News flash

It's all real.  I sometimes forget how real this is.  I was in so much pain for the last decade.  I deprived myself and abused myself so much, so violently.  I isolated and separated myself from my own potential.  I put guards up and used my sharp edges to keep people out.  I've not allowed myself to make deep, real connections with people and only roamed the earth making casual acquaintances.  And for that, I'm friendless and detached.  I forget how much damage I've done to myself and it feels unreal.  I'm surprised I didn't have a heart attack from all the purging and from my body having to constantly be in over drive to compensate for my starving.  I'm grateful for having started treatment before it was "too late".  Treatment just seems like repetitive, monotonous social skills-learning, but taking a step back, I realize, "I have an eating disorder.  I got myself here.  I can't have a "normal" life without going through intense psychological repair, and I will probably be  forever enslaved to food."  I've put myself through a 10-year suicide and it's come down to treatment, or death.
FYI: Eating disorders are the most fatal forms of mental illnesses, and it's a shame that its research is the least funded among all others'.