This week..not easy.

I look in the mirror, and all I can see is a blob. An untoned, wobbly body of unworthiness. I am filled with shame and disgust as I look at myself, as I sit and feel my stomach roll over my trousers, as I walk and feel the insides of my legs rub together, as I moisturise and feel the handfuls of fat on me. How could I let myself get like this? Gain weight to recover..yes...let myself get to an in excusable point defined by greediness and lack of will power...no.
Every day now I hear those voices...don’t eat, it’s the only way. Think of how you could look. Think of how good you’ll feel. And all it takes is the control and power to starve. I can do that. I’ve done it before. And yet every morning I wake up with those programmed thoughts that I need to eat and to stay healthy. I know that’s the right thing to do but then I just beat myself up about it even more afterwards and the cycle of telling myself not to eat starts again. I feel like I’ve lost that power and I’m trapped in this body. Do I want to relapse? Of course not but I feel like I have no choice. I’ve tried to eat healthily. Not just for a couple of days before deciding it wasn’t working but for months and my weight hasn’t budged.
The hardest thing...I don’t even know if what I see is real. Is that really what my body looks like or is it just a distortion. I know my mind likes to do that but it’s an answer I will never know.
I hate that I’m still too afraid to wear what I want...to go swimming, to allow people to see my body. Can I eat now...yes. Do I fear food as much...no. But does it still have power over my life...yes and I can’t live in this constant war anymore. I’m so scared and confused and I don’t know what to do. This should be easy, stay focused on recovery, don’t let myself fall and yet the more I think that the more I hate myself for being too weak to lose weight.
Do I like the idea of skin and bones...no. But I can’t live with the way my body feels. And that will only go if my body goes.
I hate going out with my friends and feeling like the fat one. I hate the fact I cannot be in a relationship because the thought of someone touching my body makes me feel sick. I hate that I cannot have a relaxing bath because all I can feel is my body. But what do I hate the most about it all...the feelings I get every time I think about relapsing and then stopping to see my friends and family’s faces. The feelings I get every time I think about how good they were to me and what I’d be putting them through. I have two fears...having to live with my body like this and putting my friends and family through a relapse. I cannot escape one fear without having to face the other. I once noticed through a kind of experiment with my psychologist that if I listened to the thoughts initiated by feelings such as the above I get a feeling in my chest. The thought of those fears each make my heart feel like it’s being twisted and tied into a knot. It’s a physical pain there constantly to remind me of the fear I’ll be living with if I try to run with the other. That makes me stop in my tracks and question what I’m doing. Sometimes I wish I could just make a decision and stick with it, even if it was the wrong one. The pain can’t be any worse than living with this fight.
I think of my mum and dad and that knot is pulled 100 times tighter. It is the most unbearable pain to think of putting them through it. I know I blame them sometimes and want nothing to do with them but they’re my mum and dad and I know they don’t mean to make me feel how I do and I couldn’t forgive myself for making them worry all over again.
Am I scared of hurting myself...no. I’m scared of letting everyone else down. I’m scared of having to admit I don’t have the strength and courage I thought I did and losing those reasons to like myself because I’ve worked so hard to like myself for those things.