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Old Aug 24, 2014, 09:53 PM
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clairelisbeth clairelisbeth is offline
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Member Since: Aug 2013
Location: NJ
Posts: 400
Years ago, I used to really struggle with wanting my treatment team (my therapist, pdoc and nutritionist) to know how sick I was, that I was struggling. Even though a huge part of me wanted to get better, an even bigger part of me wanted to stay sick. I was afraid if I got better, I would lose their caring, concern, and attention. If I stopped binging, purging, over exercising and starving, they wouldn't have to worry about me anymore-I would no longer be on their radar. They wouldn't know that I was hurting.

There was a (very bad) period where I was so symptomatic with the eating disorder that my blood pressure was going crazy-I would stand up and it would plummet. I was blacking out constantly. I was in the ER every other week. I had to be in very close contact with my pdoc because of how medically unstable I was. I had a blood pressure cuff at home and had to text her my BP several times a day. Even though it was hell (I was beyond suicidally depressed and physically felt terrible)-having to be in such close contact with my pdoc (whom I adore) was comforting. (I am not proud to admit this). I even wondered if I really wanted to get better, because I didn't want to lose the contact, the care and the concern.

I just realized that it's the anniversary of that terrible time (4 years). I am doing so well-with the depression, the suicidality, and the eating disorder. I am really putting all of my hard work into practice. I have an appointment with my awesome pdoc tomorrow, and I was just thinking about how I can't wait to tell her about how I just had a bit of a tough weekend, and I handled it! I didn't turn to any of my old coping mechanisms. I didn't binge, or purge or starve. I didn't fantasize about suicide. I got out my damn DBT binder (which is now enormous). I meditated. I dragged myself to yoga. And I'm doing pretty ok.

And I also realized-I STILL have her-all of her caring, concern and support. She didn't go anywhere. I'm so glad that I took all of the tiny leaps of faith that lead to recovery. And now I get to tell her that I'm proud of myself, and to know that she is proud of me too.

Sometimes, during dark moments, I miss the caring that came with being sick, even though I know that this is SO much better. I was wondering if anyone ever struggled with thoughts like this? What do you do when they come up?
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