Off to see the wizard

Anxious. Scared. Ashamed. Relieved.

Take your pick. Any of those words accurately describe my waking emotions as I contemplate leaving for treatment in a few hours.

Check in time is 11 a.m. No early arrivals. (The water park is closed for the season.) But I've plenty to do in the meantime. Such as not purging. Such as not fleeing.

I'm packed. Although I should wash this bathrobe I'm wearing and throw a few more pairs of socks into the suitcase. I have to pull together paperwork and phone numbers. No cell phone or computer while inpatient.

I dread walking onto the unit. Timing is such that I will arrive as lunch is being served. And sitting down to a meal with complete strangers is not my idea of fun or therapeutic. I worry that I won't remember names of any of the staff...but they'll remember me and think it's such a shame that that I fucked up so early on. I think about being the oldest person on the ED unit and being the fattest person. I worry that they'll take away my journal and pens and papers...even though I've painstakingly made the suicide or self-harm proof.

But mostly I worry that I will fail. I am not the kind of person that wants to do things more than once. Perfect the first time. Practice sucks. And here I am...at it AGAIN . And failure this time...well, you might as well just write me off as a lost cause.

(If I could have typed that last paragraph in black and white, it would accurately convey my screwed up way of looking at the world.)

Then there's the disappointment. In myself. What others feel toward me. I feel like I've let everyone down. I know that's not logical. But it's how I feel. How can I get the rational thought to better align with emotions? Inpatient challenge #1.

I know people will be checking this blog while I'm gone. I won't be posting for a week or so, but come visit any way.

A big shout out to the friends from my real life who love me. I love you, too.

Here's a hey to all the people at RDA Milwaukee who pop on during the day. I don't know who all of you are, but I can tell whether you log on with a Mac or PC. It's rather comforting to think of you as a silent shield of protection in the office. I hope I get to come back.

Sending thoughts of solidarity to all the brave people who also face ED issues and have come to this blog to offer me support or to seek your own. Your honesty has lifted a bit of my isolation.

Come on. This isn't a eulogy or a good bye...it's just an "until we meet again." But it does feel kind of final to me. I know that some of what I write, the self-loathing and distorted reality, the self-pity and anger, I will have to inch away from. That, in itself, scares me. Becoming the person I am meant to be scares me.

This. I would wish on no one. That. I think I want, but don't believe I have the strength. Worthy, capable, lovable. I whisper those words to myself in the darkest hours of my nights, not completely believing them or trusting them. Certain they are my truth. But so very far away. Maybe I'll find them 45 miles down the road behind the locked doors of 3F. Or maybe I'll open my eyes and find them right inside of me.