So your treatment team tells you you have all the tools. So you just don't use them.
Have they checked your toolbox lately? No, they haven't. They mean well, but if they looked closer, they'd see that it's rusted shut, and you're searching for answers on how to open it and use what's actually inside. Maybe the tools are obsolete. Maybe they've been stolen. You're not sure anymore--you haven't looked inside for so long.
No wonder you react with anxiety and defensiveness when they tell you that. You're not proud, but how many times can you try to tell the people who are supposed to help you that you need help, that you want help, that you've reached a point where you want and need help? How many times can you say that and hear nothing productive in response before you crack?
Soon you hate your body even more. Soon your voice lies to you even more, and the road to recovery from your eating disorder becomes a labyrinth, and sometimes you're the hero and sometimes you're the monster, and all of these obstacles feed from and feed into your anxiety and depression until all of your days are figuring out what you'll eat, figuring out how you'll hide, and figuring out just how you'll make it to the next day, because the next day will have to be easier.
But you've made it to today, somehow. Maybe you don't know how, but you have. Maybe all of your decisions haven't been from the best place. Maybe you don't have all of the tools to lead you to health and recovery. Maybe you never will. But you're here, and you want to get that toolbox open, and isn't that what matters?
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