I've been M.I.A. for some time, part of me knows I'm in denial that I'm not doing well. I convince myself, let me just slip today, and I'll give it my all starting tomorrow. I'll blog tomorrow, I'll dive into recovery, all the exercises that shine the light on what's keeping me in ED's grip. When I'm thin enough then I'll enjoy life and be happy. To know all this will not bring me forward at all, yet believing it will, well I guess I'm insane then.
So I feel a few confessions I need to come out. I've been abusing laxatives again. I sleep and isolate when feeling triggered to binge. I've put bruises on my body, beating the emotion of feeling like a fat stupid bitch in far enough that maybe I'll finally get it and stop eating so much. I'm not happy, and I have no energy to put into healthy activity. If I'm not sleeping all my mind and body can handle is to constantly think of food, what to eat, if to eat, and then if laxatives need to be used. I'M FUCKING SICK OF THIS. How did I let myself fall back so far? This insidious inconsistency in my mind body and spirit is too much to bare. Part of me feels my recovery is slipping uncontrollably away from me, and part believes this behavior is voluntary to punish the ugly person I always will be.