I’m Beth, 34 years old and a mother to one little boy, Charlie, who has autism.  I have suffered from an eating disorder on and off since...

I’m Beth, 34 years old and a mother to one little boy, Charlie, who has autism.  I have suffered from an eating disorder on and off since my early 20s but this particular cycle has been occurring for the past 3 years.  I am currently approaching my discharge from ED services after almost 2 years in outpatient treatment and a short stint as a day patient.

I'm just writing to tell you that it needs to be over.  I can't do this anymore.

You've taken so much of my precious time, time that I can never get back.  

You convinced me, made me believe that you cared about who I am, about what I want and need.  

But you don't care.  You have NEVER cared.

For the last three years, I have tried so hard to meet your unrealistic expectations of what you believe a woman should be.  I have focused on nothing but wanting to please you. You have let me torture myself, let me think that all of this is me, because of me.  If I were just that little bit thinner, or more glamorous?  Or if I looked better in a bikini?  Then perhaps you'd be happy? Perhaps you'd say “Yes Beth... You are finally perfect!”

But you never will. I will never be “perfect” enough for you.  It doesn't exist.

And despite the fact that I am so angry at you for destroying my life.  I know that I will miss you. That's how truly messed up this situation is.  For the longest time, you've been the closest thing I have had to a best friend.  Some of my favourite moments and memories are those when it's been just you and I.  Not needing anyone or anything. Our dirty little secret. Us against the world.

But missing you can't be enough to keep me here.  The longer I stay the less chance I have of making it.  I know this. I've known it for a while but I think before I was just too tired to care.  I've made the mistake of making my life all about you. So much so that I'm not even sure who I am now.  It's like I can't think or breathe without you inside of me. You've possessed me and I let you. But you can't have any more of me. And even though my newly found fighting spirit may only be a tiny flickering in the distance; I will not blow it out. I will not let you convince me to blow it out.  

I know there will be days when walking away from you will be the hardest thing I have ever done.  I know that you'll remind me that I need you. I know that there will be days when the idea of running back to the comfort and familiarity of you will be excruciating to ignore. But already, just imagining the possibility of being free from your grasp gives me butterflies in my stomach.  

Perhaps I will always wish I could have done more.  Perhaps I will always wish that what I have done to myself, to this body, was enough for you.  Why couldn't you love me the way I was? The way I am? Why was it never enough?

But you don't answer.  You never answer.

So I'm just writing to tell you that it needs to be over.  I can't do this anymore.

Yours No Longer Yours

Beth Anne

If you want to connect with Beth you can find her here: http://www.mynameisbethanne.com/

mental health