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Today, I made and drank a smoothie. Without the urging of my friend Braak, I don’t think this would have happened.
A lot of things are about to change in my life because I’ve realized things were very close, when I started Feed Amber, to life or death. Now, however, they are life or death. If I don’t get better, I believe will be dead before my birthday. I have no doubt about this.
I remember in October when my temporary case worker told me I “don’t look thin enough be anorexic.” I weighed 112 pounds then. I wasn’t eating except in front of people and when food was offered.
The next day, my phychiatrst echoed her sentiments, telling me I seemed thin and fit, not malnourished or sick.
Now, it’s 2 months later. In those two months, I’d like to believe I’ve tried but the duality of “recovery v. relapse” has found me being careless and to be frank, I do not know how to eat. My tastebuds hate everything. Nothing tastes good. Except for soda and sugar and now, with my medicine, even soda tastes awful.
So somehow, in those two months, my mental state turned to shit - Like Effy on Skins shit - and only now is it starting to get better.
I’ve eaten the past three days in a row.
But my weight.
I’ve lost 20 pounds.
I had no clue.
My lowest weight ever was 88 pounds. And that’s when I got forced into the hospital against my will and they made me stay until I gained weight and I’m so goddamn close to that weight, that “against your will” weight.
Only my body isn’t as strong now as it was when I was a teenager.
I’m scared of getting better and I’m scared I’m going to die and I’m scared I’ll never find anyone who loves me that I love back before I die. I’m afraid of a lot of things. I’m even afraid of drinking this damn smoothie.
And it’s funny.
Because I starved myself to death for so long but now that I’m so close to going back on to the tube, all I want is to get better enough so that I don’t have to.