Atypically Recovering

Photo: mine

I’m really struggling to feel worth the effort of bothering with any of this stuff any longer. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to be near food. I don’t care what happens to me. I won’t actively do myself in, but if I got sick enough to become terminal, so be it. I’m tired of being strong. I’m tired of fighting. I’ve been fighting to survive, either physically, mentally, or both, for as long as I can remember. I feel dead inside.

I’m tired of trying to make sense out of a therapist basically telling me to go ahead and die when she didn’t have the time (after saying she would) to discuss ideas to get the 2 gallon/2 day colonoscopy in me. I struggle with 2 liters over a day, with half of that by tube. It felt like she just wanted to be rid of me. She was doing a good job with that already, with the breadcrumbing… but to refuse to talk to me about a procedure that could remove a large polyp and look for more that they suspected ?? To me that just says my life is worthless to the supposed self-worth whisperer. More like the grim reaper’s emcee. A 1.5 cm polyp has better odds of becoming colon cancer than not- and I’m not worth a damn phone call. Others got personal visits in other countries (so I was told), but for me, the phone must have weighed 500 pounds. Couldn’t physically bring herself to do it, so that told me a lot about what she’d been saying since the beginning. A bunch of fake terms of endearment, a ‘special’ name she wanted to call me (variation on my actual name), and the compliments about my sense of humor and ‘wit’, and I believe nothing. My only plan now is never to speak to her again.

I just don’t see the point in fighting with my body and mind any longer. If I get better, fine. If not, whatever. There isn’t a meal that goes by that I’m not blasted by my ED brain for how fat I am, and how this body doesn’t deserve to eat. I have to ‘earn the right’ to eat by being small enough not to look like a total pig. I’m sick of the roller coaster, and I can’t afford help now… and why would i want to interact with any human after the past 3 1/2 years? It’ll be 4 years ago this coming June that I became a patient of the ex-therapist. One of my worst decisions ever. Every time she didn’t call when she said she would, it reinforced how others were worth more. Sure, stuff comes up periodically- but >%50 of the calls she said she’d make never happened. With the last call she refused to make, my value as a human being was shredded.

I’m almost wishing that something takes me out – colon polyp turns to cancer, OR the eating disorder finally eats my kidneys once and for all. Just no more “help” from humans. And for all who are struggling to survive something and WANT to survive, I’m sorry, and I wish you the best.