I am utterly, and totally, alone.
My eating disorder is in complete control and I am helpless to stop him.
The doctor and dietician told me I have to do it on my own because insurance wouldn’t approve treatment, but I cannot.
The eating disorder is overwhelmingly strong, and I don’t know how to want to give it up.
I am lost with it.
And I am lost without it.
I want the help, but I don’t even want to try it on my own.
It terrifies me to stop counting calories, to eat more.
It terrifies me to give up this false sense of control for real control because I know what will happen; I know about all of the anxiety and uncomfortable feelings I will have to go through in order to give this up.
And I can’t do that alone, on my own.
I want to go to therapy today, I NEED to talk to someone, but there is no one to talk to, no one that will listen to everything from my depression to my eating disorder.
There is no one here to treat my eating disorder.
I look at my meal plan the dietician made for me and half of me thinks, “I can’t do that, it’s too much to take in” while the other half of me says, “This isn’t a real meal plan. Where is supper? How is it okay to have a boost and a piece of fruit as a meal? Am I really that sick that she would give me such a small meal plan??”
My weight keeps dropping slowly, but I don’t believe the number on the scale. There is no way I only weigh 120.8lbs. I see too much fat in the mirror for that to be accurate.
Sometimes I catch a glimpse of the thinness of my face, but when I do a double-take I see a double-chin and am confused by this.
Occasionally I look down at my legs and see how tiny they’ve grown, but when I am getting into my nightgown at night they look like they always have.
I read an article the other night about a girl who died from anorexia. She went into cardiac arrest because her electrolytes got all messed up from eating only 400 cal/day, laxative abuse, and overexercising. It scared me into a panic attack.
My count goal is only 23 more cal/day than that (though I seldom accomplish it). I don’t abuse laxatives or overexercise though. Now that I’ve said that, what constitutes overexercising??
I don’t know what to do.
I am lost and alone and I don’t want to be here anymore.
I just want to run away, but I know wherever I go I take my mind with me and it will not help.
But I also know I can’t go on like this.
I can’t function as a person.
I can’t take care of my family, pets, or responsibilities.
I am apathetic to everything and I dread getting out of bed in the morning because I will have to decide what to eat or to not eat, which brings with it questions and concerned looks from my family. It brings feelings of guilt and selfishness.
I am about to snap: like a tree bough bending in the wind, creaking and cracking against the strain, I can only hold on for so long.