Oh where to begin.....

I feel like there are a thousand things running through my mind and I don't know where to start....I keep writing a line or a paragraph and then deleting it, over and over....

Half the time I don't think my excessive exercise or issues with undereating are that bad.....That, oddly, is when things really are snowballing and becoming "THAT bad". Anorexia is an insidious disease. I somehow get into relapse mode almost without realizing it.....it comes naturally to me to eat less, and exercise more. And since I am already underweight, what most people consider eating enough is, for me, actually restricting.

And there, they have decided, is the problem. I was hoping to keep up the "lowered expectation" where my treatment team is happy that I am at least maintaining, but no, they have decided I will not be able to stay in any semblance of recovery at this weight or with this level of body fat. Because, although eating disorders are not about weight or food at their core, one's brain does all sorts of funky stuff

This. Is. Terrifying.

I am eating a meal plan that is absolutely huge. I would like to not do this. The thought of gaining weight is so absolutely scary when you have anorexia. And no, it is not about vanity. It is an indescribable need to control something. It is, over time, an identity, the "thing" you are good at; the "thing" that is just yours.

They don't believe I can do this on my own. They don't believe I can handle my weight going up without being fed five meals a day in partial hospitalization.

But you see, that doesn't work. Because I have five children I cannot disappoint again. Because I have a husband who has a job and it would be utterly horrible on my family to have me leave for a month or three.

But most of all, because I am still feeding Piper.

Feeding Piper.......it has a new meaning now that she is 13 months old. Yes, she still benefits from my milk. But beyond that, so very far beyond that, is that she depends on me for the comfort of my breast, to be nursed to sleep, to nurse several times a night while snuggled beside me, and just because she is a mama's girl and a boobie baby, and I will simply not leave my daughter.

But it's a disease. It's a disease like cancer or diabetes, and I can't just make recovery on my own happen simply because I will it so.

But I can try. I am on day three of the giant meal plan. I am doing ok. I hope I can continue to do ok tomorrow when Anthony goes to work. I have to admit I feel better. I have more energy, my mood is better, life is less stressful. I hope I can remember this, I really do.

Because damn it, I gotta admit, the fact they think I can't recover at this level of care seriously makes me want to prove them wrong.