Why I Drive Over An Hour to OP

I’m not sure what answer to give when asked that question. I don’t drive over there to be patted on the head and told, “It’ll be okay.” I don’t go so others can tell me how “great” I’m doing. It is because I trust the group I see, and know they are rooting for me, even when I fuck up. I drive over an hour there so I can attempt to keep on track, attempt to at least quiet the ever bickering voice reprimanding me for consuming food. I don’t go because I love the drive, love to leave work, or just because I love them (even though I do); it is because, somewhere, far far back there, but there, I still want to recover and get better.

One of the last things said during my appointment today, “It’s ok if you are mad at me.” Please understand, I rarely get mad at others, maybe annoyed, but not angry. My standards for myself are higher than you could ever set. It isn’t that I am mad, it is the fact that, to me, I just feel like I have failed again. If someone does upset me, and I do snap, if I get pissed off it is typically at myself, for opening my damn mouth to begin with. I trust that what she says to me is pretty much out of love, or is tough love.

I wasn’t mad, far from it, I was upset with myself; for feeling like such a shitty roommate. That was why I first turned to self harming. It was a way of punishing myself, for being stupid, it was a tangible way to feel like I had screwed up and deserved it. Handing over my knives was because I was feeling guilty for being a shitty roommate and couldn’t think of anything else besides the possible fact I may be fucking with someone else’s recovery.

It must be damn near impossible to deal with me when my eating disorder is raging. I know you want to talk to me and not the disordered side, as frustrating as it is to you, think about how fucking awful it is to slowly become unsure again of who’s ideas these are; the ED’s  or mine. I want to be able to talk without the disordered part piping up. It’s awful and embarrassing to have so much to say and that you want to say, but shame, guilt, worry piping up and ED there telling you to shut up before you can even mutter anything. I’m not trying to deliberately difficult, safe place is so difficult because I don’t like sitting and being in my own mind.

What we didn’t talk about was that

yesterday my boyfriend left flowers on my porch while I was at work,

or the fact that I had a bite of my brother’s pizza,

or that I went wake surfing on the lake the other day,

I’m still feeding my baby ducks that are no longer babies, but still come to me,

I’m trying to read a book at work to “slow me down”,

I drank coffee with flavoring in it,

I’m still not taking laxatives,

As soon as I returned from my run I got in an ice bath and ate dinner,

I ate a banana nut granola bar.

How about a tough topic neither of us have yet to talk about and process?

Please, don’t get fed up with me. It sucks, it’s hard, and I am so damn hard on myself, without it going around and around in my head again. I get in my car, and begin crying on the way home, for stuff I said, stuff I didn’t say, stuff I did etc. It’s not that I am trying to be difficult, I just don’t know how to express myself or what to say. I don’t let people hug me; you have been there and given me more hugs in these few months than my mom has in years. It is because I trust you, I don’t want to disappoint you, and if I didn’t give a damn about myself or the amazing support, I wouldn’t drive over there and waste anyone’s time, or the gas.

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