I think the Cadbury melted

Life is sweet like Cadbury ha that makes me laugh to think that Was the title to my last post. I successfully lost all the weight I gained in my 1 week medical admission. I got home and reverted to the same habits. They had never been broke a tube down your nose for a week and one yoghurt later does not make you recovered oh hell no.

My body ended up on an even worse downward spiral I was fainting constantly and I ended up spending another week on a medical ward I am now in the specialist ward that wouldn't even consider taking me due to my medical instability. Unfortunately a week and a half later I am still compromised. Everyone keeps using the words associating the words "brittle" and "sick" with me everyone keeps telling me "it's the disorder not you" the reality is the disorder is a part of me. A huge denominations factor that is entwined in my genealogical makeup.

I'm on a nasogastric tube. I've absconded. I've put the ward in lock down for a week and a half. I've pulled the tube out God knows how many times 9 (?) and each time they put it back in. I've been pumped with this fluid and that. Stuffed with this medication and that. Code grey-security have been called numerous times and I have been shackled twice both very traumatic experiences not to mention they almost shackled me again two nights ago somehow I wriggled me way out of that one. I've had 1on1's.

I'm at a total loss for life. I started October willing to fight trying to fight with all my might nobody did anything until I nearly had a heart attack and even then I was expected to make day trips to the emergency department. So my psychiatrist is no longer. And now I'm receiving adequate support I can't run from it fast enough the fear of a life without my anorexia is one of the strongest feelings you will ever feel when your anorexia takes on the entirety of your being your personality your hobbies and passions. When all you want is to disappear and you are stuck on a ward that is enlisted to do the opposite of that.

Either I will be here for some time and actually get better or even just better would serve purpose enough to live instread of exist of floating on a puff of black smoke that clogs your lungs. That or, I face the stark reality that the demon shall never be exorcised from my body that I will be one of that 20% statistic. That the horrible psychiatrist was right.