Last Tuesday evening, my boyfriend and I made the 10 hour trip home for Thanksgiving. He is honestly my rock–he left behind his family to be with mine for the holiday and he will do it again for Christmas and the New Year. Now if that isn’t love then I don’t know what is.
He seems to be the only supportive person in my life right now, which is why I still try to stick to recovery even if it’s the last thing I want to do. He
wants (read: NEEDS) me to get better because he wants a life with me–a future, a family, a happily ever after. And, I want to give him that, I really do.
I know everyone says you have to want to recover for yourself but when that’s impossible, I think the next best thing is to recover for someone you love. If I didn’t have him in my life, I would have no desire whatsoever to get better (& I truly mean that).
Over the holiday, my mom and dad seemed to disregard my current state, despite my obvious cries for help. My dad, who often exhibits eating disordered behaviors himself, didn’t say anything when I got up to use the bathroom after almost every meal. And my mom completely blew off my boyfriend when he mentioned that I wasn’t doing so well– “I’ve done all I can for her. If she wants to destroy herself then that’s her choice,” she snapped, eyeing my dinner salad judgmentally.
But, the thing is Mom and Dad… it’s not my choice and you know that. I did not ask for an eating disorder, I did not ask to be unwell.
If my boyfriend weren’t in the picture, I would have let my parent’s comments and actions fuel the eating disorder even more (“You’re mom and dad don’t even care about you! Show them how sick you can really get—then they’ll be sorry they didn’t listen!”– ED) But instead, I am trying my best to ignore that voice inside my head.
Today, I went to the doctor to get new meds (hopefully these ones will work!) and I am going to see my therapist this afternoon. I don’t want to, but I know I have to for him, for our future.