Saturday, Aug. 23, 2003/4:02 pm

the revolt

A letter arrived this morning.

A letter containing all my truths and fears. Typed out like a logbook of flaws, faults, mistakes. Humiliating and terrifying.

It was addressed to my Mum but had the return label '** *****'* mental health trust'. Therfor I knew it was concering me. I opened it.

It was thick, several pages, my notes, the case study. The diagnosis, family history, suspected reasons for my eating disorder. Details of the questionnare i filled in after being reasured that it would be completely confidential. Quotes from the private talks, where i had been led to a room to discuss what was going on, and told that the words would not go beyond those walls. They said it was safe, i could air any worries without them leaking beyond the medical process. They lied.

I feel deceited and tricked. Like i played right into their hands, just how they wanted. I keep suspecting of ways they tried to trap me and make me feel comfortable. Relatable mentions that doctors slipped by, trying to get closer, pretend they understand slightly, i am convinnced half of it was fake. I had just started to come round to the idea that they are on my side and not against me but that has since been wiped. I can't go back.

I got so upset reading it all. It was really, painful. Each word stabbing at my self esteem. It described my appearance on each meeting, my 'depressed' manner, 'reluctancy to speak'. Went through facts about how i was raised, when eating became a problem, everything. Some of it was even wrong, like the fact that i definately didn't start using laxatives at 13, nor did i ever say so, and only one of my Dad's parents is dead, not both. I was so furious, gushing floods. Shaking and crying uncontrolabley, i went out into the kitchen and set alight to the pages using the stove. Then soaked them in the sink and ripped it all apart to bits. My mum then found me and tried to gather what was going on. I'm not sure what she thinks now. I kept repeating "i'm not going back there, please don't make me go back there'". Felt like a pleading child, scared of going to nursery.

This has torn out any move towards recovery i may have been making. I'm hurt. I have no trust whatsoever in them.

The apointment on Wednesday was tramatic. With two of the specialists, trying to map out what to do next. In the end they decided to refer me back to Frimley to have week/fortnightly visits and then back to London monthly. Still with the option of coming in to ip anytime if the circumstances arise. When asked how i'd been doing genrally i was very vague, just said 'okay and' 'better' Making up false statements and only uttering few and far sentences. They were pleased with how hard i've been working, how hard they think i have been working. It is all fabrication, i have been obscure. keeping up a front. My mum thinks i've only had one slip up lately when really i've been purging numerous times, everyday.

They also tried to make me attend a 'family group' where three families work together over four days. They had mentioned this last time and i had said no, it was the last thing i wanted to do. They weren't going to give up easily. Kept on and on at me, reducing me to tears, i continued to shake my head, eventually confessing it would be my worst nightmare. They wouldn't stop, aiming to lure me in, explaining what would happen, that it usually really benefits patients. I told them i was extremely shy, it would make me unhappy, i had trouble being there let alone amongst a group. Flashes of school debates and class presentations ran through my head, the same cold blooded terror of performing. The times that i was too petrified and had to spend my lunchtimes acting out oral projects infront of just the teacher. I told them all this as easy as i could. "What about just one day to see what it's like? We won't make you do anything you don't want to do". In the end i just point blank protested, said i'd made up my mind and wish they would listen. By this time i was sweating even though i rarely do, they just kept digging. I'm glad i asserted myself eventually and told them where to shove it.

I've given up on it, i can't involve myself in something i have no trust in. I just can't believe they compiled that document and sent it to my Mum. Sentences i have spoken, that they swore she wouldn't hear of if i didn't want her to.

The giant binge and purge i've just had is a fuck you to them.

Plus the challenge i've given myself to lose more weight, quick, fast, now, smaller, lower, skinnier, thinner. I had decided that i would try to just maintain for a while and not let my sugar levels rise overly high but i've forgotten that change. I'm sick of being so fat. They just wanted to get me fatter. I don't need to eat well i need to eat less and puke more.

I'm going to go to college, balance this illness, try to keep going, keep striding, gulp down snatches of energy. I might end up in hospital. yes, but atleast i would have earned my place there. I'm not walking freely through doors that will be bolted behind me. It will probably all end in disaster, but i'm willing to take that chance. I don't have any more options. There's no where else i can go. I'm going to have to sit down and think, this entry consists alot of split second realisations. I'm not sure what i'm serious about.

No way else to live, no where else to turn. No one to open up to. Sheilding myself in the only place i know of. Deadly destruction. The trees are falling, banging against swarming dirt. The sky is black, cluttered with sounds of suffering. My icy crimson spill against rough concrete. Voices getting ever more distant. Eyes staring forth, waiting for the eventual crash, before the silence.