Man. MY life is a mess.

I'm shaking with anger.

I want to smash dishes,

or chunk my phone through a window,

or knock my tv off the stand and smash it with a bat.

Pretty much how I felt when I smashed that glass egg and broke in into many pieces while cutting my hands and finger all up in May.

I'm fucking pissed.

Shit seem hopeless. There's always going to be problems and things getting in the way.

It's pointless.

I'm enraged.

I fucking hate *******. I'll leave the personsname out.

I'm just pissed and I infuriated.

!12irj'i398iUP$#(TUEOjfEOIj{TO@$JOTJR(EG)%PYK7

I don't like having to admit it, but I've had a relapse in my recovery from my eating disorder.

I'm mad at myself and this disease.

I want to get back on track. I want to be healthy and happy again.

I need to get help and I want to get help.

Along with my eating disorder, I've also had issues with what is possibly borderline personality disorder [the psychiatrist I saw confirmed it was likely... I've only seen her once so far and it was more so an intake visit, so she hasn't had the time or anything to say it's definitely so or diagnose it]. 

My anxiety has calmed down some, but I still am struggling with depression. Not as bad as before, but it's still there and sparks up here and again.

I'm on my parents insurance and can't afford to have my own insurance.

In my Mom's opinion, she's already dealt with this. I was hospitalized, went to a clinic, did the whole regular check up/dietitian/group and individual therapy and recovered. She doesn't want to acknowledge or deal with a relapse.

I'm 5'1 and a 1/2" -5'2" and weigh 110 lbs. On the outside, I appear perfectly healthy. But I'm not. The eating disordered thoughts, feelings, and actions are back.

Maybe I'm not in as much danger as I was when I was down to 80 lbs. before I got hospitalized in 2009, but that doesn't mean I'm not worthy of help.

It pisses me off. It's like just because I'm normal [mentally I know I'm normal, in my head I look/feel fat], then I'm not "worthy" enough for care. I don't want to get to the point of being so far into this that I become underweight or emaciated again!
It's taken me a few months of denial to finally accept that I need help with this; but I can't seem to get any. You'd think a mother would be glad that her daughter was accepting that she needs help and wants to fix herself, rather than denying it and losing twenty pounds or so over time until it's clear to her.

I'm not comfortable in my body. I look fat. I feel fat. This is taking over my thinking. My confidence/body image is plummeting. I'm not making healthy choices.

I keep trying to talk to her and explain how I really need this but she just wants to be in denial and avoid the issue. She says she doesn't want to deal with this, she's gone through it and it was fixed.

I'm not talking in patient or being hospitalized, but I do think I need some sort of eating disorder specialist/therapist/psychiatrist.

She's reinforcing the thinking in my head that tells me I'm too fat to need help. That I should lose weight, before I can deserve help.
It's like a battle between the healthy/recovered thinking and the disordered thinking.

  I feel frustrated. I feel exhausted. I feel emotional, and I also feel tired of feeling that way. I feel tired. I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel hurt.

I'm frustrated to the point of being near tears.
Trey's busy so I can't go hang with him and unload all my minds never ending thoughts on him.
Heather's at the lake with her boyfriend this week, so she's busy.
It's too hot outside to go running, and I don't want to pay to go to the school gym.
Luckily my counseling appointment in tomorrow morning though.

In the mean time I decided to do art-therapy. Well, I don't know if what I did fit the technically terms, but it's my version of it anyways...

 
(This is done with pastels/charcoal)

The picture doesn't make them look as good as they do in person, but oh well.
This is a picture of what my emotions would look like if you could see 'em.
(I wish I'd taken steps as I went because you'd be amazed at how it looked in the beginning, middle, and end... very different lol.)

(This is done with crayon.)
It helped me feel a little better.

It feels like my Mom cares more about her house, than she does about me. She claims she can't afford to help me get help (despite the fact that I'm at the point of really needing it), yet she's getting new floors, repainting the whole house, soon getting new furniture. She's gotten new light fixtures and shit. And she has money to constantly fill her gas tank so Connor can go running around town driving her car where ever he wants to go all the time.

