Living at home with mental disorders

I spontaneously decided to write this because the topic this is about (it’s obviously named in the title) represents a huge daily struggle for me.
My family has known about the severity of my disorders since my first suicide attempt got me into a psychiatric hospital in 2012, but despite all the family therapy sessions, long conversations and complicated explanations, they have always failed to understand them.
While my father always pretends it’s not nearly as bad as I might think and my sister simply ignores the entire issue, my mom is the only one I have been trying to actually talk to about it on a regular basis, but it always leaves me feeling like I just held a speech for a stone wall. She either doesn’t get it or doesn’t want to. Which one of them it is I can’t tell because I don’t remember what it was like without the sicknesses, but it definitely makes living together very difficult this or the other way.
Whenever I try to express that certain things trigger me, it makes her first confused, then angry and then she tells me that she’s not a therapist (which I know and I never expected her to act like one), and what’s even worse is that she somehow is always immediately offended.
All I ever do is mention what behaviors of hers are a problem for me, and I always emphasize that I certainly don’t mean to blame her for anything when saying that, but she immediately thinks that.
Like, literally every time, and I’ve been trying that every few weeks or months for several years now. What happened a couple days ago was another perfect example: I told her that it badly triggers me when she always puts things before food and makes eating something not important enough to spend her time doing without saying that it means she is to blame for any of my disordered behaviors, and she was super mad at me and refused to talk to me any further.
And during the next few meals, she gave me bitchy comments about how she was eating now and that she could obviously not have an eating disorder or support one because of that which I clearly never indicated either, and that made everything worse all over again. I keep telling her that all I want is try to make her understand what’s going on with me so we can live together peacefully, but it just doesn’t work out.
I love both my mom and sister to bits, but living here is hell. Firstly, the way they both eat is a daily trigger because my mom often simply doesn’t eat half the day because there are more important things in her opinion, and my sister is too lazy to eat or not hungry enough for the same amounts of time, and that makes learning to eat normally hella difficult.
Stating that, I am NOT stating that this means they are to blame for my relapses or that they have eating disorders. I know that both of these things aren’t AND have never been the case. But it makes things hard for me and I tell them about it because it would help me if they respected that. But nope.
So many things here are reasons to relapse: The basement that’s always filled with huge amounts of supplies that always include my favorite foods for my bulimic sessions, their eating habits, how perfect my sister, her body and her life is and that I never had that, how she is appreciated and gets everything so much easier and faster than I ever did, how my worries are always ridiculed or invalidated because I’m supposedly exaggerating, how I ‘don’t have the time to be sick’ or how I’m always expected to function.
And yes, there’s more.
Whenever I dare to say that I’m better, it’s just natural to expect that I’ve suddenly fully recovered, whenever I’m with my son, it’s just absolutely impossible to be depressed (I love my baby more than anything, but that DOES NOT make serious illnesses magically disappear), that talking or writing about things being hard for me (like I do it right now) means that I’m somehow obsessing over them or getting all worked up… There is just so much.
And no, I don’t blame my family. I love them and none of this is their fault. I just wish they’d at least try to understand me so they can actually listen to me and try to respect my wishes and concerns. I wish they’d realize that my bitchy attitude is an expression of my extreme mood swings, and that being better doesn’t mean being healthy.
I am more than a teenage girl with a child, and I wish they saw more than that too. But I guess they won’t and that’s one of many reasons why I need to leave.
I definitely want to keep seeing them at least a few times a week, but I need to get out of this house. Of course, wanting to finally have my own place and be all grown up, independent and self-determining is an extremely important factor, but to be honest, the most important reason is that I will never be able to recover here.
It’s not my family’s fault, but it’s true even though I could never tell them about them because they wouldn’t get it.
The food stocks, the misunderstandings, fights, lies and my perfect sister who has all of her wishes granted every single day makes it absolutely impossible for me to truly end a life with diseases.
I am certainly making progress here, but I know that I’ll never get further than that. But because my mom just lost her job and I financially depend on her because I haven’t finished school yet and can’t work additionally because of my son, I’m really, really scared that moving out won’t be possible this summer like we actually planned and I’m stuck here. Ah hell. I feel so alone, but there is nobody I want to be with.
Rant over. Thank you for your attention.

