This past week has been really difficult. Work is becoming stressful for the first time since I started. I’m running out of people to call, feeling pressured to be on the top caller list, and the mistakes that I make seem to be frequent and aggravating. I wish I could just do my job correctly the first time. I feel so stupid and useless. I hate knowing that people are probably mad at me, or frustrated with me. I’m frustrated with me.
Monday I found out that a girl I knew from treatment passed away. That kind of set the tone for this week, I believe. I knew she was in the ICU for a little while, and they were unsure if she would make it or not at that point. It’s particularly upsetting because she just moved into a new state/got her own place. I know that was partially fueled by the “no more treatment” attitude (which isn’t always healthy)…but it still sucks nonetheless. I hate watching as so many people I know die from their eating disorders. I hate not knowing why I am one of the ones that survived, and they’re not. There is literally nothing more special about me than them. There is nothing I can do that they couldn’t. I have no meaning, as far as I can see. I’m a friend, a sister, daughter, girlfriend, whatever else…but isn’t everyone? Everyone is something to somebody. That’s not a valid reason why I made it and they don’t.
I want answers that I won’t receive. People can guess and speculate, but I want a definitive answer. Why did I survive? Why am I still alive? Why them and not me?
I put my body through so much hell, and it doesn’t make sense. I overdosed repeatedly, should have needed a liver transplant the last time (but oh, hey, it miraculously recovered). I laid on the bathroom floor, room spinning, heart about to explode, multiple days out of the week…and I’m still here.
WHY THE FUCK AM I HERE.
Sorry. I’m not suicidal, I promise. Just angry…upset, unsure, bitter. In need of life answers.
I wish I could get myself to calm down. I don’t need this stress on top of the work stress. Together they’re pounding me into the ground. It’s harder to sleep, harder to be awake. I catch no breaks.
I at least made an attempt to make work a more positive area for me. I bought a dry erase board, and every day I’m going to write an encouraging/positive quote on there. I also need to keep telling myself that my coworkers are the sweetest people ever, therefore they actually do want to help me (not be mad at me for all my mistakes).
I don’t have much else to say. Signing off.
-September 27, 2017