However, I'm not stable. I hate to admit it but I've relapsed and I haven't been doing well at all with eating lately. It's frustrating. I haven't acted on it, but there have been times were I think it'd be better on everyone if I would have fully OD'd. I know I can't have any repeats of that, but it crosses my mind sometimes. There are some nights were I drink nyquil just for the comfort of being tired and sleeping a good ten hours (sometimes more). I need to see this psychiatrist (not just the UALR counselor), but if I see her she will also require me to see an eating disorder specialist because she's found in years past that she's not very good at fixing those. That's two doctors and QualChoice doesn't cover any mental health needs. And my Mom expects me to cover that. I quit Cajun's in May. It'd gotten too much and was depressing me and I was miserable there. I now just work 2 and a half hours a week at the church working the nursery. It's ten and hour, but that's only $25 a week. I can't cover medical bills at $100 a month. I'm looking for a new job, but school starts in less than a month and I'm taking 16 hours. I can't work full time. She said I should find a job with insurance, but HELLO! I'm 19, I have a high school degree and 32 hours of credit at UALR... I'm pretty damn sure it'd be impossible to find a job with insurance at my age and considering I'm going to school. I mean, maybe I could afford everything if I started working the pole every night and then going to school in the weekdays, and doing the nursery on Sunday morning... yeah, that'd work, but then I wouldn't get sleep and I'd be degrading myself. SERIOUSLY!
I sent her a text last Sunday saying, "I know you're old and don't have a lot of money, but if you don't get me help, I'm going to end up dead. Just saying."  She didn't respond... I mean, honestly, if I have to keep on going like this and I don't get help I will eventually lose Trey and that'll probably push me over the edge, which I'm already on. I can't live like this. I'll kill myself if I have to go on like this.
I don't know why she doesn't want to believe I need help. For fucks sake, I OD'd a little more than a month ago. Intentionally. I don't like having to admit it, but I was trying to kill myself. I'd gotten to the point of hopeless where I didn't see the point of going on. I'd like to get help so I don't ever get to that point again. I'd like to be healthy and happy again. But I can't do that on my own... I need help financially and I need professional help too.

I'm not having a good day.

I'm freaking out and having fits and I hate living here, it's making me depressed.

I told Trey that and he said he doesn't want to talk about it as usual, and I flipped out on him and made things worse and I'm crying and I hate that I'm fucked up.

I swear, I have borderline personality disorder.

And now he wants me to chill and leave him alone until I'm calm and I hate myself.

I wish my Mom had taken me to the ER when I OD'd because then I'd be locked up in some psych ward and kept until I was fixed.

I just wanna die right now. I won't do anything because then I'll definitely lose Trey, but I wanna.

I'm still kind of feeling down today.

Last night about 9pm I drank a good amount of nyquil to get me off to sleep. Then I took another sip maybe half an hour later and got way more that I meant to. So I was out around 10pm. I must've drank more than I realized because I woke up around midnight to go pee and it felt like I was floating or walking on floods on my way to and from the bathroom. It was weird. I got up at 8:30, showered and got some coffee. At 10am I went to lay on my bed and watch the price is right, but I feel asleep for an hour instead. I wasn't in a good mood, nor a bad mood. I was just kind of numb or in a daze still. I guess I was a little more in a bad mood, than in a good mood if I had to say.

At three I heard from Trey and he said he and his family were about to go to eat then we'd be able to hang for a bit. So I did Insanity's Insane Abs video (30 minutes) and showered off. My Mom asked if I was going over to Trey's today and I explained that they were eating now and I would go afterwards. She was surprised I wasn't invited to eat too... I wasn't.

That's how things have been lately. Well, since the last month [aka, since I got kicked out]. I seem to be invited over right after they're done eating, or I'm no longer invited when they go out to eat, or when they go out on a family outing. I asked Trey if he thought everyone else still thought of my as part of the family and he said yes, but when I told him it didn't feel like it anymore he just said he was sorry. And when I mentioned I was never invited to things I used to be invited to anymore, he just said he didn't wanna talk about it, as usual. (Whenever I try to point out where his family is treating me unfairly or differently, he never wants to talk about it.  *sigh*)

So for now I'm still feeling down, but at least I have something I can blame it on.

