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…

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