Hotel rooms are dangerous places.

Reblog: Hotel rooms are dangerous places.

I don’t forget my eating disorder because it’s been a part of my life for decades. And yet, I do forget some things.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been miserable enough to pursue the behaviours I talked about here. It’s funny: day-to-day, we think nothing changes, and yet, when we look back once significant time has passed, the differences are profound.

From famine to feast.

(November 12, 2017)

Trigger warning: blunt discussion of eating disorder behaviors.

My history with hotel rooms is complicated. They’re great when I’m on vacation with others. I have other hotel stories in my past, however.

I don’t like revisiting my past, but I’m learning that if I don’t own it, forgive myself for it, and let it go, I’ll get pulled back into the pit. You have to be careful and diligent in recovery – eating disorders are determined opponents, and they want to stay.

I was always sure the hotel reception staff knew something was up when I walked into a lobby. I think we call that projecting? It felt like people were staring at me. It seemed to me that everyone knew why I was there and thought me disgusting. The likely truth is they neither knew nor cared. I’m pretty sure no one would’ve guessed “bingeing and…

View original post 2,246 more words

By Em

I like writing. Words help me unpack my thoughts so things can start to make sense. Once I have both myself and the universe figured out, I plan to take up macrame. "Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing, and learn as you go." E. L. Doctorow

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