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4:35 p.m. - 09/02/02
reach out // don't reach in...
dear Harlan:

it doesn't get any easier. I have a depressive disorder, an anxiety disorder, an eating disorder, so on and so forth until it just gets boring to explain. a year ago, I had completely broken down. I was out of school because I was too afraid to leave home. I couldn't find my way out of the depression or the anxiety and I was very active in my eating disorder. I ended up hospitilized and terrified of the road before me. then. I fell in love. which sounds cliche, but it's not, because I fell in love with the *hospital*. there was never any better environment. I never had a home like that, somewhere safe and supportive, where I could feel whatever I wanted to feel, without being left, attacked, or made to feel guilty. I made quite a bit of progress and was discharged, against every bit of my will, in November. despite the extreme grief I felt being away from the people there, I managed to cling to my recovery, and continued to improve. I stayed in therapy, kept seeing a dietician, did my best to be the "recovery poster child." in December, less than two months after I was discharged, my roommate from the hospital was killed. I struggled after that, but by the end of January, I had pulled at least the food part of my recovery back on track. I stopped seeing a toxic therapist and started seeing one who is really good for me (still with him now.) a couple weeks ago I celebrated one year without the bulimia-facet of my eating disorder; this was also one year since my admission to the hospital that I still consider home. ever since then, everything is hell. I wake up every morning thinking that a year ago, I was there. everything reminds me of the people I'm no longer with, and my roommate who is completely gone. every day feels like a week; my depression is raging, my self-esteem has plummeted, I'm surviving rather than living and I hate it. I understand why I avoided feeling this for a year; I can't do it! I feel like I'm going crazy. I'm completely exhausted, and no one understands. Everyone except my therapist thinks it's so great that I'm doing well, and doesn't see the pain I feel about not being in the hospital. I don't want my disorder "back" at all (though it isn't completely gone; the eating has gotten a lot better, and I'm really glad for that) and I don't want to be in the hospital the way people think. it's just that the hospital for me was filled with people who gave me my first- and I'm afraid last- experience of what life and support and family can be. I don't want to be sick or nursed or anything. I just feel so alone now, and I hate it. I'm not sure that everything else in my life being better balances having lost this one thing; I'm really not.

I'm completely lost. Again...

Alone After All

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