Everyone knows how to talk, and no one knows what to say

The last couple of days have been so hard, my head feels so chaotic...

My flatmate is still waiting to go into hospital for her anorexia and I can't really deal with it. Everything just feels incredibly raw and painful. Like having a living memory or a ghost. I keep telling myself that I should be coping with it better, that I shouldn't be triggered, that I shouldn't feel weak for recovering and gaining weight but there's still a corner of my brain that I can't fucking control that keeps yelling at me and making me hate myself for not being in that place anymore. It's so fucked up. I don't want to be in that place. 99.9% of me is grateful for the health and the life that I have now, the freedom to do whatever I like and to eat whatever I like without being accountable for it either by the eating disorder or by the eating disorder unit rules. I wouldn't go back for anything. But that 0.1% of my brain that is working overtime and telling me all the ways in which I am weak and stupid and how much being anorexic would give my life meaning and purpose and success... It's such a small part of my brain but it's also so much louder than I'm used to it being. I really thought that I would be useful, helpful, encouraging for her. But I've ran away back home and I'm hiding from the whole situation. I want to write to her, talk to her, but I feel anxious and sick just being in the same house as her. I know that I desprately need the space from it and to not be in the thick of it but that doesn't stop me from feeling selfish about it.

I bumped into Carol this morning as I was leaving DBT and I don't think I've ever felt so fucking angry at someone, that she would have the nerve to talk to me after everything, after being suspended, after I thought she was out of my life for good.

Then my counselling was cancelled after I'd spent the whole night psyching myself up to meet the new person, and to even go again after the disaster it was last time.

I just feel... cursed, it's like I can't escape any of the things I want to or need to even, they always chase up with me, even in a secondhand/through other people way.

I don't want to be anxious anymore. I don't want it to get to the point where I would do anything to just not feel so awful. Where I would do anything to just escape it for a little while. I haven't self-harmed in 42 days and I'm aiming for 90, because I read or heard once that it took that long to really break any habit nd for your head and body to get used to the change. It's not like I plan to give up as soon as the 90 days are up, I'm just trying to break the whole thing down a bit.

I'll be doing something, in a shop, talking to a friend, in therapy, on a train, wherever, and my chest will start hurting, I feel sick and dizzy, sounds get muted or turned up, I start talking as if I'm drunk, slurring and unable to remember what word goes next and I have to get out, I can't stay, if I stay there and don't go out then I am sure I'll just drop dead there and then.

Every fucking day.

I can't keep living like that