We’ve gotten a ton of new admits here this past week. It’s super triggering.
They’re all so. freaking. skinny. Yeah, I came into treatment having lost weight, but I’m nowhere near the lowest I’ve been when starting treatment in the past. And being around all the new admits, especially the ones who are all absorbed in their own eating disorders, is super triggering, because I want to look like them. The collar bones, the thin arms, the legs with thighs that are nowhere near to touching – I want it. And wanting that is dangerous. Because it’s keeping me away from recovery. It’s keeping me stuck. It’s keeping me in eating disorder drive. And I don’t know how to shift gears when it feels like my entire being is yearning for what they have. For what the eating disorder wants. For what, if I got it, might very well kill me.
Because getting there wouldn’t be the end. If I got the collarbones that stick out, the stick arms, the tiny thighs, I’d want more. Or less, rather. I’d want to go down the scale and down the scale and down the scale until I was essentially no longer on the scale – which means there would no longer be a me. And as horrible as that sounds, yeah, it does still feel like an achievement to almost die because of my eating disorder. And all this keeps running through my head, tethering me back, almost every time I look at the new admits.
Ugh. How do you tell someone their existence is triggering?