Sunday, November 28, 2010


I'm not really sure where to start. I'm not really sure where I stopped. I've been a crazy internal mess lately. I've been trying to recover, whatever the hell that means. I don't really know what I'm recovering from. I mean I can't be sick. I'm still a healthy weight. My therapist even said so herself. "I'm concerned about her eating but her weight is not low enough for me to have her hospitalized." That killed me inside. I felt like breaking down right there. I felt like she was telling me I don't have an eating disorder. I felt like she was telling me I'm not serious. I have a serious problem with wanting to prove to people that I'm serious about being disordered. How can I think I'm sick if my own therapist doesn't even think I am? I know that's not what she meant but my mind is so twisted. I want to prove to her that I really have an eating disorder. I want to prove to her that I'm serious about how fat I think know I am. Why does my mind play games like this? I know this isn't what she meant. I'm just so sick in the head that I don't care. I want to prove her wrong. I want to prove to her that I am sick enough to be hospitalized. It's like f*ck you! I'll show you. Curse this mindset of mine.
So Thanksgiving has brought good and bad. I've been loving spending time with my mom. I've missed her so much. I got to see my aunt and uncle from Florida. I got to see my great aunt and great grandpa/grandma. I love seeing my family. Downside to seeing my family is there is always food, especially on Thanksgiving. I feel like I ate so much. I did eat so much. I had a little bit of everything and then I had dessert which was usually pie. God, I'm such a fat ass. It got to be so much on Saturday that I broke down right there in my grandma's house. I barely got out of the kitchen before I started crying. My mom came in to talk to me followed by my uncle. I was crying and telling my mom about how I've been trying to recover and it's just been so hard because the past few days have all been about food. My mom was hugging me and telling me it's not about the food, it's about being with the ones you love. She told me she would do whatever it takes to get me into the intensive outpatient program. My uncle was just hugging me and telling me I was beautiful and how he was going to protect me and keep me safe. I felt so loved but I still felt horrible. Anytime anyone complimented me, I felt horrible. It was just a rough night.
So I don't know where this puts me for recovery. I'm still trying to eat my three meals a day. I'm managing to do that but I still feel so guilty. I know I've gained a ton of weight. I can see it on my body. I just feel so gross. I still want to die. I don't know what to do. Do I want to recover? Do I want to get worse? Do I want to stay the same? No to that last question. I just don't know.

0 words from my listeners:

Post a Comment