Basically, health insurance is awful and dealing with it is a nightmare. First they said treatment would be completely covered, but when I got called to set up my actual intake at the center on Monday, we found out that wasn’t the case. So they ended up referring me to a hospital inpatient program, which I’m less thrilled about. But I guess it’s still treatment and I don’t know. I really liked the first place but holy cow was it expensive. So I’m trying to go into this with an open mind and the knowledge that once I’m stable enough to leave inpatient the first center’s day program is covered so I can always switch. Ugh. This is just super stressful and I don’t want to have to go through another evaluation tomorrow morning but that’s what’s happening.
So, I had my intake appointment this morning. And the therapist insisted that I get into residential treatment as soon as possible. Which, while I’m not *thrilled* about, I know is the best thing for me and the only way I’ll ever kick my ass into gear. So I’m set to go into treatment on Monday, that’s the soonest they could take me.
I am terrified. I am scared and upset and nervous and I don’t fully know what to expect. But at the same time, I have to cling to the notion that this is the only way to get my life back and be an adult. So I have to do this. I have to, even if I don’t want to.
I don’t want to. I do, but I don’t.
I am so scared.
Intake appointment tomorrow. I have no clue what to expect. I am currently shaking like a leaf. I am nervous and upset and I don’t want to do this. But deep down I know I have to. I mean, I spent an hour sobbing on my kitchen floor because I ate what must have been less than a tablespoon of frosting while baking my mother’s birthday cake because I was convinced I could feel it turning to fat. And this is after not eating anything solid since Sunday. I know I need to deal with this but I am so goddamn scared right now.
This is how panic starts: I am
watching time move by and
counting out my failures by
the second hand. I am three
feet tall and regret is a
mountain. I wish I had made
better choices today and
last week and six years ago.
It’s the middle of the night
and there is nothing to take
focus away from all the things
I wish had gone differently.
Oh god. Frosting. Why did I try the frosting? I should not have had frosting. I am freaking out. Ugh I hate this I hate this I hate this.
Today was so stressful. I mean, this whole week has been stressful. I’ve been dying to move back home forever, and now that it’s finally happened…I don’t know. These aren’t the conditions I wanted it to happen under. I wanted it to be on my terms, not because I was no longer able to be trusted to live by myself.
I’m glad I’m home. I am. But now…there’s so much to do. So much unpacking, so much junk to sort through. And I feel awful that this happened on my mom’s birthday.
I just feel awful. And I’m still so anxious about going to the treatment center on Friday. I don’t know what to expect at all. I still don’t feel ready. I still don’t feel sick enough.