I’m drunkenly texting my mom. I’m drunk because I started drinking at 4pm because I can’t control my mind. I went to an outpatient tour and it went not I as expected. It had no therapist or psychiatrist affiliated and I need a very structured program. No curriculum and very peer to peer. That’s definitely good for some people but I need a lot of structure. The program was for people who have their lives together more than I do.
I’m lost. I’m applying for unemployment. I’m applying for disability. I applied for food stamps. I’m trying to get into a McLean program that is more structure PHP that I can go to everyday. I don’t know how I’ll survive without the support of my parents. I’ll never move back home, I love Massachusetts. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll pack up and head back to my old Ivy League home town that I completely loathe.
Things are hard. I feel isolated. I cried myself to sleep last night. I cried because I played victim for once. I cried because it’s not fair I’ve been given this list where I have to deal this illness that feels so unmanageable. I’m so close to losing it.
I have no one up here that knows about my illness and how I struggle to survive day to day, second to second. I want an end point. I want to know that I have an outpatient program to attend. I want to know I have a therapist to lean back on. I want the support group I used to have back home. I’m drunk texting my mom, the woman who triggers EVERYTHING! but for once she’s making me feel semi happy and comforted. And this is a sign. Have I hit rock bottom?
I feel relieved to pour my heart out to my mother. One of my favorite things about being sick is that I have no filter, I say everything on my mind. For all of my followers, I’m very composed. Today at McLean I was asked by a member “are you applying to be an employee?” That is how I am. I always look presentable and doctors doubt my illness. I grew up in a town of affluence and I live up to the superficiality. It’s the worst double edged-sword. People don’t take my illness seriously, doctors doubt me and I doubt myself. I don’t get the care I need and I don’t address the issue they need to be just out of stigma. I don’t want to be judgmental so I won’t say anything more. And I feel judgmental saying that.
Anyway, I feel sad and I feel hopeless. I’m going to keep drinking, try to enjoy Christmas movies with my roommates and attempt to have hope. I’m going to spend the day in Cape Cod tomorrow. The water is my sanctuary. I was a d1 swimmer and it makes me feel at peace in a way nothing else can.
And tomorrow will be a new day. Tomorrow is always a new day, filled with promise, hope and encouragement. I used to always tell myself to go to sleep. Go to sleep. Wake up. And you’ll feel better. You always do.
Happy Thursday evening to everyone! You’re doing great. We are all going to make it through. Xoxo