I’m loved, confused, and sad.
Loved because of the recent outpouring of kindness and understanding I have received from friends and my husband. Confused because no one will really offer what they have been thinking all this time. Did they really know? Did they not have a clue? How do they feel about the whole situation? Sad because I have lost my anonymity, my secrets, my concrete wall.
I’m angry, irritated, and depressed.
Angry because I want to rewind to the point in time yesterday when I made the decision to reach out for support. I knew doing so would create an environment where I would have to constantly own up to eating disorder behavior. Irritated because I have been asked no less than 5 times today if I have eaten lunch or dinner, want to eat lunch or dinner, or want to have lunch or dinner made for me. Fuck, I’m eating already! Depressed because I am still caught in limbo. Despite all of these leaps forward (or rather, fucking sprints forward) I still want to weigh 110 and still hate all of my food decisions.
I feel like I have no actual control over anything. I feel like I can’t truly lie my way out of anything, there’s too many people involved. This is a good thing? If this is all so positive, then why do I feel like my world is falling apart at speeds I cannot keep up with? This many people, this much talk, this much support, has never existed at any other time in any of the last 13 years I have coexisted with an eating disorder. And now it’s all unraveling so fast I want to stop it and return to home base–somewhere that is much safer than all of this unknown.
I want to wrap up all my secrets nicely in a box and bury them where only I can reach them. Where they are safe and cannot be thrown to the wolves or incinerated before my eyes.