I met with S today, most likely for the last time. At first it didn’t seem that way. I was honest about how I’m doing and began a writing assignment. She had me write what has changed, pros/cons of my behaviors now, why I feel it’s happened, and how/if I wanted to change it. I’ll share a little bit of this but not all since it may be triggering and I definitely want to avoid that here.

• what’s changed: restricting more, lying, fear foods, eating the same few things, increased ED thoughts, isolation. On and on and on.
• pros: feel better emotionally, I feel more in control, these behaviors will make me like my body more
• cons: doing worse in school, no energy, hurting my family/friends, where I’m going scares me

While I was working through that, S read my food diaries and meal thought logs. I glanced over a few times and her face killed me. That’s when I knew for sure what would happen but didn’t want to believe it.

I only got through half of my answers before she spoke the dreaded words: “you need more help than I can give you.” Her schedule is basically full up until we leave for winter break. I would probably see her once until the 2nd week of January. As of now, this doesn’t mean IOP, PHP, inpatient, or residential, but I need to see a new therapist. Specifically she is recommending/telling me I need once a week or more.

I tried to argue and make excuses. I still want so badly to get out of it. Of course she doesn’t buy any of the ED’s bullshit though. Basically I had 2 choices: go get the extra help now or be forced to go inpatient within a month (at the rate I’m going). God I didn’t want to hear that. I cried a little as I realized this was what I’ve come to. I’m supposed to be doing better. I know this is chronic and relapse happens but all I wanted is a good semester/year.

Once I left her office I couldn’t hold myself together. She’s been there for over a year. I hate change, especially when it means leaving someone I know works into the unknown of a new therapist. I’m terrified of what lies ahead. Part of me, the very sick part, sees this as proof that I am doing “well” in the eating disorder. It finds a twisted satisfaction.

Part of me wanted to lie to S, tell her I called and got an appointment when I didn’t. Maybe I would just skip therapy altogether. The thing is I have hope. S told me that maybe this is God’s way of providing me with someone who will help me exactly how I need. The real me is holding on to that.

So reluctantly, I called. I’ll be going to the same practice where my old dietitian was. They specialize in eating disorders and offer all types of outpatient treatment. I talked to the director and have an appointment set up with my new therapist, R, on Dec 1st. This is two weeks out and in the meantime I will attend group therapy on Tuesdays. I have fears on both fronts: Will I be the largest one there? What if I hate my new therapist? Will it even help? What if I can’t do this at all?

I am sick. This is something I need if I want any chance of getting back on track before I hit rock bottom. I am too sick to see S anymore. I cannot do this without more help. I am going to be okay, I hope.