I miss my disorder. (fucked, right?)

Fuck.

How twisted is that? I can't believe I'm saying that.

And yet... It's true.

To be honest, I knew this would happen. I figured out from the very beginning of recovery that I'd have difficulty in feeling like myself without the obsession, without the hate, without the CONTROL.

Everything's out of control now, and it's absolutely... insane.

I don't even know if I could survive my current life (school, my daughter, two jobs, social life, etc.) if I was still constantly preoccupied with killing myself slowly. It did take up so much of my time and energy. But... So much of me wonders if the pieces wouldn't fit more perfectly if I were just... perfect.

Looking at photos of myself from October and November (right before I started gaining again), I can hardly believe how far I've let myself fall. I don't know the number, but it's gotta be bad. Probably close to 145 or 150. I don't know if that's true. It could be just 140. Who the fuck knows?

I feel so... fail.

I'll stop now. I just wish I knew what was to become of me, and my mind.

I hope you ALL are well. I miss you muchly, and think of you often. <3