[Posting in the voice of my eating disorder so this post includes adult language]
Me: How do you feel about being here?
Eating Disorder: I fucking hate this place. I hate being here, I hate having to be here. I’m fat and ugly and just want to isolate. Don’t want to have to talk to people, don’t want to go to therapy. Don’t wanna follow eating rules Don’t!
Me: That sounds difficult. How do you manage?
ED: I’m just waiting for the day I get outta here. I’m hitting the first drive-thru I can find.
Me: Not sure that supports my recovery. Could we find another way to get your needs met?
ED: Listen, I’ve been running this show for a long time. I’ve taken care of us. I know how to do that. I’m good at it. Trust me.
Me: I think there’s a better way to do things. I’m trying to learn new ways of coping with life.
ED: Bitch, what evidence is there for what you’re talking about? I have history on my side. When you talk all I hear is blah, blah, blah, sniffle, blah.
Me: I know it seems like you have control but it’s only because I let you.
ED: Let me outta here, let’s see what happens.
Me: You’re pretty protective of us, huh?
ED: Don’t talk that therapy crap to me. Change is bad. Change is bad. I’m kinda hardwired at this point, it’s what you know.
Me: That’s kind of true, like lots of things you say. Just enough truth that you convince me.
ED: Sigh, this is the thanks I get.
Me: No, I’m really grateful. You did keep me safe in the past but it’s time to let go. I’m glad you were there to help me cope, I’m not sure how I would have survived. But it’s time to part ways.
Me: It’s a good day. No need to deviate from the path today.