Why am I even doing this?

Why am I wasting my time? Why am I going through all of this? Why am I doing therapy, counseling, nutrition, art therapy, dine, seeing my physician and psychiatrist? Do I really want to get better? Because a big part of me says no. Am I really trying? Some days, maybe. But other days, no. I feel like I take a couple of steps closer to recovery, freak out, and slide back. Recovery terrifies me. I don't know if I want it. I mean, a part of me does, I want a future, a career. But what if all that fails? What will I be without my eating disorder? There's only a small sliver of me that wants to get better, and that's the part of me that loves spending time with my family and craves connection, the part of me that wants to be a child life specialist. But the rest of me says "screw it." Life is easier to deal with while in my eating disorder. I mean, not really, it's harder. But it masks everything and makes the world about my eating disorder, where nothing else matters. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm wasting time and money, and everyone else's time. Really all I want to do is stay out of treatment, because I don't have time for that. And I don't want to disappoint my family. I want to live a functional life with my eating disorder, if that's even possible. But recovery? That's so far-fetched. I want to go back to feeling like a zombie, living on coffee and safe foods, numbing out the world, feeling invisible. Why am I half-assing recovery, when I don't even know if I really want it?