But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Returing to the Hospital

I wish that I could do this on my own, but I cannot. And that is so hard to admit.
I am going back to UCLA. I am being admitted on Tuesday, as long as my insurance approves the admission. I know that it is for the best, though I fear losing my freedoms. I am spending an average of $100 on binge food a day, and my endocrinologist says it is a miracle I am functioning, let alone alive, with my bingeing, purging, and lack of insulin.
But I am barely functioning. I am running sugars off of the meter, eating and purging and average of 37,000 calories a day, and keeping about 3,000 down to run out in my urine as glucose. I am dizzy and weak. If I stand up too fast I pass out when I get out of bed. And my heart races.
A friend told me that my roommate is very concerned about me. That she knows I vomit all the time. I guess I deny it. I was actually surprised when yesterday she said to me, "I eat so much." and I replied, "No, I eat a ton."
Her reply was, "Yes, but you throw it all up."
She is from Japan, and is the sweetest person ever. I hate having people see me this way. I hate being this way. I cannot function. I cannot think. I am failing in every aspect of life. It is a vicious cycle. I am depressed and weak, so I don't leave my apartment. I binge because I am there. A box of Nutter Butters, a bottle of Hershey's Syrup, a bag of Raviollis, a carton of milk, a box of Smacks, a Halloween bag of Reese's Fastbreaks... and I purge.
I do it so much that it means nothing. I have broken wounds on my right hand, one that was pussing a few days ago. But nothing makes me stop.
So I am going back into the hospital. Because if I don't I will die.

7:33 p.m. - 2004-10-22
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dying - living