I can’t help but feel like an utter failure. . .
Yesterday was a half day at my school and we got out at exactly 11:29am. As I dragged my 20lb backpack and exhausted body to the car after the final bell echoed through the white halls, my dad asked me one of the scariest things – “Do you want to go out and have lunch with me?”
I could feel my hands begin to sweat and a wave of intense anxiety crush my lungs, making it difficult to breath. As each breath became heavier and more labored, my flight or fight response began to kick in. I was trapped inside my dad’s car and we were driving. There was no where to run, no where to hide. That meant I had no other option, I had to fight.
And that’s exactly what I did. As I held back tears of fear, I demanded we go home. I told my father I was much to tired to sit and attempt to order something from a restaurant. I told him I just wanted to relax. I told him I wasn’t hungry. I told him no.
After my 5 minute rant, I looked at my dad and though he was trying to keep a straight face, I could tell he was hiding all the hurt I caused him. By refusing to go out to eat, I rejected my father and accepted my eating disorder. I allowed ED to control my thoughts, my words, and my actions once again! I didn’t even give my logical and healthy side of me a chance. Why did I do that? I know better than that! I should of controlled myself. I should waged war on Ed and beat him to the ground.
But no . . . .I gave in and now next time I have to go out to eat it will be even harder to not let ED take the wheel.