I never promised you a rose garden. I never promised perfection or a person safe or comfortable in her skin. But I'm trying.
I didn’t think I was going to mention this tonight because I’m still really angry and frustrated and depressed about it. My mom wrote up a contract for me to sign today, and she threatened that if I didn’t sign it, she was going to get me admitted into treatment ASAP. Also, if I violate any of the rules in the contract, I get admitted to treatment ASAP.
Fuck contracts, seriously.
Some of the rules in the contract:
So, basically I’m going to be facing what I would inpatient…without being inpatient. I’m surprised that I don’t have to fucking sleep in the same room as her at night. Heck, I’m allowed on Tumblr? Not for long, I bet. Not with my luck. Obviously I’m pissed off and I hate myself, I hate my body, and I want to swallow the painkillers I stole from my mom’s room the other day, but there isn’t enough in the bottle to overdose.