Last Meeting...

with my therapist until I return from residential. I still have time to back out. I'm nervous and anxious.

I want to be normal. I don't want to hurt anymore.

X

Me, I'm a creator...

...thrill is to make it up.

I've done assessments with two different residential eating disorder clinics. Went today and had blood drawn for labs, an EKG, and vitals. I could be admitted as early as the end of the week according to my doctor. But I'm pretty sure I'm going to be waiting until the first of the year at least. I want to spend Christmas with my family.

So I guess I'm really doing this. I'm scared. And anxious. And I feel like I'm not "sick" enough to be going. I told my therapist that, and she said that's what everyone says, and that she, and my nutritionist, wouldn't have recommended it if I didn't need it.

I don't know. I'm nervous. And tired.

I slept with J again. I don't know why. I just wanted to get laid I guess. This time was different though. He kissed me. A lot. I don't like that. It brings up too many feelings, it's too personal. I just feel dead inside.

x

Reality sets in.

"There are some other financial options if, for some reason, your insurance wouldn't come through. Sometimes churches will help out with this sort of thing."

"I know, but I feel guilty for asking for that. I mean, there are the homeless and poor who need that money. There are people out there who can't eat..."

My therapist interrupts my Mother quickly, but gently, "But that's where she is." She points to me. "She can't feed herself. This is life and death. She can't eat." I hear the urgency and compassion in her voice, see it in her eyes. She repeats herself, motioning to me as if placing her hand over my heart from across the room, "She can't eat."

Tears well up. I feel truly helpless for the first time... ever. And there it is. The truthfulness of the situation is exposed. There's nothing for me to hide behind, nothing to cover it up.

It hurts. It stings.

I've fought for years to gain control over my life, my emotions, my head, my body...and the reality is, I can't even feed myself now. I've worked so hard trying to pretend to be grown up. "Yeah, I've got it all together. I'm fine. Leave me alone." All the while, I've been spiraling down, deeper into despair, doubt, hopelessness, fear, anger, sadness...reverting back years and years. I'm an infant. The most simple task has become too difficult.

I bow my head and stare at my feet. Shame overtakes me. How could this happen? How did I get here? Why am I hurting this badly...to cause me to literally become a scared child?

My dietitian and therapist continue the conversation with my Mother. I see in her eyes some enlightenment after that statement. She's beginning to understand. She reaches over and puts her hand on mine.

________________________________________________________

They recommended with urgency a residential stay for me. They said that my chances for recovery are extremely low if I don't get the proper level of care for the severity of my ED. They estimated 5-7 or more years for complete recovery. It's such a long climb up a mountain that seems impossible to scale.

And I'm ambivalent.

After the assessment appointment with my Mom, the reality of my situation has become clear, and there's a stirring in me....for normalcy, for health and happiness. But I'm holding on so tight to my ED. It's been there for me when no one else was. It got me through so many things. I don't know that I would even be here without it. How could I betray something that is so much a part of who I am?

I'm torn. I'm broken and sad.

My Mom has decided to take their advice and look into some of the facilities they suggested.

"Everything is going to be alright. We need to get you well."

Ultimately, I have to make the choice.

x

Icarus.

Tomorrow my therapist and dietitian meet with my mother. I'm kind of nervous. I'm afraid my Mom will react negatively...because she won't want to accept or believe the truth of what's been going on. But I hope she does accept it. I hope it changes her ideas and opinions about my ED for the better. Maybe she might grasp just a tiny bit of understanding that she didn't have before. That's all I want.

J and I talked tonight. He randomly started talking to me, like nothing happened. I guess that's the game we're playing now. I don't want to care anymore. I just want to be over it all... J, my ED, all the bad things that live inside me, the constant conflicting voices of love and hate. I want to curl up in the corner, my hands covering my ears with my eyes closed, until it all goes away. I want to reopen my eyes to an emptiness, a blank canvas. Nothing, but the possibility of everything.

And then, watch me go.

Higher. Higher.

This vomit will turn to gold.

x

Ugh...

So something happened...

I had sex with J last night. He called me randomly, asked me to come over, and we ended up in the backseat of my car...

He told me some bullshit about still having feelings for me and being attracted to me, he just doesn't want a relationship. He said he doesn't want to sleep with random people and it not mean anything *eyeroll*, and that he wants to sleep with me and no one else. He proposed a "friends with benefits" scenario. I don't even know what to think. He's so hot and cold. He basically just wants to use me for sex. How do I deal with that? Part of me is still so addicted to him, and part of me wishes he would just go away forever.

I met with my dietitian today. She wanted to do a final assessment with me before meeting with my family on Monday with my therapist. They're both going to explain to my family the severity and nature of my bulimia, and make their "recommendations". They've already told me that they would like to see me go to a residential facility for a while. I just don't know that I'm ready. Right now I kind of just act like I've got it all together. We'll see what happens on Monday I guess.

I hope you're all well.

x