It’s been disappointing — the lack of motivation I have. I know that this journey is far from easy and the truth is, in ways I am getting better. I have not purged in more than six months. That is a miracle and a gift from God. However, I just refuse to let go of the control I have with my eating. I cannot even think about what would happen if I fully just ate all day; normally; and not being my size — it’s just not manageable.
However, I am not even sure where I am with everything else. I am 14 months sober and that is wonderful. However I feel as though I am not known. In a way, I feel like I am erasing my existence. I do not have therapy this week, and my doctor appointment fell through this morning. Honestly, I am not complaining. I don’t feel like getting weighed. I don’t feel like talking about how to fix my eating behaviors so I gain more weight. Fuck you, weight.
My body feels out of place. I feel like I don’t have the words anymore to express everything. Sure, my therapist tells me to keep talking, don’t sit in the silence, it’ll only make it worse. But talking about it doesn’t make it better.
She says I have PTSD. I used to believe that. But part of me now doesn’t. She says by definition it was sexual assault. But today, I feel disgusted, guilty, and ugly. It should be over by now. It constantly replays in my head and I constantly feel his hands on my body, his mouth on my flesh. It makes me sick. But really, it all sickens me. It was not a violent incident, so it’s hard to believe her. I haven’t reached out to my therapist in four days now, which is unusual being that I usually reach out daily, throughout the day.
I can’t wrap my head around why it hurts so much – why it hurts so much to let her help me. Why does she even want to help me? She said every girl is worth it — and that is so true — but why am I worth it to her? So much time and dedication and love has poured out from her hands and heart. And I’m turning cold recently. I know I need her help, i do. I wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for her. I just feel like recently, she doesn’t know me. I don’t know me. I don’t even think I am a person.
My urges to cut have been awful. All I want to do is cut my body. I haven’t yet… but the urge doesn’t die down. My spirit is just crumbling.