2002-09-26, 5:57 p.m.
There isn't much I feel like doing without the internet. My dumbass mom who moves so slow online demanded to get on for a little and I was left with nothing to do. I have a whole bunch of binge food but I need to eat while online. I don't know why, it's just more fun that way. I decided while I wait for her to talk to herself and somehow manage to read her email in 6 hours I'll write my entry in notepad then copy it into diaryland. So this is where I am. I saw my meds. doctor today. I use to call him my anti-depressant doctor but now he's giving me stuff for bulimia so so i'll just call him meds doctor. I hate going to him. He scares me. My therapist makes me feel like I'm just another screwed up teen with problems that aren't all severe. My meds doctor is either over reacting or putting things into perspective for me. He see's that I'm messed up, in danger of my health, and no where near getting the help I need. His words still burn in me and bring tears to my eyes when I think about them.
"If you don't start getting help or changing, you're going to end up in a hospital, which may not be a bad thing."
"Have you ever been in a psych hospital? What they do is make you sit for 2 hours after you eat too make sure you don't throw it up."
"You're not going to just get better without getting adequate help. Maybe if you were only doing this once or twice a week but for you it's 3 times a day." He wrote a refferal to another doctor.
"once a month seeing Dr. G_____ and seeing me one in awhile isn't enough help. You and I both know that." He got mad when I said I wouldn't and couldn't tell my dad. That he couldn't know. He was talking to me like "what the hell is wrong wit you? You could die and you're worried about telling your dad?" But what he said was "Things are shit anyways. You know that. You're going to flunk out of school." All I could manage without breaking down and crying was "I'm not going to flunk." The refferal said something like this: "Dr for Bulimia, severe. Please assist of referals for sudiv(I couldn't read this word. I have no idea.), group, behavioral therapy.",
Then he had the number and signed it. I'm not going to call. I'm severe? Severe? I have severe bulimia? It doesn't register with me. What's behavioral therapy? Argh. I'm so scared. I can't tell my dad and I can't go into a hospital. I want to, but what about school? He said they'll need to add another doctor if Julio can't see me enough. An eating disorder doctor. I don't want that. I only want to see Julio. He said he's going to talk to the office and have them pay more attention to me and give me more assistance in this. He said the meds won't work without getting rid of this. Meh...so much. I shouldn't be worrying about this. I should be worrying about boys and friends and what movie I'm going to see this weekend. ;lirjte;rtdrt. I'm tired of having bulimia. I'm tired of having depression. I'm tired of my crazy mother. I'm tired of doctors and peopel looking at me strange and my arms full of cuts and scars. I'm tired of me. I hate this life and I hate me.
Oh, Viva...here's to answer some stuff you post in my guestbook. I don't acknowledge it enough though I do read and consider greatly the words people say:
I do try to say something about my ED. I mention it a little but it usually doesn't go far. I don't feel like he cares to hear it so I don't elaborate much. Something that use to make me happy was having people I love around...now i don't really know. I don't like to be around people much. I like to eat...binge...i know that's terrible. I honestly don't like anything about myself. wait, I take that back. I like my insights and love for reading. I haven't tried to go a day without weighing myself. I always do...usually more than once a day. The only time I haven't weighed myself obsesively repeatidly throughout the day was when I was on a houseboat trip on a lake...no scales there.