But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Insured for Life I talked to my insurance today. They want to get me in somewhere fast. They know that they cannot do what they did last time. It almost killed me. I cried. She asked me how much I was bingeing and purging and the tears started to flow. I am humiliated by my behavior. I am sad for what I do to myself. "How do you feel about going back to residential Gwen?" Me: "I know I need to because if not I will end up killing myself this way." "How? What do you mean by that?" Me, Sobbing but trying to make it sound like I'm not: "Because I can't quit bingeing and purging or get my diabetes under control." She made some calls. There is a two week waiting list for Rogers. They don't want to wait that long and my mom would have to pay for half of it. She can't afford it. It looks like either UCLA or Del Amo. I am so scared. Why must I do the revolving door? I hadn't binged all day, but once I got off of the phone I began to eat... And eat... And eat... I didn't purge and now I feel like a balloon woman. I hate it. I know I am going to throw up as soon as I finish this entry. I will waddle outside, out in the cold and with the churping crickets, I will duck behind the pool, make sure I hear no voices from the neighbors, lean over, and puke. I will hate myself. Tears will stream down my face. But I won't be panicked anymore. I won't feel sickly full or angry. I won't need to eat for a while... I am so sorry. So, so sorry... 1:10 a.m. - 2003-10-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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