Ambivalence at its finest

I made it two days in a row and although today's post will be brief, I feel somewhat pleased that I have managed to log in here and write.  Commit words to paper, so to speak.

I always knew I was very ambivalent about a lot of things, not least my 'recovery' from alleged 'anorexia' and 'depression' (why can I not fully accept I have these after having had said diagnoses for more than 2/3 of my life?!).  But conversations in my head today have just epitomised this crazy ambivalence at its finest.  Last night, I found out that the commissioners have only just been approached for funding the inpatient bit of my revised treatment plan.  They may refuse.  I have been digging my heels about this inpatient stay as I do NOT want to gain weight.  We all know finances in the UK are sparse, the NHS in particular and so funding an expensive treatment is unlikely, especially when they are having to pay even more (for reasons I'm not prepared to share so publicly). So, this should make me happy; I may not be able to have an inpatient admission.  Yet, my response was a complete mixture of joy and fear, happiness and terror, yes and no!  I am ambivalent.  Yet what surprises me the most is how I can be ambivalent about even the things I felt I was most non-ambivalent about!  I was/am so anti gaining weight.  I was/am so certain that inpatient would be unbearable.  I was/am so convinced that I did not need this.  And yet when the reality of it happening is threatened, I find myself wanting it.  It is so confusing.  Because even now when I think how I now 'want' it (inpatient), I don't at all.  Damn this ambivalence.  Damn this 'illness'.  And damn me for being so damn ambivalent about every single thing, even those things I thought I was so certain about.

Happy Friday LastShot....I sure do know how to start the weekend partying...