My Fuzzy Gray

I had a date last night.

My favorite date so far in the history of dating.

And because he made me feel so comfortable, I was able to shake off the nerves of, "Oh my gosh, does he like me? Is he thinking about me? What is he thinking RIGHT NOW? WHERE IS MY DAMN LIP GLOSS!?!". I was able to focus on having fun with a guy who is fun---and stop worrying about whether I was doing something wrong or right or awkward or amazing.

But shit balls, I don't know how I feel about being able to shake off my dating nerves because once I did, I started to think about who this guy is and whether he is a porn addict and how many people he's lied to and WHY IS HE RUINING MY LIFE?!!

It's a bit dramatic, I know...
I couldn't believe I was even thinking those thoughts. I get that it's healthy to someday have a talk with a potential husband about viewing pornography and I get that it's normal to question but I must be the dumbest girl in the world---because every time someone posts on our WoPA support group page, I think, "That isn't going to happen to me. I won't have those feelings or fears." And then I date a few guys and don't think about it and BAM! I go on a date with a guy who is super awesome and makes me feel comfortable and I start thinking about the double life he must be living.

They're all living that double life...right? How can they not be?

And then I get all insecure again and think about the thousand ways my life could play out since chances are, I will someday marry a porn addict again.

Anxiety hits.

Chest pains, sweat, heavy breathing...

And I realize that I only have one option---and that is to lose part of me to look more like the ones they will want.
Because they won't want me after looking at that.

And then I don't eat. Surely the reason I haven't had a second date ever is because of my looks. Surely.

And then my chest pains begin again and I can't tell if they're a result of not eating in over 24 hours or if they're anxiety---or both. And my paranoia decides I'm probably having a heart attack because out of all the 27 year old's in the world, I would be the one to have a freak heart attack...

From there, I imagine the way it will feel when I've hit my goal. Alice tells me it never ends and I want to believe her. I want to believe that this isn't going to ever go away and that I need to keep fighting but I keep believing that all I really want is to lose 50 pounds. That's all. 

But is 50 pounds the equivalent of happiness? Is 50 pounds worth the damage and suffering?

I don't know.

Because I also question whether 50 pounds is worth never getting married again. Is 50 pounds worth the loneliness? Is it worth the countless birthday parties that consistent of all of my married coupled friends---and me---the odd one out?

I don't know.

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't.

But tonight, after a horrible NON-recovery day of eating nothing until 8:00pm and then purging the things I ate at 8, I don't know which way to turn.

I'm at a crossroads and nobody can make this decision for me.

I don't even know if this is one of those decisions I wish someone could make for me. Because I know what their answer would be.

I know what your answer would be.

But is that my belief? Is that my truth?

I don't know tonight.

I feel lost and confused and my shit-damn Zoloft does not seem to be working these days but trying to find a doctor who takes my insurance has been a hay day and imaboutreadytoquitlife.
Because life is full of puzzles and fuzzy answers and a hell of a lot of GRAY in between the black and white.

And tonight? Tonight I want to feel secure about life. I want to feel secure that I'll be able to accept me for me and not go all bat-shit crazy on everyone.
I'm fighting the urge to not believe that "they just don't understand". Because they probably do.
All I really want to do is stay in bed for days and let my mental illnesses take over my brain and never fight them because they're probably telling me the truth anyway. They know how stupid I am. They know how much I weigh. They know what types of feelings I'm feeling. They know I'm the most unstable stable person in the world.

I just don't know which path is a little less gray.

I don't know which path will have more rainbows and butterflies and puppy dogs and watermelon jello.

And I don't know if my truths are really truths.