10•20•19
Never thought I’d be on this platform again. I truly never thought I’d be this low again either. Yet in 2018, I hit 160 again. I was so close to just ending it all. I let myself break my morals. I let myself work and work and work until I had nothing left to give. I brought back my drug dependent tendencies by fueling myself in adderall and caffeine. God knows how much I spent on all the things I’ve purged. But then I got better. I went to get treatment. I started Prozac that quite literally saved my life. I learned how to communicate. I started my dream school, found real love; allowed myself to be vulnerable and trusting for the first time in my life. For the first time, I felt like I had stability again. Recovery brought me back up to 209 pounds and I genuinely didn’t care because I was happy.
I am so incredibly disappointed with myself that this just isn’t the case anymore. After all the work I’ve put in to get better, I just can’t do it anymore. To have spent this much time bettering myself, finally having someone that I trusted, wanting a future for myself - and letting all of that growth wash down the drain because of my own insecurities. No matter how much he says he loves me still or that this wasn’t my fault, I can’t stop thinking that maybe I’ll never be good enough for anyone at all. That no matter how hard I try, I have no control over my life. Unexpected loss is my greatest breaking point and I’m here again. Since the 9th, I’ve lost 12 pounds. I wish I wasn’t so bent on control. I wish my heart didn’t skip at the thought of a full blown relapse. I just want control back, my life back. I want to be so dedicated to myself that having no one means nothing to me. I want to be nothing. I never want to love something if it means loss ever again. I hope he never sees this as his fault. There was no point in trying to love something as broken as me. I hope I can get to my lowest just to prove to myself that no matter how much I think it could get better, I know it will always be worse.
