Hospital Thoughts

I'm convinced I binge ate today even though I didn't, I just feel so fat and unworthy of wearing anything other than a potato sack. The insecurity and food paranoia have made an impressive comeback over the weekend. I've put on 7 pounds in the past couple of weeks though, I need to fix that.

Last night I was speaking about my stay in a psych ward with a friend who's girlfriend was in a similar place, and my boyfriend who's grandad died there. They play God there, I generally refuse to speak about what really went on but I was tipsy and for once I had someone who wouldn't dismiss it as bullshit. I've had 2 panic attacks since then, it's completely set me on edge and brought the experience back. I suppose it's good to talk about it and not bottle it up, but it doesn't change the fact that I still feel sick and shaky when I think about it.

I was told that there was nothing wrong with me and that I was faking one day, the next I was told I was very sick and would never leave. They tried to convince me nobody would come in to see me, that nobody wanted to see me, and that I did not deserve to have people visit. The second sexual abuse was put down in my file they had a whale of a time. That's only a brief mention, I can't go into the worse stuff. Maybe one day.

I'm always scared I'll be sent back. No matter how good things in general were, I would sooner kill myself than go back, and that's no exaggeration. You don't come out the same person. I was so luck that I had my boyfriend. Without him it would have been easier for the nurses to break me and make me believe what they were saying. 

I just keep recalling how one woman was desperate to contact her family, her solicitor and her psychiatrist. The nurses would have her call taxi ranks and shops and convince her she'd phoned the right people and imagined it differently. The memory of their laughter as she stood sobbing by the phone twists my stomach.