Things keep clicking and that’s scary.

I’m inclined to surrender my protectors: the eating disorder, depression, & anxiety but I get paralyzed when I try sometimes because this way of life—this way of thinking, is all I know.

I have so many fears basking in a deep sea of low, no, absolutely terrible self esteem and confidence.

If I finally get through working on trauma, and my eating disorder no longer exists, and depression or anxiety aren’t exhaustingly loud, what is left?

My purpose is questionable.

I want to keep moving through recovery. At the same time I am mightily afraid on the other side a meaningless version of myself resides and all of this effort (and everyone else’s efforts) will be a colossal waste of time.

It’s enough to set off panic. My chest hurts. What if I somehow tricked everyone into thinking I have potential and I am worth all these resources? All this love? All this care that could go to someone else?

What if…what if…what if…

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