In celebration of St. Patrick's day, I ate a spinach soufflé - hold your horses! I didn't eat a real soufflé, it was a Garden Lites brand - only 140 calories. Delicious, but sinfully tasty, and I really did feel like I was disgusting tub of lard while eating it - that really shows how much of a down-slide I've made in recovery. I do not want to recover any more. I want to wallow in my anorexia, and my hunger, and not give a damn. But, I trusted D to understand my willingness to recover all those months ago, and she didn't bat an eyelash, just sat there and stared like I was some fascinating specimen under a microscope. She didn't ask how she could help, but rather questioned why? The reasons behind why I binge and then vomit, was and is something incomprehensible to her psyche. Vomiting is something solely devoted to sickness, and if I was purging up to 7 times a day then I was ripe for shock treatments according to her mind.
I feel dark on the inside, and my eating disorder has returned, but it is not as familiar and comfortable as I remember. It feels like a old, unwanted friend, who has showed at the eleventh hour ready and willing to reteach me the steps to an old dance. I am a caricature of my old self, and it's a misguided understanding I've come to. I may never be free of my anorexic side, but I sure as hell can beat down my bulimic side. I will never let up on my recovery from bulimia - it is a snaking, Machiavellian disorder that has no innocence or pretty outcomes. It ruins you, and you are left the slave of food; anorexia is the same way. All disorders make you the vassal and we are left wiping up the crumbs of ourselves.
It has always been, "Yeah, I'll do it, when the time is right," well the time is right now, and I'm not waiting for the bottom to drop out. I am waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel, my dream realized. There are no erasers to wipe away the past memories of sloth and bulimia, they are like ink stains - indelible. I wake up with regret on the promises of life I wasted on bulimia and my next 'fix', and sleep with the guilt of ruining my family and future. I am hungry for change, that is what I need and want. The thoughts that came with bulimia, 'I will not do tomorrow,' have slowly trickled down the drain and I am left with the satisfaction hunger and anorexia brings.
D will ply me with food, make me feel like a whale, and I will restrict. She is creating an disorder by her careless actions, and I am left lost and trudging through life with closed eyes.
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