Coming home...

I endured and I inflicted. I was wrong but it was so right.


My life consists of dramatic ups and downs - as does every other persons. However, I have found ways to cope with my downs. Ways that are not considered practical or rational. 


First and foremost, I would like to clarify that I have a brilliant life. I always have. There were scenarios and events, however, that took their toll on me. On my mind. On my body. On my emotions. While explanations and discussions will come at later points, I strongly hate the battle line I am teetering on. I was bulimic. Extremely bulimic, mind you. I purged everything. I ate everything. I was in and out of treatments for six years. And then, I met my husband. Everything became pure. I was innocent again. Marriage was inevitable and then came my daughter...


Oh, my daughter. Isabella Grace. I have never felt more attached to anything in my entire 21 years of existence. I have said this before, but the gravitational pull that once compelled me to simply live redirected it's energy into protecting and loving Bella. She is everything I never figured into my life. She is everything I did no expect. She is everything I do not deserve. Yet, she is mine - she is here. She is half of her father, and half of me. It looks better on her though :)


But getting back to my intentions...I "recovered." For three years, I have not fallen. I have gained - and not just weight. I have a wonderful and incredible job - one that people would kill for. I have goals that seem so huge I could explode. I am in college. I have a home. I have a family. I have responsibilities. I have trust from my family and friends. I have a life. But I am about to lose some of this, if not all. And I do not want to. God dammit, I do not want to. I have been waking up triggered, walking through the halls feeling the urge to binge, aimlessly staring at a toothbrush to curb my yearning...but I have not faltered. I have not binged and I have not purged. Yet. I feel it coming though. I feel it in my blood and bones. I know the signs. I know all there is when it comes to eating disorders. The most painful thing about this whole experience is that I have no fucking idea where it came from. After three years of complete bliss, how did I wake up with the idea to throw it all away? WHY? HOW? 


Two weeks ago, I was confident. I had faith (not in a higher power - that went out the window years ago). I had hope. I was something and I was making a difference. And now...I am nothing. And I want nothing more than to purge my heart out right now. Bloggers...I am scared. No one knows. My husband has no idea that my life seems to have been up-ended with no warning. My parents would disown me if I ever subjected Bella to this madness. My daughter...my beautiful and perfect daughter needs her mother. She needs me. What can I do? I want my comfort food back - or lack there of. After my last residential treatment process at Remuda Ranch is Arizona, I went through "unspeakable" moments. I attempted suicide (4+ times) and nearly succeeded. I drank until I couldn't distinguish hell from heaven. I used drugs that did nothing but harm me. I burned through money as if it was falling from the sky. I went out with every guy because they wanted me too. While I could never hand myself over to them, I led them to think they had a chance. I was engaged - twice, actually - and broke it off with them because I wasn't good enough. I stopped eating altogether. I dropped to my lowest weight. I put myself in compromising positions. I wanted black, pain, dark, hate, death...I wanted to be done. I had nothing good to my name. My family expected nothing from me. And then I met Bryan, my husband. I did a complete turn around. I shocked my parents. If you look at me now, I appear to be a completely stable, established, sane, logical, intelligent, and lovable lady. How can I turn my back on this? Why should I? What could be so powerful to pry my life from my own hands?


ED, that's who.


I do not need this. But, do I want this?