This is not recovery.

A year ago I felt so peaceful and free after moving forward on my plans to recover from an eating disorder that had taken over my life and jeopardized my health. I was improving more each and every day, I was enjoying food, and pleasure had been brought back to life. I thought the nightmare was over, I knew relapse was a harsh possibility, but I assured myself I would stay strong. At the time I had no support other than the occasional “I’m so happy for you” from a friend. That’s the way I wanted it, I was recovery strictly for myself and I saw no point in having anyone by my side. I’ve always isolated myself, I’ve done so for years. I was doing well, I was happier than I had been in years and I was so proud of myself for choosing recovery.
When my senior year of high school started I was called down to the school counselor’s office. She was checking on me because the previous year I had been sick and resistant to any sort of help. I had hated her for trying to help me. When she saw what I had done for myself she was thrilled and pledged her support to my recovery. “I want you to know I’m here to support you.” Her words made me uneasy, I had never heard them from anyone. The summer had changed me and I knew that opening up to the school counselor was a step I needed to take. I accepted her support and began working with her on finding coping strategies. By November I was having trouble staying on track and we decided it was best for me to meet with her once a week. I was afraid, I had always been so resistant to help, but I knew it was for the best. I was anxious before every appointment, but I held my head high and told the truth each visit.
She really helped me, she loved telling me how proud she was of me and I got to the point where I looked forward to talking with her. I stayed strong with my recovery for the first semester, even though at times I would slip. After Christmas break things started to go downhill though. I was stressed out from things at home and losing weight seemed like the perfect solution. Instead of instantly cutting calories I talked to my school counselor and she helped me stay on track. By May I was on the verge of relapse and we both knew it. She was terrified for me. During one appointment she broke down in tears because she didn’t want to see me relapse. By law she should have called my parents, but she knew it would make me worse, so she kept giving me second chances. It wasn’t until she sat in front of me in tears that I realized how much she cared about me. She was genuinely concerned about my health and well being. On my last day I had one last appointment, it was so sad saying goodbye, she was the only person I fully trusted and that had taken months.
I’m ashamed to admit that I have relapsed hard. I’m obsessed with the way I look. I weigh myself once each morning and resist the urge to weigh myself throughout the day. Sometimes I wake up early just to record my new weight. I’ve cut my calories to a dangerously low amount. I eat anywhere from 200 to 800 calories a day. When I eat something that I didn’t plan on or if I’m pressured into eating a meal to assure people I’m eating, I throw it all up. Sometimes while I’m eating I can’t wait to finish so I can expel all of it. It’s degrading, but comforting. I hate myself and dream of dying. Sometimes I feel as though I am slowly starving to death, which may just be accurate. My anxiety never goes away and I feel like I’m not real. I keep cutting myself. I was okay just a few months ago, but I have regressed so fast.
I’m supposed to be going to a psychologist who specializes in anxiety and eating disorders, I promised my school counselor I would. I’m going to, but I don’t want to stop doing what I am doing. I want to lose weight. I’m isolating myself more than ever. This time around I’m even keeping my eating habits a secret from my friends, I’ve always told at least one person in the past. I feel dizzy when I stand and I can feel my body growing weaker. Sometimes, after not eating for hours, I can feel pure emptiness in my stomach and I love it so much. That’s how I know I’m getting sick. I don’t even want to go visit my school counselor because I don’t want her to be disappointed. I just want to disappear.