Crisis

Deuteronomy 30:19 "this day I call on the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. NOW CHOOSE LIFE so that you and your children may live"

Returning from Belize and seeing what I truly have done to myself brings me to a crisis point in which I need to decide if I am indeed willing to chose life over death.  My death.  Seeing my startling thin frame in the picture from Belize scared me and concerned me.  I am at a loss for how to remedy the whole weight and food issue in a way that feels safe to me, but doing nothing scares me even more.  I tell myself that I feel pretty good, but I really have no idea what damage I have truly done to my body.  So I "throw in the towel" and make an appointment to see a sports nutritionist.  Funny how I see taking steps to take care of myself feels like a surrender and not a move of self care and empowerment.

There is a part of me that feels like I need to make sure I am light and lean enough before I go into the appointment.  There is a part of me that is still so convinced that I am just fine.  I am a lean athlete.  i am surprised and scared by the results.  My weight is 2lbs away from hospitalization and my 7% body fat is 7.5 % below what is considered dangerous for women.  I am particularly surprised by these results as I had eaten well all weekend.  I had really tried to eat well and take better care of myself since returning from Belize.  Yet, still it is the story of my life, it isn't enough.  I feel betrayed by my body once again. I feel just like I did after each miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy.  I did everything right, but still lost my babies.  Now I am really trying to do everything right for my body, but I am losing it one pound at a time.

I am beyond terrified, and Kurt is convince that I have dropped more weight on purpose and have lied to him about not purging in weeks and eating well in Belize.  I am not lying and now feel more alone than ever.  What I needed was so compassion and empathy, but at least I got what I was used to...anger.

I get the anger because I am the person who is the most angry with me.   I am angry, sad, ashamed, and beyond disappointed with myself.  I feel as low as I have been through out this relapse and my therapist is sick.  I am not sure what to do with all that has happened.  I want to run away, scream, or just check out.  Then there is a part of me that is so pissed off that I NEED my therapist to help me figure out what the fuck to do now.  God I hate feeling dependent. I hate that I am literally mad at her for being sick.
I am convinced I am just a self absorbed bitch.  In reality I am am feeling scared and alone.  So, I just sit back and hope to survive the days or weeks until she is well.  I am good at suffering and really good at hiding it.

2lbs away from in patient?  The thought of this sends me walking through the next few days and weeks gingerly. I am  aware of every unusual sensation in my body convinced that I am ready to drop at any minute.  I am embarrassed at the thought of going into a hospital and I wonder if I look as sick on the outside to the public as I feel on the inside?

So it is at this juncture  that I decide that despite my grave fear of eating, keeping the food in and gaining the weight, I CHOOSE LIFE!  My life.  My mantra becomes DEATH or DEAL.  Deal with the weight, the discomfort of food in my gut, the bloating, resisting the urge to purge, the gaging down supplements, and decreasing my exercise.  I feel like I am giving up my life to save my life because I am really not sure who I am with out the eating disorder any more.