Semi Secret Sophie🌙✨

03/10/2026

I haven’t written in several weeks.

Honestly, a lot of that is because I’ve been in the thick of treatment and just trying to keep my head above water. I’ve been doing the best I can. I have weekly appointments with my therapist and dietitian, and I am trying, truly. But progress is hard. Every day feels like an uphill battle, and some days it feels like my whole life is quietly falling apart around me while I’m still expected to function like everything is fine.

This has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through.

My team and I have reached a point where a bigger decision has to be made. Right now, we’re looking at inpatient treatment or getting an NG tube for feeding support. At this time, I’m not ready for inpatient. The thought of being away from home and work for weeks is just not something I can handle right now. So I’m choosing the tube.

And if I’m being honest, I feel both scared and relieved.

Scared, because this makes everything feel very real in a way that is hard to ignore. Relieved, because maybe this is the extra help my body has needed for a long time. My body has been starving for years. My brain has been starving for years too. And a starving brain is a nervous brain. It is a fearful brain. A brain without enough nourishment struggles to feel safe, think clearly, regulate emotions, or trust that things will be okay. Sometimes what looks like anxiety, panic, dread, or spiraling is a body and brain sounding every alarm they have because they’ve been running on empty for too long.

I’m not choosing this because I’m giving up. I’m choosing it because I’m trying to keep going.

I’m needing a little more help, and I’m trying to let that be okay.

I’m deeply thankful for the people in my circle who have been in the trenches with me. The people who have stayed, listened, checked in, encouraged me, and loved me through the ugliest parts of this. I know this isn’t easy to witness. I know it’s heavy. I’m not trying to be more than anyone can handle. I’m just trying to survive this, and hopefully, eventually, heal from it.

If things get bad enough, I will do inpatient. I’m not ruling that out. I just can’t do that right now.

For now, I’m taking the next step in front of me, even though it scares me.

And maybe that’s what hope looks like sometimes. Not a beautiful breakthrough. Not some magical moment where everything suddenly gets easier. Maybe hope is just continuing to say yes to help. Continuing to try. Continuing to believe that your story is not over yet, even when you are exhausted and scared and angry and worn thin.

If sharing this reaches even one person who is suffering quietly, I hope it nudges them toward getting help. I do not want anyone living like this. I do not want anyone waiting until things get unbearable before they let someone in. You deserve help before it becomes a crisis. You deserve support. You deserve nourishment. You deserve a life that does not feel like a fight every single day.

I want my story to be one of hope.

Not because this is easy. Not because I’m doing it perfectly. But because I’m still here, and I’m still trying.

And right now, that has to count for something.

xx

Soph