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.
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.
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.