In less than a week I get discharged home and I’m terrified. I should be excited but I’m not. I’m filled with dread. Uncertainty. Nerves and lost hope. I’m dreading all aspects of it. I’m Dreading the home life, worrying it will go back to how it was before. Dreading my new job, doubting if I’m ready and dreading food. Dreading eating out of my “safe” environment of the hospital , I’m worried my mum and Dad are going to push me to eat and I’ll fall out with them because I’m not. It’s not there responsibility to eat it’s mine and let’s be honest. We all know the weights going to fall off and I’ll start restricting. And I’m worried it will effect our relationship . I’m worried about being alone and having no one who understands nearby, no one nearby at all in fact.
I’ve become so comfortable with the hospital setting that anything else seems so scary. I should be excited. I should be looking forward to it. I should feel happy. But I don’t. And I don’t understand. I know no matter how hard I try that the my weight will drop. Even if I don’t restrict there’s no way I’ll be able to eat the right amount to gain. Let alone maintain. Even if I wanted to. No one seems to understand my struggle and yes physically I’ve put weight on but mentally I’m no where near ready to be discharged. Mentally I’m messed up and see myself as fat and heavy. Greedy and not deserving of food. Wanting to skip meals to lose weight to see my bones again. The fact of the matter is I’m losing weight in hospital and there discharging me. It’s like there setting me up to fail. I don’t want this life. I don’t want to be in and out of hospital all my life. I want to be able to move out and get my own place. I want to be able to have a relationship and have children. Get married and be happy. I want to live a life free of anorexia. I want to just live but I don’t know how to. And why I’m still so weak mentally I don’t stand a chance in fighting this. I’m waiting for that light bulb moment that things will change and I’ll want to eat. After all what does it matter what size I am? What I’ve eaten all day? If my thighs touch. Who cares. Why should it matter. Why should it control my life?