That 6 Week Mark

Just So DONE.
6 weeks in.
Achieved blue level.
My motivation to keep trying is maintaining earned privileges, but today those were basically taken from me.
Van isn’t full.
No need to drive everyday,
Which means no freedom in the evenings to go on my own outings.

So WTF is the point of blue level??
It does me no good at the center.

I do what I’m supposed to.
Come straight to the house after program.
Let staff know where I’m going.
When I’m leaving.

So I changed my mind about going to Stella’s.
I don’t think I have to technically explain where I am going to do homework.

Feel like a child.
And my primary is my mom
which means I automatically hate her.

My hubby says I’m throwing a fit like usual about being told no,
But that’s not my main concern.

It’s, why take it away when you know how special it is to me?
We’ve talked about it.
Why didn’t she just tell me herself?
She knew it was going to happen.  She calls the shots.
Why have milieu tell me?
Why not explain it to me?

I don’t understand.

Is it a challenge?
To teach me flexibility?
Introduce controlled conflict in my life as experiential therapy?
Did I do something wrong?
Am I being punished?
Was I bad?

I want to go home!

I want a discharge date.

I want out of here.
I want to control my life, my time.
Do what I need to when I need to do it,
what I want when I want.

Monday is family therapy,
he will rat me out.
I will feel further trapped.

I want to run.
I don’t care about my friends or their feelings,
They lived without me before,
They’ll do it again.

I’m tired of this social experiment.
I’m tired of trying.

I could give 2 shits.

I’m getting sneakier,
will continue to do so as is necessary.

I’m tired of eating
Of my thighs rubbing
Of my collarbones receding.

I will find out my weight
and if it is over 128 (ideal) to 132 (acceptable)
I WILL drop.

I’m semi-fine with that window.
I can learn to accept those #’s.
But fuck anything over 134.
Internet says ideal weight for average framed 5’9″ female is 145.
90% x 145 = 130.5 but I don’t believe they’ll stop at that.
They’ll make me restore and restore and restore
until I’m the fattest I’ve been not pregnant.
At least when I leave I’ll have control again.

PS.  I don’t care who’s talking right now,
who’s present.

I just want to go home.
Work, clean house,  be at home.

Not here.

If I am caught my husband will leave…
but he’ll be gone for 3 weeks.
I can get down in that amount of time and then just maintain.
He won’t know.
and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

I’m hyperaware of my thighs and pooching belly,
the tightness that doesn’t allow me to suck in anymore.
My weight the morning I came in was 113.4.
I need a new # to put in my phone.
This one is so triggering.

I’m fucking done.
Fuck this shit.


Day 45 of treatment.

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