They found out by reading my journal ages ago when I was very depressed and self-destructive. Then I told them recently about the fact that yes, I do have an eating disorder (I was looking for support at the time).
I wish they didn't know about either. It just makes everything harder when they're nagging me to stop. Same with cigarettes. They expected me to go cold turkey from 6 a day in the midst of depression. They don't understand, I'm afraid.
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