2006-04-26, 5:50 p.m.
ETA, 8:30 PM:
Tonight my dad is pulling his old shit. While we were driving to get yogurt, he starts bitching about money. I told him I'm being discharged because they feel like they can't help me and his solution is to stop buying food. He makes a really insensitive comment of how I always need to be eating. I tried to say he doesn't understand ED's and that it's not about the food but he wouldn't even hear it.
I commented that his motives for not buying food weren't for my own good - he just wanted to save money. He went on and on about how were going bankrupt and said he doesn't want to buy my junk food and cigarrettes especially when he doesn't support my smoking. I said that was his opinion on my interests - i think his vitamins are ridiculous and over priced. Everytime he would comment on my purchases, i threw back "no one supports mom's purchases - witch shit and books but it's okay for her because she's crazy and you budget for her insanity?" He didn't comment.
He said we need to have a "family meeting" and I blew up. I yelled at him that were not a family, she's not rational, and to stop "fucking act like she is." He did the meeting anyway, bringing my mom into the room I was in and gave her the same lecture. My mom immediatly blames it on me. I typed on the computer ignoring the whole thing. My mom scratched and looked at the dog while my dad threatened to cut up her credit cards. She wasn't even listening. I told him she wouldn't listen because his threats are always empty. He threatens to take away her credit cards all the time but until he actually does she won't change.
This job couldn't of come at a better time but leaving St. Josephs couldn't come at a worse time. It seems like my dad is going to stop ignoring my food addiction and make it embarrisngly difficult to keep up my habit. I remember I kept justifying all my purchases at the gas station because I was going to stop bingeing and purging soon. Then it wouldn't be a problem anymore. But it still is and it's so much harder to maintain when my dad knows AND cares. Though I do doubt how much he will raise his head from the sand.
So with that said, I doubt the whole pay-for-rita-out-of-pocket will workout. Unless I just bill him and deal with the fire afterwards. I did talk to the rec therapist about it and she said she'll leave her a message. My sister called Rita today but didn't get a hold of her. It'd really help to stay there until my job starts. Considering all of this.
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bad day. bad bad bad day.
I had therapy this morning. God, I was so depressed. I felt dead sitting infront of Julio, explaining about St. Josephs. I tried to muster up some excitement about the job thing, but this St. Joe's disaster has brought down my energy. We talked about that, of course. I teared up like 86 times. He wants me to see if Rita will take me on in addition to him. Plus, Rita has an evening program called Miramar 3 times a week and he wants to see if I qualify for that.
It was funny, when I was talking about something my dad said, I just blurt out, softly, "I hate him." I could almost hear the walls yell, "BREAKTHROUGH!"
I went to St. Josephs at about 11. Rita was leading the group. At about 11:30, Rita and I got in a huge thing. I can't remember the last time I cried so hard and was forcefully talked to like that. Rita asked me about my appt and I said it was good but he wants me to do things outside of my comfort zone. When I wouldn't say what it was, due to embarassment, she got frustrated. That sparked this huge tearful battle that I can't even remember the order of what was said. Highlights were:
Me: it doesn't matter how much I talk about it. It still hurts like hell.
Rita: I know.
Me: I mean, I accept my mom is insane.
Rita: No you don't.
Me: Yes I do! She didn't even say Happy Birthday to me on Saturday and I don't care.
Rita: Yes you do!
Me: I don't expect it.
Rita: Bullshit Melissa! you expect it and you care.
Me: I don't know how to feel any different. I don't know how to get over it.
Rita: Melissa. You do not have a mom.
I'm sobbing by now.
Rita: You're making yourself stuck by giving into this.
Me: I don't know what else to do.
Rita: oh, bullshit. Tell me what else you could do. You know that's bullshit.
Me: I DON'T. Nothing makes it better.
Rita: Then I can't help you.
Me: God, why do you have to sound so final? You're not making sense. You say it's okay to have these feelings but then tell me it's a cop out to blame my behavior on my upbringing.
Rita: *jokingly* don't tell me I don't make sense.
I'm quiet.
Rita: Come on Melissa. Tell me you're angry. What you don't say you binge and purge over.
Me: I'm not mad at you.
Rita: Stop fucking around! I know you're upset. TALK IT OUT.
Me: But not talking isn't the only reason I binge and purge.
Rita: Why else do you?
Me: A lot of reasons. Because I'm bored, because I'm sad, because I want to numb myself, out of habit, WHATEVER.
Rita: Aren't those all things you can talk out?
Me: I can't talk out a habit.
Rita: Yes you can.
After I stopped sobbing, we had lunch. The afternoon was more relaxed. I predict tomorrow will be equally stressful.