It’s hard that I’m the only one who truly understands my disorder. Reassurance is a really strong part of it and unless I get the right amount I’m going to panic. The other day I tried to make a bagel and there was something smeared on the bag. Everybody I asked couldn’t tell me what it was. Not knowing is so fucking hard for me. I cried and then got into my car and almost drove my car into a wall. The fact that something as “small” as something smeared on a bag is enough to drive me to suicide will never be understood by anyone but me. You can see how it affects me but knowing the sheer terror I feel when something happens is unbelievable. It’s hard because I sit here and I’m basically begging someone to reassure that either the thing isn’t dirty or that they agree with me. Obviously nobody agrees with me because nothing makes sense, it’s not supposed to. I haven’t been able to eat for days unless Dylan hand washes every bowl, plate, utensil, etc. and cleans the counter before putting it on there. Why it breaks me so much is I’m trying so hard to be able to feed myself but when shit like this happens every time I do it makes it not seem worth it. Fighting something like this feels useless, it’ll never be over. I know how it looks, I know to the outside I look and sound insane and that’s exactly how it feels in my head. It’s insane what it can do to you.

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