Last night I committed my greatest act of bravery. I called my significant other and disclosed my sexual status to him. There have been times we have not used protection. The guilt was cutting at me like a knife, it was immoral, stupid, and honestly irresponsible. He told me he wish I told him sooner, but that everything would be okay. I think this won’t ruin everything. I am still afraid that he will leave me, but it will be because I did the right thing. I am turning a new leaf and I want to be the better person. If someone cannot accept my status then they are not the person for me. I am just so so grateful for my doctor, therapist, friends, and partner for helping me through this.
An eating disorder is an addiction. Plain and simple. I am an addict, and not just in one aspect either.
Addiction, the constant need to escape.
How did I end up in this mess. One day you’re throwing up your breakfast, the next you’re trading sex for money.
Prostitution. What’s next…crack? I wouldn’t be surprised. At least my clients have been pretty well behaved for the most part. It’s not glamorous, it’s not safe, and I’m toying with my life. But the sad thing is, I don’t know any different. I’ve always done risky things, tried to get my fix….
I just don’t know what to do anymore. How to make the noise in my head stop.
Back at school.
Back on track.
Everything is difficult, I am trying so hard,
but I’m falling out of my head…
and everyone is a reminder of how bad things got, and how much I wanted to just stop the world and get off, and it would have been easy.
I’m making changes now, doing things for me, but sometimes I still freeze up, and don’t say what I mean.
I will hold on to recovery. I had a slip, but I am getting back up. I refuse to take off my armor. I will not yield. I have worked too hard to give up now.
I have a job now that I love in a new country- working as an au pair. I will recovery for the kids, the family, but first and foremost for me.
I can’t remember the last post I made. It must have been a while ago because the last month and a half I’ve been in treatment. Residential and then php. I’m going home in a few days and I’m pretty fucking afraid. I’m afraid of what will happen if I let myself slip. I’m afraid that my family might pull me down. I’m afraid that my best friend will realize that he doesn’t like me anymore and stop talking to me. It’s a lot of future-tripping but I can’t help but worry.
I have a lot of new skills to fall back on. Treatment has lead to new meds, new skills, new fears, and some acceptance about my situation.
I don’t want to be sick anymore. I don’t want to be in the hospital when I could be climbing or studying. I want to be excited about life again. I think I will be but for now I just need to make it through the next few weeks. I can’t let this fucking sickness take over my head again. I have worked too hard to give up now. I can’t pick and choose the parts of recovery that I want, it doesn’t work that way. I just need to grit my teeth and do the work until it becomes my new normal.
The voices stopped when the bulimia returned…..not sure if this is a coincidence or not…..
I’m spinning. The world is blurring. I’m falling back into the disease that tried to kill me a year ago. Now all I can do is wait for insurance to give me the go-ahead. It could be tomorrow or the next day or never. I guess all we can do is hope for the best. I just want to be kept safe from the bulimia. I can’t do it alone anymore. So I bear myself on the cross of lies I have told and wait.
I’m mad at myself, but it’s easier to take it out on the world. So I’m giving everyone the silent treatment. I’m just going to climb inside my head and seethe.
I am falling. Falling into a black hole. This disorder is consuming me.
My grades are suffering. I’ve resorted to behaviors again. And to top it all off my childhood dog passed away last night. All I want to do is climb. Climb and read books.
School has taken a back seat in my life.
I feel so out of it. Just numb. I don’t care anymore. I’ve fought for the past month and now I’m tired and I need to rest.
This morning I woke up and put my laundry in. At least I won’t be wallowing in my own filth. At least I know that I can do one thing right.
I don’t have the right words to describe how I feel right now. This disease is taking over my brain and poisoning the scrap of logic I had left.