How am I to know what to say? I’ve scoured through dictionaries, thesauruses, classic novels, young adult books, and the every Conde Naste magazine to find the right words and images to unveil to you my broken.

I fall short everytime.

You see, I have failed. I wanted this blog to be about our recovery, not out well-rehearsed death. I want to live and succeed, but something always gets in the way.

I was so happy tonight. I thought I was going crazy. I was switching alot. My members wanted to come out frequently and were bearing down on my eyes and wouldn’t give me peace. My usual mode of operation is to cut or purge. I did neither, but I couldn’t read or watch a movie or do puzzles. I eventually journaled and asked the members what they needed from me, why they were being so persistanant. After a brief journal session, I felt so good about myself. That was the first time that I have EVER, EVER held off them off so effectively. Of course, later I did purge and used food to destruct, but I’m trying to hold on to that small piece of evidence that if I can experience that then perhaps I can do more, IFFFFFFFFFFFFFF I want it.

What brings me to the second point tonight. I’ve felt so guilty lately for even having this blog. I want it to be an honest, organic, interactive blog that reveals what I and my members are going through daily. That way people in society can benefit by our experiences when their loved ones too can’t get out of bed or cuts thenselves to shreds or refuses to eat or can’t remember how to get to the place they’ve worked for five years.

But the site doesn’t seem helpful. I think it’s because I’m having another relapse. I lie, lie, lie to my husband. “No, D. I didn’t throw up. I just had to pee for ten minutes! [sarcasm included]) Over the holidays, I ruined our plumbing. I’ll spare the general audience the details.

And now I’m tired. My arms are too exhausted to wash my hair and I love it. It means I’m losing weight.

This is the part I don’t like. I feel like a phony, a hypocrite.

Let the reader know, I try everyday to live among the principles of good health, self-care, and living one day at a time. But it’s all the other moments in between that are killing me and bringing me down.

And now I don’t know where to go or what to be. I feel like I’ve a good angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other, each telling me what selfish or angelic things to do.

I want to be good. I want to work hard on building a community with my members, meeting their needs through positive means, and spoiling the littles. I don’t want the eating disorder anymore.

I pump my fist and rise in the air. I don’t know what to do, but I’ll keep trying everyday. Something has to fit sooner or later.