I have not even left the house to go to the treatment center yet, and I am already so mad at the men in my family that I could just spit. So many of the feelings of worthlessness that push me into my eating disorder are directly connected to those men. I beg God to release me from caring about them and He says, "No." It is hard not to be angry at God for that, but He is the potter. The pot He creates ought not be mouthing off to Him.
This is going to suck.
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