She freaked out too and said if I don't get help myself, she's going to my parents.
Like she did the first time.
And part of me wants to go and work this out. And live in the fantasy land of therapy where all you do is think about yourself and try to fix things. That makes it sound a lot easier than the actual experience is, but I don't mean to belittle it. I just mean that full time therapy vs. real world is completely different. Because if I know anything, going from seeing an average of 8 therapists a week to seeing none, plus the support of 12 or 14 girls going through the same thing to going back to a place where it's all secret...that's when the shit hits the fan. And that's where I fuck up. Of course I can get my life on track while I have 20 people supporting me every single day that know exactly what's going on. But that's going to have to end. And after, what if the same thing happens?
I don't want to be one of those people that's in and out of treatment centers and hospitals my whole life. Though, I know that option is better than dying from this at a young age. Even though I may feel invincible, and like I'm the only person in the world that can purge everything, or not eat and not have it affect my body and health.
Roles switched, I'd be on the phone with Olivia's mom right now.
She said she won't say anything for the moment.
I can hide it from her if need be. She's in New York. I'm in Illinois.
I can't decide if this was a mistake or not.
Any of it.
Sweetheart,
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like you know exactly what you need to do. The support is there if you can ask for it. And frankly, if I were this friend and knew how to get in touch with your parents, my instinct would be to do the same thing.
Hang in there. You CAN do this recovery thing.
T