I liked feeling like I belonged and like I was part of the family.

So this is copy and pasted from a message I sent Lexie (Listenslikespring) on facebook. I've been wanting to update on here about some of this so I figured I'd just copy and edit this message some for this.

(Oh, and this is in response of her asking me how I've been... if that wasn't obvious...)
I think I'm doing better, at least some what. I'm having a little trouble with eating disorder stuff and I know I've been drinking more coffee than I should and not eating as much as I should, but I'm trying to work on it. 

I'm still not happy about living here, but I've come to terms with it, I guess. I still try to talk to Trey about getting me back into his house again, but he's worried it's too soon right now and that what happened before will repeat itself. So I have to give it time, as he says.

The counseling has been going well. I ended up having a woman named Beverly, but I'm about to change to someone else named Amy. Apparently Beverly is only a student intern and once summer semester is over (I think next week is her last week?) then she'll be gone, so she wants to hand me over to someone who'll be there longer. I think Amy is there all the time, like not a student or intern. I met Amy once and I think I'll like her pretty well, she seems nice and energetic and positive. At first I felt a little upset, like I was just being handed off and a little abandoned, but I think Amy and I will get along fine. I know it's not personal.

On the 9th, I had a follow up appointment with my doctor who's been prescribing my celexa for anxiety, and he doubled my dosage so now I'm taking 40 mg. After learning about my OD'ing he recommend I seek a psychiatrist/therapist and gave me some numbers. I had my appointment yesterday and that went well, she's going to call my doctor and talk with him and then one of them will call me. The only bad thing is if I see her she'll want me to see an eating disorder professional because she's not good at working with that stuff, oh and I don't think my insurance will cover much of it and my mom doesn't want to pay. So that's a little overwhelming. 

As for my Mom and I, we have our moments. She's still a little overbearing/naggy but I've been trying to stay out from under her feet and not do anything to get her going, so it's a little better. 

And for Trey and I, we're good. He's been distant and irritable but that's because he's doing his two week training school thing for the guard right now and he's exhausted and sore and tired, so he's a little more edgy, but thankfully that's over on Saturday so he won't be stressed out as much. I guess this is kind of karma from when I was acting all bitchy-out of control- off my meds-crazy lol. The distantness of him kind of worries me, like he's starting to fall out of love with me or growing tired of me, but I'm trying to remember he's just exhausted. I asked him, that's all he said it was. I'm sure you know how it is when you're reasoning between emotional thinking and logical thinking. It's hard to listen to the logical side.

So if you saw my post last night (here), you know all about Connor's episode.

Some how he finally calmed down. Apparently he pushed a tv (there's an extra room in the rec. room. I don't know which room it's from) and it fell off the entertainment stand thingy and landed on some of Mom's china. [She still hadn't put it back yet from when the floor people were working on the dining room.] Amazingly, it only broke six pieces and my Mom still has six full place settings out of the eight originals. He had really freaked out after that, because he felt so bad. He didn't know it was behind there.. breaking it was a total accident.

Anyways, he and my Mom went back to his room around 2:00 or 2:30 and talked a little while, and he probably fell asleep around 2:30 or so... finally.

Originally, I was exhausted and about to turn in around 11:30 when it first started blowing up... after that I was quite awake. My Mom came in my room and talked to me a little, then I watched tv until around three when I fell asleep. I woke up at 6am and was pretty much awake since then even though I was just lying in bed for a while. (Guess who's going to be exhausted later!)

Connor's still asleep. I think he only cut his forearm a little and from what I saw when he came in my room and yelled something about Mom at me, it didn't look very deep at all. It's basically a superficial scratch/cut. Part of me wishes my Mom had called 911 and had him taken somewhere, because when he gets like that it's scary. He doesn't get like that super often anymore, but it's still scary when he does.

So he's all right, my Mom's fine aside from only getting an hour to an hour and a half of sleep, and I'm fine as well.

I hate how powerless I feel/am in the whole situation. I can't intervene to try to calm him down or protect anyone, because it only stirs him up and elevates things when I try to help/get involve. I mean, I basically just have to listen and wait to see if I hear something really bad and need to call 911. It sucks.