I don’t know if I can…
I’ve been planning for my service dog for the past 6 months and now I’m panicking.
Can I do this? Is this the right choice? Am I being selfish? Will Avery be okay? Do I have what it takes? Am I worthy? Will this be a crutch? Will it be worth it? Can I do this?
These questions…constantly swirling in my mind.
This dog could either be a beautiful thing or a horrible mistake. Or is there grey area?
Could it be hard but also worth it? Can I make mistakes but not fail? Will Avery be jealous but still be okay?
Am I doing the right thing? Will I ever know? Is this one of those moments where you say you only live once and take the plunge?
Or do you back out knowing logistically it’s a huge commitment?
How do I know which is the right choice?
Am I a bad person for doing this? And am I also a bad person if I back out of doing this?
Are all of these questions my wise mind or are they coming from my insecurities and fear?
The exhaustion, it’s real, it’s here…
I just want the questions, the doubts, the fears to go away…The anticipation is killing me.
A part of me wants to back out and waste away…ohh the anorexia is so appealing right now. She is calling my name and it sounds so sweet.
Can I do this? Should I do this?
Am I changing my life for the better or am I turning down a path of no return?
I think feeling alone has to be one of the hardest feeling for me to handle…
I sit here, in the dark, alone.
So alone that I can’t think of a single person I can reach out to to help ease the pain.
That is terrifying.
And what makes it even worse is that I don’t even know how I got here. How I got to a place of having nobody. Because I certainly used to have plenty.
My life has become a spiral of nothingness. I go to work, through which I find no joy. I go to school, through which I find no joy. And then I sleep. I sleep because I have nothing else to enjoy. I sleep in hope of easing the pain. I sleep because sleep is my only friend. I sleep because I have no other option.
And yet I’m exhausted. I’m tired of having no joy, no hope, no goal to strive toward, no purpose.
It’s an emptiness in my chest that resembles a black hole. So large, so dark, so void of anything that signifies life…
So where do I go from here?
Something has to change, but what? I’m stuck at my job, I go to school online, my options feel so limited.
So here I sit trying to think of a single person I can reach out to as my mind crawls towards the darkest corners of existence…
That’s what it feels like.
Having a sick mind in a recovered body feels even more horrible than having a sick mind in a sick body.
At least having a sick body made me feel like my pain was worth something. At least the pain wasn’t invisible. At least people could see. At least I didn’t feel crazy. At least I was skinny.
Now I live in a recovered body and I’m not dying but my mind is still very much stuck in the sickness, the pain, the torture, the fear, the shame.
Now I’m sick but no one can see. I’m sick but my pain is invisible. I’m sick and I don’t look it. I’m sick and feel crazy. I’m sick and the pain is worth nothing.
I miss my sick body. Some days are worse than others, but lately all the days seem to be horrible.
I want my bones to show again. I want my stomach to be concave again. I want my thighs to be as far apart as the east is from the west again. I want to be fragile again. I want to feel high again. I want people to stare again. I want people to be scared for me again.
I miss my sick body.
And yet, in order to get my sick body back I would have to lose so much. My job. My school. My puppy. My apartment. My friends. My family.
I don’t want to lose those things but sometimes (a lot of the time) I would still rather have my sick body than all of those other wonderful things.
I’m stuck in the prison that is my body.
I am a sick mind living in a recovered body.