I think my mother has given up on me. I don't mean to say she's disowned me or doesn't care, but she's tired. And I'm tired too. I think we're all tired of this.

There is a point in your life when someone you care about has a problem with alcohol or drugs or, in my case, eating. You try and try to help. You try to be supportive, you try to give tough love, you try to understand. And in the end, recovery is based on their decision and you get to the point where your hopeless. You feel as though there is nothing else you can do. So you, either conciously or subconciously, let go of that person. You have tried to save them and realize that you can't and so you stop fighting, your heart and soul can't take the hurting anymore...so you silently let them go.

I think that's what my mom has done to me, and honestly I can't say I blame her. She doesn't even try to ask me to eat with the family anymore. She doesn't make sure I take my medicine, she doesn't badger me. She didn't bother to pick up dinner for me tonight.

The funny thing is, I think this thing not only started for me as a way to gain control, but I think it was also my own way of getting the attention and recognition I wanted. I needed to be needed and loved and so I put myself in danger. And now...I don't feel like I'm in danger, it is only when I'm sickest when I feel safe. Now, I have lost a lot of affection and caring from people closest because I feel they have let go in order to save themselves from anymore hurt.

I just think this is all so messed up, and I'm tired of it. I think that maybe I wish I were just fat so I knew I was fat and I could accept that and eat. I don't think that makes sense and I probably sound stupid and spoiled right now but I have no idea what to do. It's all messed up and jumbled up and I'm doing this three ring act of trying to lose weight, trying to be healthy and yet not be healthy, and trying to make things appear as if they're all under control and I'm okay. They're not. Things were never okay.