You have to eat, even when you’re afraid.

Sometimes, I think if I take off the reins, the urge to eat will take over my world. I know where it comes from and what drives it, this feeling that I can’t ever consume enough. This feeling that if I start, I’ll never stop. It’s from the eating disorder, from a lifetime of restriction and deprivation. You can’t undo what’s been done. I can’t go back in time and eat the food now I didn’t eat then. But I worry that without the restrictions I still have in place, I’ll try...

Stages of recovery

Step one is sobriety. It doesn’t really matter what you’re recovering from. That’s the first step. Sober thoughts and sober acts. Walk the sober walk. Getting sober is hard. It doesn’t matter what your drug of choice is. Alcohol, pills, food, whatever. It’s hard to step away from the substance you abuse, even though, by the time you decide to do so, you’ve recognized that it’s harming you. Even though by the time you’re ready to step away, you’ve already moved to hell and have taken up residence there...

When we’re dying.

Things sink in at the damndest times. Thoughts I’ve had for years but haven’t felt in my bones percolate under the surface and then for no apparent reason, pop into my consciousness, but with depth and gut-deep understanding attached. They become more than words I say because I’m supposed to believe them even though large chunks of me don’t. I love “ah-ha” moments. That point in time when you finally get it...

An Eating Disorder Journal entry.

I binged and purged last night. It was the fat thoughts. I’ve gained about ten pounds and the weight that is supposed to help me is killing me, or at least that’s what it feels like. Thinner, thinner, thinner is all I think about now. Diet hard, exercise. Forget quitting smoking, forget friends and family. Forget writing, forget recovery, forget life. Forget everything but getting thin, back to bones...