Friday, January 7, 2011

Well, then. This is recovery, huh?

I'm doing it.


And I'm feeling horribly fail and fat so often that I frequently question this move. As in... hourly. Minute-ly. Yes.

I've no scale at the moment (as prescribed by my lovely ED therapist), so I don't actually know how much I've gained. It feels like fifty pounds, but I know better. Realistically speaking, it's probably closer to eleven.

The freedom I feel, though, on the whole... It's unimaginable. Indescribable. I'm not happy yet, no... But damn... I think I must be on my way.

Having lived through all of this, I feel... so many things. Lost, without my disordered habits. Out of control, without the calorie-counting and constant weighing. FAT and unattractive, without my beautiful bones pushing through my skin everywhere.

I love that body. I miss it so much.

Looking in the mirror is literally like looking at a stranger's body. A stranger's... healthy, supple, feminine... body. My ass is back in full force, and I've gained two cup sizes since I stopped purging and restricting. My belly jiggles a little, and my thighs touch.

And yet...

The letting go of all of my self-loathing (a work in constant progress) is something so very ... priceless. Invaluable.

I am learning... (can't believe I'm actually saying this...) love my SELF.

It's really quite insane, I know.

I still contemplate purging every single time I overeat. This is often.

I still look in the mirror and struggle to fight back the thoughts of relapse. That temptation is so sweet, and yet, somehow, I know that I will beat it.

This disorder will forever be a part of me. It has changed my life eternally. I will always be a part of this disorder, as well. My mind doesn't know how to think without it, and so it will continue to plague/help/torture/bless me as I continue my life.

One day at a time.

... Miss you, lovies.


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