I am the biggest coward of all

I need to make certain decisions pertaining to how I want my life to play out.
For a long time now I have been putting it off content to live in my limbo of not too sick but not recovered either.
Its almost like a fake stability.
Not entirely ready to face life but also not ready to let go of my dreams.
I feel very torn between two halves of myself.
On the one hand I am very ready to get back to my life.
I have been living a sort of non existence for a very long time ago and a very large part of me is ready to experience life again.
But then another enormous piece of myself is screaming for the justification; some semblance of achievement as a disordered person.
Which if I'm being honest is bullshit and I'm just afraid that if I get better I'll stop meaning anything.
I will go through a huge identity crisis because holy shit I contracted these disorders during a key time in my developing a personality.
But in hind sight that is obviously better than the amount of suffrage I will have to go through to feel some sort of accomplishment.
If I'm being completely truthful I know that I will never in my life experience a feeling of satisfaction in my illness.
I will never gain anything but horrifying agony and I won't ever feel sick enough to warrant any type of help.
But rather than allow myself to be rational about this I will throw all logical thinking out the window.
I'd rather throw more years of my life away before admitting that I'm just a coward who doesn't know how to properly convey how I feel about myself.
Please do not ever mistake my cowardice for bravery.
It isn't courage you see written here.
It is a lie.
A pretty lie that a scared little girl tells herself so she won't have to own up to the mistakes she's made or face the consequences of her actions.