Forgive me while I wax melodramatic.
The struggle with food continues and, besides the people constantly pressing behind my eyes, I feel so alone. I’m trying so hard but it doesn’t feel good or make me happy. I’m not purging and I’m eating three squares a day but I feel the old eating disorder creeping its way back into my life. Even though I’m eating, I’m sure it’s not enough for the amount of exercise I’m doing. I’m killing myself on the cardio machines.
Each meal becomes a war between me and the others; even if I win and eat, they slay me with their thoughts. And their thoughts become my thoughts and I loathe myself for not being better than this or different.
Given the reoccurence of the eating disorder behaviors, I’m sure it’s no coincidence that one of my perpetrators has set up shop in my mind. I keep getting memories of him, his cars, his house, even the memory of the breezy summer air smacks me dead in the face.
I really am trying to fight. I made an appt. with a dietician but I am suffering so much I just want to go to sleep and not wake up. I don’t have the strength or the desire to fight anymore. I hate myself to pieces. I’m not suicidal but I wish I were dead. It shouldn’t have to be this hard. To hell with it all.