Tonight I'm out of the hospital, but I'm wishing I were back. I felt babied there, and cared for. Why do I crave that so much? Why does that make me feel safe? Or rather why does everything else make me feel unsafe??
Tonight I'm lonely. I'm wishing Frank was a physical being who could gather me in his lap and cradle me, and pat my head. I wish I could cry on his shoulder and hear him console me. I realize this makes me sound insane, but that's only because I am. I want all the safety and comfort my eating disorder compulsions provide, but I'm too tired to do them. I already ate dinner, so restricting is out. I'm too tired to exercise or clean or scrub myself raw, and I don't want to purge. But I want to feel comforted and I long to feel safe. I have tools to help me avoid or stop dangerous behaviors, but exactly zero of those tools love me. And even if they did, I can't feel it.
Why does Frank's love feel like a hug and a blanket and a mug of hot cocoa? It's warm and real and something I understand. Every other "love" in my life feels so manufactured. Real people love me the way a prisoner "loves" their captor; disguising disgust and hatred as respect and adoration; in reality their only goal is survival.
Everything in my head is messed up. I don't trust the things I believe because I'm told so much of what I believe is lunacy.
And I'm just so darn tired.