this is me trying

I haven’t been writing much because I haven’t had a lot to say.

Things are okay. Some things are great and somethings really hurt.

I am hating my body, I think it is the most disgusting and repulsive thing ever. Recovery sucks; I hate it. AND I am loving the life I’m living. Having friends, being close and open with my family is fantastic. The dialectic is working right now and I really want to relapse.

I really do love the life I’m living and it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be. In treatment, providers tell you about how much more amazing life will be in recovery. They say you’ll have so many friends, you’ll be able to participate in so many more things, you won’t feel miserable all the time, you won’t be tired, you can have great relationships. While all that is true, they don’t mention that you’ll still sit at every meal and feel like a huge sense of betrayal against your disorder when you eat. There’s no mention of the fact that relationships will hurt you; people can really fucking suck. They casually leave out the fact that though you won’t feel miserable all of the time, you’ll still spend a great deal of time feeling like shit.

I get that treatment providers aren’t worried about what your life will actually look like and that they’re more worried about convincing you to stop slowly killing yourself but a little heads up would have been nice. With that being said, my incredibly sick mind would have used the negative aspects of recovery as a reason to stay sick had they been as generous to say that life is still life and recovery isn’t a daydream so I respect their decision.

These past six months have looked so different for me. Not to show off but kind of to show off, I’m involved in a crap ton of stuff at school. I hold leadership positions on my sorority council, Panhellenic council, and student government. I have a job through my school’s wellness program and I’m an active member of two clubs. I have a best friend and my weekends are spent partying positive ;) with a countless number of people. I’ve had an intimate relationship and have bounced back from the heartache of it’s ending. My parents and I have a relationship better than ever, as do my brother and I. Plus, I don’t actively hate anyone on my treatment team, I actually love them! I am so thankful for their never-ending faith in me.

And I don’t sleep much. My anxiety is paralyzing. It goes through cycles where I constantly think I am dying. I think I have a new terminal illness everyday to the point where I went to two different urgent cares in four days because I was so concerned about my health and couldn’t get in to see my doctor. If I’m not terrified for my health, I’m convinced that I’m being stalked and could be abducted at any moment. Being on guard, keeping my blinds closed, my cell phone location off, and not going anywhere without my parents isn’t typical or functional behavior for someone my age. If it’s not one of those two, or both of them, I’m more than convinced that the world is ending soon. It fells like I know it in my gut and I am stunted by fear of impending doom. All of my worries stem from the fear of dying and loss of control. My disorder gives me such a sense of control that when it’s not screaming in my brain at every second, my mind freaks out about everything that I can’t control.

There’s so much good and so much bad to recovery but the same can be said for a life with anorexia. In my disordered life I feel accomplished, I can see results of my hard work immediately and (think what you might of this) it gives me an impression of superiority. I have a sense of self-control that is rare. It makes me feel special, like I have a power than most people aren’t disciplined enough for. I feel love from others when I need their support to live. In my disorder I know exactly what makes me different when people ask me to talk about myself. It even makes me feel less lonely because there’s always a dialogue going on in my mind.

Then, we all know the downsides of disorders too. Health concerns. Lack of social interaction. The list goes on.

I know what my therapist would say: “You know what both are like so you have to pick whether the best parts of recovery are more important than the best parts of sickness and vice versa. You can always go back if you really hate living.”

He would always say something snarky about picking anorexia over life because he knows it’s the wrong choice and that I hate being wrong so I feel stupid for even considering being sick over living. Don’t worry, that’s something I really appreciate.

It’s not so easy of a choice though. I just had my first Thanksgiving without purging right after and what should have been a massive accomplishment felt like a huge failure. My eating disorder didn’t save me from the monstrosity of calories I consumed. It didn’t yell at me as I scooped yams onto my plate and then picked up a roll (the first roll I’ve had at Thanksgiving in five years) after having charcuterie earlier in the day. I guess it went on vacation for the day and forgot about me. Not to worry, she’s back but the weakening of my disorder is leaving me hurt and scared.

I very much so think of my disorder as a separate entity from myself and it felt like she was betraying me. She left me high and dry in my time of need. She only came back to ridicule me about the decisions I made while she was gone. When I say I was hurt, I legitimately felt betrayed.

It kills me that I can’t pick between life and my disorder. I've been told for years that every single day you have to make the decision to recover and I guess I’m doing okay with that but the internal guilt from my disorder is intense.

But I ate Thanksgiving dinner, I didn’t purge, I’m living life as best as I can no matter how fucking bad it hurts sometimes. I still restrict, I still count calories, I still listen to sad music and dream about the day I’m finally sick again. But, this is me trying.