Stay tuned for the rest of this Choose Your Own Adventure book where I keep choosing terribly.

You had a long day and sit down to check your phone. You missed a call from your dad. Do you A. ignore the phone call and go on with your evening or B. return the phone call and ruin your evening?

Of course I chose B. OF COURSE.

I find myself wishing I were drunk, so I could stop caring and relax, or feel free to cry, or be angry, or feel any emotion really–but calories and hangovers and needing to be an adult who cares for small children and also not wanting to add alcoholic to my list keep that urge at bay.

Last night I should have hung up the phone the second my dad raised his voice.

I chose to stop purging and now I’m finding myself unable to eat even half of what I should because if I do I have to purge it. This viscous cycle never ends and I need to find a way out.

This is the worst year of my life because I didn’t think this year would go anything like it has. I never thought recovery would be easy, but I definitely thought it would be less messy. I thought less people would be involved. I never imagined all the things I would need to face. I didn’t quite realize how much of a grip my eating disorder has on me. I didn’t realize it would take so long for me to fully surrender. Because that still hasn’t happened. I didn’t think 9 months later, I would have only days to count as purge-free.

I imagined a gradual but immediate increase in happiness, openness, and self-care leading to feeling better about my job as a mom, and as a person. I imagined waking up joyfully and enjoying coffee with breakfast with my kids, not the paralyzing fear I have when I’m faced with breakfast, or the chugging of coffee just to ease hunger pains so I don’t have to deal first thing in the morning with food decisions and worries about weight gain.

This is the worst year of my life because I have to face my ego and pride and ask for help, a lot.

Sometimes I wonder if I chose the wrong time for this. If I waited until both kids were in school, I wouldn’t need so much help. I wouldn’t have to face my pride, head on, multiple times each week. But I chose now because I have young children who I want to be an exceptional example for. If I waited that long they would be that much more aware and pick up on things–copy things–and that would break my heart. This house is not a “do as I say, not as I do” kind of house. It is the right time, even if it’s literally the hardest time possible.

This is the worst year of my life because I feel like one giant cry for help, and I’m struggling to be ok with crying for help (sometimes literally) despite paying the appropriate and qualified professionals to allow for that. I think the eating disorder took completely over my ego and my pride and those are the hardest things to let go. The eating disorder gives my ego power, and gives life to my pride. If I let them go, I’m afraid I will feel even more worthless than I already feel.

This is the worst year of my life because I don’t want to have to do this again or later. In a way, it has to be the worst year of my life. I have to army crawl through, not around, this shit storm. And a shit storm is as messy as it gets.

 

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