Discharge is getting closer, 3 days to be more precise and it feels like I am tearing at the seams. This body that is now mine feels too big to contain me and I continuously get lost in it. There is hate running through me all the time and I cannot for the life of me lessen it or make it stop because the only way that I have ever been able to do that is control what I eat. I am supposed to be recovering and going back to forcing that number on a scale down will not bring me any closer to it. I despise that part of myself that only knows how to cope that way but I also miss it for it’s simplicity. That was all I had to do, all I had to focus on, the fact that I was actively doing something to change my way in an attempt to make myself more acceptable somehow made things more manageable or at least I could lie to myself that that’s what I was doing. I don’t know how to lie to myself anymore. It is true that I am highly self-aware and throughout my admission that has been seen as a good thing, it means that I was able to critically at times see what the Eating Disorder for what it is. However there are times when I think that that level of self-awareness is not so great. There is never a time when I am not questioning what I am doing or what I am thinking. I am throwing myself into this new life and I doubt every moment of it. I doubt that I am up to scratch to succeed it.
I’ll be honest with you guys, I don’t know how I keep this going after I’m discharged. I don’t know how I sustain my weight, sustain my intake, sustain my participation in life. People think that I am strong enough but I am not. I never have been. That’s why time and time again I end up here, hospitalised for whatever reason. I don’t deal with what happens to me, I run away, I hide behind behaviours, I hide behind the need for destruction. How can anyone call me strong when I have been broken by everything? If I had been then I wouldn’t have buried all that happened. They all think that I survived through so much, and they are convinced that I will survive this. I want to scream at them that I didn’t survive. That person that they keep referring to never survived their childhood and everything that happened afterwards…the only thing that was left. I don’t even know what you would call me anymore. I don’t feel whole enough to be a person.
I want to collapse. I want to not have to fight anymore to just hold it all inside of me. My nurse the other day told me that I was allowed to be emotional in front of her and all I could say was “No, no I am not allowed”. I stopped my tears, even when she told me that I had to believe her that I did not deserve this. It was not my fault that I was sick. It will always feel like my fault. It will always feel like I wasted so much. Last night I was at home, watching some stupid movie and everyone was living happily ever after and it hurt me because I’ve wasted my life to this disorder. Instead of living, I have been trying to die. Instead of building a family and a career and a future, I have been stockpiling one disaster after the next. Instead of feeling motivated though, I feel like I am paralysed by it. It’s all twisting me up inside and instead of asking for help…all I can think to do is to close down.