I am desperately clinging to my disorder. All the time that I am making small changes , as guided by my therapist, I am being more and more controlling. If I succeed in a therapy task I usually end up doing something very eating disordered to “balance it out”.
I am so fed up of being in such a fragile mindset, yet I’m struggling to accept that allowing myself to place my values away from food and appearance would be better for me. Obviously, I know that I can’t win with my eating disorder, but it somehow convinces me to keep going in case everything becomes an uncontrollable mess without it.
I love my eating disorder. It makes me safe.
I also loathe my eating disorder. That little person in my head is a bitch. She derives pleasure from making me punish myself. I’m not allowed to do anything positive, or accept any compliments. My eating disorder is every worry, fear and insult I have ever received. My eating disorder is a way of masking real feelings; and those feelings won’t ever be fixed by ignoring them.
It’s like I am waiting for my ed to give me permission to recover, and like the perfect weight or perfect, that day will never come. Is my voice stronger than the compulsion to give in to the obsessions?
I’m not sure.