really far from ok

really fucking far. but its ok though, because im sure a hot bath will distract me from my thoughts and make me feel oh so relaxed when my whole freaking life is falling apart. and for the record, i dont HAVE a fucking bath.

Have i metioned how much DBT irritates the shite out of me. ( sidenote-before i continue, im going to apologise for the increasing amounts of swear words occouring in my posts of late. id replace them with alternatives, but the truth is, typing them is strangely satisfying. FUCK!). Yes, i know that it teaches very seful distress tolerance skills and im not knocking that. I'm even, surprisingly for me, not going to bitch about how much i dislike mindfulness. to be fair, my intense loathing of DBT stems from being taught it as an afterthought in a CBT group in Cornwall a couple of years ago, by 2 trainees who had never done anything before, triggered the fuck out of me by asking me to focus on thoughts about abuse, them left me to it when i went mental having flashbacks. But thats another story. The point im trying to make in a very skewed and roundabout way is this-thats its all very well asking someone to push these hurtful and difficult thoughts away, back in to their tidy little space in your mind, ready for when they are actually wanted (never)-but repeatedly telling me to ignore this things and distract byself from them is rather like telling an ant not to move when its about to be trod on my a mammoth. theres so much of it, there isnt room for it all in my head anymore. you cant ask me to talk about things in a very brief way, without pulling these thoughts forwards, making me re-live them and then expect me t be able to handle it. i cant file them away when they havnt been processed. And being continuously told that its not theright time to talk about things is just making me feel like i should be ashamed, that my experiences are invalid, and not reason to have led to this, and like, still, after everything, noone is really listening to me. and thats what hurts.

I got told today by one of the psycotherapists-who'd never spoken to be except 5 mins today-that the EDservice wasnt going to be able to help me after these 4 weeks, because they didnt think it was the appropriate way forward. so im right back to where it all started-thinking i was going to get support, when in fact, im going to be left on my own to cope in 2 weeks time, with still not a clue about food, still struggling very much with ED behaviours and feelings, and knowing that im going to get no more further help. oh, and the ED service told my uni that im not fit to go back this year, so now, i dont even have uni to go back to, and the structure of it to help me through, and no help to deal with the massive implications of that. because you cant pull my life apart, and not expect me to fall apart.