true the art therapist is not only a lovely person, but also a very good therapist. Plus she's nice to me - and by that I mean, she often lets me write in lieu of drawing. So here's a few of my art therapy, "works of art". Spontaneously produced. Unedited. Raw. Cheerless...

Week Three

I've spent a lifetime as a highly anxious person pretending it wasn't so and secretly not coping. Nobody knew. I hid it. Very well. Now I don't want to. I want to accept and manage it instead. It won't solve all my problems but it will be a good start. I have no idea how to manage it...

Resilience

So in contrast to my previous post on resilience, I now concede that in some areas of my life I can become and behave in an extremely resilient manner. There are areas I need to work on, but for now I'm surrounded by professionals who will gladly work with me towards those goals.

Art Therapy

I have to do art therapy while I'm incarcerated as an inpatient. I can't begin to put into words how much I dreaded this concept. I even told the very lovely therapist how I feel about art therapy. She was very understanding - and surprised. Because no matter how I feel about the activity, I am here to immerse myself in all the therapies, regardless of my preconceived ideas.

Week Two

Same old, same old. Neither better nor worse. I feel my depression has sunk pretty low and I spent a lot of today mapping out "exit" strategies. But I also communicated this with the registrar and have requested to have my dose of pristiq increased. She's also modified my leave to "escorted" which is fine by me.

Week One

A friend of mine has encouraged me to share my private journals of inpatient. I hope it's not triggering for anyone. It's deeply personal. And I've made every effort to remove identifying information of the clinic, staff and patients. It's a long read! But this is what life is like.