Me, last night, in a text I deleted twice and never ended up sending: I’m crying over dinner. I want to quit so badly. Don’t let me. Please don’t give up on me.

I didn’t send it because I thought it would be received as overdramatic or attention-seeking, or childish. But it is exactly what I was thinking. I guess I wanted validation that making mistakes is ok and reaching out is ok and even more simply: that in that exact moment, I am not alone and someone hears me. Maybe even to be reminded I am worth not giving up on. I think I fear being abandoned if, according to my own tally, I make “too many” mistakes.

This morning 2 minutes into my run, I fell hard and have some gnarly road rash on my shoulder, hands, and knees. I tripped over the smallest bump in the sidewalk. That should have been the only sign I needed to stop running, but I kept going for 4 miles followed by a 30-minute swim.

I have no idea what I’m doing right now or why. But it seems like I have to keep holding on to my eating disorder to live which I recognize is completely backward.

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