Coffee and Coping Skills

Work was okay. I was with the Down Syndrome boy again. He was lots of fun. During break, we played with bubbles and shot baskets together.

Ginny worked both lunches, which was disappointing. I didn’t feel like eating. Since she wasn’t there and I ate for no reason yesterday, I didn’t eat lunch.  I care about her opinion more than anyone else at work. For some reason, her presence creates social pressure to eat when I don’t want to. Perhaps her opinion matters to me because she understands and knows more than anyone else.

However, I might’ve needed food. The kid I was with in the afternoon, had a difficult day.

We had an all staff meeting after the kids left. Someone keeps stealing pizza. Before the meeting, Ginny asked me to grab coffee after work. Of course, I agreed. We talked about work for a little bit, but I knew she was worried about me. She didn’t realize how suicidal I am until I gave her two bottles of sleeping pills.

It is hard to explain my state. I can’t promise I won’t act because I am too impulsive. I can be fine one minute (relatively speaking) and the next, suicidal. She brought up the ER, but they wouldn’t put me on a 72 hour hold because I don’t currently want to kill myself (for the past 6 hours) and I would not admit myself. For some reason, talking helped, even though our conversation was no different than the conversations we have almost every night on Facebook. While our conversations often contain levity, my overall mood usually only lifts a little bit. Months ago, she could easily get me to rationalize out of my disordered thoughts. It is harder now. Our conversations used to always make me feel better.

Talking in person was different for some reason. I’m not sure why. Regardless, it made me feel better. Perhaps seeing her facial expressions and hearing her tone of voice made it impossible to convince myself that she is lying when she says she cares, she does like me, or no one at work is mad at me. I gave her my address, which I may come to regret. Although I couldn’t promise I was okay, I could promise to call her if I feel as bad as I did Monday night. I hate the idea of bothering her. I message her on Facebook all the time, but that seems less intrusive. It is easy to ignore a Facebook message, but a phone call cuts into your day when it rings. Despite that uneasiness, I will keep that promise. Well, I might not call just because I feel suicidal, but I will call before taking pills or hanging  a noose. I feel extremely guilty for many things, some are legitimately my fault, many are not my fault. However, in this case, the guilt helps. I know if I don’t call and attempt or complete suicide, she will always blame herself on some level. The idea of doing that to her is too aversive to me. Therefore, I’ll call her.

A few weeks ago, she said she noticed I was quiet in meetings. It was really sweet; she said she still wants to hear my ideas and the things I notice because it is nice to know. Haha, she didn’t disagree when I compared myself to a specific, extremely dysregulated and impulsive, student.

Ginny suggested I come up with things to keep  me busy and coping skills. I’ll try. She regrets that I let my parents talk me out of partial hospitalization treatment in June. I do too. It probably would’ve made a difference. However, I’m not sick enough, with my eating disorder, to go to a higher level of care.

Anyway now I have to clean.