Last night I talked on the phone with my best friend at around 2AM. I was relieved that she was up, because I felt anxious and angry and disappointed and shameful. I tried to smoke it off and that didn’t work. I tried to pick it away but that just left me with a little pain and a little more dissatisfaction.
My mind is on this cyclical path of self-hatred and self harm. I lack the willpower to starve myself like before and my rational mind knows that’s not the answer and it will just leave me obsessive and more shame-filled.
I shared this with my bestie, who already knows my disordered history, and she told me that it’s okay to be feeling anxious and shamed and full of self-hatred and that at age 23, that’s all about par for the course. That I’m not alone. And that this season brings out the worst in many of us. She knows I overanalyze and I hold up impossible standards for myself and when I don’t follow them, I beat myself up.
I hate how all foods are failure so eating at all is failure so I might as well just binge anyway. And how when I get hungry I know I’ll eat more than I need to, and how when it’s in front of me it makes me want it.
I was doing so well for a while.
I was doing so well.