A Disappearing Act

Yesterday I went to the new addiction support group that I was talking about. It was held in the back room of a little downtown coffee shop. I arrived about fifteen minutes early, asked if there was anyone there yet, and sat down in the coffee shop with a vanilla latte'. I waited, and only saw two people go into the back meeting room. Two people! I didn't stay. It only meets once a week, so I'm assuming it isn't ever a large group. I was disappointed, because it had sounded so promising. I guess I will go back to AA a few more times, and attempt to give it a shot. I promised that I would try, so I don't want to go back on my word.
Yesterday, I barely ate anything, and I know that not having an appetite is a poor excuse. I know what I need to be doing, but right now I have zero motivation to do it. The weight is coming off, and to tell you the truth, that thrills me. The eating disorder itself is a type of addiction. Once I get into this pattern, I find it so difficult to stop. The voice of my eating disorder is so loud right now, and I find it hard to ignore. My therapist always asks me why it is so important for me to be thin. The immediate answer is to say that I want to take up as little space as possible. A friend of mine who is also struggling with anorexia said the same thing, that we feel apologetic for our very existence. If I could only disappear, it would be better, and I would be safe. I'm not sure why I feel that way. I do know that I'm loved, and important to so many people. I think that it goes back to my dad not making me feel like I was important, and the rape definitely did a number on my self esteem. I remember thinking after the rape, that I was bad, and that there was something wrong with me. I felt ugly to the very core of my being, and I've walked around with that feeling for most of my life. I do want to recover, but I can't find the will to make it happen. To be free from all of the negativity in my head. The voice that tells me I'm not good enough, smart enough...never enough. To be rid of the numbers, the measuring, the calories, the checking of my bones, to make sure they are still there, and not hiding behind a layer of fat. I'm weary, and yet I continue to forge ahead on this destructive path, strangely feeling that my life depends on it. Lately in therapy, we have been focusing on the alcohol, when I believe that is the least of my problems. I'm drowning in this eating disorder, and because I'm not a walking skeleton at the moment, no one seems to see it. Isn't it interesting that I can say in one sentence that my wish is to disappear, yet I want everyone to see me, and to validate that I'm worth saving. It is all such a dichotomy, and my mind swims in the confusion.
Somewhere inside, I need to find the strength and self worth to save myself.