Independence Day

My "best friend"has died.  The man/boy/person/being I have loved for 30 years is dead to me.  How odd.  To have lost someone you were so incredibly close to.  Someone who's soul melted into yours.

I have often compared him to my DISorder; insane, painful, filling me with strength, tearing me apart, not being able to let go and having him in my life for as long as I have been "me".

And I was finally able to let go.  Because the person I loved for almost 30 years doesn't exist anymore. Because he let go of me when it no longer suited what he wanted.  He let go of his promise of "never losing me again".  (Losing? Loosing?  I always get those wrong)

And, as I've compared him to my ED, I'm working on letting that go too.  Fearsome, fearsome...

I've met a man. A wonderful, intelligent, sensible, caring, grounded man. (Did I mention he's rather handsome?)
A MAN who isn't wrapping me in a blanket of confusion and worry and his own fears.

A man who hasn't run away from my ED. 
What a weird, mind-boggling concept..scary.

I was confused and scared and thrown for a loop when I met him.
"What the fuck? A healthy relationship with a man? Really?  Fucking hell, what is this?"

I started smoking more and my ED went completely haywire; more haywirerer than usual which is pretty fucking haywire.  I couldn't wrap my mind around "Relationship-Man-Healthy" DAMN! The fuck do I do now??

And so, little by little I'm throwing out the junk in the freight of crap I carry around with me. Sometimes, I forget who I'm with.  I forget that I can be ME.  That I can throw out one by one, pieces of clothing that I used to wear to make myself invisible; he sees through them. 
And they are ugly and I don't need to disappear. 
I don't need to force myself back into my armor and shove the world away with my 12 foot Samurai sword so that I am always in defense mode.

And now I am in therapy. 
The man who is standing next to me, holding my hand and helping me unpack my freight, has referred me to a therapist who specializes in ED, Anxiety and Depression.  PERFECT!  There must be more of us "insaner-than-the-average-bear" people on this planet if she can make a living by listening to our brains fizzling.

I was so fucking scared to go and see her.  But I strapped on my big-girl boots, stripped off my armor, sucked in my fear and there I went..."FUCK, I'M SACRED!!

About an hour after I left therapy; which had gone so well, I couldn't figure out what was going on. 
I was so angry! I was fucking angry at the world, I couldn't stand any of the people who were walking near me, They were all getting too close, they were coming up behind me, they we getting into my space, it was too loud, too many, too much, OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO GET SUCKED INTO THE VORTEX OF HUMANITY. I hate people, don't touch me, don't come near me, shut up, shut up, shut up!!!

I panicked! I walked and walked and walked until I was far enough away to gasp for air without being sucked into insanity.

What the fuck happened?

Therapy...Therapy happened.

I have to talk.  I have to let all this shit out.  I have to let go.  I have to eat.  I have to be weighed every fucking week. 
I have to throw away my one defense, my only companion, my strength, my force, the ONE thing that has made me "Strong".

And "it" doesn't want to go away. 
"It", me, my DISorder, who I am, what I so love, hate, fight to keep, what is killing me, what I can't ever turn away from, what I want so badly to keep, what pretends to give me control, the one thing I've aways known me to be, is now facing certain death.

And I am scared. 

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do."- Eleanor Roosevelt