Fears

"Fear not."
What a hard command that is for me. I am full of fear, especially now. I may be leaving treatment or stepping down to a lower level of care. I don't know for sure -- I'll find out more tomorrow -- but the uncertainty is driving me crazy. I'm so frightened. I don't feel ready at all. I've slipped several times, the last only a few days ago, and my recovery is fragile. I know what to do to get back on my feet, I know what I need to do to stay in recovery, but what I don't have is the experience of doing it.
I've relapsed so many times now that I don't care to count. I don't want to go back to the miserable eating disorder hell I came from, yet the disorder still has a steely grasp on my mind and heart, and part of me still longs for it. Things were miserable, but so simple with it. I didn't have to face all the spectrum of feelings. I didn't have to face myself, I didn't have to face life, temporarily. So the eating disorder calls me, every day. Binge, purge, restrict, it's ok, it's just one time, no one will catch you. Beat yourself up, call yourself a fat stupid ugly bitch, it's what you are. You don't deserve anything good, you failed piece of crap. Day in and day out, the voice in my head tells me it's gonna get me eventually, that I'm a failure and will never succeed. Not at recovery, not at life. It frightens me how strong the voice is still, and how much I still buy into it.
The other voices, faint in my head but present nonetheless, tell me I'm buying into lies. I am a valuable, precious child of God, redeemed and dearly loved, and with God I can make it in life and recovery. I believe these sometimes. I am afraid to believe them all the time, afraid of what that might mean if I did. Afraid of success, I think, as weird as that sounds. I'm used to and comfortable with failure. No one expects anything of a failure.
So here I am, caught in between the fear of my eating disorder and the fear of living life. Caught between fear of surrender and fear of the prison I already know in the eating disorder. I guess I have a choice to make. For now, I choose to live, and little by little surrender my fears to the only One who can truly handle them. It's hard, and in a few seconds I'll probably try to take them back, because I know them and they're weirdly comfortable. But for now, I just want to rest and let Him handle it. Fear is very tiring.