HULU tv fox sigh sleepy hollow

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Dear eating disorder

I’m writing this to let you know how I feel and why I am no longer able and willing to trust you.
Your one and only goal has always been to destroy me, and I unfortunately didn’t realize that until you had almost succeeded. I wish I could say that it will be easy to let go of you after everything you’ve done to me, but it won’t because as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me still loves you despite the awful things you put me through.
But the problem is that, while ruining me, you also give me something nobody else can provide me. The safety and security I feel when I’m with you cannot be compared to the feelings I have when I’m with other people. You make me feel like I am not a lost case and that there’s still hope left, that following your advice will give me what I’ve always wanted. But this is the point where things don’t work out anymore: Listening to you has never solved any of my problems and just added new ones.
You recognized all of my doubts and insecurities the second you laid eyes on me and knew exactly how to make them your weapons, especially in terms of my perfectionism and body.
Being the best liar I’ve ever witnessed, you lured me into your trap, promising me everything I’ve ever wanted if I’d be willing to make some sacrifices. What you didn’t tell me was that the sacrifices wouldn’t just be some discipline, guilt and willpower, but my entire life. Saying this, I’m sure you’ll defend yourself and state I must be confused and therefore simply exaggerating, but deep down we both know which one of us is speaking the truth this time. I’ve told many lies over the last few years with you in my life, so many that I went through times when I started to believe them myself, but this time, I can see through your games and tell things as they are.
To make you a part of my life and get what you tempted me with, I had to push away everyone I had once cared about, give up on my health, let go of my sanity and devote my entire existence to letting you tear me down.
And guess what?
You never even kept your part of the deal.
Instead of giving me the perfect skinny body my insecure inner self with its twisted mind had always dreamed of to finally be appreciated, you turned mine into a wreck.
Instead of making me someone strong, disciplined and determined, you made me obsessed with thoughts so repulsive I’d rather not even name them.
Instead of giving me perfection (both inside and outside), you attempted to kill me.
And nothing you say can ever make up for that.
Our relationship was never real.
You never gave a damn about me.
I gave you way too many second chances because I put my faith in you and was loyal, sick and naive enough to believe you’d actually help me, but every time I let you guide me, I came one step closer to my own death.
This letter could continue for many hours and I could tell you so many things I have on my mind when thinking about you (especially negative, but actually even a few positive ones because no matter how sick, you always made me feel safe), but where would that get us? How would my rant help either of us?
It wouldn’t. This is all that matters, all I need to say.
I don’t care what you think about it. You’ll think that it’s not over yet and I’m just having another one of my doubtful phases when I try to distance myself from you but end up crawling to you again, desperate for your self-proclaimed ‘support’, but this time, it’s different. Say whatever you want. I know I’m not rid of you just yet and it’ll take a lot more time to let go after all these years we spent together in our own world, but I’m starting to leave right here and right now.
We’re not done yet, but we certainly will be, becauase this year is the year I’m actually starting to fight you and don’t just pretend to make others happy and keep myself delusional.
Say whatever you want; I know you think you’re smarter than me anyways. But I’ve seen every single one of your tricks and know them good enough to be able to recognize them before I fall for them.
You’re disgusting and the only one worthless here, and I guarantee you’ll miss me once you realize I won’t come back for you.
This is my the beginning of the end of the two of us and there is no turning back. It’s far too late for that and you know who’s to blame for what happened.
Keep my smile in mind because you’ll never get to see it again.

Stuck

You’re stuck in the moment
When you thought you were rolling
But you can’t move on
You feel like you’re able
To live past the moment
You can’t move on

I’m currently debating whether I should continue my therapy because I’m beginning to feel like there’s no point in spending so much money for it at the moment. I’m stuck. Totally. I know it, my disorders know it, my recovery knows it, my counselor knows it. And the worst part? I know exactly what’s going on, and yet I’m unable to change the situation despite being the only one who can.
As usual, the problem is my overwhelming fear of leaving my comfort zone and changing something- anything. Being constantly afraid of making things worse doesn’t make recovery a very pleasant process and it looks like I’ve reached a point where I can’t go further without being taken down by my fear.
The situation is pretty much beyond remedy: I’m in the unidentifiable zone between real recovery and a real relapse where I adapt to sick behaviors on a daily basis, but realize that they’re sick and keep them under control and only act them out in a certain way without letting things slip and legitimately harming me or someone else. I’m not sick, but I’m not healthy either.
I eat, but I feel extremely guilty, I bake, but without sugar, I cook, but without oil, I eat candy, but only dark chocolate and DIY stuff (my counselor made me eat normal vegan cookies from the store yesterday and it was awful), I tell people that I’m not perfectly fine, but not how much everything stresses me, I don’t harm my body in any way, but I hate it with all of my heart.
Get my point?
I always manage to have things under control to be able to keep going without having someone notice or getting hurt in the process, but I’m not happy with the way things are.
I don’t even know what I want anymore. Sure, the long-term aims in my life are clear, but what do I want to reach with what I’m doing here and now knowing that it’s not what I actually want or need? And, more importantly, how am I planning to carry on in the future? Will I continue to live like this?
The one and only person who can change something about this is me, that’s something I realized over the years.
But I refuse to because the idea of letting go of the patterns I’ve been holding on to for such an incredibly long time frightens me. When saying that I don’t remember being satisfied and happy with my achievements and appearance, I’m not exaggerating. The thought of not being good enough has manifested so deeply that I’ve adapted to the self-proclaimed ‘fact’ that there is no way to ever change something about it, and distancing myself from this concept would turn everything upside down. Over the years, you unfortunately start to identify yourself with your disordered thoughts. Who and what am I without them? Can I risk pushing them away? Will I be left with nothing? Will I be nothing? Lose control, become invisible, gain weight, fail everything?
I don’t know. And as unrealistically as all of my fears are, they’re there and because they won’t go away, I won’t change. I’ve settled in my own little hell and as crazy as it sounds, it’s gotten quite comfortable with time because I’ve gotten so used to it.
Do I enjoy living like this?
Hell no.
Am I willing to change?
Unfortunately, no.
Because there is nothing scarier than the unknown.
So I’m stuck here, unknowing what to do with myself and my life, trying to make it through without losing myself in this chaos I’ve created. I can’t even tell anyone about this because it’s just beyond ridiculous and stupid. I could choose happiness and yet I choose to suffer because I’m a scaredy-cat. My obsession with a non-existent perfection has made me end up here, and I don’t even know where here is.
Am I giving up? Is that what I’m doing? I don’t think so. I mean, I am keeping my shit together, aren’t I? Hell, I just want to get away from everything here if I’m honest.

Take me away
Let’s get out of this town
Run, baby, run
We’re unstoppable now

grunge, night, and run image