Forever is so short

Facebook reminded me yesterday that it was the one year anniversary of us being “facebook official”. Yesterday was the day I left. My heart broke again when I saw the reminder and I burst into tears, sitting at the stop waiting for the shuttle to take me to the airport.

This last week I was in California with my fiance. A few days ago, he started hitting me. At first, I tried to shake it off. But by Thursday afternoon I couldn’t anymore, and I bought the first available ticket home for Friday. Yesterday morning, I left before he woke up, sneaking out, afraid to tell him I was leaving. I left my ring on the dresser.

Sometime on my trip home, he figured out I wasn’t coming back because he blocked me from Facebook. Total travel time, between the uber, the shuttle, my delated flight, and driving home, was over 14 hours. It was a long day filled with many tears. I am heartbroken. Even though I know I made the right choice, I still love him. It still hurts to have the broken promise of a future with him. I went from having my whole future planned out to having nothing. I’m lost, alone, and wounded. I feel foolish. I feel used. I feel like I’ve done something wrong by leaving him. I’m so confused right now.

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Right to bear arms

My brother is now making “adult money” as he calls it. He told me the first big purchase he wants to make it to buy a gun.

In thinking about it, I realized I can’t own a gun. On my bad days, it would be too much of a temptation.

My uncle shot himself in his basement. I am scared I would do the same thing if I were really struggling. It’s hard enough to keep myself alive without a deadly weapon in my possession.

Terror

I keep crying.

I was reading the schedule for the partial hospitalization program abd it all started to sink in. Then I read the requirements for each level (determines your supervision and activity levels) and I started to freak out.

What if I can’t  do this? What if I get there and I can’t eat my meals? What if my insurance doesn’t think I’m trying hard enough and cuts me off? What if I actually succeed in recovery? What am I without my bulimia? Who am I?

This has been my life for over 2 decades. I’m terrified to let it go. I don’t know what life looks like after recovery. Without my eating disorder. The thought of it terrifies me. Panic. Tears. Shortness of breath. I am completely afraid to move past this. To live a life without all I’ve known for so long.