Yep. You read that right. Today I got told I would get a discharge date in a couple of weeks time it’s looking like I will be discharged in January. I should be extacic. I should be jumping if the ceiling but instead I’m sitting here writing this trying not to cry and wishing my suicide attempt worked the other day. Why you may ask? Well I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m sitting here tears running down my face when I should feel happy I’m getting discharged. Instead I’m terrified. I’m kidding everyone. I’m fully aware going home means being depressed even more alone than I am now and I know full well hat I will slip back and restrict my food. I know the weight will just fall off. I’m dreading going back to work. I’m dreading being on my own. I’m dreading living in the family home. I’m dreading it all.
This weekend will be a test. I got framed home leave. I’m going home. To the family home and spending all weekekdn there. This will be a massive test. I’ve never felt loved. I’ve always felt in the way. This will see how I manage to cope. If j can carry on eating. If I can put weight on. If my mum and dad talk to me if the show me love. If they want to do stuff if they care. This will show me alll this stuff. But deep down I’m dreading it. I know I’ll be bored I’ll know struggle to eat and grant myself permission to eat. I know I’ll be alone. I know I’ll fall backwards and take several steps back. Everyone should look forward to getting home leave. They shouldn’t dread it. But I do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just want someone to cuddle me and tell me it will all be ok. I’ve wasted so much of my life and now I’m getting discharged next year I should be happy but instead I’m just dreading it. I’m dreading life. I wasn’t meant for life. It scares me. It terrifies me. It confuses me.