I stopped writing on my blogs for a long time because I had successfully fooled myself that I was good again. I let myself be distracted. Now, I honestly don't feel like I can write on the other one since I shared that one with friends. So back to the sanctuary of this one.
Recently the little drama of a break gave a great excuse to pretty much just stop eating. I honestly didn't even realize I was doing it at first. Most likely because I hadn't been eating enough for a very long time so it wasn't much of a change. I was asked yet again to consider checking myself in somewhere as soon as summer started.
This actually really surprised me at first because until that moment I truly didn't see myself as being smaller than I was a few months before. In fact my weight had stayed pretty much the same, but I guess the number doesn't always tell the whole story. I did drop weight after that though; I mean I was heartbroken what did anyone expect? I'm below 100 which my psychiatrist has told me over and over again is 'not good'. The rate at which I lost was enough, for a little while, to freak me out.
I had the initial little breakdown, feeling like I had failed everyone. Was definitely going to work out treatment over the summer. Genuine concern over the math that if unchanged left me at a weight that would kill me within two months. It's easy to be all about getting help at first when everyone is worried and all you want is for them not to be.
But now I've stopped dropping but am not willing to gain. The idea of treatment terrifies me because I'm still, even at 28, not ready to give it up. Wanting to want to get better isn't enough for me to justify the money and time. I just don't want to fail again. So currently I'm eating far too little and dealing with all the side effects. You hear people say it all the time, but it still amazes me that the smaller I get the worse my anxiety is.
So now I'm back where I keep finding myself. The free 'I just broke up with my boyfriend' pass will not last much longer. Maybe someday the whole relapse drama will get tiring enough to actually recover instead...
Recently the little drama of a break gave a great excuse to pretty much just stop eating. I honestly didn't even realize I was doing it at first. Most likely because I hadn't been eating enough for a very long time so it wasn't much of a change. I was asked yet again to consider checking myself in somewhere as soon as summer started.
This actually really surprised me at first because until that moment I truly didn't see myself as being smaller than I was a few months before. In fact my weight had stayed pretty much the same, but I guess the number doesn't always tell the whole story. I did drop weight after that though; I mean I was heartbroken what did anyone expect? I'm below 100 which my psychiatrist has told me over and over again is 'not good'. The rate at which I lost was enough, for a little while, to freak me out.
I had the initial little breakdown, feeling like I had failed everyone. Was definitely going to work out treatment over the summer. Genuine concern over the math that if unchanged left me at a weight that would kill me within two months. It's easy to be all about getting help at first when everyone is worried and all you want is for them not to be.
But now I've stopped dropping but am not willing to gain. The idea of treatment terrifies me because I'm still, even at 28, not ready to give it up. Wanting to want to get better isn't enough for me to justify the money and time. I just don't want to fail again. So currently I'm eating far too little and dealing with all the side effects. You hear people say it all the time, but it still amazes me that the smaller I get the worse my anxiety is.
So now I'm back where I keep finding myself. The free 'I just broke up with my boyfriend' pass will not last much longer. Maybe someday the whole relapse drama will get tiring enough to actually recover instead...
