3 options, and no quick fixes

I got to talk to all three of my parents today.

The first conversation I had, with my dad, was great. We talked for an hour and a half-- quite an accomplishment for two people who aren't always great at phone convos. School, work, politics, etc...it was a fun to talk to him and feel closer.

Then I talked to my step-mom. We caught up on the family (my brother is dating a 21 year old...?!?!), my sister needs prayers. Her Africa fundraising took a turn for the better, so that's exciting. And then she told me that she talked to our health insurance people, and I have three options:

1. I can call the insurance company and they will give me an assessment to see if I really need help, and if they will cover it. However, even if I do this and they decide I'm in bad enough shape that they'll pay for it, it still only applies in Washington.
Ok, scratch that option.

2. I can just go somewhere, find someone, and have my parents pay for it out of their pockets. I have very understanding parents who would want to help me in any way they could, so I know if I opted for this they would do it. It's very pricey though, especially since the treatment I need cannot be given in a one or two-time visit. I hate costing them money.
Hmm, we'll call that a maybe.

3. I can take time off of school and go into either an in-patient or out-patient treatment center. When I uttered a sound of "yeah right!" after #3 was said, she reminded me that this is an addiction, basically. And that it is a legitimate form of treatment. She did understand my reservations though, which is why this was the last and not the first possibility mentioned.
Yeah...I'm gonna go with a big fat no on this one.

Thinking through these 3 options made it clear to me that this is not going to be easy; in any and all of them, I will be forced to face and admit that I actually have a problem big enough to require some form of treatment. I have an eating disorder, not just a high-sensitivity to my weight or food. I've minimized it, especially to myself, for so long now. It's crazy to think that an in-patient treatment facility would be applicable to me, and I am still feeling like a big fake or a drama queen for making this into a big deal. I am scared that if I go talk to someone they'll listen to me and then tell me I'm dumb for thinking it's serious or different than what other women feel. I'm scared that they'll tell me this is normal and I'm thinking too much into it, because then it means I'm stuck feeling and acting like this. I'm also scared that they'll think it's a bigger deal than I do, and my life will be put on hold in order to fix something that I'm barely willing to admit is real.