going back inpatient..

as some people already i know, i recently found out that i will be going back to treatment in february; most likely sheppard pratt. while this was not a good thing to hear, deep down inside i know it is necessary. my life is being completely determined by my eating disorder. every waking moment is spent on it. my day begins when my alarm clock goes off, and i usually press the snooze button a couple of times before i realize that i should probably get up. why? to go to school and get an education so that i can be a successful member of society someday? no... so that i can see how much i weigh today. it sounds cliche, but what you hear every person with an eating disorder say is true for me as well- if the number is lower than the day before, it will be an okay day. if the number is higher or the same, the day will suck. but regardless of the number, the behavior doesn't stop. i still continue to restrict, purge, over-exercise, and use laxatives and diet pills no matter what the scale says. in school all i can think about is food and weight. what i'm going to eat for lunch; how i'm going to purge what i ate without anyone knowing; what i'm going to have for dinner; how much i will weigh when i get home; how much i weighed that morning; how much i hope to weigh tomorrow; will i gain weight if i keep my lunch down- maybe, so i have to purge; how much more weight can i possibly lose before going back to treatment; i wonder what they think about how i look, they probably think i look fat, i need to lose at least 10 more lbs; etc. the thoughts are endless. but somehow i manage to do my work, and make relatively good grades. but the eating disorder is constantly gnawing at my mind, reminding me of all the things i HAVE to do, and every imperfection. it's really hard to learn anything when all of this is going on inside my head. actually getting to classes is another story. my backpack probably weighs 25 lbs on any given day- about one third of my entire body weight. most days it takes everything in me to cart myself and my backpack up the stairs to get to class. by the time i get there, my heart is usually racing, my head spinning, and i feel like i can barely breathe. this would make sense if i was 80, but i'm 16 years old. i shouldn't almost go into cardiac arrest just from walking up a couple flights of stairs with a backpack and a purse. but i do, and it scares me more than anything. because i honestly don't want to die. however, i would rather die than live with this eating disorder. because what i have right now is not a life, it's a living hell. i feel so bad for having to go back into treatment. i'm going to have to miss another semester of school, putting me a year behind. i'm going to have to leave my family and friends again. i'm going to have to sacrifice my life in the 'real-world' for a life behind looked doors, filled with meal plans, locked bathrooms, hours of therapy, doctors, daily weights and vitals, limited showers and phone calls, and very little freedom. but as the days go on i realize that i need it. if i don't go soon, i will die; i can't deny that anymore. and i will definitely never be a successful member of society if i'm dead, right?