Sunday, Nov. 16, 2003/3:01 pm

awful

This is really hard. I'm unsure of what to say, how to explain. My eyes straining over a white screen, each black letter seeming out of stride.

The ward is awful at the moment, the past week has been so distressing. One of the nurses said that she's worked there for two years now and in all that time it has never been anywhere near as bad. Patients self harming, the new girl repeatedly trying to strangle herself with clothes, fists thrashing against faces, walls and doors. Uncontrolled, uncensored, terrifying shouts, ringing into my ears, chewing me up inside. Disturbing sights of others being restrained on the floor, red lines against the skin on their necks. A gel pen jabed into skin, nails digging into hands, shaky palms, urgent cries.

Their are panic alarms in each room, pressed in view of danger, high pitched and garing. I had never experienced the call of one before Monday, but recently there have been several each day. The staff all run at once, as soon as the button is triggered, lights flashing red and the familiar clatter of heels against wood.

It's as though the whole place has been shaken up, turned upside down.

There are three of us that are quiet, one that wanders in the middle, then three that are causing the chaos, pain conveyed in extreme. They seem to soak up rage from one another, copy tactics, letting rage rise from previously harnessed seams. Two are now on level 1 supervision, constantly watched, always within arms distance of a nurse.

Each moment of silence is the waiting room for another explosion.

In an emergency meeting it was said that just because some of us aren't shouting loudly like others, doesn't mean they think were struggling any less. Yet, i don't mind being overlooked, i prefer being able to stand in the shadows, in the iced chill of inner containment.

I could go into furthur details, but it's too upsetting and even if i wouldn't be able to get it right.

It's just so horrible. I can't think of a better word, and even that seems weak.

I'm so shut off, shut down, blank, keeping myself behind a wired fence. I talk to the others about them, their problems, but never mine. I just can't. One of the factors proving so difficult, a voice that withers when asked how are you? but returns the line automatically. I''ve had comments from nurses such as 'your very supportive...but is there anyone for you to confide in?' I don't need anyone, i couldn't ever burden myself on them. I hardly speak in therapy, but the slight words that i do leave me physically and mentally drained. I leave the sessions exhausted.

In the dining room on Tuesday, alot was happening. I had Cordelia on my left with her back to me, not eating, not even taking her water, Jess on my right doing the same, telling everyone how she thought the food was disgusting. Infront of me sat a plateful of pasta and vegetables, full portion, whereas they both had only half anyway. I had to pick my way through it, even though i didn't want it either, i wanted to push it as far away from me as possible. But i can't say, i can't make a fuss, i'm just not like that. Cordelia suddenly jumped up and started hitting herself violently, then as they tried to grab hold of her, she ran from the room. It was all too much and I just burst into tears. I shocked myself and everyone else, because i'd only ever cried in private before.

I'm not getting better, inside i know that. My thoughts aren't being rationalised, converted or reversed, i am the same if not deeper than i was before. On every weekend leave i've had so far i've lost weight, binged, purged and skipped my insulin. I try to cover it up at weigh-ins with a few feeble techniques. I never go to the toilet beforehand like were supposed to, sometimes waterload if i've managed to sneak some in, and last Monday i concealed a heavy rock in my underwear. Yet, it hasn't been enough, a drop always appears in my chart. I am so worried about how much it will show tommorrow morning. I came home Friday evening and didn't keep anything down then or all day Saturday. I really tried to stick to the meal plan today, keep up my fluids and focus on the consequences of letting it slip, but it was no use. By morning snack i was back there with my head down the toilet.

Even when i'm trying to accept help, cursing myself for challenging health. i know it's for the wrong reasons. I follow the programme as an in patient. I accept food, i eat, i don't protest, i ignore the persistant urges to throw up, with only a few exceptions. I am discreet, cowardly in attack, swallowing laxatives from my purse, but fiercly reserving my voice. Never revealing to anyone a truth besides false positivity. I lie on my bed and hold my full stomach, thinking through the disgust of a future clarity, when i'll be able to remain empty. I want discharge, to replay, to relapse, to do it properly.

I still want to get better, somewhere hidden, beneath the rest. The seed was stronger before, before admission, when i'd made the desision to try and change. Now it is slowly dying, fading, reasons running out. I have no idea how to halt the damage, or whether poison is being let in through the roots or leaves. I hope, i really hope, it will be able to begin growing again, twisting and settling somehow. That hope is what keeps me stable, because without it, without even a care, there would be nothing good left

I've been finding it so hard to write whilst i'm in there, within my paper diary as well as letters. I'm so sorry if replies are slow, but the packages and envelopes i keep receiving really do make me feel less alone. On a side note, the address i told Hayley to give out sends first to the offices downstairs before reaching the ward, i didn't realise but there is a quicker way. So if you want the direct address you could ask her for it. Thankyou so much for all that are thinking of me. I just wish i had more to offer in return.

My Dad is picking me up at 4.30. the minutes are wearing thin. I really wish i didn't have to go back. I want to stay here and be able to curl up in my own duvet, watch tv and have another bath.

I know it's all my own fault though, all my own fault.

I'll keep holding on,

pushing on,

even if i don't know what i'm holding onto.