First pass

yesterday was quite a stressful day. i was in my head basically all day thinking about my pass and the decision i had to make. to eat or not to eat: that was the question. i had gone over in my head what the pros and cons were for eating and there were obviously more pros than cons. however, not eating fed into my ED in a very big way and the satisfaction i would get out of not eating almost ousted all the pros that would have come from eating. i knew i did not want to eat, but in terms of treatment and getting out of here, not eating could possibly mess that up. if i didn't eat the possibility of being on warning the next day was much greater in which case a meal plan increase could be in order, and THAT i knew i could not handle. also, my team would find out and would probably take away my caf privilege and not give me any other passes, so that would be no good.

this whole week i have been in my head and really anxious and engaging in some behaviors that feed my ED. in therapy group one of the girls actually mentioned how she wanted to confront someone about something for a while now but wasn't sure how to do it. i had the slightest inkling that this could have to deal with me and i was right. in group she said, "im just really worried about you, alyssa. ive noticed youv'e been isolating a lot more and that you've been really negative over the past couple of weeks and i don't know if this is true or not but i heard you've been exercising," that made every one's head's turn, "and im just really worried because i miss you." basically i had nothing to say to that one. what could i say. the exercising was true but the other reason i had been so upset and isolating all week was something i did not want the girls to find out.

the group leader then spoke and said, "alyssa, i was just thinking about something you said in group earlier today; how the girl in the poem we read made the decision to save her life and you said that you have made a different decision. is that what you have been upset about?" and i told her basically, yes. she asked if i wanted to expand and i said i really didn't. at this point i was crying, which is hard enough for me to do ever, never mind in front of all the girls. so it basically came out that my ED is controlling me, that im really struggling with motivation and that i feel like i have no option but to go back to my ED. having that out in the open sucks, but i guess it feels a little better to not feel like im lying so much now to all the girls.

after that i was pretty upset and really just wanted to go into my room and cry, but yoga group was next and i knew that i should force myself to do that so i could ground myself, relax and not think for a while. all i really wanted to do was talk to my therapist though, which ironically, she came in for about an hour yesterday. i was going to ask for an emergency therapy session but then i decided just to do yoga and see how that worked.

it worked well.

during dinner and post-meal the anxiety came back. dinner was hard for a few reasons which made me really not want to eat snack on my pass.

7 o'clock rolled around and it was time for pass. i took the hospital shuttle to Waverly place and then from there took the Mass transit bus to Harvard station and went up to Harvard square. the bus ride was an extremely triggering experience because it brought up memories of riding the RIPTA to visit my caitlyn at RWU. i engaged in a lot of binging at RWU on those nights/days i spent there as well as some purging, but most recently i restricted and had to face many temptations and deal with constant intrusive thoughts from my ED, making my visits painful. having these memories made me even more anxious.

once at Harvard square i went to CVS first then to urban outfitters and just looked around. everything was way too expensive and i was not really feeling all that great about actually trying anything on. i did find a quilt that i think i want for my room so hopefully i can go back there with my parents and get that since we've been planning to redo my room for a long time now. anyway, i kept watching the time every few minutes seeing the clock creep closer to the time i would have to find a place to eat if i was going to. eventually i forced myself to leave and try and find j.p.licks, and ice cream place highly recommended by the girls.

after a while of searching i couldn't find the place and i decided just to go to Ben and Jerry's. i didn't want to get lost and i was running out of time to eat, and i knew i'd need to allow myself plenty of time for this task. i got myself in the line and ordered a small, half-baked frozen yogurt in a cup. i sat down and mechanically ate. i tried not to disconnect but i couldn't enjoy what i was doing. i honestly cant tell you what it tasted like because i was in a zone at that point. the fact that i was eating was very bothersome, and the fact that i was eating ICE CREAM was even more bothersome since i had cut ice cream out of my diet and if i did happen to eat it i would ALWAYS purge after. so needless to say, i took a huge risk. but i realized on the bus to go out that whether i decided to eat and apple or ice cream, i would still feel the same afterward. the fact was that i ATE, not what i ate.

after i finished i walked around and went to The Coup--Harvard bookstore--to fill the rest of my time. i "bought" three books--"girl, interrupted," "appetites," and "tipping point."

i returned to Harvard station around 8:45 to catch the bus back to Waverly and then took the shuttle from there back to the hospital. the same guy that picked me up when i went out brought me back and we had a nice little conversation, of which i obviously didn't start. he was nice, probably in his twenties, and talked to me like i was a normal person, though he clearly knows that the unit he dropped me off at is the EDU. it was nice to know that even though it seemed like my ED was a giant elephant in the van, life still went on and i had a normal conversation with a person i had never met or talked to before.

i would say my pass went ok. i really didn't enjoy it and having the responsibility to eat. every one says, "you should be proud of yourself!" but i really don't want praise for eating. i feel like crap about it and no amount of praise or affirmation from anyone will make me feel good about it.

i started "girl, interrupted" which was about a girl who stayed at McLean hospital for a year and a half in the adolescent unit, and finished it today, and i have already begun "appetites." i really liked "girl, interrupted" since i am staying at McLean, so i can really relate to a lot of the places she talks about and rules she mentions. just a little fyi, McLean is a pretty famous psychiatric hospital. Ray Charles, James Taylor, Robert Lowell, and Sylvia Plath all stayed here. there are a few pages that i folded to mark the places where i found quotes i liked or things i could really relate too. i'll end my blog with this today.

"Scar tissue had no character. It's not like skin. It doesn't show age or illness or pallor or tan. It has no pores, no hair, no wrinkles. It's like a slipcover. It shields and disguises what's beneath. That's why we grow it, we have something to hide."

"For many of us, the hospital was as much a refuge as it was a prison. Though we were cut off from the world and all the trouble we enjoyed stirring up out there, we were also cut off from the demands and expectations that had driven us crazy. What could be expected of us now that we were stowed away in a looney bin?
The hospital shielded us from all sorts of things. We'd tell the staff to refuse phone calls or visits from anyone we didn't want to talk to, including our parents.
'I'm too upset!' we'd wail, and we wouldn't have to talk to whoever it was.
As long as we were willing to be upset, we didn't have to talk to get jobs or go to school. We could weasel out of anything except eating and taking our medication.
In a strange way we were free. We'd reached the end of the line. We had nothing more to lose. Our privacy, our liberty, our dignity: All of this was gone and we were stripped down to the bare bones of our selves.
Naked, we needed protection, and the hospital protected us. Of course, the hospital had stripped us naked in the first place--but that just underscored its obligation to help us.
And the hospital fulfilled its obligation. Somebody in our families had to pay a good deal of money for that...if our families stopped paying, we stopped staying and were put naked into a world we didn't know how to live in anymore. Writing a check, dialing a telephone, opening a window, locking a door--these were just a few of the things we all forgot how to do."

a rather humorous one to end with:
"The hospital had an address, 115 Mill Street. This was to provide some cover if one of us were well enough to apply for a job while still incarcerated. It gave us about as much protection as 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue would have.
'Let's see, nineteen years old, living at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue--Hey! That's the White House!'
This was the sort of look we got from prospective employers, except not pleased.
In Massachusetts, 115 Mill Street is a famous address. Applying for a job, leasing an apartment, getting a driver's license: all problematic. The driver's license application even asked, Have you ever been hospitalized for mental illness? Oh no, I just loved Belmont so much i decided to move to 115 Mill Street."