"There ain't no good in our goodbyes..."
It seems as though I'm already letting myself slip, although I haven't skipped any meals. Yesterday I slept in, but in an attempt to hold on to some kind of structure, I spaced out my three meals, eating breakfast at noon, lunch at 4 and dinner at 10:30 (just like those good ol' middle school days). I didn't have my usual snacks, but I have every intention to pick them back up and I spent a good ten minutes in the nutrition isle of CVS picking out a mere six pack of Ensure -- I decided on strawberry... I'm not sure how pleased I am with this decision. Today seems to be a little more on track with breakfast at 10ish.
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I entered Renfrew at the lowest weight I've ever been. I pushed myself down, thinking that I wasn't small enough for treatment. I was shocked that they even excepted me and in what seemed like a whirlwind of events I was landed in Philadelphia. I was not happy to be there, which over time I learned was quite apparent to the staff. I felt coerced and in all honesty, I wasn't sure that I wanted to "recover".
My first day was terrible. I was asked to wear long sleeved shirts to cover my scars. There I was, supposedly at a place where I was going to take the first steps towards self-compassion and I was already being told to hide myself. It is as if people don't know that there is shame behind self-injury and that even a simple request like that can do damage. Do they not know that I am repulsed, too?
I slept on and off on the Manor House couch between appointments, tours and meals... waiting for insurance to be settled - a long battle that no one really expected. I never imagined that this would be me.
Within the next few days, I learned a few things for myself...
- vitals are done between 4:30 and 6:30
- it is imperative that you use all of your salad dressing
- payphones eat away at phone cards
- when you're stuck in a 100yd bubble, friendship bracelet making is really the only way to spend your time.
